Randy Wray’s Blog

It is the rare occasion that when greeted with the words “are we glad to see you” that the occasion is a good occasion.

Usually it’s the sign that something unpleasant or unsightly needs to be addressed.

So it was with guarded concern yesterday afternoon that I inquired as to why the daycare ladies were glad to see me.

I had just returned to the church / school grounds after calling a softball game.

It was around 5PM and a handful of daycare kids (usually running around on the field) were huddled together in the cafeteria.

An anxious day care worker stood like a sentry in the playground area while the other daycare workers explained why they were glad to see me.

I quickly realized, as is usually the case, that they were not necessarily glad to see ME - they were glad to see someone besides themselves (which further supports the greeting not usually being a good thing).

It seems in the routine of frolicking and prancing, crawling commando style around the edge of the playground - one of the youngsters looked up and found herself eye to eye with a snake.

In case you don’t know me I must tell you at this point that I, with Biblical authority and support, am not a fan of the snake.

Genesis 3:15 is absolutely fulfilled in my life (your descendants and her descendants will be enemies).

Yes, I know snakes are good and kind, loving and generous, and provide a whole myriad of social services.

We’ll take more about lawyers later.

My children, present for the event, are busting up because they know I hate snakes.

But desperate times call for desperate actions by desperate men and I accepted the challenge and went out to duel with the snake.

My objective was to identify the snake, capture the snake and release the snake in a more suitable location.

I knew that by doing so, somewhere down the road the snake would return the favor and rescue me from some eminent peril.

I determined that it was not a rattlesnake, a black mamba, and was fortunately abstaining from the lambada.

It was however quite grumpy and irritable. (Must have been a . . .)

Summoning the spirit of Steve Irwin, wishing I had stayed in a Holiday Inn last night, I proceeded to coax the little beauty into capture.

No pillowcase or other cloth bag was found so armed with a broom and a child’s Spiderman backpack I went to work.

The snake coiled and prepared to strike.

I had all the kids cleared from the area inside the cafeteria and gave orders to close the door.

I wasn’t concerned for their safety - I was concerned that if the snake bit me the little tykes might hear certain words used in a descriptive sense.

If the snake was a pet on the loose I figured it would let me handle it (how’s that for soon to be in the emergency room thinking?) so I gently used the stick to let it coil up so I could take the snake by the tail.

This worked and now I found myself holding on to the tail of the snake, which If I didn’t mention before was at least three feet long.

With the tail of the snake in my left hand, I looked at the Spiderman backpack and realized it was too small, that I would have to be quick and sure if I was going to get that snake in that pack.

I looked back at the snake in time to see the snake coiled in mid air - it had worked it’s way upward and was heading towards me rather swiftly with the intent to bite me.

Did I mention the snake was at least three feet long and grouchy?

I dropped the snake and performed the opening sequence of River Dance.

The snake was making no attempt to flee (I must have charmed him with my dance).

Not to be deterred I knew I had to try again.

Wiping the oil off my chest and putting my shirt back on I tried again with the same result and decided I needed a plan B.

When I went back to retrieve a large bucket I was informed that the snake had tried to crawl up the drain pipe and had fallen from half way up the building.

The mathematical equation is thus: Hurt + Cornered = grouchy, irritable snake.

I managed to locate the large rubber tub over the snake and went to find out the result of calling animal control.

Animal control informed us that it was probably a gopher snake and they had no one to send out so we would have to deal with snake on our own.

Because our playground is heavily used by many children and because the snake was injured (and showed no sign of slithering away), I saw no choice but to take appropriate action.

Even though I don’t like snakes I did regret having no other recourse.

Considering our church / school grounds border and orchard and a “river” it might be time to invest in some snake catching gear.

Anyone looking for a part-time snake catching job?

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For some reason the rules are a bit different when mom is away and dad is totally in charge.

Dad’s, as some of you know by know, are never fully in charge but that’s another day, another blog.

So when Dad is fully in charge there are some expectations that go along with the role.

When a Dad is at the helm there must be knowledge of (and willingness to follow) the Cosby Code.

Think Chocolate cake for breakfast and you begin to get the picture.

Whenever my mom was away and my dad was fully in charge we knew we would be eating french toast for breakfast and hamburgers with home made french fries for dinner.

It was as sure a thing as the Spears girl splashed all over the supermarket tabloids.

In an attempt to rationalize, I would say with all the tasks and chores to be accomplished while Mom is away a seasoned Dad prioritizes and takes necessary shortcuts.

In regards to the morning routine, it is of utmost importance to wakeup, get everyone dressed, gather all necessary articles and items for school, AND make it school on time.

Time is precious -  so a sugared bowl of cereal (in a Dad’s mind) is no different from a donut and a glass of milk from that little donut shop on the way to school.

Eating in the car saves time and that saves lives.

Seriously, it does.  Somewhere.  Somehow.

Letting the kids buy lunch a school (we have an awesome school cook) means Dad doesn’t have to make lunches and that also saves time and saves lives.

Seriously, it does.  Somewhere.  Somehow.

Do I really have to connect all the dots for you?

We work when Mom is away.  It’s not all fun and games, ponies and puppies.

After school yesterday we got our homework done and accomplished a myriad of household chores.

We fully installed the drip irrigation system for the new plants in the planter boxes, cleaned up the yard, mowed the yard, and began to water it so we could repeat spending that quality time again in just a few days.

So was Dad concerned to end the day with a meal of Hot Dogs?

Nope.

We even raised our hotdogs and toasted one dear to our heart.

Homework, reading and showers and everyone in bed somewhere around the appointed bedtime and we gear up to do it all again.

I seem to need more sleep when Mom is away.

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If train stations were located in better parts of town more people would ride the train.

Yes, I realize why train stations are usually located in the questionable parts of town.

The ride was quite pleasant.

You’d be hard pressed to beat 2 hours and 10 minutes from Fresno to Stockton for $21!

I had my own quad seating with a table and a place to plug in my laptop (had I actually remembered to pack my laptop charger).

It was quite the smooth ride.

Should my future travel plans call for such a mode of transportation I will definitely consider Amtrak.

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Planter boxes are finished, filled with dirt and fenced to keep out the dog.

Every project we undertake has to be dog proofed.

Anybody want a dog?

Madison is playing this weekend in Fresno.

So off to the inlaws we journeyed and I’ll catch a train back to Stockton tomorrow night.

I haven’t been on a train since I went from DC to New York (prior to 9/11).

I’m counting on this particular Amtrak not to be the lead news story this weekend.

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I thought for sure when I finished my part of the house remodel I would be done and could live out the rest of my days at the Guitar Center like Greg.

It seems now that the inside work in the house is done we are turning our attention to the outside.

I’m building (and setting into the ground with posts) planter boxes for the missus.

8 feet long, 4 feet wide, 1 foot deep with imported bagged dirt and drip irrigation.

I can’t wait until the Krispy Kreme seeds germinate.

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The number of miles I drove yesterday to meet up with a former ministry colleague and friend.

Worth it?

Yep.

Even @ $3.80 a gallon.

Ever wonder how far someone would drive to meet up with you? (Brady is exempted from answering this question)

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Don’t be disappointed.

I can’t write about Josh EVERY day.

But I may devote a post to him once a month (as suggested).

I would do this because his comments and those who surround him with comments surpass the actual post.

Today I have to tell you about my boy.

He’s trying out pithy sayings in specific moments to see if they fit.

The result (and I’m not making fun of him) has been some awkward, ear to ear grin suppressing moments.

The latest attempt involved a swift exchange of words we were having about too much of a good thing (such as “all Stump all the time”).

His eyes focused in on me and his voice took a somber tone as he said: “well, only the good die young.“

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No, I’m not done talking about my most capable, competent attorney.

In fact, my new look is a tribute to the profession.

It so happens that Josh was with me in that fatal moment when my knee decided to go on strike.

I remember it like it was yesterday . . . (I’m pausing to compose myself)

The thing about Josh (and why we got along so well) is that we think along the same lines.

Yes, I know it’s scary.

We both married way over our heads (a fact no one denies).

We were equally comfortably sitting around the living room cushing as we were taking over small island countries (which almost happened).

And time would fail me if I spoke to you about his attire.

Nothing says “pimp my counsel” like the sweet threads of the Stumpenator.

The man knows how to dress it up (we all think it’s the better half that’s responsible).

We had some devil awful times in the city of Eugene, Oregon.

But some of our greatest friends were made there and our circle of friends from there and that began there blossomed into a great treasure.

(and now please hum the song from the “real men of genius” commercials as I humbly offer a closing tribute)

Here’s to you Mr. Sandwich loving, Pepsi drinking attorney.

When others cowardly dumped off the rock, you had the courage to take it behind the line and drop a three.

When others offered you money to do your job, you marched right in and did your duty in the face of harmless visual stimuli.

While others dance around the issues you face them head on - you asked the tough questions “why doesn’t every place that serve French Fries serve garlic fries?” and “Why don’t states have a state sandwich?”

So stand tall and proud Mr. Electric Light Orchestra wardrobe wearer, you make us all want to be a better man.

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Tomorrow I hope Peggy will share her version of the story to which she mentions in yesterdays comments. 

Today I’m going to tell you about the time that Josh first used his word wrangling for my benefit. 

Beth and I were in to baseball and basketball cards at the time, smoothly buying and selling a few on EBAY.

This of course was up until scandal erupted over an innocuous basketball card of Jayson Williams.

The card was one in a series of cards that printed on a basketball like texture instead of the regular card print.

It was a gold series card and not all that common of a card

The confusion had to do with a very popular Jason Williams and a lesser Jayson Williams.

In my defense:  The item description was accurate.  The name was spelled correctly.  A picture of the card was clearly displayed.

Not only are the names spelled differently but Jason (aka White Chocolate) is of Caucasian persuasion and Jayson is not. 

Some over-achiever rushed in as the auction was closing - didn’t pay attention to the details - and quickly bid $30 for a $2.50 to $3.00 card.

He realized his mistake after the auction ended and sent me a venomous email about how he was in law school and I had defrauded him and all the bad legal things he was going to inflict upon me.

Now if you know Josh, you know there are two things he enjoys:  Sandwiches and Pepsi.

He also enjoys basketball and defending his profession from pesky lawyerly posers. 

I could see him salivating as I recounted my experience and he quickly said, "I’ll write your response, you put your name on it and send it back to him and we’ll see what he has to say."

His letter was thing of beauty.

Code citation, refuting arguments and teaching the poser the way of the law more correctly.

He even said something like "with as little as you seem to know about actual law I can’t imagine you’ve finished your first year of law school." 

I knew the guy had been a dodo head and I wasn’t expecting him to pay for the card (the right thing to do) I just was concerned about my reputation as a stellar EBAYER.

Long story short, the dude sent back a reply that gushed with remorse and pleaded for compassion upon his pitiful lawerly posing self. 

Score one for my lawyer that consistently has proven that he’s better than your lawyer.

The thing is, had the guy actually purchased the Jayson Williams card it might have been worth more than $30 considering the legal troubles Jayson unfortunately found himself in.

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