Home of Michael Perry – New York Times Bestselling Author, Humorist, Singer/Songwriter, Intermittent Pig Farmer

Posts Tagged ‘oops!’

Neighbors is Neighbors

Sometimes you borrow a cup of sugar, sometimes you borrow a large-diaphragm tube condenser microphone.

Eye See

I don’t need a selfie stick to take my own picture, I need it to read my phone when I forget my cheaters.

My Own Dumb Time Zone

I owe a BIG apology to Joe Keough and his radio crew, I worked right through a scheduled interview this morning. If they’ll still have me we’ll reschedule and I’ll let you all know so you can listen in. Dang it. I’ve got the prickly guilt sweats here.

All About That Bass


I have achieved the decor known as Midwestern bachelor eclectic, which is to say the large finless bass my great-grandfather caught hangs just below the picture of Johnny Cash, which is nicely accented by the vintage International pickup postcard. Whenever I am asked why I keep the bass, I point to the brass plate screwed to the wooden plaque, clearly stating that Frank J. Smetlak was a scientific taxidermist.

               – from Truck: A Love Story

Received an email out of the blue from the granddaughter of Frank J. Smatlak, who tells me Frank was from Haugen, Wisconsin, but also spent time in Wisconsin Dells, Rice Lake, and Eau Claire before dying in 1964–the year I was born. She also kindly points out that in Truck his surname was misspelled with an “e,” so as is standard Sneezing Cow policy, we now add this to the “Oops!” file.

She Broke My Liver

Editing next novel, found 5 references to liver as center of emotion. Don’t know what I’m suppressing, but deleted 3.

Sometimes You Win One

Winter before last, my snow plow shoes finally wore out to the point even Tom couldn’t save them, so I bought a new pair.

Then early last winter we had a whopper of a snowstorm (little did we know it was only the beginning). I plowed out our driveway and outbuildings and the lane, then plowed out two of the neighbors. After parking the truck, I gave it the ol’ post-plow walk-around and discovered one of my brand new shoes was missing.

Let’s be polite, and say I was disheartened.

All-in-all, three hours in the plow truck and several miles of snowbanks. Somewhere out there, buried in all that white, was a $34 piece of iron. I retraced my work, expecting to find nothing, and found exactly that.

Then last week I was typing in my little room with the window open for the first time all year when it occurred to me I ought to take a walk along the driveway to see if I could find that shoe. I got halfway to the mailbox but the snowbanks still hadn’t completely melted, so I turned and headed the other way, out the ridge where I plowed the lane.


Then I spotted something…


I took a closer look…


I followed the trail of spacers and found…


Price tag still on it! And then, to complete the trifecta…


It’s nice to see the daffodils sprout and all that, but that’s pretty much the most beautiful thing I’ve seen all spring. Felt like I won the lottery…for $34.

Rule is, if yer gonna grump about bad luck, you gotta give the cosmos a nod when you get good luck. So there y’go.

What Kinda Egotistical…

That moment you see the brochure and realize the bio you intended be trimmed got printed in its entirety when everyone else stuck to a modest paragraph.