Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Watching TV Sports with Val

Watching TV Sports with Val
I enjoy watching sports on TV with my husband, Bob. I just have a little different approach to my viewing than some people. 

I usually start by commenting on what the players are wearing. For example, have you seen the team that dresses like bumblebees? Embarassing! And some teams dress in such hideous-o colors that I feel sorry for them. And I don't always understand what they're wearing. Like, why do they let the players wear all different colored shoes?  The neon shoes are quite distracting.  I think they should all be made to wear the same plain white or black shoes. And why is that basketball player wearing Under Armour long johns under his shorts?  Wouldn’t that make him hot? Bob has no answer for this.  I’ll have to Google that, I’ll say. Even if he did have an answer, chances are  I’d probably still Google it, which often causes Bob to mutter under his breath, "Why doesn’t she just trust me?" In case you’re curious, GQ actually had a good answer for that question, you should Google it. I fecking love the Interwebs.

Once I’m done with my apparel review, I often turn to the mascots. The other night we were watching the Michigan State Spartans play.  At first, because of their logo, I thought they were the Trojans.  I mean, the helmeted warrior guy is kind of similar, no?  Bob said no, they’re from two different towns.  Where is Michigan State located, I asked?  He gave me a “look.”  Oh, you mean Troy and Sparta are different towns. Like, one’s in Italy and one’s in Greece, right? He gave me another “look.”  (You can pretty much assume there’s a “look” that follows each of my questions. This will save us all some time.)  They’re both in Greece, he informed me.  Oh, of course, Helen of Troy was Greek, riiiight.  In my head, though, I’m still thinking, "I’ll need to Google that later." BTW, while researching this, I learned that there’s a Sparta High School in Sparta, Missouri, and they are called … wait for it … the Trojans.  Apparently the school principal gets asked about this a LOT.  Anyway, if you look at the mascots for the Spartans and the USC Trojans, they’re practically identical.

Then, there’s always the question of whom to root for.  For example, when the Maryland Terrapins were playing the Michigan State Spartans, I immediately rooted against Maryland for several reasons. One, they were my alma mater Duke’s rival in the ACC and two, I think a turtle is a dumb mascot even if you try to give it a fancy name like terrapin.  A turtle’s not very scary.  Unless it’s a snapping turtle.  Is a terrapin a scary snapping turtle?  I’ll have to Google that.  Later.

I particularly enjoy asking questions about game rules and penalties.  For example, during a recent basketball game: Did that guy just flop?  (Yes, we watched some of the World Cup Soccer last summer.)  Why is the ref yelling?  Is he telling the guy to quit being such a pussy and get up and play? You know, the “no blood, no foul” rule? "That guy was tripped," Bob patiently explained. "The ref is calling a tripping penalty."  I do actually understand quite a bit about basketball, having played on the Fall Lake team in fifth grade intramurals.  Football, not so much, having grown up in the era before girls played that.  Although there was this thing called Powder Puff Football.  Is it sexist to even say that these days?  Anyway, I spent my high school years playing drums in the pep band, not paying much attention to the rules of football. My football watching runs more to comments like “whoooaa, that had to hurt” and making fun of the players’ names and hair, and wondering if the players’ wives ever joke about the guys’ panty lines in their tight uniform pants.

Friday, September 19, 2014

Squaw Bay … Do you remember … ?

Saving bones for the dogs

The employees’ lounge and the TV (that weren’t!)

Writing on the calendar when Jerry got up for the butter

Splitting a roll or a donut

Saunas after work

Too-early  mornings

Tracy getting lost in the fog while driving her boat to work

Waterskiing with Floridian Roger Smith and his awesome boat and slalom ski (and he could barefoot)

Scrubbing the black rubber floor mats and the kitchen floor on Saturday mornings, kneeling on towels with our buckets and scrub brushes and towels

Splitting tips

Baseball games after work

The tire tracks left on the front lawn late one night

The high turnover rate of dockboys like Hobs and Bill Bunney

Laurette’s pet peeve: poached eggs

The excuse list

The Harlequin romance novel we started about Tanner and Tiffany

Making relish trays – usually with one too many olives

Zapping rolls and defrosting cookies in that high-tech Amana RadarRange

Setting aside empty milk cartons (paper cartons!) so we could fill them in an emergency situation
 (like when Joe was coming and we had nothing else to do, or when we wanted to see one of the dockboys)

Mixing Kool-Aid:  how many cups of water?  Do I add sugar?

Having Bobbi predict our futures with cards

Finding Butch  (Even I don’t remember what this was about any more!)

The Quartzite Trip:  In 1962, Deeter Moss was a puke.  (Mr. Drechsler, I think, gave me this to read from the high school library.  Wasn’t this book later banned or parts removed from the library?)

Making bar runs to ogle certain guys

Si and the Boys from Chicago. Allens. Smiths. The Germans from Chicago: Heinz, Walter, the 
Winters; Norths, Bevers, and Brewers from Iowa. DeFiores (Vince, the twins).  So  many others!

Extras, reggies, lunchies, and extra-extras.

Electricity outages which required the dockboys to bring up garbage cans of water from the lake

Saving labels for Doris Hautela’s refunding and cans for Laurette

The fire rules, written after a fire started in the “match can” where the cooks put the used matches after lighting the gas range..  #1: Squeeze a wash rag over it.  #2: Go for the baking soda. #3: Drop it 
in the dish water.  #4: Panic.  #5: Call the Fire Department.

Rocky vacuuming

Crew party at Laurette’s

Cookie’s (Vicki Wagner) all-time best excuse for being late to work:  Luke got a piece of candy stuck up his nose.

Carol’s favorite (disappearing) paring knives.  Pronounced Ka-niff-ees.

Breakfast trays for lazy live-ins

RV Maki’s guiding stories

The dishwasher that fell off its stand … a lot!

Washing windows.  Wearing letter jackets in August in those cool mornings!

Wiping shelves, wiping bases, wiping up after messy babies

Emptying – and forgetting to empty! – the pan below the dishwasher and the water can in the fridge

Beating the dishwasher  … Having another tray ready to go in before the last load was finished

Those lousy, rag-stealing waitresses

Rubber gloves: Carol’s pretty pink, Clare’s forever springing holes, gross green ones, trying to keep a matched pair

The space cadet wings

Emptying coffee grounds

Practical jokes: siphoning the milk out of Val’s cereal, giving her “Tracy-made” red Kool-Aid (from 
the relish tray beets jar), and water with vinegar in it

Glasses of ice water and half-eaten cookies on the window sills

The arrival of the Squaw Bay jackets (royal blue baseball-style)

Bobbi’s boyfriend John helping out in the kitchen

Serving coffee to Joe and Deputy Dave (who was also our Avon Lady)

RV’s bleary-eyed mornings

Richard coming home drunk from a fishing trip and Laurette saying, “I thought Larry didn’t drink any more.” And Richard replying in a slight slur, “Larry doesn’t drink, but his brudder does.”

The “divorcees” with the little girl who wanted to catch a fish for her friend Susie.  The mom asked, “Who?”  “You know, I brought her home for Christmas.”

The giant jig for the stuffed fish in the dining room

Jean Pipho subbing for Bobbi and keeping the plates in the steam table – ouch!

Laurette’s pancake spatula, which had to be shined to perfection

Si the Chicago fireman coming into the kitchen to hassle Laurette, and Laurette chasing him with a butcher knife

Packing shore lunches with a zip-lock bag of lard from a barrel, plus homemade sandwiches, potatoes ready to fry up, and just-in-case sandwiches

Sweeping the garage

Laurette polishing the floor in the bar with that old floor polishing machine.

The Hoky floor sweeper 

Wishing those lingering breakfast or supper people would leave already so we could vacuum the dining room

The dockboys who were "special" enough to be trusted running Joe's riding mower or running the portage

A freezer full of fish wrapped in white freezer paper with labels in black Sharpie marker

The health inspector’s on his way … move the dog dishes out of the kitchen! 

Not old enough to serve alcohol?  That’s a rule?

Bobbi Pipho Ellenberg’s additions:
Laurette trying to teach me and others how to use the floor polishing machine.  I think the machine won most of the time as it practically swung me around the bar. 

Laurette asking, “ how do they want their heggs”.  I still often refer to eggs as heggs and have to be careful not to do that when ordering in a restaurant.  Makes me think of our dear Laurette every time. 

Another Laurette-ism that I still use often is referring to anything vanilla as wanilla.  Once again, makes me remember Laurette.

I remember you (Val) climbing into the kitchen sink cupboard (upstairs) where the laundry chute was located.

I remember you and Sarah taking the bunnies for walks on leashes and the two of you commenting on how much they liked it (I think you may have been just plain wrong on that one).

The Vicky, Val and Sarah Style Show that happened every year after your school shopping trip (with Grampa Skala, in uluth) was always a fall spectacular!  The three of you darling girls parading down the stairs to show off your new clothes for anyone who was in the kitchen at the time.

Bowsie eating chocolate bars in the bar.

Sleeping in the girls cabin when we worked late and had to be back at the crack of dawn—usually with Barb Reinhardt.