Tardy Thursday

I hit the Mother Lode yesterday while shifting everything around in the garage under the guise of cleaning and organizing for a Yard Sale. There it was, hidden on a top shelf tucked in a nondescript box! A large plastic bag with a zipper around the top that at one time held brand new bedding but was enlisted and recycled as a storage bag. I had been hunting for six months for the treasure it held, several photo albums, a large manila envelope filled with old report cards and Bible School graduation diplomas/pictures, a broken and torn binder holding studio photos, and a small photo box of more recent (1970's and early 1980's) color snaps!

I laid them all out and went through the photographs them one by one, taking my priceless riches to the scanner and making a large folder of the most precious.

Not only is it a wonderful cache for me, it is perfectly timed and quite the miracle! One of my step daughters is turning 30 this coming week end and quite some time ago she asked if I knew where the "family photographs" could possibly be. Then it came back to me when I laid my hand on the bag yesterday, her mother, my husbands ex, had handed over the family stash to Joe years and years ago. For D., as she grows older, it means everything.

So, at the party Saturday I'll have this kick ass gift! At least I think so, Joe thinks I need to go out and find a designer purse knock off at the local Flea Market (God I hope D. is not reading this!!It will ruin the week-end!).....

Anyway, thanks to Wistful Wednesday at Far Side of Fifty, here is a jewel of my husband, on his way to church, getting ready to pack his gun...no doubt to tuck it in the back part of his pants, just like the gangster, a little Tony Soprano he resembles, as he escorts his sister (not packing)(unless hers is a discretely hidden derringer under her hat) and older brother (also with gun)to the Presbyterian Church.






Circa 1957 or 58.....

Bring back the Pinto!

Back in the day, everything I owned fit inside a Pinto. Every little item I needed to make it in the world could be transported to where ever I needed to be in an afternoon, depending on how long the trip. My plants, my record player, my records, my suitcase with several pairs of bell bottom jeans, books I could not live without, shoes, boots, coats….all in the back of a Pinto.

The time arrived when dormitory rooms were a distant memory, and I had graduated from renting a room with a bed. The time had arrived to start collecting and acquiring things. I bought an antique bed (well, maybe it was just an old bed) for $100 and along with my boyfriend, spent a considerable amount of time refinishing it and transforming it into a thing of beauty. Other things followed; a stereo system with some gigantic speakers, a rocking chair, a couch, a dresser, a comfy restaurant booth that fit perfectly into the farm house kitchen. A pot belly stove called a Warm Morning, another $100. The name was horribly misleading for not once did I wake up to a warm morning but only to a filthy black monster demanding to be shaken down and the smoldering banked coals nursed back to life as the dog, another acquired thing, sat and watched in fascination.

Despite many (hundreds) moves, many yard sales, numerous trips to scattered Goodwill's and local churches and straddling two places that I can realistically call home….I once again find myself dumbfounded and overwhelmed by the impending move to Mississippi and the massive amount of stuff I have once again accumulated.

I think, would’t it be nice to just walk away and take only what would fit in the back of a Pinto?

It's Diet Time Again

On a recent trip to Goodwill, to scratch that shopping itch, I found a Low Carb Cook Book for fifty cents! Oh I love Goodwill! I remembered how, in 2004, I climbed on the South Beach Diet Wagon and lost about 15 pounds. When I look at my Elopement Pictures, I realize how good I look without all those extra pounds. Naturally I packed those pounds back on with a few more and the time has come, the time is imminent, to lose some weight.

As always, with each diet I commit to, I head off to Dairy Queen to celebrate. One last time.

Since I am in Memphis, or rather in Mississippi, I am unfamiliar with the fast food locations. I hit the Main Drag, which traverses east to west, something akin to a State Line Road. My thinking is that there is bound to be a Dairy Queen and a Blizzard with my name on it (God! How I love those Cotton Candy Blizzards, I hope they are back).

It has been my appalling experience, that Dairy Queens are few and far between in some areas. Why is it while I am traveling and feel the need for a food stop the first thing that pops in my head is the Chicken Fingers with Texas toast and white gravy? And why is it that when I switch on the Garmen, I find the closest one is 20 miles back, and the voice that must be obeyed ("Recalculating. Recalculating. ....Turn LEFT!". Bitch! That is a one way ramp! You trying to kill me!)is telling me to give it up.

Alas, the Garmen is at home and unavailable.

I swear, I drove to the Mississippi River and found five McDonald's, a slew of Wendy's, a couple of Arby's, one lonely Zaxby's and countless other Fast Food joints, but not one single DQ.

I turn around and head back running up and down some feeder roads, drive all around the small city we have an apartment in, but no DQ.

I stand disgruntled at Baskin Robbins, blindly pointing towards some concoction (because I left my glasses at home)and end up with one scoop of Love Potion on a sugar cone.

I guess the diet really and truly began despite wasting an hour of my time and several gallons of gas!

The Day The Cat Almost Left Home

This past weekend I learned the hard way that being a May-May (which is my Grandmother name!!) is tough. Joe went and picked up the Grandbaby and the Step Daughter (I better state that the SD is not the GB's mother!!!)and brought them up here for a week end of non-ending fun that centered around the St Paddy Day Parade!

We attended a fish fry on Friday night and when we made it home, GB was tired and cranky. This means she screamed about everything. SD touches her, she screams. Which naturally becomes a lot of fun for SD! So there is touching and screaming and "I didn't do anything!" and a sniffly, "She hit me" and then "I did not!!" and then more screams as SD touches GB's stuff and another sniffly, "She hit me".

In the meantime, the Cat is traumatized and is hiding under a chair. When ever he ventures into the family room, he goes around the perimeter hoping to avoid the Little Person. The Little Person lays eyes on the Cat and immediately shrieks and chases Cat around the house. But Three Legged Cat is faster and can hide under the bed and GB can only place head on floor and beg, "Pweese come out, Cat". To which the Cat only pokes out a paw, to show his discontent, to take a swipe at anyone who happens to walk by.

The Cat will lay down and survey his invaded kingdom and allow GB to pet him under his chin (he can not do justice to the chin scratch with only three legs) and GB is assured that Cat does not bite.

After hours of peeing and pooping nose wiping jewelry playing and cat chasing, GB passes out in exhaustion only to awake at 630am and need attention from May-May.

"No I do not like toast"

"No I do not like Twix"

"No I do not like cinnamon wolls" (is this kid related?????)

"No I do like eggs"

"No woegurt"

"No pancakes"

Together we peer inside the refrigerator and she spots the baloney and pulls it out, "This" she proudly hold up, "I like!!"

So does the Cat! This is the Cat's treat baloney! But, the Cat shares and before the day is ended, the entire pound of baloney is devoured by both Cat and GB. Two slices are found packed in GB's suitcase. AS SD holds up the evidence, GB says, "For later."

Off to the Parade. It is perfectly evident that GB is not going to make it. Jo-Jo (GB name for Grandpa) decides that GB can not be carried the entire Parade Route. And he fears that if we put her on the Float she will insist of getting on and off to walk beside SD and Bridget. So he takes her home. On the way she once again passes out, he carries her in the house and she does not come to until he loads her back in the car to pick us up.

We arrive at home, pack up her belongings, eat more baloney, chase the Cat under the bed one last time, try to pack the large box of jewelry in the small Dora suitcase, try to pack the Shark book she loved, tried to pack the "The Little Mermaid", and at one time tried to pack the Cat! Who ran and hid under the bed. Again.

We took her home to Mama and kissed her and hugged her and cried to be leaving her and returned to the car.

"That was interesting" said Step Daughter, "And I did not hit her! She hit me first!"

Whatever! I'll do what I want! Whatever!

The other night I was watching the Comedy Channel and reading (multitasking) when I was assaulted by the irritating voices of South Park. As I lifted the remote to change the channel to something more palatable I began to watch fascinated by the absurdity of the show. Before I knew it, I was laughing. Out loud! At the mid-night hour, I was chuckling and saying to myself, “Oh my God!” and “I can’t believe this!!” Before this, the defining moment, I thought I did not like South Park. I had never once sat down to watch a single episode (this is the beginning of the 13th season) and based my opinion on reports from others . “Disgusting! Kids with dirty mouths! Children who curse on tv!”

“Whatever! I'll do what I want! I cuss!”

This particular show was a parody on the Maury Povich show. Parody? I think not. By an act of God, I happened to catch the beginning of his program yesterday and the South Park gang was right on!

The fact I’m getting around to is that I laughed my ass off at the unrelenting , irreverent, unforgiving slice of Americana. I loved it.

As I was reciting dialogue from the show to Joe the next day, I commented that it was a first for me, watching the show was a first. I had just celebrated a birthday and feeling old and decrepit, unemployable and over the hill, washed up and un-cool, old as dirt and missing the dinosaurs, tripping on a new experience was invigorating.

Formally entering the summer of my life finding a new experience is worth blogging about, since I am either spouting essays like a volcano or arid as a desert. Nothing in between.

There have been some other firsts this season. I have begun HRT after resisting them for years in fear of the possible side effects. The possible side effects seem minuscule next to the real effects. I must report that was I swayed by that ditsy blond from Three’s Company and have rejected the oral method and embraced the topical hoping to avoid damage to my liver and all the scary stuff that has held me back. So far so good. I think the change is subtle enough that I am only aware of it when I am pleasantly surprised.

For instance, for a long time I have experienced irritable responses to certain habits that my husband possesses. The last time he demonstrated one of his classics (not listening to me)(therefore getting us lost)(yes, it is part of the driving war) and jerking into a parking space at the last moment, instead of having that momentary flash of anger, …..I marveled that I did not have that momentary flash of anger!

Cool!

Some other firsts this week have included the baking of bread. My brother in law announced that he was going to try his hand at bread making and asked my advice! I was flattered but I know (and anyone who has read my blog knows) I am a failure at bread making. Instead of painting myself in an unflattering light, I advised him of a trick I had just read in one of my super duper Cook Book finds, to place a pan of very hot water in the bottom of your oven, close the door and allow the bread to rise in there. If the recipe gives you a time frame for allowing the bread to rise, ignore it and just let it double according to the dough’s inner clock. Put plastic over the bowl under the towel.

I went home and immediately made Wheat Bread the next day following my own advice (based on book knowledge, not experience, and throwing it around like I knew what I was talking about!!!!) and Sweet Jesus! It finally happened! The dough finally rose and doubled in size and the bread is dense and sweet and wonderful.

I’m even giving a loaf to my sister. She may have to cut off the burnt top (only slightly too dark!) but it is delicious.

This is a rambling entry, but hey, Whatever, I'll do what I want!

Breaking Cardnial Rule #1

When I first began to write an on-line journal my husband asked one thing of me, if I ever wrote about him to please not make him look like an A** Hole. And I believe I broke that promise and I apologize to him.

I won't do it again.

But, now I will tell you a story that makes me look like an A** Hole.

When we moved into the house the kids next door came running through my back yard and it pissed me off. If only they had come and asked if they could play back there, that they were use to the house being unoccupied and having the run of the unfenced area. It made me angry to see them opening my jar of dead Japanese beetles and touching my stuff without permission!

I opened the door and asked those kids something to the effect of, "Do you always cut through this yard"...some old woman on the rag stuff minus the broom. (Long ago the witch on our street when we were growing up would always be outside sweeping the rocks off her drive way, my sister use to go over and kick rocks back on it!!)

I immediately felt bad and there developed tension between us.

I even felt relief when they had a huge fight out in front of their house and several days later it was evident they were breaking up and the house went on the market late summer.

I can be a world class bitch and a big A** Hole.

(I hope the medication works and soon).

March Comes In Like a Lion

I’ve been reading journals about love. Newly wed bliss that makes me chuckle. A little glimpse of pillow talk, a tiny slice of verbal volley ball coated in sticky honey sauce…makes me roll my eyes and think, just you wait, THIS is what is in store for you.

On a recent trip to a tourist attraction about an hour and a half away I offered to drive the last leg back home after gassing up. He gratefully accepted settling down in the passenger seat, and putting his hand on the lever to allow the seat to fall back in full nap mode. My cell phone rang as I put it in reverse and began to back up answering the phone and begin talking to my daughter.

“WATCH OUT FOR THAT TRUCK” he barked at me as a huge semi truck began to slide into the gassing area beside us obviously getting ready to stop. Yet, his abrupt instructions caught me off guard so I had to quickly end my call with a “I’ll call you later” and just snapped the phone shut.

I avoided sudden imminent death by putting the car into drive to go around the back of the store, totally avoiding the semi (which did stop under the awning) and as I began to drive I heard this,

“Where are you going?”

I just gave him a side glance as I glided towards the entrance/exit and accidently hit the brakes too hard because it is a brand new car and I am not use to brakes that tight as mine are slightly soft, so we both jerked against the dash board. He jerked a little too dramatically and began to complain again, “What are you doing?? Have you ever driven before??”

I tried to ignore this remark by giving him yet another stink eye, I looked both ways before making a left out of the parking lot to merge into traffic. There was a car heading in our direction from the West so I waited for it to pass so I could cross traffic and head West.

“Are you ever going to pull out?”

I could control it no longer! I even began to laugh about how ridiculous and bizarre this was becoming. In 45 seconds he had completely unnerved me, unintentionally. As soon as I allowed the car to pass I pulled out , right in front of another car (I knew I could make it!) and laid some rubber.

I think he thought I was a maniac and began to yell (actually yell) “PULL OVER PULL OVER PULL OVER” and I knew better to fight it or to continue on, so I pulled over and we exchanged seats.

The universe was back in alignment, the planets resumed their orbit.

“You are the worst driver!” he sneered as he pulled out into traffic.

That is what those star crossed lovers have to look forward to.

(This is one of those crazy games we continue to play and replay and then laugh about it later)