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 Ehhhh, no great wisdom here today folks, just like any other day, go about yer business. Just ramblings on 'Being Careful What You Wish For', as you never know who's listening. Hey, it's cold outside, my boots are wet, and I don't have anything better to do except pay bills and that would be a mistake, since it's early enough in the day that the mailman will actually pick them up and send them on their way...which wouldn't be in my best interest at the present time. Ok, 'be careful what you wish for'. We've heard this phrase from time immemorial, I betcha. I would think one of the earliest utterings would have been in prehistoric times when some hapless Nealderal... neander... CroMagdonish person wished fervently for some meat, only to have a sabretooth tiger come knocking at his door.
" YO! Creator! We're STARVING down here! And I'm TIRED of these freakin' roots and berries...send us some MEAT!" Then there was that young religious guy, about 2000 years ago, give or take 30something years. Got tired of traveling and preaching and wished he could ' just hang around' for awhile. Yeah, that's the one. Well liked by most, I hear...well, except for some moneychangers and Roman officials, apparently. My own 'miswish' came, ohhh, about 13yrs ago. My youngest was still a toddler, my oldest still in his single digits. Having the only driveway in the neighborhood that had a slope to it, I was inundated, daily, by the neighborhood children, sleds in hand. It got so, that they'd just leave all of their sleds in my yard and any passerby would just grab one, to have a quick sleighride down my driveway, if they happened to be walking by. I'd have to go out and blow a whistle if my wife wanted to take the car out of the garage to go shopping or whatever. It started out with my leaving two feet of piled up snow, and eight feet for the cars to get up and down. By the end of the winter, it was ten feet for the sleds...and we just parked our cars out on the street for the rest of the winter. Mostly because they'd started to bring over pitchers of water from home to build 'Mr. Wicked's Wicked Bobsled Run'. I'd get home from work, only to hit the ice with my light pickup, and wind up halfway down to the swamp, with my eyeballs buggin out of my head, sweating profusely. Swearing profusely too. 'Triple A' was our friend.... Anyway, I remember quite distinctly, the day of the uttered miswish. We were all out there working on our Wicked Bobsled Run, and one of the kids said, "Geeeeez...this is so much FUN! I wish we could do this... FOREVER!!" and all of the kids echoed
" YEAH!!!" There was a tremendous thunderclap, a fog of purple smoke filled the air, the churchbell downtown started ringing insanely, my OLD old dawg puked from all the excitement, and a whispered 'so mote it beeeeeee'snuck in my head, with a giggle added for effect. Funny thing, it sounded EXACTLY like my dead father's voice, and I'm pretty sure that I heard, almost inaudibly, but not quite... 'payback's a bitch.....'. So, 13 yrs later, the neighborhood kids have all grown up an moved away. The driveways in the entire State of Connecticut are all completely clear and dry.... and mine?? Mine is proudly icebound and ready for sledding, no matter WHAT I do. Wicked's Boudatious Bobsled Run will live for eternity, of this I have no doubt. Should the nearby Sikorsky Helicopter Factory be obliterated in a blinding nuclear flash, my bobsled run will still be here, ready for the neighborhood children to reappear 'Be CAREFUL what you wish for....'
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