Submitted by Kaare Askildt, former Preeceville area farmer in training. This one of a series on getting settled in Hazel Dell.
Well, finally the turkey trot is over! They were expedited to the freezer last weekend. I'm not going to give you the gory details, so suffice it to say it is a long time to Christmas, and our appetite for turkey may have recovered by then.
Marion brought home equipment and supplies to wash the outside widows that would normally require a ladder to get up to them and get them done. It consisted of a very powerful glass cleaner that has to be diluted in water, (2 ounces to 1 gallon), as well as a foam scrubby pad with an extendable handle. I promised Marion that I would read the instructions carefully. According to the instructions the window pane has to be sprayed with water first, then apply the cleanser using the absorbent scrubby pad, make sure to do the entire window pane including all four corners. Then rinse the window pane thoroughly; and also the window frame!
This seemed all simple enough; I just had to get the water hose ready by screwing on the "pistol grip." It took me about an hour to find the "pistol grip," as she had hidden it away at the bottom of the lowest storage area at the entrance. I was lying on my stomach rummaging around until I finally found it under some tools in the back corner! OK! Then I grabbed the hose and checked to see that it would be long enough. Obviously Marion had joined all the hoses together including the one foot extension that we use for something, whatever that something is. I'm focused on the task of cleaning the windows, so when I got to the end of the hose, I screwed the "pistol grip" on, without paying any particular attention as it screwed on quite easily. I dragged the hoses around the corner and placed end in the middle of the wall so I could do all three windows facing the driveway. I went back to the spigot and turned the water on, and hurried back to spray down the windows. That's when I realized that I should have paid more attention when I screwed on the "pistol grip!" Because the one foot extension that had been joined at the end had the female connector, I had screwed the tip of the "pistol grip," (yes, it has threads), into the extension and water was pouring out of the handle!
I turned the water off, verbalized a few choice Norwegian phrases, unscrewed the extension and screwed the "pistol grip" on the right way, and I'm in business! I guess the little rubber rings that are supposed to seal the connection might have dried up and hardened a bit. Every time I squeezed the trigger on the "pistol grip," water would splash on to the window pane, and a thin jet of water would squirt up my sleeve, and it did not matter how I held the "pistol grip," my right sleeve got soaked, my arm got soaked, then I moved it to the left hand and now my upper torso got soaked. It was not particularly warm that day; in fact it was overcast and a bit windy. By the time I was done washing the windows, I was soaked from head to toe and shivering. I turned off the water and headed straight for a warm shower.
When Marion came home she surveyed the hose, shook her head and told me that the "pistol grip" that I had used was a cheap one that she had bought on special, but the Scottish streak in her would not let her throw it away. She proceeded to tell me that we have three more of those "pistol grips." One in the tarp shed, one sitting in the fence by the horses' water trough and one on the shelf in the basement. Of course, all the places that I didn't look!
Ole was walking around a crowded Walmart on a busy Saturday looking for his wife while muttering some Norwegian phrases. He bumped into a young man who wasn't paying attention to where he was going. He heard Ole talking Norwegian, so he introduced himself as another Norwegian and told Ole that his name was Lars. "What are you doing here Ole?" asked Lars. "I'm looking for my wife," answered Ole. "Well, I'm looking for my wife as well," said Lars. "I think we are going to have a hard time finding them," said Ole. "Maybe we could search together," suggested Lars. "What does your wife look like?" asked Lars. "Well, she's middle aged, about five foot three, with dark blonde hair set up in a tight bun, she's wearing a brown jacket over a loose fitting light yellow blouse and a matching skirt, and her name is Kari," said Ole. "What does your wife look like Lars?" inquired Ole. "She's in her late twenties slim with long blonde hair that hangs down past her shoulders, wearing only a tight fitting flimsy white T-shirt with Uffda imprinted on the front, and a pair of tight fitting jeans accentuated with high heeled black booties, and her name is Grete," said Lars. "Well, what are we waiting for, let's go and find her," said Ole. "What about your wife?" asked Lars. "Never mind her" said Ole, " yours sounds more interesting, let's go find her!"
