Browsing Archives for The Oracle Known as Steve

Oracle Out of Control at Pool Party

May 30th, 2009


For Memorial Day weekend, we drove to southeast Kansas to visit one of the CD’s sisters and her family.

 

 

 

 

Because clearly…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They have a backyard pool.

 

 

 

 

 

Things were going along swimmingly.  Swarms of cousins filled the pool, the yard, and the house.  There was a mountain of barbecue and all the fixin’s.  I contributed a salad made from my very own garden.  It was a very nice party.

Until…

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Country Doctor started showing off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wearing a hideous, grotesquely unstylish pair of orange swim trunks, he commandeered the diving board  and began doing his very special, one of a kind, signature, cartwheel dive over and over and over again.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Orcale quickly snapped.  

He couldn’t take it.  

“Stop it!’  he screamed.  ”Stop doing those insane cartwheels off the diving board!”  

“No one!  NO ONE!  Especially these young impressionable boys should have to watch that!”  he shouted.

“Put on a shirt, and sit down and drink a beer like a man!” He rampaged.

 

 

The Country Doctor refused to listen.

 

 

 

So the Oracle took matters in his own hands, grabbed a hard rubber ball and zinged it at his brother in mid-jump.

 

 

 

 

The Country Doctor was hit!

 

 

 

 

 

The Oracle was triumphant!

Gleeful, he picked the ball up again…

 

 

 

 

 

And began bombarding whatever innocent child happened to be jumping off the board…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once enraged, it is hard to shut an Oracle down.  

With his wrath in full throttle…

he did throttle…

and then he throttled some more…

All the tender and exposed flesh of any young’un who dared to dive thereafter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

But even the blistering beatings of his own children and their accompanying plaintive wails did not stop the Country Doctor from doing his special, signature, one of a kind cartwheel dive over and over and over again.  

 

You see…

 

The Country Doctor learned at a very young age…

 

that enraging the Oracle…

 

is half the fun.

0 comments
Filed under: Life, The Oracle Known as Steve

The Oracle Answers.

November 24th, 2008

Well… I did it.  
I managed to lasso the Oracle Known as Steve and get him to answer a few questions, but it was not easy.  The Oracle likes to be on the move… he’s always pacing… pacing… pacing… skittering… skittering… pacing… stirring… chopping… making demands… skittering… chopping… pacing… pacing… making demands… pacing… chopping… chopping… pacing… so getting him to sit and answer questions for more than five minutes at a time was excruciating for him.  When he is sitting he seems to generate a sort of green glowing energy that makes everyone around him feel edgy.  I certainly can attest to feeling very edgy as I forcefully pulled one answer after another out of him.  
I think I might have felt less edgy  if I had asked him these questions while he was carving a turkey or making pies or… or… chopping something.  So EVEN THOUGH,  the Oracle made it clear that this will be the ONLY time he will ever answer questions for my blog, I am pretty sure I can get him to do it again.   I will just have to be more sneaky…and also… I will have to lie and pretend that the questions are from me… just me… because I am helpless without his knowledge… and also I will ask him questions while he is cooking… so he won’t notice so much.
Before I give you his answers, I think we should absorb the full impact of what your are about to experience as you read his answers.   I want you to realize that you may be looking at the only collection of answers to very important questions from a real live Oracle since the road to Delphi was closed many many aeons ago.  
Think on that my friends.  
You think on that!
The Oracle Speaks…

Dear Oracle,

WHY is it that the batteries in smoke detectors ALWAYS run low in the wee hours of the morning…beeping and scaring the bejeepers out of everyone? Is there some way to prevent this other than sleeping during the day?

A ton of prevention is worth a pound of cure.  Keep yourself on a weekly schedule to change out the batteries so you KNOW you always have fresh batteries.  Personally, I like the beeping.


Dear Oracle,

Going with the first poster – I would like to know – why do the majority of fires happen in the late hours of the night and wee hours of the morning?

I know a lot about fire.  That’s enough.

Dear Oracle, 

My cousin’s mother on my father’s side has a sister who’s third cousin’s (twice removed) son is going to college. He doesn’t actually have a question, but he wanted to be mentioned.
Fine.

Dear Oracle,
I would like to know what do you call a french horn player?
My sister Barb played the French horn.  I call French horn players… Barb.

Dear Oracle,

What is that odor emanating from my 17 year old son’s bedroom?

It’s the smell of disappointment.

Dear Oracle,
I’m a college student, and I’ve just survived the hardest week of my entire semester. I’m exhausted, I have tons of studying to do, and I have a cold. Do you have any advice that will help me get through my two tests next week before Thanksgiving break?

Hot Lemonade and Vodka.  IF you have a cold that’s the best answer regardless of if you are going to take a test or join the priesthood.  How can you go wrong with those two together?  I don’t really care if you succeed in your test.  I am who I am.  The Oracle should be the Oracle.

Dear Oracle,

How am I supposed to eat when my nose is completely stopped up from this cold I’ve got? I can’t breathe through my mouth and eat at the same time!

I deal with this all the time  My nose is always stuffed up.  You have to eat in rapid bursts and gasp for air.  Hyperventilate between bites.  Pace.  Hyperventilate. Pace.  Hyperventilate. Etc…Etc…  

So Mr. Oracle,

I wish to know why do animals seem to like to crawl under houses to die. Don’t they know that they cause a horrible odor? Please tell me how to keep them away.

I don’t like animals for this reason.  Move.  Continually move.  Get a trailer.  When the animal dies… move the trailer.  This is very practical.

Dear Oracle,

What do you do with leftover pitchers of gravy? I don’t have a garbage disposal. Can you pour it down the sink?

I’ve never had any leftover gravy.  IF the gravy is a gift from a guest, it is clearly not leftover.  It is not my responsibilty.  When the gravy is mine, I finish it… one way or another.

Dear Oracle,

I seem to kill all plants in my house. Is it my subconscious? Do I have unresolved issues from my childhood? Now all the fish in the house have died as well.

I’m thinking I should wait til the last possible moment to get a Christmas tree, right? And is there any hope for the dog?

Thanks,
Rhea

The dog shouldn’t care when you buy a Christmas tree.  If he does… you need a new dog.

I personally have an aluminum Christmas tree.  Get one of those.
Dear Oracle: Is there a question you would like to ask US out here in blogland???

No.

Dear Oracle,
Can you tell me why my 5 year old thinks he is master of the universe, and why he will burst into tears when we fail to see the brilliance of his direction?

He  is just like his father.  Just less repressed.

So Oracle, 

I have not watched any television for a number of years. Now that I am meandering towards my twilight years (!), and not quite as actively engaged in well, you know, wood cutting and all, I’m thinking of subscribing to some sort of service in order to be able to watch TV. Are there enough shows available to watch to make this worth the price? (No, I do not yet know how much it will be – my rural telephone co. is working on making this an option.) Bear in mind that I do not find the abuse of women and children entertaining, nor would I watch anything with lots of violence. Screaming and sirens do not actually encourage good mental health, do they?

Keep cutting wood buddy.

Dear Oracle,

What is the odor emanating from my 90 year old father’s bedroom?

Disappointment.
Dear Oracle,

WHY did you come to my mind in church last week when my pastor read “The Oracles of God?”

That was weird. I almost laughed out loud…

Oh hey — Dear Oracle… would that be inappropriate to laugh out loud when my pastor read about the oracles of God and I thought of the Oracle of Steve?

Curious,
Jennifer

Not at all.  I encourage laughing out loud in church… whenever possible.

Dear Oracle,
Why is it that you know so much. Do you make it up or wing it as you go? Do you happen to know when McDonald’s sold its first Big Mac? I have a bet going but am not allowed to look it up on the net. I say 68.

I am not going to answer that.  I never wing it.
Dear Oracle,

What’s it like, to have a sister n law, that is so fun and loving?

I need to know, because my two sisters n law, drain every ounce of life blood out of me, whenever I am with them, and I need an answer, that will carry me through the upcoming holiday season with them.

A loyal fan in Michigan.

Your sister in laws seem remarkably similar to mine.

Dearest Oracle,
Why is it that my dog can only pass gas when she is snuggled up beside me?

Also, if you will indulge me one more time, why do men (in general) leave their “underthings” laying on the bathroom floor?

 Your dog passes gas continuously.  You only notice it when they are snuggled up with you. 

 I never leave my underthings on the bathroom floor.

Dear Oracle,
Please pick a wedding date for me…engaged for 5 years or so and i can’t decide. thanks.

 TOMORROW OR NEVER!!!  Good Lord!  Five Years!

Dear Oracle,

On behalf of millions of laundry-doing women worldwide can you please tell us where the odd socks go. I have a huge pile of socks with no mates, who were well mated before entering the laundry system.

Its’ not an odd sock… it’s a lonely sock.  If you get enough lonely socks together they are pairs again. Calling it an odd sock is the problem. How would you like to be called an odd sock!  

Dear Oracle,

This is a two part question.

1. Who is responsible for the music in elevators?
2. Do they sell a CD of Elevator music?





Pink Floyd

Pink Floyd

Dear Oracle,

Which is more environmentally friendly, a real Christmas tree or an artificial one? I think going to a Christmas tree farm (near our home) and cutting our own is better than buying an artificial one, but I’d like your input. Thanks.

Artificial… buy it once and use it for the rest of your life.. preferably an aluminum one made out of old beer cans.  It is even better if you drink the beer yourselves.

Oh Wise Oracle,

Will we finally get a decent offer, after the open house today?

‘Cause I’m tired of cleaning so much that you can ACTUALLY lick the floors and come away feeling refreshed.

Thank you, Great Oracle.

Why are you licking the floors?  Maybe you would sell your house if you got up off the floor.  

Dearest Oracle,
A test of your knowledge before I move on to pressing question?
Of the top of your head… Do you know how much a gallon of milk weighs and how long is a dollar bill?

My more pressing question…
How is it that my husband can spot a groundhog in a field while driving and texting yet can’t keep the kids and do laundry at the same time?

 He

>likes groundhogs.  I like groundhogs.

I am curious to the Oracle’s portrait? Was it a gift? Commissioned especially for him? Love to hear the background story on that…

It appears to be  a painting… but it is actually a rubbing.  

(Rechelle interjecting to say that the Oracle’s sister Lois created the painting as an exercise in an art class.  I always admired it and eventually she gave it to me.  Sorry Oracle.  Please continue…)
What kind of job will leave my husband feeling fulfilled and appreciated? And are they hiring?

Barbecue tester.  The guy who reaches into the grill with his thumb and forefinger and gets the first piece.  It is a hard job to get.  That’s a job I would like to have.
Dear Readers, 
I will save the questions that came in late for another session with the Oracle… if there ever is another session.  I hope there will be.  I really think he has helped a lot of people today.  Don’t you!?!  
THANK YOU ORACLE!!!
0 comments
Filed under: The Oracle Known as Steve

A Conversation With the Oracle

October 26th, 2008

The Country Doctor’s family is in the midst of planning an 80th birthday bash for the Country Doctor’s dad – Joe. This event is being hosted at our home and e-mails have been flying through cyber space to firm up the details. I have been in close contact with the Oracle Known as Steve during this time. Here are a few of our exchanges. One of the Country Doctor’s sister’s has also been thrown in for a little variety. 
I started out with a simple, clear, CONCISE statement as to what the CD and I would plan on contributing to the party…

Dear all:

The Country Doctor and I can do the bread and butter and any condiments. We will also take care of beverages (tea, water, soda) and paper products. We have five bedrooms available (which includes the dismal basement bedroom). Plenty of room on various floors as well.

Rechelle

Dear Rechelle:

 I talked to the girls and they would like to reserve the guest room on the first floor to lay our pretty little heads on Saturday evening. We prefer the cotton sheets to flannel and if we could get a little fresh lavender on our pillows we’ll mention you when we say our prayers at night. 

Thanks Dear. 
Uncle Steve

Dear Steve,

You’re not my uncle.
You also may not pick your room. 

They will be assigned in order of arrival. 
Please take your time in getting here.
Rechelle

Dear Rechelle,

We hope to stay overnight too if possible so would like to reserve a room. Anywhere is fine.

Christi

Dear Christi,

Yes Christi, you can have the room Steve wanted.

Rechelle

Dear Rechelle,

Several people have hinted that I should be in charge of the party. Rechelle… I’m sorry I’m a little too busy this time but I will consult.

Dear Steve,

So glad you are available to consult. I have no idea how I could handle this shindig without you.

Dear Rechelle:

You are so very very much welcome. It is always a pleasure to share the benefits and wisdom of my many many social endeavors with those who are just beginning their first tentative forays into these gentle arts. I have so many fabulous recommendations, let’s get together soon, to share ideas, and then I can work up a little plan for you to use.

Thanks again for your prompt response. If nothing else we have that.

My warmest regards
Steve

P.S. I have attached a recipe for country gravy which I am sure you will find to be ambrosia compared to what usually gets served. I would suggest a big batch as it will go quick quick dear…

P.P.S. Jason has agreed to join us for our kibitz. His ideas on finger sandwiches are simply divine. 

Ta.
Steve 
Dear Steve:
I do not have enough room in the entire house plus the surrounding eight acres for your gravy.  If you will remember last time you made gravy at my  house, the basement flooded, the toilets backed up and the pond overflowed.  Please leave your gravy making skills at home.  
Rechelle
 

Dear Rechelle:

In reviewing your earlier, brief but lovely, note, I noticed that when listing the proposed beverages (tea, water, soda) you unfortunately failed to list some very desirable potables. I am sure that your  limited list is meant to represent the basics and not the full extent of the offerings. As I am sure this is the case, perhaps the addition of some punctuation such as this (tea, water, soda…) would be better. This would help to insure that nobody could possibly misconstrue your missive. After all we wouldn’t want people to think that there won’t be any say lemonade or milk or BEER. I’ve got a little mantra that I embraced years ago. Everything is better with the three B’s… Butter, Bacon and BEER.

I’m so glad we caught this oversight now. While it is still correctable.

A pleasure, I’m sure.

Steve

P.S. Sometimes when I’m feeling especially silly I will add Brisket
and Beans for a total of five B’s but let’s not get that silly yet.
Ta ta,
The Oracle

Uh Steve… 

I am not of the understanding.

You go wacky wacky and I go honny honny lo lo.

What is this beer of which you speak?

I would like to discuss the decor instead. Who is in charge of the
draperies?

and the SWAGS!!!
Rechelle
That’s all for now…  Here at CDW we will keep you updated on any more breaking communications from the Oracle Known as Steve as they come flying in.  
On Pins and Needles,
Rechelle

0 comments
Filed under: The Oracle Known as Steve

The Pearl, The Oracle, and the Scrubbing Brush

October 9th, 2008

It has been a while since I was strong enough to speak of the Oracle Known as Steve and the many, many things he has taught me over the years. Things like how to stand back and watch him as he takes over my kitchen and demands a whisk… no a better whisk… do you have a better whisk? Things like being on the Oracle’s team during huge family Thanksgiving Trivial Pursuit games when he will insist he knows the answer and I will insist he is wrong and he will insist he is right and even though I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is wrong, he will convince our entire team that he is right and then when his answer is wrong, it will be my fault for not being forceful enough in my argument.

I started learning things from the Oracle back when the Country Doctor and I were dating. In fact, the Country Doctor and I had our second date at the Oracle Known as Steve’s house. The Oracle was out of town and the Country Doctor invited me over to make dinner for him. Well.. he was actually going to make dinner for me, but I just kind of took over and then I demanded a whisk… no a better whisk… do you have a better whisk? At that point the Country Doctor realized that he was not dating his mother, he was dating his brother, and things kind of got weird, but then I forgot to put the ricotta cheese in the lasagna, and he was greatly relieved that he was not dating his brother, but just a spacey freak girl who worked in a health food co-op and had dreams of opening a theater in a barn that was surrounded by acres of wild flowers and the actors made honey during the day when they weren’t spinning wool into fantastic organic sweaters and caring for orphans and homeless people and writing books that made them all famous so that they could each build sweet little stone bungalows around the barn theater where they wrote and produced extremely compelling plays that made them even more famous and then they made quilts and fine linens and and sold eggs and had babies and loved nature and did a lot of modern dance steps and there was much frolicking and joy.

A few months after that dinner where I explained all my complex barn/theater/honey/quilts/famous/babies/dream, the Country Doctor (who was not yet a doctor but just a guy trying to decide whether or not to even go to medical school, but I will call him the Country Doctor just to make it easier) called me to tell me about an upcoming party.  The Oracle Known as Steve was throwing a huge post Missouri/KU football bash at his house and the CD wanted me to come.  I was kind of nervous about this gathering, because it would be the first time I would meet most of his family and also because it was a big party which was never really my kind of thing.  I went to a few massive parties my freshman year in college and quickly decided that it was not really something I was interested in.  I even crashed a party at the Lawrence Holidome with a bunch of girlfriends because we heard that Andrew McCarthy and Matt Dillon were going to be there and guess what!  They were there!  I even have a picture… somewhere… in some box of crap to prove it.  Still the whole red punch with vodka scene never appealed to me and I quickly found my niche with a small group of friends who preferred movies or just hanging out and being stupid to going to huge beer parties.  
Yes I know, I was a dork. 
The Oracle Known as Steve was renting a tiny house from an old lady named Pearl.  Normally I would say “elderly lady” or “grandmotherly type” but Pearl was an “old lady” in the truest sense.  She pestered the Oracle constantly.  She did not allow parties and kept a careful eye out for any unapproved overnight guests.  She drove the Oracle up the wall with her intrusive manner, but the house was cheap and the Oracle was not around much to be bothered by her so they managed to get along.
But the KU/Mizzou game was another matter.  The KU/Mizzou rivalry is even more ferocious than the KU/K-State rivalry for the Kansas Jayhawks.  It goes way back before the Civil War when Missouri was a slave state and Kansas was determined to enter the union as a free state. In order to prevent Kansas from becoming a free state, Missouri  put together a militia that came to Lawrence and ransacked a few buildings and set them on fire.  Shortly thereafter a free state lawmaker got beat up by a pro-slavery lawmaker in the capitol building followed by John Brown hacking a bunch of pro-slavery men to death with broad swords in a field, then there was more fighting and more death on both sides which is why Kansas is one of the reasons for the start of the Civil war and why it is often referred to as “Bleeding Kansas” in the history books.  Kansas hates Missouri, and Missouri hates Kansas and now this is all worked out each year on the football field and that game is celebrated a little more thirstily than others.
All of my clothes were weird back then.  (Not during the Civil War, during the early 1990′s).  I was going through my thrift store fashion period.  I preferred to think of it as “vintage” but it was really more “flea market”.  I was working in a health food co-op and at the Lawrence Arts Center and I did not need to look “normal” or “standard” in my work clothes.  In fact everyone I knew tended towards the bizarre in their apparel, or at the very least to granola-ish.  After much debate and the flinging of every item in my closet to the ground of my bedroom, I finally decided on a black pleated short skirt, a pair of dark opaque tights, and a pin striped men’s suit coat over a t-shirt.  I knew intuitively that this get-up was all wrong, but there was something in me that insisted that I had to be “me” with these people, and “me” was not a KU sweatshirt and a pair of jeans with a cute pair of Jayhawk earrings.  In fact, it still isn’t.  I still don’t own a single KU shirt.  But I have plenty of pairs of opaque tights!
 
I drove myself to the party and met the Country Doctor there.  The party was pretty uncomfortable for me.  The Country Doctor was glad I was there, but he was also determined to talk to every single person at the party, in a behavior I am now used to and refer to as “running for office”  He did not seem very worried if I was enjoying myself or had someone to talk to.  He just kind of left me and went off to “run for office” while I tried desperately to fade into the old lathe and plaster walls of Pearl’s house.  I talked to the Oracle a little and eventually met the rest of his family, none of whom were wearing opaque tights or men’s suit coats.  As the evening progressed and the kegs were drained, the party got rowdier and rowdier.  At one point a very nice-looking red headed guy who was wearing jeans and a cowboy shirt, which was at least somewhat unique garb for that crowd, grabbed me by the waist and spun me around the Oracle’s tiny dining room in an excellent swing dance to some traditional country tune.  The guy could really dance well and I had a great time with him but then he muttered something about his recent break-up with his fiancee and he left the party.  
A few minutes later I started hearing rumors that the Country Doctor was fighting someone on the lawn outside.  I went out and saw him wrestling some hulking dark mass to the ground.  I decided right then that it was time for me to go.  I furtively walked to my car wanting to quietly disappear without being noticed, but the Oracle saw me
leaving and begged me to take the Country Doctor home.  I didn’t know what to do, but figured it was better if I took him home than him driving himself home.  Seconds later the Oracle hauled his brother into my car and I drove him towards his house.  A few blocks down the road the Country Doctor looked up abruptly, shouted “Stop” threw open the car door and hurled all over the street and all over my car.  
After I dropped him off, I quickly determined that there was not much of a future for the Country Doctor and myself and I wondered how I could track down that cute swing dancing red head.
The next morning, the Country Doctor showed up at the health food co-op where I worked.  He looked pretty awful and was extremely apologetic.  He walked into the grocery store with a bucket of soapy water and a scrubbing brush.  In front of all the customers and employees he told me he was there to clean out my car.  And he did.  And I decided  I would give him one more chance.  One more.  Then I was going to find the red headed swing dancer.
The end.
29 comments
Filed under: The Oracle Known as Steve

Hanging the Oracle

April 7th, 2008

Oh Dear! That doesn’t sound right does it?!?

I don’t really mean “HANG the oracle“

Oh no! I would never even think of HANGING the Oracle.

He is far to valuable to me! Why, if I were to HANG the Oracle, who would the Country Doctor consult when he has a problem to which his wife CLEARLY KNOWS THE ANSWER???

But he has been sitting there… on the floor… staring at the opposite wall for about six months now and it really is time to put him in his proper place.

It’s just that I’m not really sure where his proper place is? I tried placing the Oracle both above and below darling pictures of my boys as toddlers. But that seemed a bit out of whack.

You can just tell by looking at him that he is none too pleased with this idea.

So I laid the Oracle down so we could both have a rest and think things over.

And as I stepped away – something about this particular spot spoke to me… It was as if the Oracle himself was whispering in my ear saying…

Here….

Here….

This is my home….

This is my spot…

So I said a prayer…

And I lit a candle…

And I tried to clear my mind of all distractions…

And I hammered a nail into the wall…

Then I had a snack.

(Don’t tell the Oracle about that snack part.)

Perfect!

He seems to be at peace here don’t you think???

And I find that I am at peace too.

A deep abiding peace that will comfort me every time I step in here to… to… well…to “pay my respects to the Oracle.”

Which is a actually a euphemism for… for…

Okay then…

goodbye.

17 comments
Filed under: The Oracle Known as Steve
12