The Six-Year-Old Truck Driver

Written by Janette Blackwell

Continued from page 1

One Sunday afternoon when he was nine he began showingrepparttar results of these training exercises. It was a raw March day, whenrepparttar 148910 snow had melted andrepparttar 148911 soil just thawed, turningrepparttar 148912 field besiderepparttar 148913 house into icy clay gumbo. Which gumbo was several feet deep. Davie -- who by then had let us know that David, not Dave and never again Davie, was his name of choice -- David tookrepparttar 148914 truck out intorepparttar 148915 middle ofrepparttar 148916 gumbo and deliberately mired it up to its hubcaps. All afternoon we'd hearrepparttar 148917 truck roar and spin, roar and spin . . . a five-minute silence, then roar and spin, roar and spin. A miserable, cold, windy afternoon, and even David would be driven in to warm his freezing hands and get a drink of water.

David's reports were always cheerful. Early announcements explained how truly hopelessly mired he'd gottenrepparttar 148918 truck. Later reports described efforts with chains, boards, and gunny sacks, all performed with his bare hands in freezing mud.

"It's halfway out!"

Much roaring fromrepparttar 148919 field.

"It's almost there, just a few more tries."

Sounds fromrepparttar 148920 field as of a truck in its last agonies.

"It's out! It's out! I got it out!"

A look atrepparttar 148921 kitchen clock. "I guess I have time to get it stuck again before dark."

Go STEAMIN’ DOWN THE TRACKS WITH VIOLA HOCKENBERRY, a storytelling cookbook -- and find Montana country cooking, nostalgic stories, and gift ideas -- at Janette Blackwell’s Food and Fiction, -- or visit her Delightful Food Directory,


Written by Aphrodite Beamish

Continued from page 1

4. Check out your nearest hunting and fishing club (that’srepparttar only place to play with big boys’ toys or swap big whoppers withrepparttar 148909 best bareback bull-riders or feisty fly-catchers in town!)

5. Visit a shoe-store and pick outrepparttar 148910 best pair of glass slippers you can lay your eyes on (if they don’t have any in stock, ask who makesrepparttar 148911 best brand …because you need to replacerepparttar 148912 pair of steel-toed stilettos you misplaced atrepparttar 148913 last ball you attended if you recall!)

6. Put on your dancing duds, turn downrepparttar 148914 lights, and crank uprepparttar 148915 mood music (listen up there “Goody-Two-Shoes” …how can you meet Mr. Right unless your neighbors know you’re one very potent party-animal who simply adoresrepparttar 148916 dog-trot,repparttar 148917 dog-paddle, or better yet …a daring dog-catcher!)

7. Sign up for some high-energy hoopla (you know …repparttar 148918 steamy, strut your stuff, svelte exercise programs such as private pole-dancing, strip-tease yoga, and winking for wimps!)

8. Learn to play golf (it’srepparttar 148919 only time you can talk about balls with great abandon, rent a cute-looking caddy forrepparttar 148920 day, a carry a long club without any questions asked, or just knockrepparttar 148921 socks offrepparttar 148922 other fellows in your foursome as one very spicy, sophisticated, sultry, swinger from Shady Lane!)

9. Practice your pillow-talking skills (by whispering sweet nothings into your bed-linens or singing saucy songs inrepparttar 148923 shower; that way you’ll constrain that crazy urge to canoodle and be ready to meet Prince Charming, disguised as a shoe clerk, who's eager you try on that little glass slipper silly!)

10. Memorize some provacative parlour pick-up lines (like “Okay, if I shake MY Booty, then will you come out and play?” “Granny Smith doesn’t live here …but if you’re Johnny Appleseed …I’ll show a you good time in my Garden of Eden”, “Keep ringing my chimes like that and I’ll have to callrepparttar 148924 Big Bopper on you!”)

And if this doesn't work for you, take a hint from one wisewoman with a wishbone -- run out and joinrepparttar 148925 circus. After all, who wouldnt want a couple of "boisterous broads" to liven uprepparttar 148926 greatest sideshow on earth!

Aphrodite Beamish, a sexagenarian siren with a penchant for candy kisses, pink girdles, and black fishnet stockings (among other delightful diversions denied to most glee-oriented, glad-handing gorgeous gadflies) can usually be found lollgagging about in her chaise longue in the Court of The Quipping Queen with a lot of other quirky quidnuncs. (Visit for more details).

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