A peek at the REAL Thumbster

I Don't Think Your Camel Likes Me

I seem to be having more aggravating cyber problems again. I'm having to rewrite this entire entry as it was just deleted. I was warped to a different page off site for some unknown reason. Of course it didn't get deleted until I was almost finished writing it. I HATE rewriting stuff. Here then is my 2nd attempt at this entry...(I was much more adorable the first time)



Hi to all my loyal Thumb fans. (Thank goodness for the easily amused)
Hi also to the mildly tolerant. (You're adorable too)
Hi even to my openly hostile readers. (You're loved too) (Although I do love my Thumb fans more)

Can you guess what I did recently?

No...I didn't do that.

Nope...I didn't do that either.

Eeeeeeeeew...I'd never do that. What must you think of me.

Mitchell, my son, and I went canoeing last Friday and we went snorkelling in the ocean last Sunday. I'd love to show you some of the photos I took but my camera can only hold 20 pics, (I can't bring myself to delete ten or so of them), and my batteries died as did the spares I brought along. Mitchell has a really nice camera. His can take several hundred pics and does all kinds of cool things. I can't post any real photos here so these will have to do instead...


..........____..........

That's a pic of me and Mitchell canoeing.


...................

That's a pic of us snorkelling.




And I don't know what the Hell that is.


I could write about what we saw and did but I think those pics pretty much says it all. I would however like to write about a long ago love of mine. Her name was Rebecca. (Actually her name was Sophie Rosalind Peters but I'll call her Rebecca to protect her privacy). I was 15 or 16 and she was 34. She was a cashier at a local grocery store. I knew right away she stood out from the other cashiers as she had gorgeous long black hair, deep brown eyes, and she used to smoke while she worked. I'm pretty sure she wasn't allowed to be smoking cigarettes while working in a grocery store, even back then, but Rebecca was the kind of woman who did things her way. (I later heard Phil, the store manager didn't say anything because he didn't want to chance Rebecca telling his wife about their affair) (Phil isn't his real name of course. His real name was Randall Stevens but I'll call him Phil so I don't get sued)

One day Rebecca asked me if I was staring at her breasts, (which I was), but I denied.

"No Mam. I'd never do that. I'm a good boy. I was looking at your name tag." I replied. (She should have worn her name tag somewhere else if she didn't want fifteen year old boys oogling her)

She then commented on the dozen eggs I would buy from her every few days. (I only went to her checkout line)

"What are you doing with all the eggs?" (I was flattered she even noticed me) "Are you egging houses with them?" She asked eyeing me suspicously

"No Mam. I'm a good boy remember. I practice on them." I said, flashing her one of my impish smiles.

"Practice on them?"

"Yes Mam. I hope to one day be the world's greatest egg artist. Even better than Carl Faberge." I replied.

"Oh you mean that Russian guy who made the jewel and gem encrusted eggs?" (I was impressed she knew about Carl Faberge, a hero of mine back then)

"Yes Mam, except I can't afford real jewels and gems so I just paint fake jewels and gems on the eggs."

"Really?" She replied.

"Well actually I can't even afford to paint fake jewels and gems so I just write the words jewel and gem on the eggs in crayon instead. It's not quite the same but I am getting better at it Mam." (I could tell she was intrigued with me)

"Rebecca." She said.

"Rebecca what?" I asked confused.

"Rebecca is my name. Please don't call me Mam. It makes me feel old."

"Yes Mam." I teased with another one of my impish smiles. Even at fifteen I figured I knew how to handle a woman like Rebecca. I wasn't like Phil. I figured Rebecca respected a guy with a backbone...and a adorable impish smile. (I've always had a strong back)

Well one thing led to another and we spent the summer sucking eggs and doing other disgusting things together, until my family had to move due to the local peanut crop failing. I sometimes wonder about Rebecca and those luscious lips of her's.


Hmmm. I'm not sure this second version is the way this story went the first time. I think I had my family moving away because the onion crop failed. I also went waaaaaaaaaaaay more in detail about what she and I used to do together. Oh well. This version will have to do. I don't intend to rewrite it ever again.









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