Course I might have tried to get even with my little Ryan subconsiously !

Well, if you read the last post you will know Ryan tried to kill me albeit quite by accident and he did not succeed.  What the little fellow does not know, and Grandma does, is that I almost did him in and it was with absolutely no malice of forethought.

It was a year or so later that I decided I was sick to death of the cast iron bathtub that was in my powder room.  You know the one that would have lasted forever and was gleaming white with very little effort?  Yeah, that one that was installed and then the room built around it.  So off I went with Kenny in tow to the city to find the perfect set up.  And there it was at that place on the hill.  Forgot the name.  Nice white plastic tub and the nice white plastic surround.  Little pricey, but what the hey!

Enter son-in-law that I did not particular like, but he worked cheap.  Rip out the wall, rip out the tub and haul it out back.  I will not go into the particulars of how many days it took to get that bathroom back in working order or how frustrated we got before we decided that son-in-law had to go.  Nor will I go into the time frame of how long it took Bret to get a chair in the tub and poke a hole in the side of the new plastic POS.  This story is about Ryan!

It took 4 men and a horse to drag that cast iron tub out back.  And there it set.  Trash man did not want it.  Scrap man did not want it.  So it set there.  Looking back I can now think of many things I could have used it for.  Could have been a strawberry bed.  I could have become Catholic and it could have been a great grotto or what ever those things are.  But it set there.  Enter frustrated grandson with a sledge hammer and it became something to relieve said frustration.  Now cast iron can be broken if it is hit just right.  First it was in two pieces and then three and you know the routine.

At that time I also had a chicken pen I wanted ripped out so I could make that area a garden.   I was trying to pull one of the t-posts out of the ground and having no luck at all.  Enter Ryan.  He thought he was way bigger than he was.  I might interject here that the easiest way to remove a t-post is with a jack and a chain, but that was in the garage and there was Ryan.  So the little fellow braced his feet, grabbed the post and jerked.  He did that several times and nothing happened.  Then he decided it was do or die and made one final attempt.  At the point when I thought he was going to pop a blood vessel, it came loose.  As the law of momentum is want to do, Ryan fell backwards and landed flat on his back with the t-post still firmly in his grasp.

And protruding into the air, barely one inch from his left shoulder blade was a foot long piece of cast iron the shape of a stiletto!  My life flashed before my eyes as he lay there with the biggest grin on his face!  He was so proud that he had removed that post by brute force.  All I could think of was what the scene would have been had he been turned just slightly, or the post had been over 8 inches, or this, or that.

When I said my prayers that night and for many nights thereafter, I thanked my omnipotent God for knowing way more than me and for thinking ahead more than this old woman, and for keeping his arm around Ryan and keeping him safe.  Do you remember this, my little Ryan?  That is one I am not going to forget in this lifetime.

So now go vote in the poll up there on the left.  It is no wonder you never come over and want to help old Granny anymore!

Time to dig out the bike and dust it off for Spring!

Well, Spring is going to be here pretty quick and I want to be ready!  Here is the bike and it is going to get ridden just pretty soon.  I keep thinking I am going to get a new bike and I almost did.  I found a really pretty Lavender one at Target for only $104.00, but you know how it goes.  This bike has lots of memories and if it could talk it might get me in a bit of trouble!  Look at that seat!  Isn't that pretty?

This bike came off the neighbors junk pile and it used to be blue and rust.  I mean real rust, not the color.  So, Tim pulled it off the pile and brought it over to my garage.  Then began the transformation.  He took it all apart and made sure everything was there.  Tires were all right, but the tubes were shot.  New tubes, oil the chain, sand the frame and then came the best part, he and Chris painted it Lavender!  I had Goop! for the tubes.   So off to the store to buy the new seat.  That is called a tractor seat, in case you wonder.  The handle bars are some sort of ram's horn.  Total cost to get her road worthy was $26.99. 

You do realize this is a balloon tire bike and has no gears and to stop I pedal backwards.  I never could figure out the gears on those other things and the concept of squeezing the handle bar to stop was totally foreign to this girl!  I have another balloon tire hanging up in the garage that is a complete hoot to ride.  It is a boys bike and bigger than this one, but I did ride it some several years back. OMG!  Ryan, the grandson was probably 10 years old then which would have made it more like 15 years ago.  He damn near got me killed on that thing.  I know he is reading this, so I am going to let you be the judge here.

This thing had Ape Hanger Handle bars which are wonderful to hang onto and ride.  However, it also had knobby tires for God only knows what reason.  Course Ryan had his little bike he jumps with which I forget what they are called. But off we went over to the highway where there was a Kentucky Fried Chicken.  Going to eat a  little lunch and ride back, cause that is what grandma's and grand kids do...eat.  We stayed on the sidewalk where there was sidewalk.  A small section of the sidewalk was gone, so I, being the cautious one, dismounted and walked it around the 7 inch drop.  Of course, during lunch I was chided for this.

"Grandma!  It is a tiny drop and you can do it.  Just get your speed up and pull back on the handle bars and you will be fine.  You can do it, I know you can."  Ah, sometimes old ladies hear a different drummer and it all seems to make a lot of sense.  He was a kid and he could do it; sure I could do it!  I would make him proud!

Did you ever read Casey at the Bat?  That flashed through my mind as I pulled back on the handle bars.  As that knobby tire caught on the edge, I heard the swish of the bat, and as I landed on Highway 50 East with the Ape Hanger Handle Bar implanted firmly in my ribs, I realized, "There is no joy in Mudville, mighty Casey has struck out!" 

Now, Ryan, I know you remember this a little different, but I am proud to say, you will always remember this Grandma with a laugh.  Right?  I will remember you as the grandson who tried to kill me.  But even as I write this, I can see your little face bending over me.  I can see your eyes and I had no idea you could open them that far!  But what I will always remember is what you told your mother, between your gales of laughter!  "Oh, mom, you should have seen it!  Grandma was like in slow motion.......over, over, over....SPLAT!" 

Now, I know you ride a little bit different bike, one called a HOG and I mostly try to stay on the edge of the road and try not to get hit by a car, but surely we still have something in common.  Hey, come pick me up and we will go cruising!  Or maybe I will just make you some cookies since that is what grandma's are supposed to do!

Now be sure you vote in the poll up there on the left.  Got a bet going on this one!