Just a little noise

When I was younger, I had to have a radio playing to sleep.  I could not sleep if it was quiet.  However, I had a hard time falling to sleep at my friend, "Brandi's" house because it was right next to the railroad tracks.  She told me she got used to it, and I'm sure you do, but I never did just being there only every now and then.

So it's no surprise that my kiddos each sleep with a radio on.  It doesn't bother me, except when Madolyn's is so loud you can hear it in the kitchen, and I know it has bothered Lane a time or two, or at least that's the excuse he gives when he can't sleep.

Growing up my Grandpa Kannmacher thought everyone (thing) needed some noise to keep them company.  He was adamant that a radio be playing at all times in the barn for the cows.  It was calming.  I found it creepy because you would walk in the barn, not expecting anyone to be in there, and then hear music or people talking.  Eeewww.

When my grandparents were still alive and living down in Texas, my mom would go visit a time or two each year and leave my dad at home alone.  It was not uncommon to stop in at their house and find two or three of the televisions on...and my dad not even home.  He left them on for noise and to keep him company.   I must admit I have become the same way.  I just like the noise.  You know the saying, silence is deafening.  That is, of course, until your kids have pushed you to the limit and you need some peace and quiet!  I enjoy those moments every now and then too. 

I don't like loud noises at all though, and sometimes I can get so focused on a continual noise that it takes over my thoughts and I become obsessed with it until I can turn it off.  Which brings me to the box fan that Jay has insisted we run all night long.  In the summer the excuse was the heat.  Although I never thought we needed it, I went along with it because I could always add a cover, and I did.  Now, it's on for noise.  We have it pointed towards the wall so that it doesn't freeze me out (I still feel it) as a compromise.

At first, I could not stand the noise from that fan.  Even on low, it drove me bonkers...but over time, I have come to discover how much it masks the noise from outside...and I don't mean outdoors.  I mean the kids and their friends.  How great that fan is to drown out their loudness!  It is awesome.  And since we have to keep our bedroom door completely shut because of a certain Sweet Josie who thinks our face is her pillow (not kidding), the combination of the fan noise and the door being shut is fabulous.  We can't hear a thing!

In fact, I used to have Jay shut the blasted fan off when he got up for work (4:30 a.m.) because it was so 'loud', then I realized how annoyingly quiet it got...and how I could hear him banging around in the kitchen (I know, he's not intentionally being loud, it just sounds like a circus).   Now the fan stays on.  The first thing I do when I get up is turn it off, but I must admit I have become accustomed again to just a little noise.

Just enough

"For this is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: 'The jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the Lord sends rain on the land.'"  1 Kings 17:14 (NIV)

If you have a moment or two, go ahead and read the passage surrounding this verse, 1 Kings 17:2-24.

I've written before about a few instances where just the right amount of money surfaced to cover something unexpected or suddenly necessary.  It happens a lot, doesn't it?  You realize it's time to refill your LP tank and wonder where the money will come from...and then you get an unexpected refund from insurance.  Your car needs a major repair, surprise, your husband gets hours of overtime. 

It doesn't have to be monetary either.  Maybe you are so exhausted from running or you've been sick and you have a commitment at church, God sends along a Midwest ice storm and things are postponed.  You can now stay home and rest.  You're trying to figure out how your family is going to eat at least one home-cooked meal this week and someone surprises you with supper.  

In the passage noted above, Elijah is told by God at one point that the ravens and a stream will provide him with food and water.  Then he is told to go to Zarephath and a widow would supply him with the food he'd need.  He finds the widow right inside the city gates and asks her for food.  The widow at that very moment is gathering sticks so she can go home and build a fire to prepare her and her son's final meal.  The widow only has flour and oil left for one more meal and this is it.  She knows that they will surely starve to death, and now this man has the nerve to ask her for a drink and a piece of bread.  He tells her not to be afraid, the Lord says that the flour jar will not be empty and the oil will not run dry.

I don't know about you, but that would be a pretty hard pill for me to swallow.  I have this image in my head of this widow starting to laugh uncontrollably at the request because she literally has almost nothing left.  I can picture myself saying, "You've got to be kidding me, right?  I'm supposed to give this stranger the last of my stash and believe that I will continue to have enough food for me and my son?"  Uh-huh.  But being a better woman than I, she did as she was told and her jar never emptied and her jug never ran dry.  God provided her just enough to get by.

And then there's Elijah.   As someone whose entire day revolves around mealtime and snacks, I can't even begin to relate to this guy.  To just head out the door completely empty-handed trusting that what I needed as far as nourishment would be provided along my way, uh-uh, nope, I am not sure I could do it.  I would have to pack something to nibble on, at least every three hours!

Personally, I feel like birds are good-for-nothing creatures.  Elijah went way out on a limb by trusting that birds would bring him food.  AND THEY DID.  They brought him meat and bread every morning and evening.   He moves on and finds this widow that God tells him will provide food for him and she does!  They don't describe humongous feasts where they eat until they are stuffed, they had just enough food and drink to get them through until the next meal.

Elijah, what a man of great faith, trusting that God would provide him food and water along his journey.  The widow, she saw the need of another and, sacrificing her and her son's last amount of food, she did what she could to meet that need.  Do I think that she did this expecting for God to multiply her food, no, not really.  I think she did what she her heart told her she needed to do.

We are called to meet the needs of others if we are able.  Sometimes we may not feel equipped to do it, but our heart is telling us to go for it.  Good news, God will give us just enough to get by...and sometimes even more as a blessing for being good stewards.

Hello caller...

Probably one of the biggest frustrations I encounter on the job is the phone, which isn't terrible, I suppose, if that is my biggest frustration, right?

For instance, somewhere we are listed as the general number for the courthouse.  I get many phone calls asking for another office.  I know I've been at this particular job for three years, but I have yet to figure out how to transfer a call to another phone successfully.  So I give them the number of the office they want, they ask, can't you just transfer me?  To which I answer, No, I really can't.  Sorry.

Here is the kicker for me.  When someone calls asking for information or a phone number and I start to give it to them, they say, "Oh, wait, I don't have a pen and paper handy.  Let me grab something real quick."  Really?  You called asking me for a phone number and you don't have something to write it down on? 

The thing is if I were a citizen calling a courthouse, the last office I would call would be the judge.  I find it unusual that out of the five or six listings in the book, that is the one chosen.  I don't get it. 

I love it when someone calls to get help and then proceeds to tell me their life story.  I respond with the usual, "I'm sorry, I cannot help you with that, you need to call here."  And they continue on with their story.  I will again explain that telling me all of this won't do any good and they need to call this number.  I try to be kind because I know they are frustrated, but really, I'm just the court reporter, I cannot help you.  I say that over and over and over.

Here's one I used to find comical.  I say that I used to because after the umpteenth inquiry, it got old.  Somewhere online if you search birth certificates and Illinois, you will get a page that has Clark County and then our number in the link.  It isn't claiming to be the number to call for information regarding birth certificates, but it's what people see when they do a quick search.  I will get at least three to four calls a month from someone asking for a birth certificate for...Cook County, and usually I only discover this after about a 90-second explanation of why they need the copy of their birth certificate.

I had a call earlier today asking about a traffic ticket.  I told them they needed to call another office and gave them that number.  The caller then asked me what area code it was.  I really wanted to say, well, sir, it's the same area code you called to get me, but I was nice and I didn't.   I kept thinking that Jeff Foxworthy's "Here's your sign" phrase seemed appropriate though.

About once a month I get a call from an automated system asking if we want to refinance our mortgage, fix our roof, reduce or monthly utility bill by 30% or update some sort of google page.  Another popular automated message is the one where she asks for the person in charge of our accounts.  Ahhh.

People call me to get court dates.  If I'm away from my desk or in court, they leave a message with a number to call back.  And here is my biggest irritation of all...I call back and they don't answer, in my mind, most likely because it says "Private number" or "unavailable" on the caller ID.  I just want to leave a nasty message saying, "Hey, you called me.  If you want to talk to me, you're going to have to call me back!"  But because I'm so professional (hahaha) I don't.  I smile and wave.   And the reason I believe they choose not to answer because of the caller ID status is that within twenty seconds of me hanging up my phone, they call, telling me they got my message.

No joke, as I was finishing the end of this post, the phone rang.  Caller:  "Yeah, I know I called the wrong number but could you connect me with the clerk's office?"  "No, but I can give you that number."   There are days I just want to say, "Hello caller, you're live on the air..."

How about a double shot?

So here I was, patting myself on the back for kicking the Diet Pepsi addiction for over a year, when it occurred to me that I had never checked out the amount of caffeine found in my drink substitute.  Because, although I 'gave up' getting my 32-ounce, fountain Diet Pepsi every morning from the gas station, what I really did was just put something else in place of it...and patted myself on the back.  But hey, I kicked the addiction from that particular drink, so what?

A couple of weeks ago, the subject of caffeine came up and I did a little Internet search comparing the amounts of caffeine contained in various drinks.  What I came up with was, personally, very shocking.  I certainly did a little number on myself with this one.  Here is what I discovered:

The Crystal Lite Energy packet that I mix with my 16.9 bottle of water contains 120 mg of caffeine.  The packet, although very small, is actually considered two servings; each serving containing 60 mg of caffeine.  In a 12-ounce serving of Diet Pepsi, there are 36 mg of caffeine.  I usually had 32 ounces a day.  Let's do the math.

On an average day back when I was drinking Diet Pepsi daily, I was consuming approximately 96 mg of caffeine.  Because water is so much healthier than pop, I drink at least two bottles of water every morning before noon with my Crystal Lite Energy packet, one wild strawberry and one grape flavored.  Those two bottles of water with the energy packet mixed in equal 240 mg of caffeine.

Effectively, what I have done in being so strong-willed and healthy has more than doubled my caffeine intake for an average day.  Well done, Sarah.  You sure put the fix on this one.

And if that wasn't good enough, a few months ago, I gave the Diet Swiss Miss Cocoa a toss and replaced it with hot tea or iced tea.  Bravo, again, girl...you have successfully added approximately another 150 mg of caffeine to your day that you weren't previously consuming.  The hot chocolate was caffeine-free.

A 16-ounce can of Rockstar or Monster is 160 mg.  I have been anti-energy drinks since they came out (ignoring the word "energy" on the Crystal Lite packet, of course) going on about how they couldn't be good for you, why would anyone need that much caffeine at once, these are so harmful to our bodies, etc.  Looks like the joke is on me.

But before all you coffee-drinking hounds get on my case (Quackdaddy) about this, let's consider the amount of caffeine in an 8-ounce cup of brewed coffee:  108 mg.  Again, doing the math, that's not even as much as the Rockstar or the Monster energy drink (although I certainly have no idea of what else is in them).  I know that coffee does have some health benefits so I'm not bashing it necessarily, I'm just throwing out the numbers there to defend myself from my father readers.

No wonder I never noticed any major change in how I felt after giving up the Diet Pepsi.  Oh, why can't water just have a sweeter taste? 

Dental industry

So continuing on with the dental trend, about 10 days ago, Madolyn had braces put on.  This is all very new to us because Jay and I somehow survived childhood without them.  We do not have perfect teeth, but they were good enough to not need them desperately and it's never been something we have chosen to pursue for ourselves.  Poor Madolyn has two teeth growing up high in her gums.  I asked if they would ever come down on their own and the answer was no.  Her bottom teeth are pretty crooked in the front also.  The combination of the two situations made us feel pretty confident this was the right thing to do.  (Although I am convinced that they will tell any live, breathing human being with teeth in their mouth they need braces.)

It's a huge commitment, not only monetarily speaking but we have to trust that our sweet daughter will take care of her teeth now that she has the hardware on and once it comes off...otherwise, it will have been a total waste of money and effort.  I see that Faith Hill is now sporting braces to correct her teeth shifting which makes me think Mad's straight teeth may not last even if she does everything right...but she will be an adult and she can pay for the second set.  If Faith can afford it, well...

Poor planning on my part, I probably should've waited for Madolyn's mouth renovation until after volleyball was over; although, I think we're at the point in her life where there may not be 'downtime' so now is as good as time as any.  She had a pretty uncomfortable 48 hours but seems fine now.  We will go back in six weeks to start the cranking and rubber bands.  The dentist tells me we'll see a big difference in as little as a couple months with those 'high' teeth.  Let's hope!

Just a couple days after Mad got the braces, Lane started complaining of a toothache.  Let me back up a bit.  We had missed his regularly scheduled cleaning in December because we got down there and he was pukey.  I can't blame him for not wanting someone cleaning his teeth and I could not blame the hygienist for not wanting to stick her hands in his icky mouth.  I rescheduled the appointment for President's Day and we will be going in just a couple days.

I remember now that Lane mentioned a piece of his tooth had broken off a week or ten days ago and I commented that it was a good thing we had a cleaning coming up.  He has his father's brittle teeth and they chip-chip-chip away pretty easily.  So when he said he had a toothache, it wasn't hard for me to believe.  I gave him some ibuprofen and didn't think another thing about it until...

We were at a volleyball tournament on last Saturday and he says to me, "mom, my face is on fire."  I look over at him and sure enough, he is beet red.  Strange.  Moments ago, he was fine.  No fever.  No stomach ache, but a red, red face.  So...he goes home.  Thinking it might be an allergic reaction, he takes some Benedryl.  I get home and hear him throwing a humongous fit.  I go talk to him and he tells me his tooth hurts.  At this point, I get the flashlight out and take a look.  Uh-huh, yes, I see what you're saying, buddy.  He takes some Tylenol and is fine in a half hour...but his cheek is growing.

By Monday morning, he looks as if he's holding a tennis or baseball in his cheek.  He is miserable.  We keep him home from school and we get an antibiotic for him.  This is not our first ride on this merry-go-round.  About a year or so ago, this same thing happened with a deteriorating tooth on the other side.  I took him to the dentist and they tried to pull it as it was still infected and inflamed.  You talk about a fit of rage, Lane had one.  I tell you driving home from the dentist that day, I had never, ever seen my sweet boy have such a violent tantrum.  It was scary.  If I were a crier, I would've been sobbing (instead I was laughing, which I know is the wrong signal to the child who is coming unglued) because it was frightening watching him kick and scream and carry on. 

I promised him the other day that we would not let anyone touch that tooth until the infection is cleared up.  Hopefully, when we go for the cleaning on Monday, they will take care of it.  He has inherited his parents teeth and now I have to sit and watch him suffer through it.  Poor boy.

So I have decided that the Wilhoit family purpose is to keep the dental industry alive and flourishing.  I also decided that it could be worse, so we'll take it.  Anyone out there interested in dental school?

Not the only one

In 1997, I got my first 'real' world job as a court reporter.  With that came 'real' insurance, which included dental insurance.  I had been to a dentist off and on in the years prior to 1997 and all during my childhood.  My teeth had always looked nice and I was often told I had good, strong teeth, but I always had trouble with cavities.  I admit I like sugar and chocolate so it wasn't too surprising that my teeth would suffer because of that.

My very first visit to my new dentist after obtaining my new job and insurance was interesting to say the least.  The dentist was a female and I thought that would be just great, not that I had had any problems or conflicts with male dentists, but she was just a little older than myself and I thought it would be nice.  After the hygienist cleaned my teeth, the dentist came in to check out my teeth and commented right away that I had a "yuck mouth."  I laughed at that comment because I wasn't quite sure what else I was supposed to do.  To say I was embarrassed was an understatement.  And so it began, countless trips to the dentist to fill all of these cavities in my yuck mouth.

Suffering from morning sickness with both children didn't help the condition of my teeth either.  I didn't realize how much that would affect them.  But each time I visited the dentist after having my kids, they commented on how badly my teeth had suffered from all the vomiting.  Wonderful.

I've had teeth pulled, crowns, a root canal, my wisdom teeth cut out (that is another story in itself).  I recall vividly one particular appointment when I was getting a crown or they were starting one or something.  It wasn't my first go-round with a crown, so I knew what was coming and wasn't looking forward to it.

It had become my experience that if the average person needed one shot, I needed three...and I am not joking.  This particular occasion after getting the first shot and waiting the usual time to see if it was going to be enough, I asked for more, I could still feel them prodding around on the pre-test.  Okay, so I get another shot.  I wait.  Dentist comes in and says she's ready.  I tell her that I think I still need more numbing stuff.  She laughs and says, oh, good grief, you don't either.  She starts her work and I about come off the table.

I kid you not, I literally jumped up off the table at one point and she tells me in a rather stern voice that I was being ridiculous and I needed to settle down, it did not hurt.  I was completely taken aback and she stopped what she was doing and I sat up and said, "Look, I have had two children, one with an epidural, the last one without.  I can take a lot of pain, but you are killing me."  I don't know if I convinced her or not, but they gave me more numbing stuff.  It wasn't long after that, I found myself a new dentist.

I told the new place on the phone straight-up that I suffered from what I jokingly called Dental Anxiety (although now I realize there really is such a thing).  They said that would not be a problem for them, and we made our appointments.  At my very first visit, the dentist took me into his office, sat me down and talked to me about my fears, my past experiences, what he would do for me, how I needed to communicate with him about pain, etc.  It was wonderful.  Although I was somewhat embarrassed having to admit all of this, he took me seriously.  I can honestly say that personally I have yet to have a bad experience with this office. 

Last November when my cousin "Danielle" and I were driving to another cousin's birthday party, we got to sharing stories about our dental nightmares.  I never knew it until then, but she also suffers from severe dental anxiety.  We just laughed and laughed as we compared our experiences.  It was comforting (to me anyway) to know I was not the only one.

Somethin' funny...

Hey, guess what?  The joke was on me.  The toaster wasn't broken.  Even though I had unplugged it and tried it in different outlets, I didn't pick the right ones...the ground fault had tripped and that is why it wasn't working, which explains why my Nook and cell phone didn't fully charge too (but I didn't even complain about that...ha!)

Oh well, I went on my lunch Monday to Wal-Mart and bought a cheapo toaster.  I was unpacking it when Jay started telling me about the ground fault.  I then re-packed it back up and covered it in packing tape so I could return it...then located the instruction manual on the counter (which honestly who would need one for a simple toaster?).

Jay suggested I keep it for the camper...too late, I already have a toaster for the camper!  So it's coming to work with me.  That way, no matter what the toaster at home is doing, I can have toast at work.  Future crisis averted.

Just not my day

This is the day the Lord has made; We will rejoice and be glad in it.   Psalm 118:24 (NKJV)

Today is not my day and it just so happens to be a Monday.  Have you ever had one of those days where you just wish you could start over?  That is how I have felt several times today.

It really started last night, although I didn't let it get to me too much.  Lane and Madolyn were tossing a little Nerf football/dart thingy from the kitchen to the living room, which is not allowed upstairs, but their dad was in the living room and I was in the kitchen so we can't really blame anyone for that one, huh?

I was cleaning the counter tops and had just moved my Nook and glasses (not in a case) to the bar stool next to my purse.  I heard a slight crash and then Madolyn says, "Uh-oh, Lane, you're in trouble!"  There on the floor was one-half of my cute pink glasses.  After looking around, we discovered the other half caught in the chair.  They were broken right down the middle.

We tried to glue them, then I tried to wrap them with scotch tape.   I even wore them on the treadmill this morning to read while I did my couch to 5k workout.  It was very difficult to keep them up on my nose, as the tape was not holding very well.

I don't have horrible vision at all, it's only when I read or look at a computer screen that I have problems...which for me is a problem because I'm at a desk most of the day.  Thankfully, I do have my old spare pair in my desk drawer at work.  I wore them all day and will continue to wear them until I can get a replacement. 

I got ready to make Lane toast for breakfast this morning, put the bread in the toaster and voila...it wouldn't work.  Strange.  I unplugged it, plugged it back in using various plug-ins...not working.  Wonderful.  I eat toast almost very single day for breakfast.  No breakfast for me today.

My kiddos like to rush me out the door in the morning and this morning they did their usual routine of taking "all" my stuff to the car for me so I wouldn't have to take the extra 20 seconds to grab it.  It makes me crazy because I then don't know what I have and don't have, although they tell me they have everything.   If you know me at all, you know I'm a little scatterbrained and need visuals...I need to be able to see the stuff in my bag.

I drop Lane off and reach into my purse to see if Jay has texted (he usually will when he works days) to ask how the morning is going.  No phone.  Aaaahhhh.  Although I realize I survived 19 years without a cell phone, I'm pretty attached to that little thing and feel almost naked without it.  I get to work and email mom, Jay and my friend, the teacher, at school to tell them I have forgotten my phone at home, call me at work if you need something.  And I ask the teacher friend to let Madolyn know that I don't have my phone just in case she needs something.

Right at lunch I get an email from Jay, Madolyn has my phone in her pocket.  Ahh, she took it to the truck but forgot to get it out of her pocket.  So she already knows I don't have my phone.

I get to the nursing home at lunch and as soon as I walk in, Grandma Great tells me the new shirt I just bought her doesn't fit...again.  (Jay had her name for Christmas, he picked out the most perfect shirt and it wouldn't fit, they took the tags off and we couldn't return it, so we gave it to Jay's grandma.)  I go find another similar shirt for her to replace the one that didn't fit and tell her to please not take the tags off before she tries it on.  Apparently, someone forgot.  This shirt also doesn't fit and has no tags.  I can't give this shirt to Jay's grandma because it's so much like the first one...so someone else will be blessed by it, I guess.  It's not exactly my style or size.

All day long I have felt out of sorts, thoughts cross my mind about how awful today is going...and like normal I see or hear something that jerks a knot in my tail.  Makes me realize how really, really petty it is that my toaster is broken and that I was without it for less than one day.  That even though my glasses, at least seven or eight years old, are broken, I have a spare in my work desk drawer and Vision insurance.  My cell phone, although not right at my fingertips, is at the fingertips of my darling daughter; if there is a family emergency, she will at least be able to tell them I don't have my phone.  The shirt is a shirt.  I will find Grandma Great another shirt and post some sort of sign or warning label on the tags of it that says, "Do not remove or else - Sarah will come after you!"

So maybe today is just not my day, but God-willing I will have another chance at it tomorrow.

Ready, Aim, Fire

This year Santa Claus brought Lane a real bow and arrow and it has been a great gift so far.  Not only has Lane spent hours shooting that bow, Madolyn has also come to enjoy shooting it.  Jay bought Lane a target for the basement and they have it set up right under the mini basketball hoop.  I took a few pictures from the treadmill because it was cracking me up. 

Doesn't everyone wear their volleyball uniform when shooting a bow?

Similar form...but no volleyball uniform.

 

So now I can walk/jog on the treadmill and have the pleasure of watching arrows zoom past right in front of me and Jay can do his workout videos and hear them flying through the air behind him.  It's great...as long as the aim remains accurate.

Now that Josie has discovered the wonderful world of the basement, she also zips by.  And then there's Hank who is chasing after Josie...Goodness, I hope no one gets shot.

Shiloh Memories

Last night we traveled to Shiloh school for a volleyball game.  When I go there, it brings back good memories from my childhood of going to the Shiloh Holiday Tournament every Christmas.  Even when I mention Shiloh to my grandma, she immediately starts in on how she and grandpa considered that a winter vacation, so-to-speak.  I didn't know this until she told me, but they would actually arrange their cortisone shots to coincide with the Holiday Tournament because they wanted to be able to go and sit in the bleachers and watch basketball in comfort.  Now, that's some planning!

One great story from our many trips to Shiloh would be my dad missing a 90-degree curve and taking my grandparents (my mom's parents) for quite the side trip...into the field.  What really made it great was all the Martinsville people that knew about it because half the town was at the tournament and the only reason you were on this particular road was to get to the Shiloh High School.  I can still remember hearing stories about that night from some of dad's friends. 

Because this tournament centered around the Christmas holiday, I remember having either new clothes to wear or a new toy to bring.  Shiloh was probably one of the first road trips my Cabbage Patch doll, Amy Ann, took.  I can recall my cousin, "Sara," and I both having our Cabbage Patches up there. 

My number one memory is the two-headed, stuffed and mounted, calf that they had in a glass display case in the hallway at the school.  Every time I go up there, the first thing I think of is that two-headed calf.  Last night at the concession stand, I asked about it and the three ladies looked at me like I had lost my mind.  "Seriously," I said, "there was a stuffed two-headed calf in your hallway years ago."  They politely accepted my ramblings with a smile, and that was that.  Until my father walked up to the concession table...

Let me go back a little bit in the evening here for a moment.  I arranged to ride with my parents to the game.  We thought we would stop in a nearby town for supper at this super yummy BBQ place.  My mouth watered all day thinking about that savory pulled pork...Oh, sorry...We ran out of time and decided we would have to just run through the McDonalds Drive-Thru if we didn't want to be late.  Dad ordered a coffee with three creamers and an Angus Burger.  We get our stuff and drive away.

Again, as a little background, if you've been around my dad enough, you know that he wants "hot, fresh coffee."  And he will ask a waitress if the coffee is hot and fresh when he orders.  I was driving last night and didn't ask those two questions.  Shoot.

So not far down the road, dad discovers that his coffee is definitely not hot, which can only mean it's also not fresh.  He had missed his 3:00 coffee, so this was very upsetting.  I can understand this entirely...I get that way over certain things.   Dad had just been telling us how he had tried the Angus Burger a while back and it was the best fast food burger he'd ever had.  He took one bite of his Angus Burger last night and was disgusted.  He couldn't even finish half the sandwich.  It has bacon and onions on it.  I said, "At least eat the bacon!"  (It was all I could do to not grab the bacon.)

So you can kind of imagine how disappointed he was with the cool and not-so-fresh coffee and the super disgusting burger.  I passed him a peppermint to suck on, and then Lane decided to share some fries with him.  Anything to get that awful taste out of his mouth.

Back to the Shiloh concession stand...as soon as we get there, dad says he has got to find the concession stand.  And this is where he comes in after I'd inquired about the two-headed calf.  He asks if they happen to have coffee, they don't, and he proceeds to tell them all about the coffee and burger from McDonalds.  It was hilarious.  We get back to the bleachers, someone sits down next to him and we hear him telling that guy about the coffee and burger.  My in-laws come in and then my brother and his family.  Everyone knows about the disappointing coffee and burger.

The game is almost over and we see one of the concession ladies climbing the bleachers towards us.  She hands a dollar bill to the guy sitting next to my dad and explains he didn't get his change.  Then she turns and sees my dad and says, "Next time you're here, we'll have that coffee for you.  And if you come back during baseball season, I'll have the grill going and cook you a hamburger."   As she turns around to leave, she sees me and says, "Oh, I asked, there was a two-headed calf here, but when the Ag teacher retired, he took it home."  All I could think of was, yes, we're related.  Does it show?