As promised, I am with Elaine in Salida, Colorado helping her at the Salida Fiber Fair. As per every trade show minus about six, the show started as a disaster. It wasn't so much as the show started s a disaster as much as life was a disaster. Remember, "Our crazy lives!"
Last year Elaine's sister attended and helped Elaine/us at the Salida Fiber Fair. She flew in from Georgia and spent a week we all had a great time. It worked out really well because this time last year I couldn't walk without a walker or crutches so I wasn't much help to Elaine.
This year she decided to drive to Colorado, which adds exactly nothing to this story, but if I was paid by the word to write these entertaining stories I would make a few extra cents.
Adding another person to our house taxes our already taxed water well system. Water is in short supply in our valley and we find ourselves doing everything we can to conserve water. This is the first year since we moved up here that we have had no water in the creek that runs across our property.
OK, we are taking a little left turn here for a public service announcement. As you look around in northern Colorado you might have noticed a tremendous amount of new construction. New construction means new people, all of which might enjoy a cool glass of water from time to time, and maybe a shower or bath, maybe they would enjoy a swim in a pool or lake. I certainly enjoy everything I just listed. When I see some st&p*d (construction language) with an "I don't want a dam" sticker on the back of his/her jeep I just want to slap the living (construction language) out of them. We need water and my creek is dry, bone dry.
I'm sorry. I'll get back to my story.
Elaine's sis was taking a shower when the water from the faucet dribbled to a stop. Our well was out of water. This has happened before and we have learned to wait a little while and the underground river(s) will eventually replenish our well. We have learned to shut off our well pump so it cannot pick up mud from the bottom of the well and send it without water into house pipes, water heater, and ice machines. We shut off the pump. All was well. Except it wasn't.
When I turned the pump back on the water did not come. I shut the pump off and on again, nothing. When our pump is not pumping water, toilets do not work. We now have another person in the house that cannot use a toilet.
We needed some fast action. Elaine immediately called a pump system repair company. Of course, they had closed for the evening fifteen minutes earlier. Monner sent Monner to town for gallons of bottled water. At least we would have something to drink and could pour water into the toilets as needed. We do have a state park with outhouses just four miles down the road, so no one needed to dig and bury outside.
The pump company called the next morning to inform us they would be up late afternoon to take a look. In the meantime the chickens needed water. Monner, the author of this story, grabbed three five-gallon water containers and knocked on a neighbor's door. The neighbors weren't home so Monner helped himself to the neighbor's water.
I spent the day (I am now writing in the first person) worrying and waiting for the pump company. Something didn't seem right. I decided to start taking things apart and not wait for the pump company. After all, I stayed in a Holiday Inn once. I found a loose fuse in a disconnect box, which I don't know what I'm talking about either, but I tightened this thingy and the pump kicked on and we had water galore. I called the pump company and they told me what we had done to break it and they told me how I fixed it. I'm close to a genius, it seems.
If you read the title of this story you probably are asking what Tickle, Tickle has to do with this story. Nothing.
But it does have something to do with my week. I have said in these stories that things happen to me that don't happen to everyone. Elaine says it's something in my eyes. She's most likely wrong but I hate arguing with her. Occasionally my wife of forty-five years will ask me to stop at a liquor store to buy her a bottle of wine. I must say that the wine is solely for her consumption as I believe wine tastes like socks smell and I don't drink it. That has nothing to do with Tickle, Tickle but I thought you should know that about me.
I was in a liquor store. In the store on Aisle #1 was a man, a behemoth of a man (adds nothing to the story, but he was big) with a shaved head. This man had a child with him I'm guessing the child to be about five years old with bright red hair. A cute little ginger. As I walked by the ginger stuck a finger in my stomach.
Ginger: Tickle, tickle Man: You cannot touch people without asking them.
Ginger: He wanted me to do that, I could tell
Me: Mister, that kid just made my day
Have a great week. Buy yarn. And one more thing, Tickle, Tickle. I could tell you wanted me to do that.
Our crazy lives!