Sunday, July 22, 2012

It’s All Fun and Games Until Someone Loses an Eye

My, little sistah, Caren is an amazing women. She is one of those people that everybody loves. She gets along jolly well with men. She is competitive. Caren can beat the crap out of just about any man at golf and she is not shy about letting one know about it. She is a looker, so all the guys like being around her, but she’ll dance with the nerdy guy and make him feel like a king. Caren is the kind of woman that women would love to hate but can’t because she is so genuinely kind and caring.

I believe Caren learned many of her qualities from my brother, Brad. Caren and Brad were best buds throughout his short life. Brad was also handicapped, hence her understanding of the needs of others and her caretaking abilities. Even though Brad was handicapped and was unable to hold a pool cue, Brad taught Caren how to play pool, hence Caren’s ability to pick up any sport through oral directions. Brad also taught Caren how to hustle and drink, hence her ability to talk anyone into anything and then be able to drink one under the table at the celebratory party.

My brother, Brad, had an uncanny power over Caren. I think it’s that “Big Brother” thing. Little sisters believe anything their big brother tells them, even when deep in their heart one knows that one can’t fly off the roof like Winnie the Pooh with an umbrella. One has a tendency to believe it and try it, if “Big Brother” says it’s possible.

I generally don’t have this power that Brad had over Caren, so when I say, “Hey, let’s do . . . . . . “ She’ll reply, “NO, are you crazy? That’s dumb.” So this summer when I suggested Caren and I (well, not really “I” because I am crippled and I can’t do shit) do something kid of dumb I was totally shocked when she said, “Okay, let’s go!”

First, I would like to mention that Caren and I had been in Montana for almost thirty days and twenty-seven of them had included rain, hail, snow, thunder, lightening and anything else stormy one could imagine. There was a day with a pause in the storms that the sun had actually appeared and we were outside. I am not a drinker, but I think I finished off a couple of Caren’s Corona’s she handed me to hold. Out of the blue or my ass I suggested that Caren and I go next door to the absentee neighbor’s and she climb on the statues and “plank” and I would take her pictures and she could put them on facebook. And out of the blue or her ass she agreed.

The neighbor had not arrived at his summer home, next door to us, which was surprising because he had a summer business in Big Fork, also. His business is selling statues. In Montana everybody has to have statues of animals and they gotta be big. The statues look like they are made of metal, but it isn’t really metal, which later on becomes a big “aha” moment for Caren and I. On his property next to us he has some of his statues: a bear, some Indians in a teepee he has erected and a moose. I need to go back and explain “planking”. I am not sure myself what it is or why people would do it, but I am old and apparently sometimes shtupid because I suggested Caren try it. It’s not dangerous. It appeared to me it was just getting on objects, positioning one’s body as if one looks like a plank and then taking one’s picture. For Caren (and I because I live vicariously through her) it wasn’t the planking that was difficult it was the mounting of the object. Everything went fine with the bear and then we proceeded to the moose!

“Caren, don’t you want me to come over there so you can stand on my wheelchair to get up on the moose.”

“NO, no stay there and get ready to take my picture getting up on this moose.”

“I know, but he is awful tall. How are you going to get up there?”

“I am going to grab his antler and throw my leg over him just like I did when I went bareback riding on my horse.”

“Yea, but Caren you haven’t done any bareback riding for thirty years.”

“A cowgirl never forgets. And besides it’s a statue of a moose. It’s not a real moose. Although, his antlers are incredibly life like and pointy.”

As I was about twenty feet away ready to snap photos of the mounting and planking, (Remember it had been raining for twenty-seven days and the moose wasn’t really made of metal it just looked like metal.) Caren grabbed the antler with her left hand and proceeded to throw her right leg over the moose and slowly almost like slow motion on a football replay the moose fell on top of Caren with the incredibly life like and pointy antlers just microcasms from her eye. And I laughed. I felt bad because I was laughing and there was a possibility that she had lost an eye but I couldn’t stop laughing. And Caren wasn’t moving, so I made an attempt to pull my laughing-self together and go over and check on my one-eyed little sistah thinking losing an eye might really mess up her golf game.

“Carrrr . . . . eeeeee . . . . ennnnnn.. . . . . are . . . . . .you . . . . . okay?” I asked replacing dots with uncontrollable laughter.

“No,” she replied giggling, “I peed!”

“That’s nothing new. You always pee when you laugh. So tears of laughter are running down your leg, what’s new?”

“No, I didn’t just pee, I puddle-peed!”

“Are you hurt?”

“I don’t know. All I know is I puddle-peed.”

“How’s your eye?”

“What do you mean, how’s my eye? Oh, my God, do see how close that incredibly life like pointy antler has come to my eye?”

Caren carefully maneuvered her way out from under the moose. She had a skinned knee and wet pants. (Shhhhhhhh, don’t laugh, Cathy.) Caren made an attempt to right the moose.

“I can’t lift him. He’s too heavy. Let’s just leave him.”

“No, that would be vandalism. We can’t leave a tipped moose in the neighbor’s yard.”

“We could say, it must have been last night’s incredible wind storm.”

“No every time we drive out the driveway and see the tipped moose we’ll know it was us that tipped the moose.”

“Well, I can’t lift him by myself and you certainly can’t help me, so what are we going to do?”

“I am going to call Darrell and have him come over and help us lift the moose.”

Darrell is Caren’s husband. Darrell is very, um, sensible. He has a tendency to get upset with us when we laugh about things that happen to us where one could get hurt. “Alright, but you know what is going to happen?”

Sensible Darrell came over and scolded us as he was helping Caren pick up the not-really-made-of-metal-that-isn’t-as-heavy-as-it-looks-but-is-heavier-than-what-one-person-can-lift-moose statue. He also helped Caren get up on the moose sensibly and safely because even though he is sensible and we drive him crazy he understands and loves us and we took pictures of her “planking”.

As we were makng our way back to our side of the neighbor’s driveway, Darrell continued to scold us about how someone could have been hurt. We were walking behind Darrell, holding in our giggles and I looked over at Caren and in unison we both whisper-giggled, “It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye!”

"So, Darrell, does this mean we shouldn't try planking on the Indian statue with the incredibly life like pointy arrow?"

 Paco's Perspective
I wasn't there so I will not take responsibility for their actions.

The Flip Side
I was there and a picture is worth one thousand words:


  1. I want to see the planking pictures!

  2. This ones priceless, Cathy! I'm still waiting for the adventure of the broken leg.