SNAGLEY snagley SNAGLEY or (TRI SNAG)

Two of my kids have staph infections and each have had to have medical procedures on them at least once already
My son has a horrible case of posion oak
My wife is sick and pregnant still throwing up
My 81 year old mom is having dizzy spells.
The lifters in my truck engine are clicking
The tractor is leaking oil on the drive belt so it won’t work
My hen house roof leaks.
I have mice in my workshop
I keep finding baby snakes in the yard
My sons turtle enclosure stinks
I don’t have a baby bed for the new baby
I have spent over 600 dollars out of budget on medicine this month
I have not been fishing in over a month
I have a headache
And I ain’t getting any lovin

this is a fresh water aligator gar
believe it or not it is a fish.
Snagley out.

I got nothing
Sorry

Disco Snagley
this is a picture that Chuck scanned for me and sent to me yesterday.
the young lady is not my wife, I did not know Jo at the time. I blocked out her face so that she will not have to admit that she went out with me.

Check out that shirt, I found it at a local thrift store. the pants were wide bell bottoms that hugged my muscular thighs.

A good time was had by all.

I give you a picture of my butt.
Once when Chuck was recently married to his first wife (who is not all there) I came over to visit and found their camera.
I lowered my pants and took a picture of my butt with their camera.
Chuck got in trouble as it was suspected that he took the picture of his own butt.
Ah nostalgia

I had a dog when I was a kid, it stunk, by stunk I mean it smelled bad. This dog smelled bad all the time. I had to wash the dog every Saturday without fail. As soon as I would wash the dog it would head out into the pasture and roll in cow manure. Evidently this dog preferred the smell of cow manure to dog shampoo. My dad would try dipping the dog into a creosote dip designed to kill fleas in hopes of overpowering the smell of the dog, but it only worked for a day or so. We named the dog stinky but we eventually shortened it to stink.

I know what a lot of you are asking, why would we keep such a dog. It was a great cow dog. It would herd the cattle to the barn and follow any command. It was one of those dogs that would sit when you told it to sit and come when you called it, but boy did it stink.
Stink was a border collie. When company would come over it was my job to lock stink in the barn so that he would not offend the normal people. I remember him rolling in an opossum that had gone on to its reward sometime the prior winter; Stink was particularly noxious that summer.

Once stink was hit by a car. He did not show up for his evening bowl of scraps so I went looking for him. I found him by standing in the wind and sniffing. He has a broken leg that required a cast and a pound of led weights at the bottom to hold his leg down. This was the only period of Stinks life that he did not stink. We were thankful.

Eventually the dog died as all dogs do eventually. I buried him on the hill overlooking the pasture; I put a board up that said, “Stink”.
I think that summed it up.

The field trip to the Birmingham Museum of Art on Friday went really well.
They were having a Sioux Indian exhibit for kids, it was interactive and the kids loved it.



There were also a lot of paintings that I had studied in college that I was able to see first hand. Having 3 kids there, two of which could not have cared less about European oils meant I did not get to spend the time looking that I wanted to. But my oldest seemed to enjoy, what must have been in retrospect, an endless narrative about 15th century paintings.

Saturday we were invited to an outdoor show. There was Skeet shooting, 22 rifle shooting, Black powder shooting, and an archery range. My boys and I did the 22 rifles and then the archery course. It was the kind of archery where you walk in the woods to different stations and shoot at targets set up in difficult positions to test your skill.
We went with a friend who has two boys the same age as mine; they all had their bows. Four kids aged 6 to 8 at an archery range was a ton of fun. They had an absolute blast.


I shoot a Hoyt Hypertec, a 70 to 80 pound draw and aluminum arrows. It kept up with the Matthews switchback bows shooting carbon arrows in regard to accuracy.


That evening at the dinner I won a Remington 870 shotgun as a door prize. I had been trying to buy one for a long time but whenever I got a couple hundred dollars set aside I would have to buy a tire for the van or something like that. I never win stuff like that so I was and remain very excited.


We had to go shoot it so my boys and I went to the local wildlife management area shooting range and I shot it. I let my boys shoot a .410 gage shotgun . I am afraid my oldest is now hooked.
I am leaning toward the 700 in .308 still. I currently have a marlin 30 30 but i hunt over some bean fields where the 30 30 just doesn't quite cut it. In close sub 150 yards it is a great gun.

I have not decided on the gift for the wife. I am leaning toward the day spa trip. My wife is not feeling well. I think she is going into preterm labor. She is going to the doctor in the morning. if all goes well and the doctor says it is ok I think I will send her to the day spa with her best friend, if we can swing it financially.
Contributions welcome.

I am taking tomorrow off from work.
I am going on a field trip with my kids to see some kind of museum about Indians.
so no more posts till Monday.
in that time.
Feel free to talk amongst your selves.
here is a good topic

what caliber rifle should I purchase for southern deer hunting.
I am thinking of a Remington 700 in .308 but I am open to suggestion.

and a topic for you non hunting types
What should I get my wife for a present.
No reason for the present other than I think she needs one.
remember she is 7 months pregnant so no racing bicycles or pogo sticks

Snagley out.

I don’t get to go fishing often. When I do I have a good time.
I don’t much care for the high speed 65 mph boat fishing, I prefer to fish from a small craft of questionable origin, but my favorite fishing is wade fishing.
The following story is on in which I fish with my Cousin Tommy, wading bull crick I am 16 years old at the time.

Tommy is my first cousin. His mom is my Aunt Helen, I loved Aunt Helen She was sweet woman who always had milk and cookies for me. She married a lunatic named Ron. Ron loved a practical joke, but he was loud and crazy. I was always afraid of him. He left you feeling like he was either going to explode or go nuts at any moment. His face was always red and his hair stuck straight up on his head like a flat top haircut gone bad. He had Tattoos, at this time in the south only sailors and crazy nuts had tattoos. He had one of a naked woman on his left bicep; he could make her dance by flexing. It was weird.

Tommy loves to fish, even more that I do. He calls me up wanting to fish bull creek. We refer to it as Bull Crick. It meanders through several cow pastures. To a cow the entire world is a bathroom. When a creek is exposed to cows it becomes a crick. But this particular crick went through my Cousins fathers farm and it only had one cow in the fence, rather one bull. It was a Braham bull the big kind that snorts and paws the ground, then chases you to the fence where you either jump over or crawl under, dependent upon how close the bull is following.
Tommy said the bull was in another pasture this day and we would be safe.

We begin fishing. For us the fishing trip officially begins when I show up at Tommy’s house at 6:00 am. He is asleep. I don’t want to wake up his dad so I bang on Tommy’s window. I misjudged and bang on his dads window by mistake. The following is what I heard from inside the house.

Uncle Ron Oh Bleep someone is outside the damn house banging on the window. My only day to sleep in and someone is banging on my window. Helen get the gun.

Aunt Helen Ron shut up and put on some pants, that’s just Bo. He is going fishing with Tommy.

Uncle Ron lets shoot him anyway. I don’t know why your sister’s kid thinks he can bang on my window at 6:30 in the damn morning. crazy Snagleys

Tommy don’t shoot him its just Bo. Run Bo he’s got his gun.

Bo DON’T SHOOT AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHH

This is a true account of the conversation. I did not know but they all woke up when I drove up. My 1971 Chevy nova had a hole in the muffler about the size of a grapefruit, the gift of a rock on a previous outing. They planned the entire exchange.

I did not know this and ran to beat hell back to the car. I jumped in and tore out of there spewing gravel all over their house, I left a streak of rubber about 100 feet long on the road in front of their place.
I looked back in my mirror to see Tommy looking confused and Uncle Ron in his white grippy underwear with a gun firing shots into the air.

Latter after Aunt Helen called mom and apologized and Uncle Ron got finished laughing Tommy and I did managed to go fishing but that is a story for another day.

I got nothing.
Not even a little bit.
It is raining here now. I had to go outside and fix the airconditioner in the rain.

Either that or sweat.
This is an ask Snagley post.
If anyone is curious about anything about me I will attempt to answer truthfully.

if you are not curious about Snagley and want to ask something else in a futile attempt to stump snagley go ahead.

also the baby pool is growing get your spot quickly.

Chuck and the Queen of Pink showed up and took me to lunch.
Chuck was in rare form. He was dressed like a normal person for once except for those dang pink flip-flops that he wears.
The Queen of Pink was there too. An attractive woman, she was smoking a huge cigar in the front seat and blowing smoke rings at me in the back seat. I sat in the back squeezed in like a sardine between a basket of dirty laundry and a box of post it notes.

We made our greetings and QOP flicked cigar ashes on my shoes we loaded up and headed to the restaurant. Chuck was buying so we went to a sports bar. Chuck for some reason asked for two menus for his self. He ordered from one, and used the other menu to fashion himself a paper hat.

I ordered a philli cheese steak sandwich, which was good. QOP ordered a Pita looking roast beef sandwich, and Chuck had Wings or as he likes to say WANGS, “I think it is a Freudian slip”.

QOP smoked her cigar and put the ashes in my tea. Chuck passed gas as normal; I found out later this is why the QOP was smoking a cigar. Chuck is lactose intolerant, and spent the morning gorging on cottage cheese, the only way QOP can stand to be around him is to smoke cigars.

We talked about blogging, and the kids and fine cigars and good cognac.
QOP seems to think she will win the baby weight pool. I have not come up with a good prize for that yet either by the way.

A good time was had by all.
We spoke of all the embarrassing, and stupid things that we did back in college, of the friends that we had. QOP said I look nothing like myself, which I thought was an odd statement but I cant argue, I don’t exactly feel like myself anymore.
As they left Chuck and QOP waved goodbye, blew a smoke ring out the window shot me a bird and drove off.
as I understand it they are now headed off to Chuck E Cheese for a spirited skee ball tournament.

Snagley out

Another true post

I had a talk with my Dad the other day.
My Dad and I have always been sort of standoffish with each other. I don’t know why. I would do anything for him and he for me. He is not a person that shows a lot of emotion and when he does it pours and gushes, but it may be once every 5 years.
His father died before I was born, when he was 68. My Dad had never talked about him much other than to say that he had a horrible temper. I always thought my Dad had a bad temper and assumed it was like his fathers.

When my Dad was 4 it was the pit of the depression. They lived with my Dads uncle Lon. Uncle Lon and my Grandfather did not get along. They lived with each other in a duplex house due to the fact that they were both out of work and it was all either could afford. Uncle Lon was always talking down to my grandfather and on this day threw a hatchet at his head. A fight ensued and my grandfather beat him almost to death. He beat him down then kicked him in the head then stomped out his teeth. He left him almost dead. My father watched the entire event. At 85 years old his was almost shaking as he told me. He said a little fellow should not have to watch such a thing.
He grew up mortally afraid of his father. His father did not like him very much. My Dad thinks it is because he was the last child and might not have been wanted. But he was the subject of most of his father wrath. He had many split lips and bloody noses gifts from his father, gifts that his brother and sister never received.
He also told me that his father “ran around” on his mother. This means that he cheated on my grandmother. She was also the subject of lots of verbal abuse and likely physical abuse. He went on to tell me that this was the trend of his entire life and even in his late 60s my grandparents had to be separated for weeks at a time due to these arguments.

What surprises me about this story is not what a S.O.B my grandfather was, I never knew him. The real surprise is that my father has none of these traits.
My father is a deeply religious man. He has a temper but never hit me in anger that I can recall. He might have yelled a lot. And he loves my mother. They have been married for 66 years. They get on one another’s nerves a lot now, but frankly they get on my nerves sometimes too. When I was growing up I never heard them argue. Not once, ever.

I have always been taught not to allow anyone to be abused in my presence. I have been part of several fights to stop abusive situations. I never knew why it was until now.
This is a lot to digest.

Snagley out.

for the sake of fairness to all, the prior babys were all 3 weeks early.
Their weights have gone up from 7.1 to 7.11
She has lose 17 pounds so far this pregnance and she is 6 months along.
She has also barfed at least 275 times.
I on the other hand have gained weight and lost hair.
I also have been denied a mid-life crisis.
I will change anyones who wishes once.
Snagley

Why is it that baby names can cause so many problems?
In case you have been in a coma or living in a cave, my wife and I are expecting another baby. This is number 4. Yes I am that Potent, I dont even shake womens hands anymore without wearing gloves.

Names are a difficult thing to assign. The kid will have to carry the moniker the rest of its life. What if I give him or her a name that will cripple it for the rest of its life?
Case in point.
My mother worked at a department store when she was in her working years, he was a janitor and his name was Precious Darling Collins. Or what about Igor if I name him Igor will he be destined to be a lab assistant. If that is the case should I name the kid some really cool name like Thorn or Slade, nah it goes against my nature to do that to a kid?

And girl names are no better. But I do know a girl whose parents named her Candy and her last name is Barr. Somewhere in Birmingham the story goes of a kid named Nosmo King, spell it out. A guy in college was named Bear Bryant Jennings they called him Beary. The guy hated the name and had it legally changed to George when we were in college.

I hate androgynous names. I like to give a kid a name that will resound either femininity or masculinity. No boys named Sue, and no girls name Bo Anne, or any such foolishness as that.
My wifes side of the family has some really odd names. Emma Jean known to all as Emmer. She has an uncle named Bunion , an Aunt named Wilmer and some I cannot even begin to spell. Thelmer, Rogerina and of course i could not leave out Normaninna.

I am taking suggestions on names so fire away.
Remember though Moms have ultimate Veto power in the naming process

I was on the tractor cutting some grass with Son #1. We came across a badminton racquet in an advanced stage of decay. Only the head of the racquet remained and it was broken.

As is our practice, I lifted him down to move the offending racquet head so as not to damage the mower. He aimed at a neighboring wood lot and let it fly. As fate happens he hit me right between the eyes on the bridge of the nose, then it cut my left cheek right on the bottom of the eye socket where the skin is thin.

It almost knocked me out. I was bleeding like a stuck pig when he came running up. He was in tears. I don’t know if it was because he knew he hurt me or if he though he was in trouble.
I got the bleeding stopped and it has healed shut but I am left with this shiner.

The arrow is pointing at the area that was cut.

Ok now go ahead and make your jokes about my wife clocking me in the eye for any various reasons, all justified.

Snagley out.