humor

I am a Scholfield.

~ thedailydish ~ 10 Comments

Some people may be Smiths.  Whites, Browns, Blacks or Greens.  But Me?  I am a SCHOLFIELD.

SCHOLFIELD

That’s right.. SCHOLFIELD.  It’s like music, wouldn’t you say?  Ack!  NO! NO!  You are BUTCHERING IT!  That’s German, Schultz..  We’re ENGLISH.  Scholfield sounds just like it’s written.  Except w/ a hard C and the L is silent.  No, a hard C.  Like SKO.  No, SKOL is that nauseating chewing tobacco.  That’s right.  Without the L.  Like I said.  SCHOLFIELD.  Ahhh.

I have been thinking about my maiden name a lot lately, b/c my sister – the last remaining Scholfield – just got ENGAGED!  Hearty CONGRATS to Suzanne & Jon!!!  As she & her fiance are already being bombarded w/ questions about the wedding, the date, the cake, the dress, the invitations, the location, and so on.  I thought it might be a bit much to start asking whether she’ll be keeping her name, or taking his.  But you know of course I have been wondering.  Whether my parents will no longer have any real Scholfield children.  Whether they will weep at night unable to sleep b/c both of us are now gone.  No pressure.  But they do have something they can still call their own.

Scholfield.org.  It’s ours!  Like the spoon collection and the heirloom doilies, it’s family.  But here is the down side.  Whereas my husband devotes an incredible amount of time to his family surname, his Ellingsworth.org website, and his 300-plus Ellingsworth friends on Facebook, my poor Scholfields are being overlooked.   For SHAME!  As much as I’d like to point fingers at my husband for his self absorption, we all know who the SCHOLFIELD is in this family.  Wah-wah-wahhhhh.  The time has come to dust off the old Scholfield.org site and put it to good use.  I already have way too much on my plate, and I’d like to challenge myself even further.  SO – Any Scholfields out there looking for a free scholfield.org email address?  Let me know.  My mom has one and her joy knows no bounds.  Any family history to contribute?  Send it my way.  Gossip?  Even better! (Even if it’s not about a Scholfield.)

We are after all THE SCHOLFIELDS.  The proud, the few, the hut dwelling/field grazers.  And did you know that here in Maine we have Scholfield HISTORY?!  As in – the SKOLFIELDS of Brunswick!  WOW.  Isn’t it great that people who were never related to me, don’t have the same spelling of my name but DO share the same phonetic pronunciation lived close by?  And did I mention? were RICH>>?  WELL. That seals the deal.

I hadn’t heard about this long lost pseudo branch of the family either, until my parents came to visit this summer.  My dad had done some research and discovered a SKOLFIELD HOUSE just 30 minutes north of Portland!

theotherskolfieldhouse

Hmmm.  Doesn’t look much like a Victorian mansion to me either.  When we walked up. none of us (including the senior in the chair) was quite sure what was going on.  So we politely stood on the corner across the street, trying to look inconspicuous while scratching our heads and taking photographs.  Apparently this Skolfield House is a nursing home.  Which doesn’t get a whole lot of out-of-town visitors looking for tours.  After consultation w/ google maps, we discovered The Skolfield-Whittier House several blocks away.

the skolfield house

WOWZA!!  That’s more like it!  So even though we spell our name a wee bit differently (Scholfield v. Skolfield), it is after all pronounced the same.  And since back in the day no one could really spell, we all know these folks were closely related to me.  At least the ones in the second house. b/c they were rich.

Talking turkey.

~ thedailydish ~ 10 Comments

9 am and they just left.  A family of fifteen.  Talk about ANIMALS!  By the end of the meal, they’d knocked a tray to the ground, there was food everywhere, and 2 of the kids were pooping in the bushes.  And they didn’t even pay!!  I turned my back for a minute and they’d run off.  I’d try to catch them, but 6 ladies just walked in, there’s a group of 7 due any minute, and a party of 16 this afternoon.  You’d think they’d have the courtesy to call in a reservation.  But of course not.  They are TURKEYS after all.

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Caught red handed.

~ thedailydish ~ 9 Comments

I am pleased to announce wonderfish Blackie is home at last.  No he did not DIE!  He’s back in his tank.  I spent the bulk of this morning scrubbing it, and by lunchtime he was happily swimming round his decorative pagodas once more.  Upon closer inspection, however, his filter looked suspect.  So we decided to go to the pet store to see about buying a replacement.  Whilst there I noticed they had a large array of hamsters.  Male & female, several different varieties, ALL VERY CUTE.  So while my husband took a gander at filters, I kept watch on the rodents.  And OH MY GOODNESSS!!  They had Teddy Bear hamsters! Which looked jusssst like HAMMIE.  My daughter’s most beloved pet.  Next thing I knew I was squatting down beside the cage, slipping up the lid and reaching right in.  Most of them were asleep, so they didn’t know any different.  But the one who was mostly awake didn’t much like the proximity of my hand to his head.  He started snarling at me in that hamster way, bearing his long gnawing teeth.  Fortunately he got scared and ran into a plastic tube, leaving me free to pet his semiconscious friends.  I’d barely touched one of them when a voice rang out beside me.  A sales clerk stood a couple feet away, gazing down quizzically.  It was clear I was the first adult she’d ever caught in an unauthorized petting situation.  She asked whether I’d consulted a sales associate about handling.  I played dumb.  Ooooh, I was supposed to??  She gave me a look that clearly conveyed OF COURSE YOU MORON.  I continued squatting in front on the cage, mostly b/c I didn’t know what else to do and wanted to appear as nonchalant as possible.  She just stood there, looking at me.  I think she was afraid as soon as her back was turned, my hand would be in the cage grabbing one of the hamsters and making a run for it.  She asked if I was interested in one of the hamsters, whether I wanted to purchase one of the hamsters.  I answered noncommittally.  Then I fixed my gaze on the cage, hoping she would just walk away.  Finally my husband approached, asking me to come check out the filters.  I stood up and never looked back.