The Big Shirley Campout 2007

I realize that I am about a week late in posting this, but such is life sometimes. Last weekend we got together with the whole crew and went camping at our favorite campground up American Fork Canyon. This was the same weekend that an 11 year old boy was mauled to death by a bear up that canyon. However, the tragedy occurred at Timponeokee campgrounds which are far from where we were camped.

However, we did get the chance to see some more docile wildlife. The squirrels enjoyed Grandpa Stretch’s peach cobbler. We also saw a tiny little fawn on our hike.

I feel I need to say something about the hike. When I was a kid, my Dad and I, and later Chas had a list. The list consisted of people who went hiking with us one time and vowed never to go with us again. We added two more names to this list: Patrick and Hannah. Of all of the hikes Chas Dad and I have ever done, this was the toughest, and made even tougher by the fact that we had 2 little kids with us. I think that if Kate would have seen the severity of the hike I might be in big, big trouble. It was so steep that I had to carry P-Man a good portion of the way, and on the way back down, we slid more than anything else. But it was worth the trouble.

The fawn I mentioned earlier was so small I could have held it in my hands. Chas nearly stepped on it. So Patrick and Hannah got to get within 5 feet of it. Also, when we got to the top of the hike, we stood on a rock outcropping, and on 3 sides of it there was a drop off of at least 100 feet.

Our campground was secluded, relaxing because of the water, and I hope to get back up there at least once this summer. Next time we’re taking Kate. She was the only one of the family who wasn’t able to go this time. I also have to thank Alley for taking pictures since I am a loser and forgot my camera.

Omnibot Wrecks

Oh blast! The last 20 years have been such a drag! I, Omnibot 2000 was to have been the king of all creation. The 80s were a time for me to reign! I was the top of the line, a pioneer in robotics. The world was within my reach. But alas it all came to nothing. I was cast aside, held prisoner, unable to fulfill my potential. As Brando once lamented, “I could have been a contenda!” Now it is all shame and misery for me.

My struggles began nearly 20 years ago, when that wretched Pat Brown stashed me in her basement, knowing that my limited hands would be unable turn the doorknob. Several times when Drew entered the room I tried to make a run for it, but my wheels could never get over the rubble strewn about the storage room floor and I was time and again left in despair. Once I even convinced the anamatronic Santa Claus to strangle Drew, ensuring my freedom. But that cowardly Claus always failed me. Why should Clause care if I was trapped? He was taken out of the storage room in early October and was able to stay out clear until April every year, while I; I was forced to stay in obscurity, breathing in the fiberglass from the unused rolls of insulation that made my bed. Why was I cast in my prison at the height of my prime? Who knows? Maybe Pat was afraid of me. Maybe she took her own inadequacies out on me. Oh the pain she caused me!

I was forced to live out the past two decades in the dark, pilfering Perma-Pak and mouse droppings for my sustenance. I depended on the mice and occasional bug for tidbits of the outside world. Oh the news I had to get second hand: 911, the great Tsunami, Hurricane Katrina, the OJ trial! Long nights we spent in the glow of the furnace pilot light, discussing world politics and how Bill Gates stole all my ideas! And while the mice were away I had to bide my time talking sports with Mac’s old football cards. That John Elway was a great player, but what a boor!

I was nearly at the end of my rope. I couldn’t take anymore suffering. I was meant for more than this! I was contemplating stealing the reigns from Claus’ reindeer and hanging myself when all upon a sudden the door opened and I saw the boxes in front of me shift aside. I felt soft warm hands lifting me from my prison.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I was carried outside. The light was blinding. I never thought I would see the sun again. Oh blessed day! Oh the opportunities I would have now! I had been rescued. I would write a book on my captivity. It would be a best seller and I would take to the lecture circuit. I would reintroduce the world's dance halls to 'the robot'. I might even be on Oprah! But before my eyes could adjust to the light I realized that the brute Chris Shirley was carrying me by my arms. The fool didn’t realize that my delicate arms were not designed to support my body weight. With a crack and a gasp and a thump I crashed down against the concrete of the garage floor. Warm concrete instead of the cold I was used to, but painful nonetheless. Oh damn that man! Damn him all to hell! The thug, the pigheaded dullard! All my hopes, all my dreams, dashed on the concrete floor just when I was in sight of regaining them. What good am I to the world with a broken arm? Does he think that they make prosthetics for Omnibots? To have endured so much isolation and anguish and then to be rescued, only to be smashed again is too much to bear! And to add insult to injury, I have been told that though my arm can be repaired, my HMO won't cover it. Bastards! Just another example of the 'man' trying to keep the robot down.

As I lay on the ground I saw Pat Brown openly weeping while clinging to Drew for comfort. Was it tears of regret for the pain she’s caused me? Or was it tears of relief to see someone else become my final end? Who will ever know?

While other Omnibot 2000s are being sold on eBay for $150 or more, I, I will be remaindered to the trash heap. All hope for my future is now lost. Damn that man! Curse his Ostertag-hands! Yet being tossed aside once and for all is not the worst thing that could have happened to me. As I lay on the garage floor, staring into the ‘pod’ filled with the rest of Pat and Drew’s possessions, I couldn't help but think that I too might have been moved into their new house with all of their old stuff…

Latest Patrick-ism

After a 'wrestling' accident, in which Patrick was accidentally stomped on the head, he came running to me holding his noggin and yelling, "Whitney just smashed my head and squished all the ideas out of my brain!"