Such a smooth car to drive into town,
But I shriek when I blithely glance down.
“Oh my God, did I drive
“At one hundred and five?”
“That’s kilometres,” he says, with a frown.
We’re borrowing our friends’ Camry for a couple of weeks. I had a heart-stopping moment when I was driving down the highway and I looked down to check my speed, forgetting that it’s a Canadian car. Barry, who had already noticed the Canadian Tire money in the ashtray, had to remind me.
One may purchase three items, no more,
After nine at the Food Lion store.
So our cart, piled with food,
Made the checker quite rude
And she scowled ’til we rolled out the door.
We decided to shop for a basket full of groceries after dinner in town, but what a mistake! We were the only people buying more than three items, and the checkout clerk treated us like pariahs. I guess she wants us to start shopping at Piggly Wiggly?
There once was a fellow named Tim,
Who decided to stop on a whim,
And he started our van,
With some stuff from a can,
So we’re now on our way, thanks to him.
Tim refused payment for his roadside assistance, so we sent him along with one of the inflatable space aliens, Lou Wheeze, for his kids. Ros Well and A. Leeann and Gert Rude don’t seem to be suffering separation anxiety yet.
We had thought that we had a fine plan,
To go West in our big Burning van,
But we now comprehend,
Upon reaching the end,
That the reason was family, not Man.
When we scheduled our Burning Man trip, we thought we’d see a few family members along the way. Instead, we saw almost all of them! When we reached our journey’s apogee, we counted the family members we’d rendezvoused with:
All three parents, all three sisters, all three nephews, our one-and-only niece, two brothers, two aunts, and one brother-in-law. Plus one huge, welcoming family at Burning Man. We love you all!
Who would have thought?
Cabela’s in Nebraska.
Two Burning Vans meet.
This is a rare haiku from Barry (My second poem and I still haven’t written a limerick)!
We just passed a small town: Osino
On 80, which goes straight through Reno.
Does it seem strange to you
That Nevada has two
Of these places, that rhyme with casino?
So Parker says he wants a boat,
A place in the sunshine, afloat.
But Roxana’s not sure,
Whether sailing’s for her,
And hers is the critical vote.
I was on the way to the shower when I met a couple from Atlanta who were looking at boats on their 25th wedding anniversary. We hit it off and ended up chatting for quite a while, despite the fact that I was really, really, really grubby. I tried to stay downwind of them as we talked. I was that grubby.
Instead of singing in the shower, I write limericks. These five lines popped into my head during the shower that followed.
2011 Update:
I’ve really enjoyed exchanging emails with Roxana since that chance meeting. Finally, in January of 2011, almost 2-1/2 years after this limerick, she wrote that they had bought a boat:
“…Well, Parker (we, I guess) did it. A 2001 Island Packet 420 in Tortola. Yep. You read that right. I finally gave in.”
Roxana gave me the details of the great deal they got on the boat, but it was this paragraph that really made me smile:
“Seriously, it wasn’t the boat that changed my mind. When we went down for the sea trial we met one person after another, and every one of them was just wonderful. All were so warm and friendly, and very eager to help with anything. It was while I was sitting in a little outdoor restaurant waiting for Parker that I suddenly realized that, for me, it wasn’t really about the sailing or the boat. It was about the people! And so far, they have all exceeded my expectations!”
I was thinking today, “Gee, we’re hosed,”
“It is Saturday, Bock’s shop is closed.”
When up came a roar,
From o’er near the store,
And out the ol’ Travelift nosed.
There were Randy and Kenny and Dale,
But the best part to tell of this tale,
Is how Nancy, Ms. Bock,
Had a tube of Life-Caulk,
That we found on the store shelf, for sale.
An advantage to having internet on the boat is that I can now pen limericks about events right when they happen. A disadvantage is that I can now pen these limericks about events that are critically exciting to us and distressingly boring to you, my gentle reader.
We are living in a region where gullywasher thunderstorms bring buckets of surprise, instantaneous rain. This makes a 20-inch hole in the deck a problem. Hence my joy at getting the new hatch installed today, rather than on Monday.
(Barry points out another disadvantage — that I can be wasting time writing these limericks instead of installing the hatch.)
The lady, at age something-nine,
Is feeling quite youthful and fine,
But next year, the blow
Will come. Big uh-oh!
And then she’ll have reason to whine.
Happy Birthday to Julie and Sharon…39 and holding, both of you!
There once was a fellow named Dan,
Who lived on a boat on jackstands.
“She leaks like a sieve,
But it’s no way to live,
I would much rather float, if I can.”
Our neighbor, Dan, has been launched twice and subsequently pulled out. Somehow, he keeps a cheerful attitude, despite the delays. His blog is at www.danzplan.com.
“Like a sieve” is my poetic license; his boat is really nice. But if it worked perfectly, we wouldn’t have met him in the boatyard!