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Zero-P-E-N, Snatched Gold, And Wing-pits

   Written by on April 17, 2014 at 3:52 pm

This weekend I had the pleasure of keeping the Grand-brats. One of our projects was planting a little garden. Now, planting vegetables just isn’t something high on my list. In fact the only thing lower on my list is eating vegetables. Still, I think it is important for the G-brats to realize food comes from plants and animals, not the grocery store. I still wouldn’t have gotten this carried away if I hadn’t moved the chicken jail.

The stories in this column are true. Averett lives a dull life in rural Southside Virginia with his wife Management, two children and a rotating assortment of goats, dogs, cats, snakes and other local fauna.

The stories in this column are true. Averett lives a dull life in rural Southside Virginia with his wife Management, two children, two grand-brats and a rotating assortment of goats, dogs, cats, snakes and other local fauna.

I realized I had a little patch that was already fertilized and ready to plant. Never being one to miss an opportunity that involves free – especially labor free – I realized here was a ready-made garden spot.

As you may remember, daffodils are my bride Management’s favorite flower. Over the past 30 years I’ve planted over 30,000 daffodil bulbs for her. A few years ago I finally managed to develop a new daffodil for her. I registered it with the Daffodil Society and named it for her. It takes a while for daffodils to reproduce but I’ve finally built up to about a dozen “Touch o’ Golds.”

So we’re working in the new garden surrounded by thousands of daffodils. Every time the G-brats are visiting, I help them pick flowers for Grand-ma’am and their mother. I believe it is important to give flowers to the women you love on a regular basis. This is a multi-generational legacy I hope will continue unto the third and fourth generation – or longer.

The youngest G-brat decided to pick flowers on his own. This isn’t a problem. There isn’t a shortage. They can pick flowers, they can pick their noses and they can pick fights and there will always be more. But somehow “brown and round” (I’m told I’ll give him a complex if I call him “fat brat”) found the only “Touch o’ Gold” within fifty feet and snatched the head off of it. Since I’m not allowed to scream all I could do was tell him to take it to Grand-ma’am. (She can scream if she likes.)

Later as I was delivering newspapers with the other G-brat, he asked about a sign on a store door. He said, “It says Zero-P-E-N” It took me a minute before I realized Zeropen could also be spelled OPEN. I really like this. I’m going to campaign for the next G-brat to be named Zeroptomist after me.

Just remember it is politically incorrect to make fun of my creative names. A parent today can throw a handful of scrabble tiles on the table and call it a name. They can pronounce it any way they like. The only names you can make fun of are Southern names. Somehow that’s fine. Poor Bubba catches a lot of grief he doesn’t deserve.

Today parents can do anything. My favorite is Jujuan. They claim it is pronounced Jew Wan or Juh Wan. They’ve sort of mixed English and Spanish. In Spanish it should be Wa Wan, in English Jew John. Why not throw in a little Celtic, some Italian and a few others and shuffle them?

Now it isn’t any of my business what you name your children or how you pronounce it. On the other hand, when you are belligerent about the pronunciation, it is my business. About half of the folks who know or think they know me mispronounce my name. I don’t get mad. I don’t really care. But if it involves business and they mispronounce it I charge them more.

In case you are wondering, and are planning on seeing me on business, it is a short A like average not a long one like A-plus.

My little cheap chicks just got evicted from the kitchen. They are now residing in a little chicken jail inside the regular chicken jail. I was worried that they might get cold so I put in a heat lamp. That’s when things got a little weird.

Those chicks started fighting over which ones got to sun bathe under the sun lamp. They even laid on their sides and raised their wings to get some light on their little wing-pits. As a sun lover I can relate but if I am going to have to buy the cheap chicks a tanning bed the cost of eggs is going to get expensive.

 

About Evan Jones

Evan is the Assistant Editor at the Southside Messenger newspaper in Keysville, Virginia.

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