A guy walks into a restaurant...

No, it isn't the beginning of a hilarious joke but it is the beginning of us, Ron & Jenn aka Casa Causpanic.

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It is a very ordinary, extraordinary life about which we journal.

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Haircuts 'n Froglegs

Picture this...Dennis, Tx----school is out and stayin' with Mama Fronie and Daddy Ernie on the farm---loved it--runnin' wild in the woods, fishin', huntin', just me n Penny---the little runt Terrier---squirrel dog extraordinare---and 300 + acres to run wild in. Back then--all you had to do was call your neighbors n tell em you were gonna be at their tank, or huntin in their woods. As it was---really didn't even have to call ---like  I said earlier---THE GOOD  OLE DAYS----if you didn't abuse the land the owners didn't care if you hunted, fished or just walked thru. Within walkin' distance I had access to about 8-10 stock  tanks, some had catfish, some bass---all had perch----n big  ole bullfrogs. The main topic of my story.

Daddy Ernie would say---boy --its about time for you to get a haircut. Man, I dreaded that and you'll see why. The guy that cut hair was an old retired barber---he used clippers and man they were hair pullers.  Wore my hair short, they  called em burrs back then. Now  they call em GI Cut--or other fancy names. Here's where the bullfrogs come in.

I would take off with my trusty 22---Penny the squirrel dog----converted to frog dog when huntin frogs and hit the tanks that held the frogs. I would sneak up on the tank dam and peek over---the bullfrogs would be settin' on the bank---usually underneath trees in the shade. I would pick  one and shoot  it in the head with my 22--usually it would jump  in---reflex and if the others that were in sight did not jump in also I would  pop another. They usually didn't go too far and if the tank was clear I  could see 'em and with a stick drag 'em to  the bank.  Muddy water was a little more difficult to find them in---but I would persevere and get my frog.  Waitin' awhile and the ones that  jumped  would have to surface and their big ole'  green heads a floatin in the water  made good targets.  Now is when Penny turned into frog dog---he hated it----I know he did---he would look at me as if to say---"you want me to do what?".  After throwin' a few rocks or whatever at the floatin frog he would go get it.  Little guy could swim--short legs a churnin.  Like I said---he didn't like it and would rub his face in the grass gettin the frog taste off.

Have you guessed yet what the froglegs were for?  Traded 'em for haircuts for me n my Grandad. Usually, I would get about 8-10 frogs---figure about 16-20 legs---a good meal.  The barber was tickled---I  was in pain from  the hair pullin.

---he would take a run with the clippers and  when he threw the hair off he  would pull some with  the trimmins. Daddy Ernie got the scissors so he never experienced the "dreaded clippers".


Early to Bed--Early to Rise