Walt-O-Matic

As I’m leaving the local Sushi bar, one of the cooks notices me limping away and asks, “What happened to your foot?”

My answer back caused the entire restaurant to go quiet, “A firefighter kicked me.” Which, as it turned out, was the gosh-honest truth.

Here’s what happened.

My brother-in-law was helping to set up a commercial fireworks display for a local baseball game, and I got permission to go on site and take some photography of the crew and the display.

While I’m back there, I hear the crowd go wild, and a baseball comes flying over the fence. It lands and rolls away. After a few moments of talking, I ask, “Should I go get it?” And they indicate ‘why not,’ as that always happens and they pointed to one back over by the wall sitting in the grass.

So, I start walking over to it. As I do, I notice that there’s some lady (a term I’ll revoke shortly) way off in the distance behind me who’s running toward the ball. Turns out, it was one of the local firefighters who’s there every night there’s fireworks.

Figuring she’s had ample opportunity all season to pick up things flying over the fence, I sprint for the ball and easily get to it before her. As I go to reach down and pick it up, she shoves me.

Having a camera in one hand, I knock the ball away from both of us, run over to it, and plant both feet tightly around the ball so it can’t be dislodged.

She comes running over, and while I want to surmise she was “playfully” trying to kick the ball out from between my feet, she ended up kicking my heel in. And, from what I’ve recently learned, those boots have steel toes in them.

Eventually, I relented, deciding that to me it was just another piece of worthless clutter; I stepped back and let her have it. The ball, not with the back of a shovel, like I now contemplate.

Jerry Carr is a cartoonist, known for monkeys, babes, and the graphic novel Cryptozoo Crew, which looks like it may be made into a movie, amongst other things.

While visiting Jerry’s Facebook page, I saw his status message was set to this:

Jerry is freshly motivated after a day at the Jim Henson Muppets display at the Smithsonian!

Unfortunately, I couldn’t help myself. I had to comment on his wall:

The display you really want to see is “Muppet Bodies,” where they take a bunch of preserved, dead muppets and puppeteers and cut them in half, showing you the insides.

You can see how the tendons connect to the distal phalanges in order to produce more articulated facial expressions.

Note, though, there’s a special baby muppets section, which shows the progression of muppet fetuses, starting from a simple spool of thread and piece of fabric. A word of caution, it’s pretty emotional, because at the end are a small number of muppets with birth defects; it’s very sad.

Forgive me Jerry.

So I’m visiting my sister’s church, and after the service I go into the nursery to see if she needs help cleaning up. There’s one little girl left who’s about two years old and cute as a button; she takes an instant liking to me, sharing with me her impression of a lion right after accidentally bouncing a toy off my head.

The adults clean the room and my sister says she knows the parents and scoops the kid in her arms, heading back to the sanctuary to find them. The little girl waves to me playfully as she’s carried out the door to come join them.

When we get to the destination, there’s still a lot of people standing about and having conversations. My sister puts the little girl down who then looks up at me with doe eyes and says “Chase me!”

I tell her I’m tired. But, she insists, “Chase me!”

Fine. I take a false step toward her, and she squeals in delight and goes running down the aisle a few steps before she notices I’m actually not in pursuit.

Stomping her little foot, she declares, “Chase me!”

So, complying, I start to chase her at a slow pace where she’s sure to get away safely. She’s giggling and having the time of her life. She turns the corner, looks over her shoulder, and sees me.

“I’m gonna get you…” and I wiggle my fingers at her. She grins and runs off, with me slowly following.

Then the unexpected happens.

She turns the next corner, goes running up to some set of couples in a post-service conversation, and declares “He’s chasing me! Protect me.” Next thing I know, they’re putting themselves between her and I in a very “I need an adult” kind of manner. I quickly discover that this is one of the pastors’ daughter. While, I, on the other hand, am a stranger that no one at the church recognizes.

Great. Just great.

“She told me to…” I start to explain, and now it’s clear that it’s my veracity that is being tested. The fact that people have cell phones in their hands and 911 on speed dial isn’t helping.

That’s when I see my sister and the pastor who’s the father having a really good laugh at my expense across the room.

Once the group saw that, and joined in, the little girl’s asylum was forfeit; now the chase was real.

So, I’m leaving Rita’s of Ashburn, and outside there’s a dad holding on to a very young child who’s trying to escape his arms to crawl on the table to go after the colored iceies. He, meanwhile, is boastly bragging to the group of people at the table with him how smart his kid is.

“Well, my kid isn’t even one, and he can talk.”

The other members of his group are rolling their eyes and shaking their heads.

Then, suddenly the dad, barks a command at the kid, jolting everyone - “TALK!!!”

The kid, who’s reaching for a red slush freezes in place, silent, unsure if the appropriate response is to burst into tears at being startled.

Then, as if on delayed command, the kids speaks. One word softly: ‘ow.’

Completely seriously, he exclaims, “There, you see! I told you he was smart.”

As I’m stepping off the curb, I hear someone else at the table say, “Dude, come on. First of all, that’s not even baby talk. Second of all, I saw you pinch him.”

You know how TGI Friday’s has all that junk nailed up to the wall?

Well, while we were eating, we happened to notice some kid had long dropped his sun glasses on the floor. Rather than have them thrown out by staff, I social engineered our waiter to put them on Nixon.

Let’s see how long before someone notices.

When I see a nozzles up high, I want to turn them to see what they’ll do…

So, I’m driving down Waxpool in Ashburn, VA on my way to work, and there’s a truck in front of me with a huge spool of wire on the back.

What’s more curious to me is the way the tools were being transported. Someone had tied a bucket to a rope and put their tools in it hanging off the back of the truck.

This can’t be safe. Well, I guess if there’s no room on the passenger side…

While visiting Ted’s in Sterling, VA, I noticed that their bathroom was either missing a very vital component, or that the place was very accommodating for drunks used to using an alley.

I keep trying to explain there are differences between men and women’s bathrooms. Women have it better. In this case, men just have a wall.

Not retouched.

While hanging out at Potbelly in Ashburn, VA, I found they have a little used book area in the back. I love going through used books, primarily because you find interesting hand written notes.

Here’s one from a dad to his daughter. Not only does the title of the book convey the dad’s impression and confidence, but we also get a peek at his spelling. One fears that it may be possible to piece together a little bit more about this family than we wanted to know.

So, I’m standing in Wendy’s waiting in line. At the cashier in front on me is a mom who has her attention divided between trying to pay and watching her daughter back at the table.

All of the sudden she startles me with a yell, “No Ma’am! I do not want to drink from a straw that’s been up your nose.”

While the mental image was amusing unto itself, I can only guess what other recent activities had escaped her attention in the past.