WannaskaWriter

Hey, Wannaskan Almanac February 24, 2018 entry writer! Just before Fun Facts of the Week you asked, "What's Your Adventure?" Well, I have a couple true adventure stories about my daughter even though some say I stretch the truth now and then. You decide. My daughter is 31 years old and no stranger to adventure here in Palmville Township. Raised an only child, she was subject to feats of daring if only because her mother and I didn’t know any better, thinking because she was a girl, she could do anything. We didn’t make her fearful, we made her brave, if just because sometimes she was out of earshot and we couldn’t hear her calling for help. We just thought she was having the time of her life, you know, fun like. Her tears had usually dried by the time we got to her and after a few minutes of comforting, she had forgotten all about it--like when she and I went sledding at Bemis Hill, when she was but four years old. A brave lass, she sat forward of me with the pull r...

    I was just thinking during an idle time, that I should build a working door frame and entry of green-treated lumber.      Choosing a site not far from my house, excavate an area eight-by-eight feet, two feet deep into the subsoil, the nearside thirty-degrees deeper than the far side.      Then, building a strong fieldstone knee wall along its perimeter, set the frame in and secure it to the ground and fieldstone wall by using reinforcement rods set in concrete.      Finish it off using 4"x5"(est.) translucent blocks of heavy-duty glass on either side of the door from floor to ceiling to function as a sort of door light.      Install a facsimile of a metal or concrete weather/tornado-proof 'vent' that protrudes from 'the roof' to finish off its appearance as a functional construction.       Make a path to the door every day or several times a month and open and clo...

I was at the grocery store the other day. Just as I stopped my car, I became aware of a loud, boisterous, quite-annoying barking emanating from inside the cab of a big new 4x4 pickup idling there, in whose front bumper shadow I had inadvertently parked my car. This unseen beast was yowling and barking like it was ripping through the undercarriage of the vehicle it was left in, and I swear I could see large chunks of upholstery and vinyl heave up toward the savaged headliner that received its indignant first realization, that the pickup's driver, perhaps this beast's owner/trainer/handler/shock collar operator, had left it/her/him/ there, by itself-- and had gone into anywhere without him/her/it cradled in his/her/its arms as though a very small frail child, a tiny monkey on a short bejeweled leash, or an ancient bottle of very expensive priceless, invaluable, irreplaceable, hootch the person dared not break for whatever reason (feel free to make one up) and left...