It’s “National Frappe Day”

I’ve never had a frappe so I’m not gonna write about it. It is, however, 10/4, which reminds me of Citizen’s Band Radios – better known as a CB.

That’s a big 10-4, good buddy.

I was alive during the big CB craze of the 70’s. Everyone had one. It was like the facebook of its time. All you had to do was get yourself a “handle” and let ‘er rip. While we did have one in our house (my step-brother kept it in his room after we took it out of our green and white Econovan), my main experience with a CB was with my 1970’s BFF, Michelle. Her mom, Betty, was a chain-smoking, discipline-delivering, no-nonsense having woman who put up with me for many years. She, too, was a redhead so it was easy for her to claim me as her own. Her CB handle was “Peppermint Patty”, which I thought was so cool. She would throw the hammer down on I-70 and ask (via her citizen’s band radio) if there were any “smokies” ahead on our route to Bob Evans. If Michelle and I would start getting feisty in the backseat, Betty had no problem with reaching back there and giving us both a pop all while smoking, drinking coffee, keeping her eyes on the road, AND maintain her CB conversation. What a woman. I hear that she’s since quit smoking and still maintains the no-nonsense zone in her car. I’m not sure, however, if she still has a CB. If not, the airwaves have lost a lovely contributor.

Here’s what it might have sounded like.

Betty: Breaker Breaker 1-9, This here’s Peppermint Patty. You got your ears on? Come on.

Translation: Hello, there. I’d like to begin transmitting on channel 19. This is Betty. Are any of my friends available for conversation? Over.

Trucker #1: That’s an affirmative, Peppermint Patty. This here’s Bull-oney. I’m on the flip-flop from the mistake on the lake to cowtown, dropping the hammer down and breaking the double nickel on super slab 71. Checking my eyelids for pinholes but doing double-time on scoping out smokies. Can’t afford another bear bite. Come on.

Translation: Yes, Betty. This is Steve. I’m on my way back to Columbus from Cleveland and I’m speeding a bit on the interstate. I’m tired but I’m looking out for police officers since getting another speeding ticket would be unfavorable. Acknowledge me.

Betty: 10-4, good buddy. I got the ankle biters in the grocery grabber headed to the local choke and puke. Come on.

Translation: I understand, my friend. I have the kids in the backseat of the minivan headed to Bob Evans.

I could go on all day but, believe it or not, looking up this golden vernacular of the CB set is quite time consuming. I’ll direct you to Wikipedia: It’s fun to sort through.

The list did state that a Ford Pinto is also known as a “Bean”. My son is in no way, shape or form like a Ford Pinto. He doesn’t explode if you kiss his bumper.

He’s currently sleeping soundly. I hate to wake him but it’s time to get ready for school. Madeline meets early with her teacher a couple days a week for a little extra tutoring so we need to get up and at ’em. The kids had a fun weekend of going fishing and playing with the neighborhood kids so it will be tough to get back into routine. Ben does have a bit of a cough but I don’t know if he’s coming down with a bug or if it’s from the cycle of accutane he just completed. That stuff dries him out terribly. We have an appointment with his pediatrician tomorrow in hopes of getting him on track for going back to school. He is very anxious to get on with his life. We did pop over to the school last week so he could meet his classmates. They were so kind and loving, I nearly exploded from all the love they were showing him. I don’t know why I was so worried.

Have a great Monday, all. Put the hammer down and get through it.

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