Chip's Blogging Space . . . enjoy.
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Written by Chip Caraway
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Friday, 20 March 2009 01:32 |
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"A great night for a cruise," thought Chip, as he took the helm from Captain Brad, the clock striking midnight. The moon showed bright on the glistening waters of the Mississippi River, as the M/V Margy Kelso was southbound with eight loaded sugar barges. This night started Chip’s second week on the wheel of a tugboat, having just been promoted from Licensed Deckhand to Pilot.
“Well Chipper,” said Captain Brad, “get you a cup of coffee and I will give you the lowdown on traffic.” Chip poured some of the strong ‘tugboat’ coffee that he was required to acquire a taste for, remembering Brad’s statement, “if you are going to be a tugboat captain, you must drink tugboat coffee.” Taking a sip of the stout coffee, gaining the taste for the strong brew, Chip stated “Lay it on me.”
“Ok, the stern lights you are looking at ahead of you are from the Dixie Renegade . . . He passed us just below Port Allen Lock forebay.” Brad continued “The Baton Rouge Gauge was reading 34-foot flood stage, so you are making about 14 miles an hour downstream . . . Don’t forget, on the canal we only made 3 miles an hour, so if you get in a bind, you will have to round-up and grab some bank to stop.” “That’s comforting,” thought Chip. “I heard a couple of large tows southbound ahead of you, down around Manchac and White Castle light. You will have to plan your passing with them, as they will be flanking all points,” continued Brad. “Remember, with your being new, I’m at location 3 on the intercom; holler if you need anything . . . and happy herding.”
With that said, Captain Brad went down the stairs, leaving Chip herding the 8 loads of sugar down the boiling Mississippi. “Dixie Renegade to the northbound tow taking the point-side at Plaquemine Point, I’m the southbound tow looking at you . . . one whistle,” boomed the VHF radio. “Creole Lady is northbound, point-side at Plaquemine, one whistle works for me,” the radio once again echoed. Grabbing the mic, “Margy Kelso is next in line behind the Dixie Renegade, 8 loads, southbound, I’ll be on the one also,” replied Chip.
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Last Updated on Saturday, 20 February 2010 17:46 |
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Written by Chip Caraway
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Thursday, 19 March 2009 20:50 |
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I don't generally see any humor in something when it involves death, especially of a beloved pet, but this tale includes an interesting trail of events, that bares telling. So without further a-deaux, I present: Death on the Hilltop . . . We moved from Texas to Missouri last June; we also moved my parents, who are in their mid-80's, who were living with us in Texas, as well. My parents inhabit a bedroom and bathroom in the basement, which walks out onto a balcony (yes, off of the basement); the balcony ends, where the slope of the hill that we live on descends at a 45-degree angle, down into a deep gully that goes on for about 3 acres. The balcony is where my dad's dog Curley lived in an Igloo doghouse complete with heated sleeping pad for the cold winter months. Curley was a short-haired, Border Collie, and could stand on his hind legs and look me in the eye; he could do the same to my dad which would dwarf my dad's 5' 6" thin frame. When he did this to anyone else, my dad would command him to get down; however, he would let Curley stand there with his paws on his shoulder, and listen as Curley spoke to him in little whining yelps. When Curley would be at the sliding glass doors, you could wave at him and he would talk to you with the same whining yelps; needless to say, the entire family loved this 10-year old dog that we had rescued from an animal shelter in Texas. |
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Last Updated on Thursday, 19 March 2009 21:01 |
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Work Poop Etiquette for the Men's Room |
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Written by Chip Caraway
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Monday, 16 March 2009 20:11 |
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You may have read this or not, but here it is; I didn't write this, but it was so humerous that I had to include it in my Blog, I have added a few though . . .
We've all been there but don't like to admit it. We've all kicked back in our cubicles and suddenly felt something brew down below. As much as we try to convince ourselves otherwise, the WORK POOP is inevitable. For those who hate pooping at work, following is the Survival Guide for taking a dump at work. Memorize these definitions and pooping at work will become a pure pleasure.
THE PRIME DIRECTIVE.
You should always wait to poop until the bathroom is empty, benefiting you as well as the other bathroom attendees.
CROP DUSTING.
Definition: When farting, you walk really fast around the office so the smell is not in your area and everyone else gets a whiff but doesn't know where it came from. Be careful when you do this. Do not stop until the full fart has been expelled. Walk an extra 30 feet to make sure the smell has left your pants.
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Last Updated on Monday, 16 March 2009 20:35 |
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First Night Alone in the New House |
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Written by Chip Caraway
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Monday, 16 March 2009 20:05 |
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When one moves into a new home it is always a good idea to get to know your local law enforcement personnel; however, this may not be the appropriate way of doing so. I need to inform any visual people, who are embarking upon the reading of this tale, to please forgive the images that will, no doubt, be conjured up in one's mind, as it is just a part of the story, and could not be omitted; thus, read at your own risk. So now I shall begin the tale . . . The moon shown brightly, gleaming thru all of the tall trees on the side of the hill where our new house sits. For those who may not know, I closed on a home in Wildwood, MO on February 12th and have stayed there many nights under the watchful eye of my wife, but had never stayed out there by myself, that is until last night. Another part of the tale is that we got our Burglar Alarm activated yesterday, and I had been thru the time-consuming required 3-week course for Burglar Alarm Operations 101 in the mere 5 minutes that the technician felt that it would take to dispel all of the intricacies of the operation of the alarm system. To verify that I had retained the alarm system information, I decided to set the alarm for "Stay," which disables all internal motion detectors, but keeps all doors armed. The alarm chirped the signal that I interpreted as "OK, you are now safe and secure in your new home." |
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Written by Chip Caraway
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Monday, 16 March 2009 19:56 |
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Here is another "Chip has moved to Missouri and is Staying Alone" story . . . My goodness, will it ever quit. I came home from work yesterday after a meeting at the DoubleTree and stopped by the mail box and got the mail. While there, I noticed that the little pine trees, that had been Chain-sawed into submission, from a cute Christmas Tree shapes, into a Grinch-ly attempt at forming hedge bushes, were looking a tad bit on the dry side. Being from Texas, and never having met the acquaintance of pine trees before, other than at Christmas, the hedges were looking like a dried out Christmas Tree in the beginning of March . . . more needles off than on. As I walked into the Garage, I caught the sight of my sprinkler system panel, which looked no less than a Launch Console at the Johnson Space Center . . . so I thought to myself, "Self, you are technologically advanced enough to get this system working by yourself. . ." Famous last words were just uttered. I rushed into the house to dress for the occasion . . . I was about to begin my first Yardwork Day at the new house. |
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The Ship's Blog
