It Shall Remain Nameless

Today, Gentle Reader, we shall discuss Farts.

Yes, farts, euphemistically "cut the cheese," "let one rip," "SBD," "LBH," "passing gas," "breaking wind," "queefing," "flatulence," (insert favorite equivoque here.)

A certain type of phenomenon has been observed, and commented upon, by generations of Females. This event, or series of events and occurrences, would be the Male tendency to "break wind" without shame nor embarassment at any time and in any location. From their earliest days, Males are liable to "let 'er rip" whenever they happen to feel the need, regardless of their situation at the time.
This phenomenon is usually accompanied by much good-natured ribbing and back-slapping.

Most Females are totally unable to understand why such hail-fellow-well-meant camaraderie should proceed from a simple expelling of various gases, natural byproducts of the digestive process.

I have been witness to multiple demonstrations of this particular phenomenon, not only when in the company of Himself, but from all 4 boys. Playground cries of "you cut the cheese!" to the jocularity that ensues when a full adult "lets 'r rip," the gamut is wide-ranging and with the exception of locale, varies very little.

Boy-babes seem to "pass gas" with much more frequency than girl-babes. I don't know if there is sound scientific evidence to support that claim, it is just my personal observance. In our case, they were all eating the same thing but the Males seems to "sound off" with more frequency and more noticeable results.

The sphincter acrobatics required for certain types of release are totally beyond the imagination of most Females, as well. The vision of the 7 year-old Male, slightly hunched over, with face contorted, preparing to "blow a big 'un" is something that simply is not seen much amongst Females of a correspondent age.

This writer is curious as to how socialization of males and females draws such a clear divide when acceptable vs. not acceptable is at issue. I don't believe I ever heard my mother emit even the tiniest of "queefs." My father was not so particular about it, he just let 'er rip, so to speak. Himself and the Thundering Herd seem to have no problem doing what comes naturally, either. None of them seem to be chagrined in the least. The Herd did, in the recent past, have contests to see who was the reigning Champion of Farts. I still wonder if there were different "weight classes," like in wrestling: Loudest, Longest Duration, Stinkiest, Triathlon. (Belching will be dealt with in a later blog.)

I, on the other hand, am mortified if I happen to break wind. I'm even embarrassed when it's in the bathroom with the door closed at 3 a.m. (I truly don't believe anyone is lurking, just waiting for the accidental cheese. They're crazy but they aren't that crazy.) I feel stupid when it's just a tiny "boop," let alone a Giant ROAR, possibly heard by millions around the globe.

Is this hesitance concerning bodily functions of all types, whether offensive or not, something we learn from our environment? Our parents? Our peers? I am not privy to the bylaws of the Lady Club but maybe there is something in there? (Don't ask if I'm a lady. I can't tell you what the first requirement would be, other than genetic.)

Have you, dear reader, ever taken notice of the wide variation of responses to a Public Display of Efflatus? Females seem to pretend that "it" didn't happen, or look accusingly at their Male companion. This usually draws a, "What? I didn't do it!" A group of Females will ract in various ways, depending on where they are and whether there are Adult Beverages involved. (I have noticed whatever "Lady Rules" are in effect seem to go by the wayside when beverages come into play.) Males either laugh or proceed with what they were doing as if there wasn't any big deal. Matters not a whit what the situation is, where they are, who they are with...

It has been pointed out to me that I have missed, overlooked and seemingly dismissed a whole category of euphemisms, namely: hon-human life forms. This is a particularly interesting subject and I thank my informant for reminding me. We speak of animals.

With this as a reference point:
Does referring to those "releases" by attributing them to various kinds of animal or insect make them less likely to be an embarrassment? Or is it simply the thought of such creatures as "barking spiders" more entertaining. The mental picture of Araneae in all the order's many forms proceeding with their individual business while making a clamor is mildly entertaining. (Perhaps if the order Araneae was capable of such sonance, those who suffer from a particular trepidation to the creatures would find it reassuring to know at all times exactly where they are. This would be particularly helpful in the case of scorpions, mites and ticks.)

Does attributing such actions to "duck f***s" bring to mind ducks doing other things that come naturally deflect a witnesses' attention from what obviously was done? Or calling a particularly powerful expellation of gases "the elephant under the chair" equate the guilty parties powers of flatulence propelling with that of Proboscidea Elephantidae? Perhaps an individual's ability in that direction also extends further? Perhaps as far as sexual prowess or physical strength and stamina? Questions, dear reader, that deserve further thought.

My attentive commenter mentioned Lincoln Tabbytummy, a kitteh... I don't remember what set him off but the cat started farting. Loudly. Panic and hilarity ensued. Lincoln was running away from the loud blarping noises that were emanating from his butt, tail held off to the side and an expression of total panic on his furry little face. The harder he ran, the louder the farts got... Poor cat ran and farted and ran and farted but how could he run away from his own butt? It was funny, so funny we didn't think of how scared he must have been. Cats are weird.





Honest, though, wouldn't it be such a relief to just "let 'r rip" every now and again?

It's dead!

Which one of you Males put my Rolling Stones cd in the map pocket in the door of the truckmobile to rattle around with candy wrappers, scratch tickets, empty cigarette packs and various junk?

WELL???? Somebody better 'fess up cause you owe me a new cd.

I've been looking for that cd for about 6 months now. Of course, beings as how I am not and never will be a Male, I didn't think of looking in that particularly stupid and highly unlikely place.

I abjure any past asseveration which might lead all and sundry Males to any conclusion as to the possibility of taking temporary custody of My Personal Lares and Penates.

Male Talk Translation: I hereby promise to never let any of you "borrow" my cds.
or more simply:
Keep your Big Mitts off'n my stuff, dammit!

Let 'em get away with murdering Mick and who know what might be next? It's a slippery slope, you know, first music, then sox... earrings.... jammies, shirts... who knows? That slope could lead to a Male taking possession of my cooking pots and that would mean outright War!

Job description:

Demented Travel Agent

Prerequisites: 6 hands, 4 eyes, infallible memory, multi-tasking ability, must be able to talk on phone and research routes/road conditions/weather reports/current weather/locate fuel/locate low bridges/calculate HoS in your head. Must be able to do all your usual tasks, plus route and dispatch. Any prospective applicant who demonstrates hesitance when required to never leave their place of residence without MC atlas, truck stop guide, multiple maps, cell phone and bluetooth, need not apply. Must understand FMCSA regulations, various state's regulations and be able to apply that knowledge to any situation. Must be able to absorb frustration, process it and continue. Adaptability vital to the position.
Other requirements will be made clear as they come up.


Welcome to the world of the over-the-road trucker's wife.... LOL

For every bad, a good.

Himself had a bad last week.
Then he had a 36 off so called me. The good is this: we got to spend the weekend together for a change. Just us, having fun.
Another bad today, truck lost an air brake, delivery not in time as rcv'r dock closed.... wonder what the good for this one will be?
If it's better than the last bad/good trade-off, it will be phenomenal!
This life is not for everyone but, if you can handle it, the rewards are great. The frustrations and problems are not great, but those balances.... Oh, yeah.
For every bad there is an equal and opposite reaction, a good.

Mean people suck.

Don't you just hate it when someone "assumes" they know what you are talking about?
Or when someone "assumes" you should know more about something than you do?
Or when someone "presumes" to give advice on the "assumption" that they know what your life is like?

Yeah.

You asked me, by the way. Remember?

I'll know better if you ever chance to ask, in future.

Am studying up on making peanut butter so I'll have something to tell you.

Other than that, forget it.

Yeah, I'm back.

Been crazy-wild around the Homestead this last 6 weeks...

Himself started driving OTR for a small firm running reefers nationwide. He drives one of these Big Boys to the left. That, gentle readers, is a Freightliner Columbia.

He's out on his own after training second-seat with an experienced driver. Fairly short hauls for the next couple of weeks, not going to FL or AZ, yet. This afternoon he'll be on his way to KS, after that? Wherever the next load takes him.

The world of OTR trucking is a totally different place. indys are out anywhere from a few days to weeks at a time. While they're out there, we hold things together at home and wait for them to call. It isn't a life for everyone. The driver needs to be able to manage a thousand different things, know rules and regulations by the hundreds, be able to route, plan and drive for hours, sit at docks to load and unload, negotiate with shippers, receivers, brokers, sleep 3 feet in front of a running reefer, make sure all the mechanics on both the truck and the trailer are in good working condition and be able to fix things if they aren't. Those at home have to be able to handle all the kinds of things that driver would do if they were home. In this case it is repairs (cars, house, yard equipment), bills, disciplining kids, and sleeping all by yourself, knowing they miss you as badly as you miss them. Himself says it's crazy. For him, it's a toss-up between loving to drive and hating to drive.

The road today will be long. He's rested and has eaten but it's very windy. Keeping that truck and a 53' load under control in 45 mph side winds is like wrestling a buffalo.

I worry about him but don't tell him that when he's out.
I miss him but don't say that, rather I just tell him I love him and stay safe.
I wish he was here but wouldn't mention it because he is doing what he does to keep food on the table and pay the bills.
I handle situations that I would rather not be involved in but I never complain because he has enough on his mind as it is.

That's the way it works.

I am so proud of him...

Love My Trucker.

Gotta be a bit tetched....

Gotta be, to adapt to this craziness.

Ratchet did make it home last night, after all. Not for very long but 5 hours of sleep in your own bed is better than 8 in that bunk.

Drop at 7 a.m. so, up at 5:30. Quick coffee, slippers, bathrobe and winter coat, out the door delivering Ratchet to the truck so he could deliver his load. He's currently still waiting for the lumpers to finish unloading him. He'll know within the next hour or two where, or if, he has a load today. He's hoping he doesn't because he needs to take that blasted truck back to the terminal and tell them to fix the *@&@%#%$#@ headlight, replace that marker light and give him back his triangles. (He doesn't know where the triangles went and he is quite attached to those. Not to speak of them being required...)*

Since he was only 10 miles away, I ran him over some new batteries for his v.r. and picked him up some McBarf muffins. I had a breakfast burrito and it has to be one of the worst things I have eaten in months. The chemicals they put in the stuff gives me a blinding headache. Doesn't seem to bother Ratchet, he just thinks the stuff tastes bad.

I am wishing I could go back to sleep for a while. Will stay up until I hear from him. If he doesn't have a load until tomorrow (please??? pleasepleaseplease) will go pick him up and then we'll both go back to bed.

Kids are fine, looks like it will be a fair day but windy. (another reason why it would be good to have him home) Got a lot done yesterday so can take it a bit easy today.

The cassoulet turned out great. Couldn't tell I used chickpeas rather than cannolini. Ate so much I got tired and went to bed. So tired, in fact, that I didn't hear Ratchet call at 11 p.m. saying he was 5 blocks away. He just walked back. Boy, was it a nice surprise when he walked in the bedroom door! YeeeHA! (well, after I realized it was him. a few muddled seconds there. good thing i don't keep a gun under my pillow.)

Barometric pressure must be changing, elbow and hands aching badly. DS2 says he has a backache, too. The younger ones were fine. Age catching up with me?

* Truck is being fixed. Triangles issues resolved. He's off to pick up at 1 then gone again. After that drop? Who knows? Will just wait and see.