Yes, it's me. Your favorite Yard Yeti broadcasting live from the Summer Olympic Games. Today, in honor of the festivities, I will be substituting the Noon Whistle sound effects with the peals of Big Ben ringing out over the airwaves. A personal thank you to Big Ben Franklin, our proud sponsor, for the loan of their Big Ben alarm clock, a $3.95 value on special today,
Aisle 3, lower shelf.
"Tick Tock goes the clock...time won't stand still. But we can...let's catch up." (My trademarked and truly original opening line.)
It's Yard Yeti Time!
...Sitting here in my front row seat at the 40th Main Street Olympics, clad in my yellow wellies, my American Made Designer Overalls, my incredibly chic argyle leg warmers, matching terry cloth sweatband and wrist guards. I would like to thank another sponsor, the Main Street Women's Guild, for using their sewing circle time (SCT) to create an exact replica of my Olympic garb for my trusted pet parakeet, Pepper. I cannot believe how you all managed to make those stretchy anklet socks that look just like my yellow wellies. Pepper would thank you, but he keeps sliding off his perch and is less than appropriate when he tries to stick the landing and fails.
(Looks like I will be using the MUTE button instead of the three second delay as Pepper's Tasteless Tweets are trending on Twitter.)
And now the local weather update. Hot and dry. Dry and hot. Heat Lightning and Hot Flashes. Arid.
In desperate need of a cool drop of...
Pepper just said...no water for me...I prefer mine NEAT.
Ladies and gentlemen, I have little or no control here, so excuse me while I tickle the little guy's tonsils with tequila and then maybe we can get on with the show.
The police blotter is particularly full this week as Main Street was shut down in both directions while the grandstands and the bleachers were erected. As our only policeman, Gilbert Dewey, has no patrol car, he was hospitalized mid week for heat exhaustion and a nasty thigh rash after chasing down speeders on foot.
An update on his condition will be upcoming in the hospital report.
Cue the ambulance sirens. Woo. Woo. Woo.
Officer Gilbert Dewey was released this morning and has returned to active duty as the Chief of Security for all Olympic Events. Thanks to the Thursday afternoon Card Club members for needle pointing the official SECURITY insignia on the brim of his bright yellow mesh ball cap.
Unfortunately, the metallic thread set off the metal detector at the Flickering Flame Restaurant and a mild panic ensued, until everyone was assured that the Flame had not gone OUT. Just flickered.
The OFFICIAL FLAME OF THE OLYMPIC GAME is FINE.
It took three extension cords and some duct tape, but the light shines on.
Well, a little off and a little on,
but that's what flickering means, for heaven's sake.
Mayor Yoo-Hoo, dressed in white belt, white shoes and burgundy polyester slacks is our Master of Ceremonies and the infamous Mr. and Mrs. We-Have-Nothing-Else-To-Do-Except-Watch-Our-Neighbors-Through-Our-Window-Because-We-Are-Too-Cheap-To-Pay-For-Cable will be the official Olympic judges as they are, well they are the MOST judgmental folks we know and jumped at the chance to rate their neighbors imperfections on a scale from one to ten. Perfect.
Our competitors hail from all four corners of the world. We secured these Olympic Games as we are the Heartland of the America. Main Street USA. Where doing our personal best everyday is our motto.
Actually, our motto is more succinct.
"Don't just sit there, DO something".
OUR champions are outstanding in their fields.
Well...yes...there they all are...
Out standing in their fields.
The Dream Team? The Yard Yetis. The top qualifiers. Brimming with confidence and dripping with sweat. How do they achieve such notoriety? With the sweat on their brows. With the dirt under their fingernails. With back breaking labor from before the sun rises and well after the sun sets. Practicing their routines on the apparatus and arm wrestling with Mother Nature. Strong. Proud. Ruthless and Restless Warrior Women. Athletes of the Acreage.
Yard Yetis Extraordinaire.
The Schedule of Upcoming Events:
A Synchronized Activity Of Some Sort...TBA
Tractor and Weed Pulling
Fence Post Sitting
Aquatics at the Aquatic Center just north of town a mile off the blacktop turn left at the sign for the Bountiful Buffet and Resort.
Can You Hit The Side Of A Barn Basketball
Garden Drainage and Pest Management
Garden Gnome Volleyball
...and the Olympic favorite...only for Senior Yetis...
The Grow A Beard Contest
Under strict management rules, our Olympics will be tape delayed, and all the scores will be posted on the Internet BEFORE you actually witness the events. That is, we have to wait for Pepper to sober up.
We hope that you all will come back next week once we have time to tabulate all the scores, all the participants have been released from the hospital, and traffic on Main Street has returned to normal.
I, your favorite Yard Yeti, will be on hand with my faithful and slightly sick sidekick, Pepper. I warn him again and again about riding the TIlt-A-Whirl on a stomach full of corn dogs...but...noooooo
I, myself, will be competing in the 400 meter freestyle. If you could see me waving through your radio, I am sitting here in my swim goggles and swim cap, practicing my strokes. My nickname is " The Minnow". That's all I am going to tell you, just to wet your whistle! (Pepper just perked up as he is ready to wet his whistle. Naughty birdie. Wait until you see him in his neon Speedo and matching swim fins.)
And now for our special guest of the week and fellow Yard Yeti,
A high FIVE for FIFI!
Better make that a high ONE as she forgot the other FOUR.
Fifi is wearing a string around her little finger and her wrist and her ankle. The first to Remember, the second as a Reminder to Remember and the third as a decorative ankle bracelet with her name and address on it for the day she is so lost in her thoughts she can't find her way home. Forgetting, they say, is a sure sign of an aging addled brain, where pieces of personal history hide in a locked cabinet in the middle of a maze.
Forgive and forget.
Forget and forgive.
Or as Fifi would say...just forget it. Fifi knows about missteps and misspeaks that she would like to blot out forever. Well, get out your shovel. Find a nice shady spot. Dig a hole. Drop in the error of your ways. Smooth things over with the toe of your boot. Turn your back. Walk away.
And just like the line from the movie "Goodfellas"...foggeddaboudit.
Follow Fifi's advice...and mine...keep your name and address securely tied to your ankle and you will always find your way Home. Even through a yard with so many holes it looks like a bad case of moles.
Home. Here behind the microphone. A tired BROAD at the end of another BROADcast day.
Ready to lean in to whisper my trademarked signature sign off...
"You're secrets are safe with me,
except for the ones I posted on the Internet. "
You can find me on your dial at Station GVWM (GardenVarietyWisdomMedia Inc.)
... with the Yellow Wellies Logo...
...and the Threepots on the windowsill...
In the meantime, flex your muscles and then just like me,
schedule an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon.
For all of you new to the show...I have archived the shows for you here...so you can "catch up".