Friday, March 9, 2012

Random Scenes

Today I feel like playing an association game. We'll connect all of these otherwise disparate photos by a common word or element.  

Fasten your seat belts, the train is getting ready to leave the station. Please remain seated until the ride has come to a complete stop at which time you may exit to your left.  Do not stampede on your way out; you could injure others trying to escape exit ahead of you.

(Unrelated side note: I used to work at Busch Gardens and had to give a similar spiel a few hundred times one summer. If anyone's ever looking for book or reality TV fodder, work at a crowded amusement park in the jungle-like humidity of an August summer in Williamsburg. You simply won't believe what people do on vacation, nor the clothes they wear or don't wear, nor the stuff they find to complain about, nor how many of those complainers seem to be from the North. No offense to anyone from the North, it's just an isolated observation made by a silly woman who wears a crab hat for entertainment.  Let's return from this entirely unnecessary tangent to our little association game, already in progress.)

The wooden skiff above sits on dry ground in a yard down Shadow.

That weathered and worn skiff  is made of wood, just like this cute little white farmhouse with a tin roof in Redart.

This mountain of oyster shells, outside of the old ice plant at Milford Haven, is white like that house.

Milford Haven is home to the Coast Guard station and the Gwynn's Island Bridge.

This rainbow is like a bridge from Earth to sky.

The last photo was sent to me by Mathews resident Bill Crowe, who had the privilege of seeing this rainbow from his back yard.
Thanks, Bill!


Life is like an amusement park here in Mathews.

We have to invent our own fun and games here in rural Mathews.

Thanks for playing along.
Have a fantastic weekend.


deborah said...

Wow, I really thought anyone who worked at that Busch Gardens must be part mountain goat! I admire you for spending a whole summer working there:)
Laughing at your word association game, I need all the laughs I can get (don't we all?)
Have a wonderful weekend!

Anonymous said...

1. I copied and pasted my comment from yesterday's post because my ribs still hurt : DgHawk-- I have sore ribs from laughing myself. I need a grant to film this hilarious family--or better yet, I think CBW needs to write a book about the whole clan.
CBW--you have been wondering what your next book should be about ? Are you SERIOUS ? Your father is a Malapropism GENIUS ! I don't even need to comment on your mom's withering observations, LOL.
2. I can picture you working at Busch Gardens in jungle humidity.
3. I love that farmhouse, but it looks to be occupied. I can't have a fantasy about buying and refurb.
Thanks for the photos as always.

Daryl Edelstein said...

This Northerner suspects it was the heat that made the others from up-here whine ..

I want to say thanks to your Anonymous poster who left me a really nice comment to which I cannot reply because (a)its anonymous and (b) there's no email attached (duh, because its anonymous). Thank you Anonymous for the comment about Rose and offering advice (which I welcome even if I didnt outright ask for it)its much appreciated. I know our health food store has some of that grass, I will be checking into it!

AverettLadyNana said...

Thanks for the memories!!!

Tin Roof on white clapboard houses...

Oyster Shell Piles (climbing on them at my Granddaddy's Oyster House)...

Playing with my cousins in one of the cousin's granddaddy's back yard (now Mr. Crowe's backyard)...

On and On!!! Thank You!!!

Deltaville Jamie said...

I go to Busch Gardens in jungle humidity and sit and say things like " you have GOT to be kidding me!" when I see what I see (Oh, there was this lady in the Festhaus last year... my mom yelled at us for laughing but dad commented that she shouldn't go out in public like that if she didn't want people to laugh)
Oyster shells remind me of using them to fix the road and make walkways. Your association game is similar to how I think... I get from wooden skiff to rainbows only it happens in my head and while I get why I go from one to another, no one else can follow.

Country Girl said...

I thought there was going to be a quiz at the end, so I started taking notes.


Chesapeake Bay Woman said...

LLC - My father is definitely a Malapropism Savant. He is also technically challenged.

If I were to put all of his technical-isms together it would read something like, "Hey, CBW, can you Tweeter this on Spacebook using your flaptop or can you fax (what he really means is text in this instance but he calls texting faxing) this over to your mother? Thank you too much."

BTW, CB Daughter, Son and I all say "thank you too much," because we've heard him say it so often. It's perfectly natural in this household. However, we usually try to filter ourselves out in the real world. The other day at work my filter fell off and I accidentally told my boss, "Thank you too much."

I then had to go through the whole history, which is difficult when they're formulating an image from scratch. You truly have to experience it to understand it.

Karen Deborah said...

we people are a sight aren't we?
Folks from the north have never experienced humid heat. Might be wimpy too...just saying because I still whine all summer long.

growing wild on waverly lane said...

Funny you should mention the Busch Gardens job...see, yesterday my pants were too tight but I wore them anyway and was reminded of your first day on the monorail when you burst in the door, tore off your shorts and exclaimed, "Can't wait to get out of this crotch-cutting costume!" Even then you were into alliteration!

I'm sure the travails of tourists were a test of your infamous genetically fragile patience. But good practice for life.

Kay L. Davies said...

Love the house with the tin roof. Laughed at some of the comments, especially your mom's.

Fighting Mermaid said...

"Welcome to balloon water race. We have six players for the next race. At the sound of the bell pull back on the trigger and aim at the silver disk in the gnome's mouth directly in front of you. The first person to pop his or her balloon will be our winner." - the fighting mermaid, age 16 all summer long at BG.
ps. love your pix!! Happy Weekend!

Chesapeake Bay Woman said...

WOW - That crotch-cutting costume was the safari get-up I had to wear while working on the monorail, which took "guests" (as we were forced to call them) from the park to the brewery tour and back.

The best part of that job was when the monorail, run by computer, would overshoot the station due to heat and BEASTS--I mean too many guests--inside. I secretly reveled in their panic as I calmly pulled out the panel and manually drove the thing back to the proper place. Ah, the power. Even if I was wearing that Girl Scout looking outfit.

There was one station of our shift where we sat like Oz behind a curtain in front of The Master Computer that ran everything. That was the only part of the job I liked because (a) it was inside in a/c (b) there was NO interaction with people, only lights and buttons, and (c) we could sit down. But only for half an hour.

Fighting Mermaid - I had NO idea you worked there too. As an introvert I can imagine no greater horror than being in charge of one of those games. It's a wonder you're not in therapy, I know I would be.

After my one summer on the monorail they "promoted" me to Guest Relations, which is a fancy word for Complaint Department.

One morning my supervisor (my age) accessed the park's sound system and imitated the call of the park's peacock. One of the best mornings ever - nothing but laughter.

Thankfully this was before the park opened for the day, and thankfully he was not fired. Not for that anyway.


Deltaville Jamie said...

This might make me crazy, but i now want to work at BG just so I can make random animal calls over the PA system

Chesapeake Bay Woman said...

Jamie - The funniest part of all was he sounded EXACTLY like the peacock. I think that's why he didn't get in trouble.

BG at $3.25/hour (min wage at the time) was the greatest job ever.