It occurs to me, after looking over my last entry, that maybe I wasn’t very clear. Running through the back of my mind, with all those rambling words, was the thought, “God is so good to me. I am not worthy of so many blessings.”
I didn’t mean to sound whiny or ungrateful about all my good fortune. I was trying to point out the reverse, actually.
Remember Van Gogh and Evard Munch of the Expressionist Movement? It appears from time to time I make up words or phrases that are in the same style. i.e: They contain a lot of emotion, but don’t follow the “academic standards”.
Today at our office Christmas Lunch, I tried to tell the story about the suicide tree. While telling the story I used the same phrase I’d written last night. “Emergency Horse”.
Everyone at the table turned and stared at me, and interrupted my story. The GM said, “Wait! Wait! Before you go any further, how do they get the flashing lights mounted on the horses heads?”
“What do you mean?” I replied taking another swallow of wine. “They just clamp on. Or maybe they’re screwed in. I don’t know, I never looked at them very closely.”
Another co-worker said, “There were horses at the end of your street when you drove home? With police on them? Like “crowd control horses”? What the hell was going on in your neighborhood?”
Before I had a chance to answer either question another co-worker popped up with “And the horses are still standing after things are screwed into their head? Are you sure they’re not clamped on the headstall?”
“Are they trained like Riot Horses to not get spooked at the flashing lights?” said the receptionist.
“What the HELL are you guys talking about??”
“The Emergency Horses. We’re trying to figure out what YOU’RE talking about Mit,” they all replied.
For a moment I floundered. “You know. 'Emergency Horses'.”
Blank looks from everyone.
“They’re like saw horses. Except, you know, they have flashers on them.”
More blank looks.
“I don’t know, what do YOU call them?” I asked.
“You really don’t know what they’re called?”
“Well, it’s OBVIOUS, I don’t. Stop teasing me. What do you call them? For reals”, I asked.
At this point the President chose to speak up. “Well Mit. Outside of California – or your head, they’re called ‘barricades’.
“Oh yeah. Barricades.”
Of course – the image of the “Emergency Horses” wouldn’t leave the table. There was quite the detailed discussion about how you could engineer the flashing lights to work off the horses brain waves. Not to mention the hilarity that ensued when the topic of “riot horses” came back up. You know, “How do they get those helmets on the horse?”, “Do they throw rocks or hit the people with Billy Clubs?”, “I bet they attach the Billy Clubs to their tails!” … would be just a few of the ideas tossed around the table.
Thank God I didn't finish the story and tell them about the "suicide tree". We'd probably STILL BE at the restaurant.
Ah yes. Working with programmers and all boys. (with the exception of the receptionist.) Endless hilarity. Of the most nerdy sort.
I bet that’s not what YOU GUYS talk about at company Christmas parties, is it?