Reveal the hilarious things that have happened in your life, and let us all have a chuckle with you!
I'se the B'y
It was bedtime and my daughter was laying in bed with Lily, my three-year-old granddaughter, when Lily decided she wanted to play a game. My daughter said, "Ok, which one?" Lily replied, "I'se the B'y something that is...blue." Now that is a true Newfie!
It was in the fall of the year when I sent Mr. and Mrs. Warren a meal of fresh codfish, potatoes and corn. Mr. Warren is an elderly gentleman who dabbles in Newfoundland music, writing his own songs and then making homemade CDs. He's the kind of musician you see from time to time set up at your local mall with a table and a chair, music blaring from an ... click to read moreBy Steve Barrett
It was in the fall of the year when I sent Mr. and Mrs. Warren a meal of fresh codfish, potatoes and corn. Mr. Warren is an elderly gentleman who dabbles in Newfoundland music, writing his own songs and then making homemade CDs. He's the kind of musician you see from time to time set up at your local mall with a table and a chair, music blaring from an inadequate music system as he tries to sell his wares with a sincere smile on his face.
When I arrived home from work one day, I noticed a square shaped package in my mailbox. It was in a plastic grocery bag and when I looked inside, it appeared to be a loaf of some kind. I thought it kind of odd that my mother would leave a loaf in my mailbox, but she was probably in a hurry, knowing that I would be home soon. I called to thank her but she said she hadn't baked in weeks and therefore it wasn't her loaf. Without a whole lot more thought, I quickly realized the loaf was from Mrs. Warren as a gesture of thanks for the fish meal I had sent over the previous day.
The loaf was covered in a special decorative wrap complete with ribbon and bow and was perfectly formed, almost a work of art, obviously carefully prepared by an expert. We unwrapped the loaf to reveal a beautiful banana bread, my favourite! We cut it into even slices and agreed that it was as moist and tender as any banana bread we had ever eaten. Over the course of the next couple of days, we ate the entire thing, not leaving even a crumb on the plate. The kids thought it particularly delicious and suggested we get Mrs. Warren to bake us another one. "This is better than Nan's," said one of the girls.
It was about three days later when I was mowing the lawn that, in the distance, I heard someone calling my name - "Mr. Barrett, Mr. Barrett!" I looked up and across the street. Mrs. Drover, who I had seen many times but had never personally met, was calling out to me! I made my way over to her house and as I walked up her pathway and approached her, she asked me if I got the banana bread she left in my mailbox. "Yes I did," was my immediate response, and I went on thank her, to tell her how much I appreciated her kindness and most importantly, that the banana bread she baked for me was absolutely delicious and was probably the most delicious banana bread I had ever eaten.
Mrs. Drover's jaw dropped! As I said earlier, I had never met this lady before so when her jaw dropped, I wasn't quite sure what that meant to me. But what she said next made it quite clear what her thoughts were. She said, "Mr. Barrett, that banana bread wasn't for you, it was for the church bake sale. You 'are' one of the Barretts from French's Road aren't you?" Now you have to understand that in the fall of each year, the women of our church hold an annual craft and bake sale, a tradition of certainly more than 50 years and one of the banner events for fundraising. It is the premiere opportunity for these ladies to display their great talent for baking and craft making. My grandmother, long since retired and removed as an organizer of this event, once lived on French's Road, and Mrs. Drover, somehow knowing that I was her grandson, made the reference to me as being one of the Barretts from this street.
In her mind, my connection to my grandmother, my grandmother's connection to French's Road and to the craft and bake sale, meant that I should have known that the banana bread, placed in my mailbox, belonged to the women's church group. She must have believed that I would know her train of thought and therefore would remove it from the mailbox, get into my car and deliver it to the church, tell them it was from Mrs. Drover as her annual contribution, and I suppose, if you continue to follow this logic, would drop by her house to tell her the transaction was complete. The truth is, I had absolutely no idea the craft and bake sale was happening, and even if I had, I could not have possibly made that complex connection.
Now to add insult to injury, her jaw dropped for another reason also. During our surreptitious meeting in her front yard, she told me that she had called the church that same evening and that one of the ladies confirmed they did in fact receive her banana bread. It instantly occurred to me that some well-meaning volunteer at the church, with boxes and boxes of breads, loafs, cookies, fudge, crafts and cakes decided that there was really no way to know for sure that her little loaf made it to the sale and made a general decision that it was there and thanked her for her contribution. With this information, I wasn't sure what hurt her feelings the most - the fact that I ate her banana bread and ended her decades long contribution to the craft and bake sale, or that someone at the church lied to her. I could see the pain and confusion on her face and at that point thanked her anyways for the banana bread and waved as I made my way back home.
Well it's late January as I write this story, having just come into the house after using my snow blower to clear away a load of snow. It was a rather heavy snowfall, so I also cleared out Mr. and Mrs. Warren's driveway and the pathway leading to Mrs. Drover's front door. As I was putting my snow blower away, I heard my name being called out just like it was back in the fall - "Mr. Barrett, Mr. Barrett!" When I turned around I realized that Ms. Drover was calling me over to her doorway. As I approached her I was quite unsure what to expect and was still somewhat embarrassed from our previous encounter. She was holding out a plastic bag for me to take. Of course when I saw this I knew immediately what was in the bag. She looked at me and thanked me for clearing her walkway and then she motioned for me to take the bag. "Here you go Mr. Barrett," she said, and as I took the plastic bag in my hand, with a wink and a nod she pronounced, in a deliberate, old-fashioned Newfoundland drawl, "'cause I knows ya likes it!"
Well, I'm really not a dog lover; but when my daughter and future son-in-law asked me to dog sit their 120 lb. Newfoundland dog, Becky, for two weeks what else could I say but "yes." Becky came with pages of instructions "what ... click to read moreWell, I'm really not a dog lover; but when my daughter and future son-in-law asked me to dog sit their 120 lb. Newfoundland dog, Becky, for two weeks what else could I say but "yes." Becky came with pages of instructions "what to do" and "what not to do" so I decided that the best place to take care of Becky was at our cabin on Badger Lake.
I was assured that Becky would not run away when I let her out to do her "business," but I didn't want to take a chance on anything happening to Becky so I put one of her snap collars on a rope and tied it to a post on the back deck. I would snap this collar on her when taking her outside.
Everything was going fine until day 10 - I had things under control and was looking forward to the end of my commitment. On that night, Becky nudged me to get me to wake up at 4:30 a.m. This was the first time this had happened so I got up thinking she had to go outside. I turned on the outside lights - still half asleep - and Becky and I went to the back door. When I opened the screen door, I shook my head because there was Becky in the driveway! I couldn't remember her passing by me, but I raced to snap the collar on her and stood on the back deck waiting for her to do her "business." She crossed in front of me and scrubbed her head on the side of the cabin and pawed at the collar. The next thing I knew the collar was on the ground, and Becky was running through the woods. NOW I'M AWAKE!
I rushed into the cabin to get a treat and the second leash - only to find Becky sitting in the front room looking at me! WOW what did I put a collar on in the drive way - a bear cub? No, it must have been another dog, but what are the chances of a large, black dog being at the cabin at 4:30 a.m.
The next day our neighbour was telling us about the bear cub that he saw in the back of his pickup early that week. Now you can decide - did I or did I not put the collar on a bear cub? ... Hide full submission
Wine With Wings
Newfoundland Wine shipped country wide (except in NL)
Shipping special $10/case Visit website
Advertisement
Tooth Fairy
My four-year-old granddaughter was asked what she thinks happens when the tooth fairy takes a tooth. Ava said: "The tooth fairy saves them up and when I gets bigger she puts them back in!"
Wrong Stuff in the Cough Medicine Bottle This is a story about a grandfather from Carmanville who was always having tricks pulled on him by his grandson.This trick almost killed poor old Grampie.
In those days most houses had a pantry where the food was kept, and the dishes were washed in a pan of some sort. Usually they were a white enamel.
Anyhow, the grandfather had a dry cough, which he had had for many years. He alway kept ... click to read moreThis is a story about a grandfather from Carmanville who was always having tricks pulled on him by his grandson.This trick almost killed poor old Grampie.
In those days most houses had a pantry where the food was kept, and the dishes were washed in a pan of some sort. Usually they were a white enamel.
Anyhow, the grandfather had a dry cough, which he had had for many years. He alway kept a bottle of green cough medicine on his radio stand next to his daybed. When he would get a coughing attack he would reach out and get his bottle and have a little snort, to soothe his throat. The grandson used to size this up.
One day he filled one of the empty bottles with green sloans linament, and switched bottles. Grandfather came in from outside and lay down on the daybed. A short time later he got the cough. He reached out to the old familar place and took his cough medicine bottle and took a good slug. With that he let out a roar like a lion in pain and come to his feet, yelling "Water, women, water!" just as Granny was coming through the pantry door with the dish pan full of grey water. Grampie grabbed the pan and start guzzling down the water to soothe his burning throat. The grandson saw that he had gone a little too far this time and made his escape. I think it took awhile for that one to blow over, as t'was said arround town. The poor old man looked right green for few days.
And that's how it was, Grampie never new what his grandson was going to pull on him next.
The Blue-Assed Flies One time long ago in the town of Carmanville there was a young boy who was a bit of an imp and loved to play tricks on his grandfather. His grandfather hated these big blue flies with such a passion and always made sure one didn't live too long if it came into his house. Those days when the fish was being dried on the flakes there were more of them arround then there are ... click to read moreOne time long ago in the town of Carmanville there was a young boy who was a bit of an imp and loved to play tricks on his grandfather. His grandfather hated these big blue flies with such a passion and always made sure one didn't live too long if it came into his house. Those days when the fish was being dried on the flakes there were more of them arround then there are moose today.
The grandfather had a daybed in the kitchen, as was the style them days. He had a stand by the side of it, on which he kept his cough medicine, radio, pipe and tobacco and his ever-ready fly squatter. The cough medicine is a story on its own I will tell you at another time.
One day the grandson captured about a dozen big flies in a tobacco can, one that he could fit in his pocket. Gleefully him and his friend headed into grandfathers.
The old man was snoozing on the daybed, quite contented. The boys were given a slice of lassie bread and a glass of lemon crystal, enjoying and giggling about the fun soon to begin. Slowly the imp opened the lid and let out a fly. The buzzing was quite loud and soon got the old man's attention. He jumped to his taps, grabbed the fly squatter and started chasing the fly arround the kitchen. At this time the grandson let out a couple more. In a short time he had let out about a dozen and was laughing in tears to see his grandfather dancing arround the house trying to kill about a dozen flies.
By this time grampie figured out that he had been duped again by his mischevious grandson. With a roar he said, "you little anishore I'll kill ya." The kids charged out through the door and rolled in the grass laughing. That was just one of the many tricks this fellar played on his grampie.
The hike to the top of the mountain (the Cross) in the centre of the town of Twillingate, Newfoundland was quite an accomplishment for our petite three-year-old granddaughter. As we "oohed" and "aahed" over the ocean, the boats and the buildings, her keen eyes spotted the white-fenced rectangular Anglican cemetary, to which she exclaimed, "Grandma, look at all the hockey players!"
