tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85756112812123537502024-03-15T18:12:48.876-07:00Gladys Tells AllGladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.comBlogger547125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-64532603834022873272020-12-10T10:10:00.002-08:002020-12-10T12:20:13.170-08:00Little Gladys Ain't No Peggin<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigRc4fGE0Zzzm7EV6ShpBGgPpN47hvNi_WQoD5bs5oRY2Mz6_SOLwaN1zoSwNULSpuVvb27Syd0L53Bmv7c6rLwknMOCuQAJbA09w21f28IkJSuVQkebPTW3_xhq_7pE-knESGjZgEWNg/s865/bee+Christmas+66.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="865" data-original-width="622" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigRc4fGE0Zzzm7EV6ShpBGgPpN47hvNi_WQoD5bs5oRY2Mz6_SOLwaN1zoSwNULSpuVvb27Syd0L53Bmv7c6rLwknMOCuQAJbA09w21f28IkJSuVQkebPTW3_xhq_7pE-knESGjZgEWNg/s320/bee+Christmas+66.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">There was a chill in the air electrified with the
anticipation of the impending visit from Santa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Little Gladys sat in the portable building that served as her classroom
anxiously awaiting the announcement of Christmas festivities to come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Twenty-eight third graders shifted and
squirmed eyes glued to Mrs. Carter, their teacher.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Mrs. Carter stood at the front of the class, fluffed her
bouffant hair, smoothed her tan wool skirt, cleared her throat and began
“Class, unfortunately this year we will not be allowed to have a Christmas tree
in our rooms.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There was a collective exhalation from the eight-year-olds
of disappointment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mrs. Carter motioned
for them to quiet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You see we have some
students who do not celebrate the holiday with a tree, just as they don’t
celebrate birthdays or any other holidays.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Since we are a public school, we must respect their beliefs and because
of such we will not have decorations or a tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We will, however, still be having our annual pageant, absent of course
of the nativity and/or any reference to the baby Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now before we all get beside ourselves, let’s
remember that this country was founded on religious freedoms.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looked with sadness at the deflation of
her students and returned to her desk.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The students exchanged suspicious looks, side-eyeing one
another in an attempt to ferret out the guilty heretic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Girls and boys squirmed at the interrogative stares.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Little Gladys raised her hand, jumping a little in her seat
in order to be seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was a problem
with Gladys, she never felt seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe
it was her diminutive size, or maybe it was her being the third child and
always being out talked, outweighed and overlooked or maybe it was just her
personality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was this feeling that
made her act a little more dramatically, talk a little louder and ask questions
incessantly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Mrs. Carter!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>MRS.
CARTER!!” she all but screamed, “Why?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Why can’t we have a tree?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Mrs. Carter sighed “I already answered this Gladys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of our student’s religious beliefs do
not allow them to celebrate the holidays. We must respect that.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“But, why?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean is
it because they don’t believe in the baby Jesus?” Gladys whined.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“No, dear, it is because they believe that those holidays
are in fact not Christian but pagan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do
you know what a pagan is?” Mrs. Carter waited.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Gladys thought a minute and said “isn’t that like a clothespin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When you want to hang something up
you put in a peggin and you hang your stuff on it?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A little giggle escaped from the seasoned teacher “No, Hun, Paganism
is a form a belief where in they worship many gods or unconventional gods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was very common back in olden times.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“You mean we gots peggins in our class?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who?” Gladys was aghast.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“No, we would be the Pagans by putting up a tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You see some people believe that the tree was
a Pagan practice as were many of the other holiday traditions we practice.” The
teacher gingerly walked around the subject trying not to be too accusatory.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I aint no peggin!” Gladys spat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The class all mumbled the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“No one is calling you a Pagan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now let’s get to work on our fractions and
forget about the tree.” <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The day went on but not as brightly as it should have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The anticipation dampened with the thoughts
of no green and red construction paper chains, no pipe cleaner angels, and no
glitter spewing cardboard ornaments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was a sad, sad day and no amount of free reading time was going to lift Gladys’
spirits.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As the last bell of the day rang out Gladys trudged
forlornly out of the classroom, only looking up to see Mrs. Carter’s
sympathetic eyes. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">That evening as the color faded from the horizon Gladys sat
at the dinner table and told her brother and sister of the criminal restriction
from having a Christmas tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“She said
we were peggins for having a Christmas tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well, Mrs. Carter don’t exactly think we are but she said some kids in
our class thought we were and that is why we can’t have a tree.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Buck, Gladys’ brother was confused “we are peggin?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What is peggin?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“You know we believe there is more than one God and we don’t
worship the baby Jesus” said Gladys matter-of-factly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“PAY-GAN!” Buck corrected, “you mean pagan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not pegging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I thought maybe you were playing mumbly-peg at school or something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still don’t understand how a Christmas tree
means your Pagan.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Well, Mrs. Carter said has something to do with the
peasants worshiping trees or some such magical nonsense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think it is a travesty, us not having a
tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am just glad that Momma and
Daddy don’t think it’s piggin.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Matilda examined her mashed potatoes on the fork took a big
bite then turned mouth open to show Gladys her food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Stop it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t
want to play see food with you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
here is criminal!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean how would you
feel if you didn’t get to have a tree?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Swallowing Matilda replied “we don’t get to have a
tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We got the same speech.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr. Decker said that it was because of some
Jeehosaphats or something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That they don’t
believe in Christmas Trees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he said
we could still decorate the room and bring ornaments from home.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“What are Jeehosaphats?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What do they look like?” Gladys said taking a second helping of
black-eyed peas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Trooper Bob looked across the table at his progeny, shook
his head and continued eating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was
one conversation he would let them work out themselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Jehovah’s Witnesses, not Jehoshaphat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a religion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are really strict.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even stricter than the snake handling Baptist
over off of Treadaway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They don’t
celebrate birthdays, or Easter, or Christmas, or Halloween or anything because
they see them as pagan celebrations” Buck responded.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Gladys’ fork stopped midway to her mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What kind of monsters didn’t celebrate
birthdays?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean did those poor souls
not ever get any presents?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Setting her
fork back on the plate she turned to Trooper Bob “is that true Daddy? They
don’t celebrate their birthdays nor nothing?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Trooper Bob saw he was not going to escape this
conversation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes, that is true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They don’t celebrate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I don’t know a lot about them but I heard
tell that they don’t believe in any celebration but I think they do recognize
Easter.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Well, that just ain’t right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They should at least let their kids have a tree and some presents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What harm would it be?” Gladys was flummoxed.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dinner finished and dishes done, it was time for Gladys to
go to bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She prayed that night for
those poor Jehoshaphat children who wouldn’t have Christmas or birthdays,
Easter or Thanksgiving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heck, I think I
would rather believe in carrying around rattlesnakes as I had go without
holidays.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She closed her eyes as hard
and tight as she could and she had a little conversation with God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The week went forward and not another word was said about
the absence of a Christmas tree and the Jehoshaphat children who caused this
atrocity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, not a word from the
adults.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The playground was a buzz with
who was and wasn’t a Jehoshaphat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
were several theories that the Jehoshaphats weren’t even in their class, heck,
for all they knew not even in the school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some thought it was a way that the teachers and parents didn’t have to
clean up the glitter, popcorn, and crepe paper mess of the season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever it was it wasn’t right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nope, not right at all.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Sunday rolled around. Gladys dressed in her best clothes
and waited while Matilda dressed and made sure her hair and make-up were
absolutely perfect. Buck yelled at them both to hurry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The three kids climbed into Bucks V.W. Bug and made their way to Sunday
School.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Gladys about to burst rushed into her classroom and all but
fell into Miss Delores’ arms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Ms. Delores,
you ain’t<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>gonna believe this but we
can’t have a Christmas Tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The teacher
says it ain’t fittin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is peggin.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Miss Delores wiped Gladys tears and smiled “I would love to
help, but I have no idea what you are going on about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Slow down and tell me, what’s this about
pegs?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Gladys relayed her tale, leaving out not a single detail as
her classmates listened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally, out of
breath and out of details she asked “what do we do?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I prayed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I prayed really hard for them Jehoshaphat and them not getting
presents.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Gladys, you have done all you can for those children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have their beliefs and we have
ours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can pray for them, be kind for
them and respect them, that is what you can do.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The following Monday the first bell rang and Mrs. Carter’s
third-grade class filed into the cafetorium along with the other 3<sup>rd</sup>
grade classes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The smell of cinnamon
rolls and fried chicken wafted from the kitchen and the cafeteria ladies
scurried in and out of the doors preparing for the lunch rush.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the stage sat a distinguished man and the
school’s principal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once the students
were settled in Mr. Taylor, the principal, addressed the students.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Boys and girls, there has been a lot of
speculation and talk about our decision not to have Christmas trees this
year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know your teachers have done
their best to explain the concerns of some of the parents not wishing their
children to participate in this tradition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have asked Doctor Bartholomew to help give some insight into the true meaning of the Christmas Tree to Christians.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Good Morning Boys and Girls” the distinguished man started
“I am the chancellor at the Christian College.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Last week one of your teachers called me because she was concerned that
the display of a Christmas tree was being misunderstood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She said some children were afraid if they
had a Christmas Tree it would mean they weren’t being good Christians.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, let me tell you, that is not the case.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I came here today to share with you the
Christian meaning of the Christmas Tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>First, let me say that many religions have used the Fir tree as a symbol
of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now with that being said, I
would like to share with you the representation of the tree.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">You see the green of the fir tree represents God’s gift to
us of everlasting life in his love.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The red ornaments and bows on the tree represent the blood
that God’s son shed so that we might have everlasting life.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The lights on the tree are God’s love that lights the way.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The Angel on the top of the tree is the Holy Spirit which is
always within our hearts.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The presents under the tree our greatest Gift Jesus Who gave
Himself to us at Christmas.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">The holly bush represents immortality, a trait that God has
given to each human being. We are all destined to live forever, either with the
Lord or separated from Him.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Christmas bells symbolize the joy of Christmas.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The candy cane is shaped like a shepherd's crook, reminding
us that Jesus, the Good Shepherd.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">You see children, Christmas Trees embody all things
Christian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have talked to local
leaders and educators and they have decided that you may keep your classroom
trees as long as you remember the spirit of that tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank you for your time and Merry Christmas
to each and every one of you.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Gladys and her compatriots exited the warm cinnamon roll scented
room returning happily to their classrooms.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When the last student was seated Mrs. Carter once again
addressed her students.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We will have a
tree this year and it has been agreed by the Board of Education and our PTA
that those students not comfortable with decorating the tree can have free time
in the library.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just see me before lunch
and I will arrange a hall pass for you.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Gladys swelled with happiness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She loved making ornaments and decorating the
tree even if her reindeer looked more like trees than deer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She loved sprinkling the glitter over the
Elmer’s glue and shaking the excess off into a newspaper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She loved bending the pipe cleaners into
almost angel shapes and of course, no tree was complete without the paper chains
and strings of popcorn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mrs. Carter had
green and red popcorn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The class spent
the afternoon, creating and decorating and singing Christmas Carols.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As she looked around the room, she noticed
not one single solitary classmate was missing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Doug was eating glue off his fingers; Robin was covered from head to toe
in glitter and Lisa was twirling around with a paper chain wrapped around her
neck like a boa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was glorious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All was right with the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That evening she went home with her hair full
of glitter and her hand-out which explained the Christian Christmas.<o:p></o:p></p>Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-44538439239915640082019-01-17T06:29:00.002-08:002019-01-17T06:35:25.425-08:00Nurse Meme Nurses<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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When I was a little girl and I was sick, my mother would make me get up in the morning. Take a bath/shower wash my face and get dressed. Even if I wasn't going to school. She would tell me it would make me feel better. So I would do as told and get up and do my morning ritual. I used to get so angry with her because damn it, didn't she know I was sick. I felt like crap.<br />
The last thing I wanted to do was get out of a nice warm bed crawl into a steaming hot shower, put on fresh clothes with a clean face and freshly brushed teeth.<br />
<br />
<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>When I emerged from the bath I would find a clean, freshened bed with pillows plumped or a couch made up with sheets, blankets, and pillows which allowed me to lounge in comfort. There I would lie for several hours at a time watching one of the three channels. First, it would be the news then Let's Make a Deal and on into the afternoon where Days of Our Lives or General Hospital would entertain me with some awful drama. More likely it would be playing in the background while I read my latest obsession, be it one of the Little House books or Anne of Green Gables or a Zane Grey I stole from my father's pile.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>When I was six or maybe seven, I got really sick. I had the flu that moved into scarlet fever and then snowballed into rheumatic fever. I was down for a couple of months. I read, watched TV, played with my dolls and pretended to be a princess who had been exiled to a strange and distant land. I built forts from quilts absconded from the couch and the linen closet. I drank gallons of soup from mugs and ate tons of grilled cheese sandwiches made by my mom.<br />
<br />
<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>She worked nights and tried to sleep all day. During my illness instead of her going to bed when she got home from her shift, she would sleep on the couch, one eye open, jerking awake every time I coughed or blew my nose. She was ever vigilant. She would pop up wide awake, drink another cup of coffee as she prepared whatever medicine was needed at the time. She made grilled cheese and tomato soup and fed me peeled oranges and apples cut into slices. Eat she would say. Eat your health.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>She taught me many things, but one of the best things she taught me was to give yourself some love. Get up, put on your lipstick and face the world. You don’t have to go any further than the couch, but you have made the next step to feeling better.<br />
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<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It’s Flu Season. If you did or didn’t get your flu shot, I hope you do not get inflicted. If by some poor happenstance of luck you come down with the dreaded Captain Tripps or a bad case of Coxilliosis of the Blow Hole. I have these words of advice. Get up. Take a hot shower. Put on fresh clothes. Eat your health.</div>
Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-75882147579490172682018-12-12T05:41:00.000-08:002018-12-12T05:41:25.993-08:00I'm Fine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> I had a headache. My feet hurt. My back was sore. It was cold outside and I had things to get done. I arrived at the UPS Store to find a long line of other procrastinators. I took my place in line behind a woman about ten years my senior. An attractive lady in the baby boomer uniform of jeggings, knee boots, and puffy vest, holding a Starbucks in one hand and a large overnight envelope in the other. She stood as if she had not a care in the world. She turned and smiled in greeting each time the door chimed, a gust of cold frosty air swept across her pink wrinkled face and blew her short silver hair from her bright blue eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> The door chimed, the chilly air swept a sigh through the room as a woman of equal age rushed in. She spied her compatriot and quickly rushed to her side. Now, we southern women greet one another in a time old fashion. First, we squeal just a bit. “Oh, my lort! Ella May! How in the world are you? How’s your mommer and dem?” Now keep in mind while this exchange begins our voices rise about two octaves and become twice as loud. Second, we must hug. Sometimes it is just a quick side hug; a quick squeeze and release. If it is your church lady friend then it is the full-on greet your neighbor hug. A front to front squeeze and a little bit longer linger. If it is a long-lost friend who saved you from Bobby Joe in sixth grade in Dodgeball, then it is front to front full on bear hug that might or might not linger more than thirty seconds. Finally, if it is that one friend that we all have, it is front to front full on bear hug with a back rub and a little squealing dance that usually last longer than is comfortable and might or might not end with a full-on mouth to mouth kiss. This greeting was more in the Church Lady friend hug.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> The silver-haired woman was swept up into a hug while “Irma Jean! How are you doing” was sung at a high loud pitch. Irma Jean responded “I’m fine. Just fine and how are you, Stacy?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Stacy took a moment to quickly rundown the fact that her granddaughter was in her first year at S.M.U. and her son was getting ready to retire and he and his wife were going on a cruise. She continued with the fact that she had just built a new house on the river and was getting ready to host the Sisters of Ruth annual Christmas party. On and on she went about this and that. Finally, she asked, “Irma Jean, how is your oldest daughter?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Irma Jean smiled and wiped a tear from her eye “Oh, Tammy passed away last month. The funeral was quite lovely.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Stacy gasped “Oh, I am so sorry for your loss, I hadn’t heard.” She squeezed Irma Jeans hand “And how is your husband?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Irma Jean took a deep breath “Well, he’s on hospice. You know his C.O.P.D. got really bad and then they found cancer and well, they don’t think he is going to make it to Christmas. That is why I’m here mailing my Christmas cards. I have things to get done before he goes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">At this the room became quiet and the whole line of people was listening. Stacy looked nervously around looking for a positive. “Oh, I am so sorry. Please send him mine and Jim’s best wishes. We will be praying for him. Now, your youngest daughter? Is she still up in Denver?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Irma shifted, took a sip of her coffee “Diane, is in a coma. She is breathing on her own now but they don’t think she will come out of the coma. She is in a nursing home here in town. I go by and spend a couple of hours every morning with her. Her husband has been a gem.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> I am almost in tears. The whole room is shifting from foot to foot and Stacy is speechless. She clears her throat and marches on “Oh, my I hadn’t heard. No wonder you haven’t been at the meetings or at church lately. You have your hands full. I almost hate to ask, but how is your son?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Irma sips her coffee and smiles “He had a heart attack last Monday. They had to do a quadruple by-pass and he will be out of work for about six months. They have moved in with me. His wife has been such a God-send. They have helped us catch up on the mortgage. You know with all the medical bills I thought we were going to lose the farm. They have helped so much and having all those kids around keeping the house active, has been really interesting.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> I began ruminating on my complaints and realized, I had no complaints. My life is good. I am betting everyone in that room who was impatient and put-out about standing in line was feeling a little bit better about their life. Then Stacy asked, “But Irma, how are you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Irma Jean smiled a beaming smile “Oh honey, I’m fine. Just fine.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I wanted to scream “NO! YOU ARE NOT FINE!! YOUR LIFE IS SHIT!!!” I wanted to give her one of those hugs where you linger too long and maybe even give her a big smooch. I wanted to take her home with me and feed her chicken soup and wrap her in a blanket and let her watch sappy movies and drink hot cocoa. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Instead, I stood there. I stood there a stranger to her, counting my blessings. I stood there, my heart breaking for her. Suddenly my back felt better, my headache wasn’t so bad and my feet were just fine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> At last, she made her way to the clerk, mailed her package and started out of the store. One by one the patrons murmured to her “Merry Christmas, Irma Jean”. “May God bless you, Irma Jean”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> “I am fine, truly fine” I answered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-49505406875965190422018-11-30T14:51:00.001-08:002018-11-30T19:37:35.340-08:00They Call The Wind Mariah <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">You know how I come here and rant and rave? You know how I go off on tangents? I know my readers, all three of you, are saying, what? Gladys goes off on tangents? NEVER! I know I rant and ramble. According to my precious Aunt, I have always rambled. Evidently, I used to sit and talk for hours and she would nod and smile and have no clue as to the nature of my oration. Oh, who am I kidding? People still smile and nod and have no clue as to the nature of my diatribe. And, there I go again, digressing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I am curious, where did politeness and common courtesy go? Is it hiding under the bed? Perhaps, it’s on the top shelf of the coat closet which no longer holds formal coats and jackets but instead is stuffed fuller than Fibber McGee’s closet with junk. The one which when opened expels everything from hockey sticks to hobnails. (Quick rush to Google and look-up Fibber McGee and hobnails, I’ll wait). It is all but extinct, common courtesy that is. Every once in a great while, a stranger will hold a door or greet you on the street, but it is a rarity. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">When the wind blows in my little neck of the woods, it wails. It whistles and winds through the trees leaves scattering and swirling. The dust puffs and paints the pavement with a coating of ever moving impressionistic paintings. Harv Presnell, sings about it moving the stars around. It was on one of those days that I was reminded of the loss of decorum and niceties.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Kahuna and I have been talking about buying a couch. Not just a couch but a sectional. Not just a sectional but it has to be very specific dimensions, fabric, and construction. You see our last couches were purchased the year we were first a couple. We bought two matching sofa’s that we made sure were long enough to nap on and when the back pillows were removed two people could sleep side by side. We had the made specifically. I mean you never know when a nap could overtake you. As the boy scouts say, be prepared. Alas, those couches are no longer ours having gone to a younger couple who can now have years of side by side naps. We decided on a sectional so that we can seat enough people without needing a bunch of other furniture. Honestly, if it were up to Kahuna, a bean bag chair and an orange crate would be fine. Thank goodness it’s not up to him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Again, I digress.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">We don’t have a lot of furniture stores in Itty Bitty City, heck, we don’t have a lot of stores of any kind. I have been shopping for couches on-line. The problem with shopping for couches online is you can’t sit on them. I guess you could sit on your laptop, but, I’m afraid that would not be a good judge of it being a nap-able sofa. There is nothing worse than a sofa that is not nap-able. It has lumps or dips or isn’t wide enough or soft enough. I decided to bite the bullet and stop by our local furniture store, Ye Old Furniture Shop. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I pulled my little car into the parking lot as the wind whipped the leaves here and there, sand shifting on the asphalt. The wind caught my door yanking it from my hand. I stood just as a gust hit and flipped my hair over my face only to reverse and blow it back again. I was pushed to the door by another errant gust, coat flapping, hair flipping, sand shifting pushing me all towards what might be the perfect napping couch. I grabbed the door before the wind could bluster me back into the parking lot. I took a deep breath of wood, leather, and foam as I entered the store. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Waiting just inside the store, the proprietor, Buford, eyed me up and down, then glanced at the flapping door. He scratched his beard, shut the door behind me and said: “Girl, comb your hair!”. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Now, I have entered many an establishment to a variety of greetings. How are you? Can I help you? It’s a great day at…. I can honestly say I have never been greeted with a disparaging remark about my hair. Look, I have no illusions. I know I have wild hair. Some days it is wilder than others. There are times it is so out of control all I can do is have a Shaman sage it and call it good. Honestly, it has a mind of its own. I know the wind had whipped my hair. It might have looked a wee bit out of place. Did it warrant a greeting of “Comb your hair”? I don’t know. I just know that somewhere between women burning their bras and men not wearing fedoras and ties, we lost our sense of decorum. We lost the finesse that once existed in civil social interactions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">How hard is it to say, Good Morning or Welcome to Sofas to Nap On? I don’t understand. What happened to be nice and polite? What happened to civility? I really couldn’t tell you. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe we should all just say whatever comes to our minds. Do away with our filters and just blurt out whatever pops into our minds. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">There I stood, windblown in his furniture store. A customer there to search for the perfect napping sectional. There to support him by patronizing his store, a local merchant. I was stunned. I was gobsmacked. I was not speechless. I closed my mouth, swallowed hard and replied: “and you just lost a sale”. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I turned and grabbed for the door. The wind grabbed it from my hand and yanked it open. I walked out leaving Buford standing in the middle of some nice sized couches covered in dust and leaves with his hair blowing in the wind. As I walked out whistling They Call The Wind Mariah.</span><br />
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Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-74012548997530525272018-11-06T05:06:00.001-08:002018-11-06T05:07:08.999-08:00SEASONS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">When I was a kid my favorite time of year was summer. It stayed light until ten. I loved the smell of newly mown grass and sneaking down to the creek with my siblings to fish, hang out or just explore. The cicadas would sing their songs and we would gather their exoskeletons and attach them to our ears like rare jewels. The nymphs would crawl from their holes in the ground, attach to a surface and emerge as an imagoe to sing their song and live their short lives looking for a mate. I loved watching the sky, a bright blue accompanied by big cotton candy clouds billowing in the afternoons with the promise of a cooling shower. Summer rains were the best. The sky would darken and open up to pour a cool liquid on the steaming pavement and the thirsty lawns and fields. It was a magical time of year, lazy days that seemed to go on forever. We went on trips to the lake and swimming pools. We made our own fun, invented games and made up our own stories. We were free range kids. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Houses would open up and young tanned bodies would explode into the street after bowls of sugary sweet cereal and glasses of Tang. We would ride bikes, build forts and in the heat of the day hiding in and under big Mulberry trees napping and reading comic books. Our knees were skinned and our faces dirty but we were content. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF7mai7tbQrb2AJezsT26vnQspt__fymRP-RWsDdGwUSJNeT0FwFbXNCIq7rCrUD8jd2mR-A-P_UH3iGPfIqdGBsQxrrkc_Yo-jcuY01iUDbWZGcxgDNnUKig2wpQiAXsEnmrLvoT1fDw/s1600/_MG_3169-Edit.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF7mai7tbQrb2AJezsT26vnQspt__fymRP-RWsDdGwUSJNeT0FwFbXNCIq7rCrUD8jd2mR-A-P_UH3iGPfIqdGBsQxrrkc_Yo-jcuY01iUDbWZGcxgDNnUKig2wpQiAXsEnmrLvoT1fDw/s320/_MG_3169-Edit.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Then came the early vestiges of fall. Leaves dropped like tears on the tired brown lawns as the winds became crisper. The rain came in the form of spitting cold razors cutting through sweaters. The days were shorter and our time of being free range children came to an end. We were cooped up in a classroom with the paste eaters and silent flatulence emitters. Instead of foraging and exploring we were forced to sit by the window as the rain fell or the wind blew keeping its own company. Walter Cronkite and Chet Huntly spoke of the protest taking place on faraway college campuses as the street lights illuminated the near-empty streets. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The days started cool and crisp, frost shinning on the still green blades of grass. We ran from our houses in sweaters with our Buster Browns laced up tight. Our mothers packed lunches of bologna sandwiches and thermoses of Campbell's chicken noodle soup. Room mothers invaded our classroom with ghost-shaped cookies and orange and black Halloween taffy and in an instant, we were making turkeys from the imprint of our hand and brown and yellow construction paper. Then the time would crawl as we prepared for the annual Christmas program. We learned our songs and routines while mothers sewed red and green felt outfits. Our excitement palpable</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvt8M8FuQfVhmVucNhqUwW7KCmvvQ7xRkd8DBoBwd_rg0UoQx7T4G35UHg9AYJpFrA1C8VkmAW8JenmWoj8G-Q5_rizX2gBDMt54P1i6AkWc9lgdFyCcfxZYy1P2rQBOfjFkk4srSF3XM/s1600/AUNT+VERIENA+AND+KATHY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="714" data-original-width="795" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvt8M8FuQfVhmVucNhqUwW7KCmvvQ7xRkd8DBoBwd_rg0UoQx7T4G35UHg9AYJpFrA1C8VkmAW8JenmWoj8G-Q5_rizX2gBDMt54P1i6AkWc9lgdFyCcfxZYy1P2rQBOfjFkk4srSF3XM/s320/AUNT+VERIENA+AND+KATHY.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> As an adult, I have come to appreciate those days when the leaves turn and the wind changes. I love that the green begins to morph into yellow, orange and brown. The crispness on the kiss of the wind is refreshing and the chill is an excuse to bundle up and wrap my hands around a warm mug. I watch the squirrels desperately gather their acorns for their winter stash with fascination and feel the need to fill my own cupboard with hearty comfort foods. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> The light fades earlier and once again I find myself sitting watching the rain fall on empty streets that glisten like diamonds. It is the putting to bed of the summer, giving it a good rest so that in three short months it can once again rejuvenate and give birth to a new, brighter world and free-range children.</span></div>
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Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-75433664442260106422018-10-31T12:24:00.000-07:002018-10-31T12:28:19.964-07:00Happy Halloween From Leon Ray Livingston<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Halloween was different when I was a
kid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember being a Hobo <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>three years in a row because it was a cheap costume
comprised of items we had around the house. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A pint-sized Leon Ray Livingston if you will. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wait!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You don’t know who Leon Ray Livingston
is?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is the most famous of Hobos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you had been a Hobo for most of your trick-or-treating
career, you would know this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He became a
Hobo at eleven years of age and Hoboed the rest of his life, stowing away on
ships and hopping trains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wrote
journals and became somewhat famous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I digress.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQju9kp_kZWwpeyhafsn68hyphenhyphen1boz9o-8EBanqQXqEy5UWdHj3SY02ZWN_slMJ-_xJUotWgxTdCzrgh7d0u-HOnkAJaNbekSqeX2BnCu0LQhPu4khOxdFqKqnEAVSvNYK7CvmzjPbGkazY/s1600/800px-Hobos2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1144" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQju9kp_kZWwpeyhafsn68hyphenhyphen1boz9o-8EBanqQXqEy5UWdHj3SY02ZWN_slMJ-_xJUotWgxTdCzrgh7d0u-HOnkAJaNbekSqeX2BnCu0LQhPu4khOxdFqKqnEAVSvNYK7CvmzjPbGkazY/s320/800px-Hobos2.jpg" width="223" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Nurse Meme would drag out the Maybelline
black eyebrow pencil and draw big thick eyebrows on us, then she would smear it
across our jaws and cheeks making little five-year-old Gladys look like she
hadn’t shaved in a day or two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then she
would dress me in Buck’s old flannel shirt and a pair of jeans that were twenty
times too big, cinch them up with a swath of rope and hand me a bandana tied to
a stick for a bindle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That was the costume.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was in this
fashion I would tag behind my big brother, Quirky Cousins, and Matilda going
door to door begging for candy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Buck of course was Superman, Matilda
was a movie star, the Quirky Cousins always had some kind of imaginative and
quirky costume and then there was Gladys the Hobo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, don’t get me wrong, I didn’t care that I
was a Hobo, it was just that I watched other kids in their store bought
costumes with their plastic jack-o-lanterns full of Dum-Dum’s and Tootsie Rolls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I envied their polyester Casper Costumes with
the plastic mask with eye holes but no way to breath.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS7nDlhnMl15NCnEbzRK7GzsEaIE6TxjUiFDk_6annp51QVqaq4N7GnTZNStE94FrNA5v9X3mSlNJPEhpmvpX9RsYAbEk6XIh18nlik97bFhDGcEYNdn5g5WFwNylbgV_yzFcpWH5CYn4/s1600/Casper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="596" data-original-width="536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS7nDlhnMl15NCnEbzRK7GzsEaIE6TxjUiFDk_6annp51QVqaq4N7GnTZNStE94FrNA5v9X3mSlNJPEhpmvpX9RsYAbEk6XIh18nlik97bFhDGcEYNdn5g5WFwNylbgV_yzFcpWH5CYn4/s320/Casper.jpg" width="287" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would long for the Cinderella costume that
tied with three ties in the back and had scratchy netting for a skirt and again
a plastic mask with huge eye holes but no nostril holes. This costume always flummoxed
me, if you didn’t wear something underneath it you have a draft in the back,
but if you did wear something underneath well then it just wasn’t Cinderella
like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We would pass each other on the street, little
Johnny in his Casper costume complaining to his mom “I can’t breathe!” as his
plastic Jack-O-lantern full of candy swayed this way and that spilling out
little pieces of Bit-O’Honey and Laffy Taffy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I would pause, stoop, and pick up the stray pieces only to find that Casper
had melded into ten other Caspers none of which knew they were leaking Nik-L-Nips
and Candy Cigarettes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>House by
house we trudged up and down our neighborhood, ringing door bells and yelling
the same old spiel “Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every house on the block would have the
porch light on and some kind of goody.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The elderly lady on the corner always had candied apples and popcorn
balls wrapped in cellophane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The old man
that lived at the end of the road had rolls of pennies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My favorite house was the big house half way
up the block who always gave out little packages of suckers on a string, candy
corn and Double-Bubble gum with the cartoon wrapper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We had to
wait until dusk to make our rounds and before we went we had to eat our
dinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ALL of our dinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nurse Meme was no fool. She knew that if she
wanted us to eat liver at least once a year, then Halloween was the night to
cook it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We would never miss trick-or-treating
over liver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We would try not to gag and
choke down our strip of organ meat smothered in onions and gravy, slog down our
helping of spinach and head out the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Buck pushing back his red satin cape, Matilda fluffing her hair and
checking the mole she had painted on her face and little Leon Ray Livingston in
her too big everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I guess I’ve
come the long way around to tell you Happy Halloween.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today’s Halloween are much more sophisticated
with costumes that look like they belong in the movies and decorations that
equal those of Knots Scary Farm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t
ever remember adults dressing in costumes but today everyone was decked out in
some type of get-up from Freddie Kruger to a life-sized singing Elsa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone was in the spirit from the guy at
the DMV dressed as a sloth to the cashier in Wal-Mart dressed as a giant
Snicker’s bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know if Halloween
is better today or if nostalgia skews my view.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But I kind of miss seeing a bunch of kids using their imaginations to
come up with original costumes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or even
some who ended up being Leon Ray Livingston three years in a row.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /></div>
Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-6294346889966490072018-10-25T10:04:00.001-07:002018-10-25T10:04:59.297-07:00TEA FOR TWO<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtAnicQ9hQL2gsS3niRSJLJ1YK-kQb-BOfIe7Vj9cVU3hDNlNcs3KWjMo0qHMae2W-bNZYS8azBqav5ppf9nWfIBiS7GtIcqfQ6Y23VlVpGUuxxfXyTK4BaJcMtIZUT75k4IlOkgq39s0/s1600/How_to_make_the_perfect_cup_of_tea_22886_preview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtAnicQ9hQL2gsS3niRSJLJ1YK-kQb-BOfIe7Vj9cVU3hDNlNcs3KWjMo0qHMae2W-bNZYS8azBqav5ppf9nWfIBiS7GtIcqfQ6Y23VlVpGUuxxfXyTK4BaJcMtIZUT75k4IlOkgq39s0/s320/How_to_make_the_perfect_cup_of_tea_22886_preview.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her appointment was for seven thirty a.m.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gladys fluffed her hair and applied her Burt’s
Bees to her overly dry lips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gladys
checked the clock and knew she had twenty minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her appointment was only five minutes away
but if Gladys was anything she was punctual.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She firmly believed if you were on time you were late.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She drove up to the Laboratory and noticed
there were several other cars in the lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Walking up to the building she realized there was a line already
stacking up in front of the still dark doors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She took her place in the que and waited for the lights to come on and
the door to open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">A
light in the back illuminated the front office and a young woman dressed in
scrubs made her way through the building turning on lights and adjusting the
temperature until she finally made her way to the front and unlocked the
door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now honestly, Gladys had never
seen so many people in a hurry to get into a building to pee in a cup or be
pricked with big silver needles with blood-sucking vials on the other end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet, here were a group of overly anxious men
and women fighting to be first in line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">They
all signed in the sheet to solidify their place in line to be poked, pricked or
drained and then fought for seats nearest the space heater and positioned
optimally to watch the morning news.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They waited as the weather showed less rain and more sun, they waited as
the white toothed, too tanned anchor talked about the lastest crisis, they waited
as the voices in the back ebbed and flowed and the smell of coffee brewing
wafted through the ducts and into the waiting room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They waited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Finally,
after twenty minutes or so a young fresh-faced woman opened the door and called
for the first victim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Pat Robinson?”
she paused “Pat Robinson?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The room was
silent each of the patients looking from one to the other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No Pat Robinson spoke up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps it was trypanophobia or perhaps Pat
was hearing impaired but no Pat Robinson claimed the spot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She stood looking at the room then looked at
her paper and called the name again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An
elderly man spoke “my doctor’s name is Pat Robinson, but I don’t think he’s
here.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The young woman looked at her
paper again and went back behind the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A few minutes later she returned “Mr. Warren Jones?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The elderly man raised his hand, leaned
heavily on his cane and stood up “Called the wrong name, did ya” he asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sheepishly she led him back to the chamber of
blood and torture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few minutes later
he exits, rubbing his arm and rolled his eyes in way of saying “Oh boy!”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The young woman again appeared in the doorway
and called “Estelle Grossman?” silence again befell the room each patron
looking at the other asking “Estelle?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yet again, no Estelle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
disappeared and resurfaced “Ruby Grossman?” To which a woman stood and followed
the phlebotomist back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">None
of this was assuaging Gladys’ anxiety; yet she sat reading her book and
listening to the ambient conversation around her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well that doesn’t bode well” said Mr. Red
Jacket. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No, not at all” replied Mrs.
Fuzzy Scarf.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I hope she doesn’t mess
up my urine sample with someone else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
can’t imagine having them call me and tell me I’m pregnant at my age” said the
octogenarian with the purple hat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I wish
they would hurry, I need my morning tea” said Mr. Grumpy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Tea?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, my GAWD!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Gladys panicked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>TEA!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had made herself a cup of hot lemon water
before she left the house, had she remembered to turn off the tea kettle?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She went through her morning in her
mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Making the bed, drinking her first
cup of hot water, then taking her little dog outside, gathering up dirty dishes
and straightening up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Had she turned off
the stove?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Had she actually drunk her
second cup of hot water?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now her heart
was in her throat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if she had left
the stove alight?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How much time did she
have before the kettle would be dry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
did the mental math in her head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
left and seven-twenty, they had waited outside and inside, it was now eight
fifteen, the kettle had been full.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
took that and divided it by the number of people who had signed in before her
subtracted the amount of time she had to drive home, check the stove and drive
back subtracted three and divided by four.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Could she make it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
possible</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">In a
panic, heart racing and head pounding Gladys jumped from her seat just as the
young woman once again appeared in the doorway and announced the next winner. Mrs.
Fuzzy Scarf rose slowly from her perch and headed to the back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gladys lunged for the door and hit the
parking lot pavement in a smooth jog, okay maybe not so much smooth, more of a
spastic lurch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She jumped in her car and
drove like a mad woman over the bridge and through town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She stopped at the only traffic signal that
stood between her and what she was convinced was her house on fire, the guilty tea
kettle whistling its happy tune in the middle of yellow and blue flames.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just as she reached the signal it switched
from amber to red. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She sat at the light panic now oozing from
every fiber in her being, convinced that she had burned down the house and her
little dog was trapped inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She could
see it now, the fire department already there, nothing left but a charred shell
of a house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She makes her way to the
fire men shaking their heads holding a half-melted tea kettle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She hears a bark and there is her little dog
in the arms of a fire-fighter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Is this
your dog ma’am” He asks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Make-belief
Gladys reaches for him and the fire-fighter says “He is a true hero!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He ran down to the fire house and led us back
here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are going to give him a medal.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">A horn
honks and Gladys is pulled from her horror story in her mind and races on
through the morning drizzle and traffic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She slides to a stop in front of the little cottage and runs
inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There on the couch lies her
little dog asleep not even realizing he is in mortal danger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She runs to the kitchen where there on the
stove sits a cold and un-whistling kettle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">With a
sigh of relief, she realizes the tragedy was all in her head and she, with a
much lighter heart, kisses her furry companion goodbye and heads back to the
laboratory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She sails through traffic
with ease, no lights to impede her progress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“I am going to make it” she tells herself as she slides into a parking slot
by the front door. She storms up the steps and into the waiting room just as
the young woman appears in the door and calls “Gladys McGunthry?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gladys?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’m
Gladys McGuilicutty” she states breathlessly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
young woman looks at her paper and motions for her to come to the back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Gladys sits in the chair as the young woman pulls on a
pair of pink rubber gloves and lines up vials on a tray.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hi, my name is Bella Swan and I am a student
at VSU and I will be your phlebotomist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Is it okay if I draw your blood?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Gladys put her arm on the table “sure you have to learn
somehow, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did you say your name is
Bella?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bella Swan?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like in the novel?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The young woman struggled into her gloves, tied a piece
of rubber around Gladys’ arm and nodded “yeah, I get that a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I need to take about 10 vials of blood so
this might take a bit.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She started
feeling around for a vein.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She searched
and searched.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She squinted and palpitated
then she smiled and excused herself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>An older more seasoned woman came into the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They whispered conspiratorially then moved
toward Gladys, whose arm was now numb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Always remove the tourniquet</span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span style="font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><!--[if !supportAnnotations]--><a class="msocomanchor" href="file:///C:/Users/Owner/Documents/Documents/WRITINGS/GLADYS/BLOG%20POSTS/TEA%20FOR%20TWO.docx#_msocom_1" id="_anchor_1" language="JavaScript" name="_msoanchor_1">[BL1]</a><!--[endif]--><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> before
leaving the patient” she admonished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
released the pressure from the arm and felt along the inside of Gladys’ elbow. Then
she searched the other arm, wrapped the tourniquet around the other bicep and
stuck a needle in a big pulsing vein.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She drew blood quickly and adeptly until each of the ten vials was
complete.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She picked up the order and
looked it over once again “oh, wait, I need two more vials.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is that okay?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The young woman stood behind her watching as
Gladys nodded affirmative.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Finally, all the vials were filled and the doctor’s order
complete.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gladys tried to stand but with
the panic of a burned out house and melted tea kettle and the twelve vials of
blood found herself a bit light headed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She sat back with a thud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I
think I may have stood too quickly” she sighed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The older woman patted her shoulder “would you like a cup
of strong tea with some sugar?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The vision of the whistling tea kettle came to mind;
Gladys responded quickly “No, thank you!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I will grab a cup of coffee on my way home”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-84536953604159832392018-09-21T13:28:00.000-07:002018-09-21T13:44:10.052-07:00GLADYS GOES ON A ROAD TRIP<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Shut up Karen,” Gladys responded
irritated “you don’t know what you’re talking about.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gladys put on her blinker and turned left
onto FM 1225.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I know where I’m going.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She drove along at the maximum speed allowed
enthralled by the lush green pastures and woods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She reached over and adjusted the
volume on the radio which was tuned to one of her favorite Oldies Country
station.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>George Jones was stopping
loving her today and Willie Nelson was about to be on the road again when she
realized nothing looked familiar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Karen
yelled “make the next left on to County road Five- Five- Four”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“No!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Damn it, Karen you are going to get me lost again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last time we took a road trip I ended up
on the edge of an arroyo with no way to turn around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to back almost a mile in order to get
out of that mess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nope if I just stay on
this road long enough it will take me into the next town and I can catch the
highway.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Make the next left onto County Road
Five-Five-Four, then go 2 and ½ miles to Highway One-Six-Seven” Karen demanded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Listen here, Karen, if you don’t
stop being so bossy I’m not asking you to come with me anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am telling you I am just going to stay on
this road until we get to that little town up the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What’s the name of it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Teasletown?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Weasletown?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, I am NOT
turning on some gravel road that will lead me to the edge of a cliff with no
way to turn around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Been there done
that!” Gladys responded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Gladys turned the music down even a
little lower, hoping that would make her feel less lost and she slowed down to
just above the minimum speed allowed by law.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So slow in fact a man on a tractor passed her giving her a big old one
finger wave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She crept along searching
for something familiar. She looked over at Karen, who by this time wasn’t
speaking to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She humpfed and went
back to squinting out the front windshield and creeping along at a snail’s
pace.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Is the turn up here soon?” she
inquired.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“When you are able, make a U-turn and
go to County Road Five-Five-Four, then go two- and one-half miles to Highway
One-Six-Seven” Karen stated adamantly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Gawddamnit Karen, I told you, I am
NOT turning around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How far is it to the
next town?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need a Starbucks or at the
very least a Micky-D’s coffee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am
beginning to get a migraine.” Gladys retorted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“In eight and a half miles there is a
Diner on your right.” Karen responded trying to be helpful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Is that where Weasle-Teasletown
is?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t want a diner I just want a
drive through.” Gladys was getting short on temper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She drove down a hill and up the
other side, she passed over Sleepy Woman Creek with its brown water flowing
almost to the crest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She sped up a
little in anticipation of the bitter hot black liquid that would calm the
pounding in her head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She slowed to
watch as a herd of cattle moseyed down a knoll and into a tank to get some
relief from the late summer heat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
pulled over, took out her phone and snapped a picture of a longhorn relaxing in
the shade of an oak tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It really was
a pretty drive, even if she didn’t know where she was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She pulled back onto the blacktop and sped up
a bit “how much further” she queried.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Karen sat silent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gladys nudged her, but Karen didn’t
respond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gladys poked her; still Karen
sat silent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Damn-it Karen!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked you a question.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are you just going to sull up and ignore
me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How much further?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Finally, after a few minutes “in
three miles exit to the right.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“So that’s where the diner is or
that’s where I turn to get on the highway?” Gladys asked<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Again, Karen sat silent, in
defiance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had told Gladys to turn on
the county road, then she had told her to turn around, but Gladys wouldn’t
listen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wouldn’t do as she
suggested.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Okay, yes, there was that one
time where she had instructed Gladys to stay on Arroyo Grande and it had ended
in a deep valley with no way out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
didn’t map it, she was just following the map she had been given.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t her fault.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And traveling with Gladys was no picnic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean she wouldn’t take her instruction and
then yell at her for getting lost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also,
she was horrible about changing her route on a whim and not giving her enough
time to catch up and locate her on the map.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It wasn’t easy being Gladys’s navigator.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Heck, Karen thought, I’d rather have been Amelia Earhart’s
navigator.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Has it been three miles yet?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t see anything.” Gladys stated
nervously.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“In two miles exit to the right.”
Karen replied dryly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Gladys drove on anxiously watching
for the exit as Karen sat silently dejected in the passenger seat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I see it!” Gladys screamed excitedly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She exited right and pulled in to the front
of the Easy Inn Diner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was deserted
and dark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The windows were dust covered
and the door was sealed shut with a plywood guard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s CLOSED!” she yelled at Karen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Where is the nearest fillin station with
coffee?” she screamed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Karen sat quiet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was not going to respond to Gladys’s
craziness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was going to sit in the
wasteland of nothingness and ignore the ranting and demanding of her companion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Gladys once more eased onto the black top and put her foot on
the accelerator.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’mma tell you what,
Karen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This shit has got to stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, you give me bad directions, you take
me down dead-end streets and then you sull up and won’t talk to me for miles
and miles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember that time out in the
desert on the Interstate?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember how
you didn’t talk to me for almost five hours?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I mean I know there was nothing out there but dirt and cactus, but still
a little conversation would have been nice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>No, you decided you just weren’t going to have any input at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone told me to take you with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would get lost without you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, you get me lost, and here is another
example of just that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You got me out
here in the middle of the state and I am lost!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>L*O*S*T just like them people in that show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What do you have to say to that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Karen sat quiet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had nothing to say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What could she say? She spun on this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She thought and finally responded “when safe
make a U-turn.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Fine, I’ll make a U-turn.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She eased to the shoulder looked both ways at
the non-existent traffic and made a U-turn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Now what, Karen?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Then she pipped up “In two and three
quarters mile take a left onto Highway One-Five-Five, go 37 miles and your
destination will be on the right.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Gladys sighed, it was this way
every-time she used Karen Cortana to map her route.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe it was time for her to friend Suzie
Siri.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
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Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-20510789951007561002018-09-14T10:24:00.000-07:002018-09-14T13:27:08.766-07:00THE STORM<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Gladys peered out the window at the
ominous clouds rolling and bubbling.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">They had just appeared, menacing and dark.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Jim Cantore had been preaching for a solid
week that the storm would be heading her way.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Get out he preached.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">He showed
the graph’s and the models of where the storm would make landfall.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">He pointed right at her little town on the
coast of North Carolina.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQe3zmVX0PWgrsUKalay6n4Zfked130vakR-k4brmurAgN3F55RMUWmT3uehROHRrmY1nenQjVR4WMEt_dM-XT-CkGKI0xhsCllhagPEvWXOxEpZ_eNzldoexBP80dmPD8_Wk44xmKv2o/s1600/800px-Hurricane_Hugo_1989_sept_21_1844Z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="889" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQe3zmVX0PWgrsUKalay6n4Zfked130vakR-k4brmurAgN3F55RMUWmT3uehROHRrmY1nenQjVR4WMEt_dM-XT-CkGKI0xhsCllhagPEvWXOxEpZ_eNzldoexBP80dmPD8_Wk44xmKv2o/s320/800px-Hurricane_Hugo_1989_sept_21_1844Z.jpg" width="287" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">It was almost time for school to be
out, so she grabbed the dogs and they made their way down the street to meet
her daughter. The air hung heavy with foreboding
and her shoulders hunched under the weight of the weather. Living on a military base has it advantages,
one of which is security. At each
crossing stood a marine, stalwart and unmovable as the winds started to
blow. A simple “afternoon ma’am” was
all the greeting needed as they protected the rambunctious children exploding
through the door after a long day of confinement. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Tadpole ran up to Gladys bookbag
bulging with papers. “Momma! Mrs. Warren gave us all our homework for the
next week. She says that the storm is
gonna blow us into next week! Does that
mean we don’t get a weekend?” She shoved
the bookbag and lunch pail toward Gladys and took her hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Together they bent their heads to the
wind. Living only a mile from the coast
of the Atlantic Ocean they were used to winds and storms but this one felt
different. The weather channel was
reporting it to be one of the largest storms in history. It was coming from Africa and gathering force
as it moved westward. There was a buzz
about the housing development. Cars
loaded with suitcases, men boarded windows while women grabbed clothes from
clothes lines and threw baskets into waiting hatchbacks and sedans. They were bugging out, all of them, except
Gladys and Tadpole. They had no-where to
go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Gladys’s neighbor, Trixie, with her
Irish Setter riding shotgun headed out for her parents in Charlotte, while Vera
her neighbor across the street loaded up her four kids and set out for
Ashville. They all had a place to
go. The made their way across the state
to the mountains or the city, to welcoming homes of loved ones and
friends. Gladys had no place to go. The thought of a shelter in Charlotte or even
to Elizabethtown scared her more than staying and facing a bully of a
storm. After all, how bad could Hugo
be? Hugo sounded more like a big fluffy
character. All blow and no show. With this thought the mother and daughter duo
made it to the door of their bungalow. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Gladys surveyed her yard. She secured anything that could or would
become a projectile and then set about taping her windows with large X’s like
the newspaper had instructed. She moved
furniture and electronics away from windows.
She filled the bathtub with water and filled every single Ziplock bag,
jar and bottle with water and put it in her freezer and refrigerator. She took stock of her canned food and made
sure she had plenty of charcoal in her store room for her grill. She had powdered milk and lots of MRE’s, or
for you non-military, Meals Ready To Eat.
All was good at least so far.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Saturday the weather channel preached
to all who would listen to get out.
Leave the coast they yelled. She was
a little frightened but she was a native-born Texan. She had tornadoes and hurricanes, droughts and
floods, sand storms and blustering winds, heck she had survived all those things, she would be fine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Sunday, they started reporting the
damages. The storm surged and the rains
started. The winds blew and the sky grew
dark. Gladys watched through the masking
tapped X on her kitchen window as branches broke and debris swirled in Hugo’s
breath. She was still strong in her
conviction that she had made the right decision, not traveling to
Charlotte. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The wind howled as night fell, rain
pounded like the beating of a drum.
Gladys settled down with her book, flashlight at the ready. She dosed for a bit, waiting for the storm to
pass, realizing it hadn’t even gotten started yet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">A loud shrill trill woke her from
sleep. It screamed again causing her to
jump and run for the kitchen. She lifted
the receiver and listened to the scream of the storm invaded her call. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Hello? Is this Gladys? Gladys Mc…” came the voice through the static.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yes.
Hello??? Hello?” she yelled over
the screech of the connection.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“This is mmhmmm from NPR. Can you hear me?” the voice yelled back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Gladys shifted the receiver and
peeked out the window “Yes. If you hell
I can hear you. It must be the storm interrupting
our call.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Mrs. McGuilicutty, I would like to
get a statement from you on the storm” came the request.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“It’s really blowing. We started having heavy rain a few hours
ago. It seems like it is hitting the
south facing beaches the most. So far,
we have only lost some tree limbs” Gladys shouted into the phone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The NPR correspondent shouted “That’s
great. Can you see outside or are your
windows boarded up?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“No, I can see. I taped my windows. What would you like to know?” Gladys hollered
back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“What do you see? What does it look like in your neighborhood?”
Miss. NPR queried.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">About that time a strong gust began
and from somewhere down the street a large galvanized thirty-gallon trash receptacle
flew past her window, then another. A
child’s bicycle went sailing down the street along with a large Play School playhouse. Gladys waiting thinking maybe Elmira Gulch pedaling
her bike would be next but just more debris. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Well, Miss NPR, right now I see
debris. I see lots of debris. A trash can, a playhouse and oh, look there
goes a UFO.” Gladys yelled excitedly
exclaimed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“UFO?” the correspondent asked incredulously.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Well, maybe it was just a trash can
lid, but it was big and round a silver.
Could have been sent by aliens.” Gladys chuckled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The correspondent grew quiet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Hello? Miss NPR?
Are you still there?” Gladys asked concerned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Um, yes. Thank you for your statement. Stay safe.” And with that the NPR
correspondent was gone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Gladys waited for a few moments
listening to the storm screech and whine through the phone lines. NPR was gone.
Her neighbors were gone. Now it
was just Hugo pitching a fit outside, knocking on her windows and doors like a
vampire wanting her to invite him in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She looked at the clock and it was
getting close to midnight. Then it went
quiet. Deathly quiet. The electricity flickered then popped
off. She grabbed her flashlight and checked on
Tadpole sleeping soundly on the couch, completely unaware of the danger that
lurked in the night. She grabbed her up
and headed for the hallway closet. No
windows, reinforced, in the middle of the house. She hunkered down her black Labrador Retriever
and her Yorkshire Terrier instinctively crowding in with her. They waited for the worst. They held their breath and counted the
minutes which felt like hours. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">In the distance they heard the rumble
and felt the shift of the house on its foundation as the winds once again began
their assault. The eye had passed and
they were on the backside of the storm.
Relieved they made their way back to the couch and waited in the dark for
the first hint of morning. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">When the sun rose, the traces of Hugo
lay all around. Piles of toys mixed with
shrubs and trash blocked the storm drains.
The ditches swelled with water swiftly fighting its way back to the ocean
taking the paths of least resistance, cutting new streams through yards and
over roads. The world was bloated and dismal,
but Gladys and Tadpole had withstood the storm.
They began gathering debris, depositing it into bags and errant cans
that had made there way on the wings of the wind to yards and on top of
carports. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The electricity was restored within
forty-eight hours and yet her neighbors were still abroad. The television
once again working, Gladys tuned to the weather channel. She watched mortified at the destruction, not
in her neck of the woods but to where her neighbors had fled. Charlotte had been devastated. Jim Cantore stood in the aftermath of
multiple tornadoes and high winds. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Hugo had saved his wrath for the
inland communities. Gladys’s neck of the
woods had remained safe, a little worse for wear, but safe. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-65856595789231034502018-09-11T05:02:00.001-07:002018-09-11T05:03:51.325-07:00A MEMORY OF 9-11-2001<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I was on my
way to New Orleans from Shreveport, Louisiana for work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sky was gray with an ominous threat of a
deluge as I sped down Interstate 49.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Traffic
began to thin out down around Alexandria, which I thought was a bit odd but was
a nice change. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The lush green of the
fields caressed the sides of the highway with occasional stands of palmettos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here and there old houses and barns sagged beneath
the weight of kudzu and time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a
lovely drive but at that time still a bit remote.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglCjabgel-xByrf_Oajxuntvh5XDJTtpkqERBwLNHt3l9pFGAO08Lo7WWei87ZY5ihXAbMERCrdxe_TgChgheJFovcdn1wEx1eU2leOOvi-VVdeoj57saFukkvmBQuwBMHno-yHIIIaIw/s1600/World+Trade+Center.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="415" data-original-width="300" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglCjabgel-xByrf_Oajxuntvh5XDJTtpkqERBwLNHt3l9pFGAO08Lo7WWei87ZY5ihXAbMERCrdxe_TgChgheJFovcdn1wEx1eU2leOOvi-VVdeoj57saFukkvmBQuwBMHno-yHIIIaIw/s320/World+Trade+Center.jpg" width="231" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As I neared
Alexandria, knowing this would be my last chance before Lafayette, I pulled
into a truck stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was as crowded as
I had ever seen it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were big rigs
in all colors and shades of road weariness parked willy-nilly, here and there. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mother Nature was singing her siren song as I
quickly made my way to the restrooms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
passed motorist standing in the aisles staring at a small fifteen-inch
television sitting on the counter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone
was frozen as if an evil sorcerer had cast a spell upon them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I returned
from the Ladies to find them all still in the same place spellbound by the
small screen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I noticed tears in eyes of
big burly men and women openly weeping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I edged my way forward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A bear of
a man was standing next to a lanky scarecrow, they both had tears rolling down
their faces diluting the coffee growing cold in their hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I edged closer and followed their gaze to the
T.V. that stood there.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My breath
left my body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My legs were weak as the
second plane veered dipped and then flew into the second tower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt a hand on my shoulder and I looked up
at a complete stranger holding me up and cried “is this real?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is this really happening?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He nodded an affirmative.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I looked
around at the people standing in the rows of candy bars and beef jerky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tears flowed freely, choked sounds of dismay
and disbelief drowned out the country music on the speakers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A man toward the back said “do y’all mind if
I pray?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not one person objected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They may have been Jewish or Baptist,
Methodist or Buddhist they may have been Muslim but they all bowed their heads
and prayed with that man in the back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
asked for peace and safety for those in the towers, we prayed for those poor
souls on the plane and we prayed for ourselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When he
finished his prayer not a soul made a move.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not a soul left that store in the middle of the swamps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all stood and watched, wondering if we
were safe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More reports came.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had bombed the Pentagon, there was a
plane down in Pennsylvania.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were
going to crash into the White House.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
were going to take out Wall Street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We watched
as people covered in white ash and blood ran from those burning collapsing
towers and brave first responders and heroes ran toward them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We watched as helicopters flew over the crash
site and reporters spoke in excited voices from the fringes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We watched, we wept and we wondered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What happens now?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I slowly
made my way out to my car and pickup my mobile phone. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I called my mom and my dad and told them I
loved them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I called my daughter and we
cried together. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I called my office and
told my co-workers I loved them and told them all to be safe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted those I loved to know it and feel
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I eventually
made it to New Orleans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Late for my
appointment but the client didn’t care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We were all in shock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got to my
hotel in the French Quarter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The desk
clerk looked shell shocked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People,
zombie-like, moved through the machinations of their day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bellman led me to my room and helped me
with my bags.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried to tip him but he
refused.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life was different. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In
twenty-minutes time, life had changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>People were unsure and humbled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The vitriolic rhetoric of retribution had not yet started.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were just trying to sort through the
terror and strife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sat in my room
watching hour after hour of reports from New York.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People looking for loved ones and first
responders looking like ghosts reporting both good news and bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then came
the awful replays of bodies jumping from eighteen stories up and those towers
falling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They played clips of a burning
field detailing the crash site and the Pentagon scorched and gaping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As I made my
way to dinner that evening I noticed people were more polite, a little
friendlier and ignoble.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Where were
you on 9-11-01?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: 171.75pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br /></div>
Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-42841232491611968012018-09-10T16:01:00.000-07:002018-09-10T17:11:01.452-07:00A STUDY IN HAIKU<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I am exhausted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel
as if I have run the Boston Marathon, swam the English Channel and binged all 635
episodes of Gunsmoke all at one time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
am pooped!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why, Gladys are you so tired,
you ask?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Okay, maybe you really don’t
care, or maybe you are just kind of curious, but I am going to tell you why,
whether you are or not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just spent the
last four days sitting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I spent the last
four days sitting listening to poetry, prose and drama.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Why did I do this?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because, my
dears, just like Mt. Everest, it was there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia6jegJt6KeyoHKPpIzAriUmAU0bDSxP5aJwAHzsy88aLk2iG1HneOOxpPehL007vCfp7GUgzEtioCl8lCBCyY7E7lJKRlvwlSejAU82pXzG9TVyyUc3zUQnWk-I-T46he8BpO2PXZSmk/s1600/henry-gibson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="437" data-original-width="600" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia6jegJt6KeyoHKPpIzAriUmAU0bDSxP5aJwAHzsy88aLk2iG1HneOOxpPehL007vCfp7GUgzEtioCl8lCBCyY7E7lJKRlvwlSejAU82pXzG9TVyyUc3zUQnWk-I-T46he8BpO2PXZSmk/s320/henry-gibson.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Once a year in my little town they have a festival of sorts
for the arts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where poets and novelist,
artist and dramatist, producers and directors all meet and share their
works.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a meeting of the cerebral realm
and honestly my cerebellum has been on pause for quite a while.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">It was very enjoyable; listening as a group as others read
their works, share their art and show their films.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Except there were people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You see as a rule, I don’t people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I used to think I was an extrovert, then I realized that I
probably wasn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You see an extrovert
thrives on people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They draw their
energy from being in crowds, feeding like Lestat only instead of blood they
suck the energy from your soul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An
introvert on the other hand does not draw energy from the crowd, but, instead
is drained from having to be around others. They become the suck-ee. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did my <a href="https://www.myersbriggs.org/my-mbti-personality-type/mbti-basics/home.htm?bhcp=1" target="_blank">MyersBriggs</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am INFJ or XYZW or
something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Basically, it told me I am an
Introvert, Intuitive, Feeling and Judging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yep, that pretty much describes me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have always felt too much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So
many feelings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that your
personality type changes over time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like
I said before, I used to think I was an extrovert, but I wasn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I digress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Back to the festival of the artist.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">We sat and listened as poets poured out their hearts and
their feelings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They rhymed and rhythmed
all day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some were good, some bad, some
just so-so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We listened to the staccato
of the rain beating a rhythm on the roof and the sing-song soliloquy of the
poems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a pleasant way to spend a
couple of days. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tell you all of this to say that I am in awe of these talented sonneteers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I do not have the knack or the talent for poetry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know if a Haiku is something you
order at Benihana or a type of poem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If
you ask me what a pastoral is I would guess it’s something a preacher is
responsible for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A sonnet is a sun
hat?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>See I just don’t know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean what makes it a poem and not just a
story?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Does it have to rhyme?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">As I sat and listened to an older gent go on about what a
Cowboy Don’t Do, I noticed the octogenarian woman’s t-shirt in front of
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It said something on the back but
she had another shirt on over it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
looked at my cousin, nudged her and pointed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She squinted and shrugged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
leaned over and whispered “does that say Fuck It Up”?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She squinted again and returned “No I think it says Suck it
Up.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Surely not, but, maybe that’s why she covered it up” I
retorted.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Well maybe she doesn’t know it says it” my cousin replied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Poets rose and fell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sonnets were read and ballads sung, yet I heard none of these.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was obsessed with what the octogenarian’s
shirt said. I squinted and squirmed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
fidgeted and fussed like a two-year old in church giggling at the thought of an
old woman’s shirt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The day began to fade
and the lights sparkled in the rain as the crowd dispersed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I ran to catch up with the old woman’s shirt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Excuse me, Excuse me!” I cried.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The woman stopped and bent her head toward me “yes dear” she
croaked.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Um, I know this is odd but, did you know there is something
written on the back of your undershirt?” I stammered.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She handed me her umbrella and began unbuttoning her top shirt.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“NO! No, you don’t need to undress” trying to stop her “I
just want to know what is on the back of your undershirt.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She continued unbuttoning her shirt until a logo appeared on
her left breast. “See this” she said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“This
here is my Alma Mater.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I nodded a soggy yes as the rain began to pour “Ok.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But what does it say on the back of your
shirt?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’m getting there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Don’t get your knickers in a knot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was in my Alma Mater’s drill team.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You know them girls that dance on the football field and at the basketball
games.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We did little dances in short
skirts and boots with tassels on em.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She kept pointing at the emblem on her chest.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“OK, but the back…” I was cut short.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I told you to keep your bloomers tight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m getting there.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She turned around and pulled her overshirt up
to expose the writing on the back.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">There in big bold cursive letters was KICK IT UP!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I was a little disappointed but mystery solved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would have been a much better story had it
said what I thought it said. I helped her redress handed her back her umbrella
and thanked her profusely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She smiled at
me and said “Now you gotta go write a poem about it.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I tried to explain that a poet I am not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t have a clue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She just smiled and said “Well, figure it out
and then go and Kick It Up.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">So here is my attempt at poetry. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A Haiku by Gladys <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Woman<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I met a woman<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Who said I should kick it up<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Only I fucked it up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-16002114622863696872018-09-03T09:18:00.001-07:002018-09-03T09:19:43.147-07:00JUST THE FACTS IS BACK - THE FACTS FOR THE WEEK ENDING 8/28/2018<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div style="background: white; line-height: 20.25pt; margin-bottom: .25in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<strong><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">Once upon a time I
used to do this thing called Just The Facts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I lived in a small town up in Montana and I loved reading the Police
Report.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now with all the information on
the whirled wide webs you can get Police Reports from all over the
country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So how happy was I when the
other morning while perusing the internets I found these little gems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So how this works, is I read the report then
I write down the first thought that comes to my mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is scary, I know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean you never know what rabbit hole my pea
brain will hop down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So here we go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am a little rusty but we will do this
together.</span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></strong></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNeZUkCOjiEl29KAGES8qOkCfp3U_XAI0yEX8VdJxPhzCs-YXPbJl2re2puhhthBmB1YhGa1AqmYTyt00vFwiE_JlratpViavl-ZJPmFjrJ4eg_bwDtvhYcGG9LPl0_7KxGyLBOn7A_0A/s1600/180px-Dragnet1967.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="120" data-original-width="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNeZUkCOjiEl29KAGES8qOkCfp3U_XAI0yEX8VdJxPhzCs-YXPbJl2re2puhhthBmB1YhGa1AqmYTyt00vFwiE_JlratpViavl-ZJPmFjrJ4eg_bwDtvhYcGG9LPl0_7KxGyLBOn7A_0A/s1600/180px-Dragnet1967.png" /></a></strong></div>
<strong><o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<br style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">There are a million stories in the city.</span><br />
<br style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Dum-dah-dum…dum-dah-de-dum-de-dum.</span><br />
<br style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">"The story you are about to hear is true; only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.")</span><br />
<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 27px; margin-bottom: 24px;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></span>
</div>
<div style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in;">
<strong><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">WEDNESDAY, AUG. 22</span></strong><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">• THEFT –
500 block of N.E. 7th Street, 5:20 a.m. Theft of an antique gas pump from a
yard was reported.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Was there antique gas in
the pump?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did it make the car miss and
sputter like when you get bad gas at the station?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">• THEFT –
1300 block of East Hubbard Street, 9:20 a.m. A drive shaft was stolen from a
vehicle at an auto dealership.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hey y’all, you know what
would be fun?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s go grab a drive
shaft from the Ford dealer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean I
could use a new one and you know how simple it is to just sneak in there and grab
one.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">• CRIMINAL
MISCHIEF – 300 block of N.W. 4th Avenue, 11:36 a.m. A woman filed a complaint
about moving boxes being left in front of her residence after a Facebook
dispute.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Were they magic
boxes?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was she sure there wasn’t something
alive in those boxes making them move?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And you know the first thing I do when I’m mad at someone on Facebook is
scream right on over to their house and leave magic boxes outside.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">• FOUND
PROPERTY – 3000 block of N.E. 2nd Street, 7:06 p.m. A man found a phone and
turned it over to police.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Well, that was nice of
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">• DOMESTIC
DISTURBANCE – 300 block of S.E. 25th Avenue, 8:44 p.m. A verbal argument took
place outside a restaurant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I told you those were MY
fries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>DON’T TOUCH MY FRIES.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Have you seen my phone?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">•
INFORMATION – 1100 block of S.E. 18th Street, 10:40 p.m. A stepfather reported
a child being unruly. The child reported the presence of drugs in the home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Quid Pro -uhoh!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<strong><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">THURSDAY,
AUG. 23</span></strong><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">• FOUND
PROPERTY – 200 block of South Oak Avenue, 4:08 a.m. Glasses found were turned
into the police department.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now see I totally get
this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am forever losing my
glasses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I swear I have 40 pairs of glasses
and I can’t find any of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t
think to look on Oak Avenue<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">• FRAUD –
1300 block of N.W. 1st Avenue, 9:17 a.m. A family member was accused of
fraudulently transferring property into their name.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hey Kahuna, I see your
sisters are at it again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">• THEFT –
2300 block of East Hubbard Street, 12:03 p.m. Someone used identification to
fraudulently purchase three phones on a phone account.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It’s because they lost
their phone up there on N.E. 2<sup>nd</sup> <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">• ARREST –
Harvey Road, 3:22 p.m. Multiple calls were made regarding a man walking nude
near the airport. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seymore Hiney (made up
name) was found and arrested on a misdemeanor charge of disorderly
conduct-indecent exposure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Thankfully I just lose my
phone and glasses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This poor guy lost
his clothes<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">• ANIMAL
BITE – 3000 block of N.E. 2nd Street, 6:11 p.m. A man asked to surrender</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #444444;">their kitten for the
safety of his family.</span><span style="color: red;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDXBU8wWlpLUqfDcDkWeP-YCZg6NvTngbgg0x25cqVTHBDbVQnm4NYfubLsY6JWMrcO9rCZH2K9s7XW-2rRC2aiN5X0worSZAcNeSrGXVWQX5R2WKHxv22hw1HmSSnEiFr0cYNXdlDf-g/s1600/KITTEN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><i><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDXBU8wWlpLUqfDcDkWeP-YCZg6NvTngbgg0x25cqVTHBDbVQnm4NYfubLsY6JWMrcO9rCZH2K9s7XW-2rRC2aiN5X0worSZAcNeSrGXVWQX5R2WKHxv22hw1HmSSnEiFr0cYNXdlDf-g/s320/KITTEN.jpg" width="320" /></i></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Wait!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A kitten?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A kitten was a threat
to his family’s safety?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What kind of
kitten?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A mountain lion? So ferocious! Run away! Run away!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">•
INFORMATION – 2000 block of S.E. 10th Street, 6:45 p.m. A bank in New York
complained about a possible threat it received.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Uh?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m confused the bank was threatened or the
2000 block of 10<sup>th</sup> street?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<strong><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">FRIDAY,
AUG. 24</span></strong><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">•
COUNTERFEIT CURRENCY – 1500 block of U.S. Highway, 11:38 a.m. A store reported
counterfeit money being passed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Maybe they mistook their Monopoly
Money for Real Money<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">• WELFARE CHECK – 600 block of South Oak Avenue, 12:34 p.m.
Young children were found in the middle of the street unsupervised.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When I was a kid this was called
playing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all did it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We would play in the street until a car came
and then the look out would yell CAR and we would go to the side of the street
until it passed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heck our parents TOLD
us to go play in the street.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<strong><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">SATURDAY,
AUG. 25</span></strong><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">• ASSAULT –
2200 block of N.E. 4th Street, 8:18 p.m. A neighbor allegedly assaulted another
neighbor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Get off my LAWN!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<strong style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">SUNDAY, AUG. 26</span></strong><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">•
PORNOGRAPHY – 3800 block of Ram Boulevard, 11:52 a.m. A report was made and
investigation initiated into a student using their school-issued laptop Friday
to access an Internet chat site and showing to students men performing lewd sex
acts. The student also reportedly turned the laptop's camera so that the men
could see other students in the classroom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Well I’ve never heard of
them teaching Sex-Ed this way.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<strong style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">MONDAY, AUG. 27</span></strong><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">• ASSAULT –
600 block of S.W. 13th Street, 8:36 a.m. A man stated his wife is off her
medication and becomes aggressive at times.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I am not crazy, my mother
had me tested.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<strong><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">TUESDAY,
AUG. 28</span></strong><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">• THEFT –
2300 block of South Oak Avenue, 10:29 p.m. A woman said her estranged husband
stole her cell phone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: FranklinITCProLight, "Helvetica Neue Light", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So she went to the 600
block of 13<sup>th</sup> street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>See she
wasn’t off her meds</span></i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="background: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20.25pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.25in;">
<span style="color: red; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">All right folks, as the officers who are the keepers of the Duck of Justice, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/bangormainepolice/" target="_blank">The Bangor Maine Police Department</a>, say keep your hands to yourselfs, leave other peoples stuff alone and be kind to each other. </span></div>
<br /></div>
Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-90079326419214467992018-08-28T11:11:00.001-07:002018-08-28T11:12:02.316-07:00TROOPER BOB AND THE FLAPPER<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx_fLzUVHjAWTMSorDNyLLzL8w_tDcCXvLtA8oycrZWuM7rUAVLPLDiOvTtja-QF_kPfQMyMenV2D0IEpVFgOWlUuusU4dDIpDFjmRFvTKCu0dAvDdDsfE6ZafeNutFM8qJh9e6ivbygI/s1600/LouiseBrooks.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="337" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx_fLzUVHjAWTMSorDNyLLzL8w_tDcCXvLtA8oycrZWuM7rUAVLPLDiOvTtja-QF_kPfQMyMenV2D0IEpVFgOWlUuusU4dDIpDFjmRFvTKCu0dAvDdDsfE6ZafeNutFM8qJh9e6ivbygI/s320/LouiseBrooks.jpeg" width="239" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">You know how one project snowballs into another?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know you start out by cleaning up a spot
on the floor and the next thing you know you are completely reflooring the
whole house?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s just me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Oh, come on now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know I can’t
be the only one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know it happened to
Nurse Meme and Trooper Bob and it just happened to Gladys and Kahuna.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Gladys stood in the bathroom towel draped hair dripping
wet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She stood with her blow dryer in
hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looked for a plug outlet but
couldn’t find one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They hadn’t lived in
the little cottage long, just a couple of days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was cozy and snug but had been built in a day and time where plug
outlets were few and far between.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
sighed and went in search of a place in which she could activate the dryer and
keep her hair from frizzing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not just
frizzing, but kinking up like fine grade steel wool.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
searched high and low for an open outlet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Kahuna was stretched out in his Lazy-boy, being anything but
lazy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The keys on his computer clicked
happily along, without turning “what are you looking for” he queried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Oh, you know, an open plug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One that doesn’t have two dozen things plugged into it” she replied
while crawling on her hands and knees under the dining table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Well, I guess I could put one in the bathroom, on the wall
with the light switch” he suggested.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Can you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would you?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">And that is how it all began.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>With the want of one outlet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">That too is how it started years ago with Nurse Meme and
Trooper Bob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It started with a toilet
flapper that wouldn’t seal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You all know
the irritation not to mention astronomical water bills that goes with a bad
flapper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not the roaring 20s, bob
haircut and fringe dress, bad flapper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Have I ever told y’all my grandmother was one of those?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A flapper, not the one that goes in the
toilet tank but she may have drank gin from a bathtub, but we will never
know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I digress.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Nurse Meme called Bob in from the shop where he was hiding,
smoking cigars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was retired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He could do that, or so he thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The little intercom which stretched the 50 yards from the
house to the shop crackled and squawked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Bobkmlknkj;<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hurry! Mmmmmph” TB
carefully snuffed out his cigar so he could come back to it later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It sounded like there was some sort of an
emergency, but as he had learned in his many years as a state trooper, your
emergency wasn’t necessarily my emergency.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He kicked off the grass from his boots and entered the kitchen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looked in all the usual places for
Meme.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looked in the kitchen, in the
laundry, in the study and in every single one of the four bedrooms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t call out for her because he knew
she would be calling him, shortly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“GAWDDAMNIT
BOB!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where the hell are you?” inquired a
pissed off Meme as she stomped out of the guest bathroom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Don’t get
your panties in a wad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m right
here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What’s your problem?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“You are my gawddamn problem, but right now it’s this
sonofabeech toilet” she answered pointing at the toilet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Looks alright to me” he responded as he eased over to the
commode and opened the lid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Sounds like
the flapper is stuck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Didja try jiggling
the handle?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yes, I jiggled the damn handle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I ain’t an idiot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It needs a new flapper” she insisted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">TB opened the tank lid and jiggled the flapper, the water
stopped running “there ya go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I fixed
it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Meme flushed the toilet and the flapper stuck open again “no
you didn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now go get a new flapper and
don’t do any of that duct tape and balin wire fixin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want it done right.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">TB replaced the lid and rolled his eyes “it’s fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just put a sticky note on the wall tellin
everybody to jiggle the handle.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“You can go to hell too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I ain’t tellin nobody to jiggle no damn handle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Get the parts and fix it” she admonished and
turned and walked out adding “and do it now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am trying to clean this damn house.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Trooper Bob sighed and reluctantly headed to the hardware
store mumbling the whole way “fixit right, I’ll fix it alright.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aint nothing you can’t fix with a little JB
Weld, Duct tape or balin wire or all three.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Why I glued a guy’s toe back on with JB Weld and duct tape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tellin me to fix it right.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He continued his lament as he wandered
through the aisles of P-traps and plumbing supplies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He passed a couple of other men doing the
same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Talking to the spouse they left at
home on a mission to complete their honey-do list.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looked at all the different styles,
settled on the cheapest fix and headed back home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Not really wanting to fix the flapper on the toilet, he
procrastinated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He went back to the shop
and re-lit his cigar, turned on Paul Harvey and hid a little while longer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was kicked back in his chair, almost
asleep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“GAWDDAMNIT!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked you to fix the toilet!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What do you think you are doing out here
smoking ceegars and sleeping?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I think I’m smoking my ceegar and takin a nap is what I
think I’m doin” he rebutted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Get in there and fix the damn toilet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to finish cleaning” Meme declared and
stormed out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“That damn woman has one mood, pissed off” Trooper Bob
mumbled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He gathered his tools and the
new flapper and drug into the house and set about replacing the flapper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was just about finished when he torqued a
bit too hard on the nut and the whole tank shattered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Gawddamnitsonofabeechmotherforkerinrashnashin,
Meme!!!! I NEED TOWELS!” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He yelled as
her emergency had become his emergency.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Meme came running and at seeing the mess began pulling towels
from the linen closet and throwing them his way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ll get the mop” she yelled as she ran down
the hall<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I NEED A WRANCH!” as he furiously tried to turn off the corroded
valve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Water pouring and sloshing all
along the wall and floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidETOD8eEul80mCgrn1hwdd-I51ZFaC-uCKv-tW7z-NoxZYFhgD4oqt9ubKWyMonrGo_EFXrVXjOkXa93ANWpJEavBWVMwwIEzPYmVo7UfFPnsyeNvrL_MGCFaC99AaWZR3TIKbG2qjHM/s1600/broken-toilet-e1407788897594-765x1024.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="765" data-original-width="1024" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidETOD8eEul80mCgrn1hwdd-I51ZFaC-uCKv-tW7z-NoxZYFhgD4oqt9ubKWyMonrGo_EFXrVXjOkXa93ANWpJEavBWVMwwIEzPYmVo7UfFPnsyeNvrL_MGCFaC99AaWZR3TIKbG2qjHM/s320/broken-toilet-e1407788897594-765x1024.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Meme returned with a fresh batch of towels and a mop “you
need to turn off the valve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That water
is going all over the place.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“No shit Sherlock!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If
I could turn it off I would.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need a
wranch” he shouted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Meme ran to the junk drawer extracted a pair of channel locks
and ran back “will these do?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I reckon they’s gonna have to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Get the hell out of my way” he barked as he lay
down in the water and manhandled the valve which dissolved with the pressure of
the channel locks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well shit fire and
save the damn matches, go turn off the valve to the house.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Meme started to run then stopped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I don’t know where the valve is.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Trooper Bob, now saturated and mad as a wet hen stomped down
the hallway sloshing leaving a trail of toilet water in his wake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“You’re getting the carpet all wet” Meme yelled after him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yeah well, too damn bad” and he stomped out the front door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Once the water had been turned off and the mess had been
cleaned up the two loaded up in the truck and drove to the hardware store to
pick out a new toilet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Oh, look at this one” she enthused “it’s tall and
white.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like this one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It says it saves water too!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But since we got that old toilet out, we need
to redo the floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s go look at the flooring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always hated that linoleum.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
think we need to lay tile in that bathroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And look at these shower doors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They are much prettier than the ones we have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The old ones are so dingy looking”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“They aren’t dingy, they are frosted and the floor is
fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just needs to dry out a little”
Bob responded, seeing more and more work piling up as they made their way
through the store.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“And that wall paper!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Atrocious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean who wants
wallpaper of old timey toilets all over their bathroom walls” she queried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Evidently, you since you was the one put it there in the
first place” he mumbled seeing yet another project.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“No, I didn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
there when we bought the house” she mumbled back as she picked out paint and
paper, flooring and shower doors, new light fixtures, mirrors, cabinets with
marble tops, new faucets and shower heads, towel racks and toilet paper
dispensers and of course the new toilet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">That is how the repair of a three dollar toilet flapper ended
up into a complete bathroom remodel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">All Gladys wanted was an outlet to plug her blow dryer into.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s how her bathroom ended up with new drywall,
paint, mirror cabinet, lights, molding and floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All she wanted was an outlet.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5mtwI5JoXsx-g3MU5KHFfB70d5ZO4W3bmpyl1xsRSO98tBkA1L3styOAFv0Sd2RO2zb32yZG7YIs1HUBiNAoXOnCcwWQe_4DfRkXmKkg_V_wkBCljp2FFcUdMIRllqSuKdlozEfZN4AE/s1600/OUTLET.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5mtwI5JoXsx-g3MU5KHFfB70d5ZO4W3bmpyl1xsRSO98tBkA1L3styOAFv0Sd2RO2zb32yZG7YIs1HUBiNAoXOnCcwWQe_4DfRkXmKkg_V_wkBCljp2FFcUdMIRllqSuKdlozEfZN4AE/s320/OUTLET.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-1972578309536178342018-08-23T15:44:00.004-07:002018-08-23T15:45:57.071-07:00KICKED OUT OF THE SEARS AND ROEBUCK'S<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">It is sad, so many of the icons from my youth are gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are no more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In their place stand empty buildings or empty
lots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember one of my favorite past
times as a kid was when my mom would take us downtown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We would wander through the big old department
stores.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my hometown it was Thornton’s,
Grissom’s and Minter’s and of course Montgomery Ward and Sears and Roebuck’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqf40E7wVvvT58Fu-VxZmM2u5wjdtSvRNWdE2Iidda49DJZAWIgBNaydVvm6m2KQ8Q7f7faQrPpc_2cjMHfAZsIDAV25PzG80BKtD_-xtih0ZnE-CyHcLLxjFgNfQ5p8WiQQZyEvYro2c/s1600/GRISSOMS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="885" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqf40E7wVvvT58Fu-VxZmM2u5wjdtSvRNWdE2Iidda49DJZAWIgBNaydVvm6m2KQ8Q7f7faQrPpc_2cjMHfAZsIDAV25PzG80BKtD_-xtih0ZnE-CyHcLLxjFgNfQ5p8WiQQZyEvYro2c/s320/GRISSOMS.jpg" width="253" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>They had an elevator with an operator who
would announce the floors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had
perfume counters and glove counters they even had a special section with a
clerk just for hats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We didn’t have a
lot of money but sometime when my mother needed something special we got to
visit the downtown department stores.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Today I read where Sears is closing more stores.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>J.C. Penny had already announced more
closings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess Amazon and Walmart
have taken most of their business away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Heck whatever you need you can get online.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But you can’t get a ride up the escalator to
the Housewares Department or visit with Faye, the elevator operator, she
announced you have reached Third Floor, Ladies foundations, lingerie and
perfumes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">And another thing, did you ever wonder what happened to
Roebuck?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did old Richard Warren Sears
kick him out of the company?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is he
buried under the loading dock of a Sears in Spring Valley, Minnesota?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or was he just the victim of a down turn in
the economy which squeezed him out into bankruptcy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was he, <a href="https://gladysspeaks.blogspot.com/2009/04/burning-down-house.html" target="_blank">like Trooper Bob</a>, kicked out of the
Sears and Roebuck’s?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Oh, and I find it odd that a store that started out as a catalogue
store is going out of business because it can’t compete with on-line catalogue
stores.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I digress once again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Here is one of my favorite department store stories, told to me by a
co-worker of mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have never entered
a Sears and Roebuck’s that I didn’t think of this story.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Martin and his wife, Letty, held the hand of their sweet
little boy, Alfonso as they walked through the aisles of the brand-new Sears
and Roebuck’s downtown store. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The floors
were polished terrazzo, the walls bright tile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A large grinding escalator stood in the middle of the store lifting patrons
from one floor to the next.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Alfonso squealed with delight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He burst loose from his parents and ran to
the toy department.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Red Ryder B.B. guns,
little green army men, Lincoln logs and stuffed Teddy bears filled the racks
and invited the tot to play.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Martin
caught up with his five-year-old son, promising they would revisit the toys
once Mommy and Daddy had gone to housewares.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A little disappointed he reluctantly let his dad lead him away from his
panacea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He waved goodbye to the giant Howdy
Doodie puppet suspended above the toys</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Up the escalator they floated, Alfonso jumping up and down watching
over the side as the people down below got smaller and smaller.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They exited to the third floor where he exited
hoping to find new wonders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He lagged
behind his mom and dad when he realized all that was here was furniture and
refrigerators.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Letty ran to the large pink Cold Spot chest freezer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She fussed over it, expounding on the color
and how it would match her all pink kitchen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Martin appreciated it ample size, commenting that the thing he looked
for in a freezer was how many bodies it would hold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Letty slapped his arm and told the horrified
salesman that he was just joshing, but behind her back Martin mouthed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no I’m not.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ2tpSDQcpUaZ5oQ4NSAXjOJPe61B9bm-ufm7Y0GITWrn_tHGdNj2sXFue249l_Ap1wF60hmSxxC9o5ExF1AV2H_Xw9vVyhxqt5dctoY0CIRqoV8-G-BQqsNuZwK0XwluHhziMsD8sw0w/s1600/1955coldspotfreezer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="319" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ2tpSDQcpUaZ5oQ4NSAXjOJPe61B9bm-ufm7Y0GITWrn_tHGdNj2sXFue249l_Ap1wF60hmSxxC9o5ExF1AV2H_Xw9vVyhxqt5dctoY0CIRqoV8-G-BQqsNuZwK0XwluHhziMsD8sw0w/s320/1955coldspotfreezer.jpg" width="291" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Not wanting to offend the ominous looking man
in the black suit and his wife, the salesman expounded on the virtues of the
new frostless freezer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He told of all
the time Letty would save on all that tedious defrosting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then he asked if the couple had any
children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is the exact moment
Martin and Letty realized little Alfonzo was missing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Panic rose in Letty’s throat and Martin began scanning the
area for his little dark headed boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
rushed from aisle to aisle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sales Clerks
from all over the store rushed to aid in the search of the tike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thelma from lingerie blocked the entrance and
exit off the escalator on the second floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Marge in accessories took time off from selling Mrs. Thibodeaux the most
stylish hat she had ever seen to look under racks and in dressing rooms for the
young man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The store was in an upheaval.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Martin rounded the corner to find a crowd gathered around a
display, a bathroom display.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The crowd
was in various stages of disgust, laughter and amazement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He pushed his way to the front of the crowd
to find little Alfonzo happily sitting on the display toilet with his pants
around his ankles and a picture book in his hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Letty showed up about then and let out a
scream, “Oh my baby boy!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What are you doin?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Why momma, I’m going number two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You told me it weren’t good to hold it
in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It made me have a bad attitude” the
little innocent replied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">That’s the day that Martin, Letty and Alfonzo were kicked out
of the Sears and Roebuck’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And Letty
never did get her big pink frostless Cold Spot Freezer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
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Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-24082779273633910322018-08-22T15:26:00.000-07:002018-08-23T06:16:52.418-07:00KNIT ONE PURL TWO<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
am trying to write for at least an hour every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some days all I can manage is a grocery list
but like Stephen King said,<span style="background: white; color: #181818;"> “Sometimes
you have to go on when you don't feel like it, and sometimes you're doing good
work when it feels like all you're managing is to shovel shit from a sitting
position.” </span> Believe me, most days I feel like I am following around
an elephant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, I digress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am writing with the encouragement of my
quirky cousins to write then ship-it. (stops and waves to quirky cousins) So I
am putting a stamp on this and shipping it.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="tenor-gif-embed" data-aspect-ratio="1.7913669064748199" data-postid="8025614" data-share-method="host" data-width="100%">
<a href="https://tenor.com/view/irish-drinking-st-patrick-day-gif-8025614">Betty White Wants ADrink GIF</a> from <a href="https://tenor.com/search/bettywhite-gifs">Bettywhite GIFs</a></div>
<script async="" src="https://tenor.com/embed.js" type="text/javascript"></script></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Gladys
climbed on the stationary bike cussing and huffing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was her third day at the Cardiac Rehab
center.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was feeling a little out of
place, as she had not had a heart attack like the rest of these poor people,
instead she had a rheumatic heart from childhood illness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her cardiologist wanted to get a baseline on
her before she went off and killed herself exercising on her own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now if you have never been to a cardio rehab
class let me give you a brief description of the events.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First thing you do when you get there is get
your blood pressure, heart rate and blood oxygen levels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is done by waiting in line behind about
fifty octogenarians and a dozen nonagenarians who all give you the stink eye
wondering what your quinquagenarian self is doing here. It is not like Gladys
is a spring chick but still those oldsters are just a little suspicious of
those young whippersnapper baby boomers. Once you have your vitals you head
over to stick electrodes all over your body with super glue stuck to toilet paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Finally,
you climb aboard one of the instruments of torture, otherwise known as the
recumbent bicycle on which you are tortured for a minimum of fifteen minutes of
pure agony.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then you drag your limp
and tired legs over to the next instrument of torture also known as the
treadmill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once you have completed the
Bataan death march they usher you to a machine on which you peddle up hills
both ways with your hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, it is a
hand peddler.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, I know, you are
saying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What the heck Gladys?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>None of this is that bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But Gladys abhorred exercise.</span><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
nice nurse came to her machine and dialed up a level three.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s test your stamina she said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This will be easy, she lied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gladys began to peddle and the more she
peddled the harder it became.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The harder
it became the harder she panted and puffed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Her face turned beat red.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
hands gripped the handles as if they would save her from falling into the
bowels of hell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She began to sweat and
her legs began to burn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The faster she
peddled the inertia caused her to slide down the seat causing her to have to
pull herself off the floor and back up on the seat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">It
was during one of these adjustments she noticed that someone had taken the seat
next to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not just anyone, but a
small little elvish woman in a baby pink track suit with a shocking head of
white hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was the Betty White of cardio.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gladys gulped air and huffed out a
hello.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The little woman smiled and
returned the greeting in a sweet soft voice, not at all inconvenienced by the
weapon of mass destruction she was peddling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By this time Gladys was convinced
she is going to die right there with her feet in the stirrups.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looked hopefully over at the nonagrian
next to her for some commiseration only to find old Betty White wanna-be knitting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The woman is KNITTING while
working out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>WHAT KIND OF VOODOO IS
THIS?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s a witch!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Burn her! Burn her!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gladys was sure this woman was not working at
the same level as she.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was probably
on a level one, barely peddling so holding on tight to the handles she leaned
as far over as she could without being thrown like a city slicker on a
mechanical bull.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She stretched and squinted
only to see that old Betty was three levels higher than she was at and was on a
much harder program.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One that made her
climb hills at a high incline.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Humph,
Gladys thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She isn’t human, that
has to be the explanation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Finally,
her time on the recumbent torture machine was over and she drug her limp and
lifeless body over to the treadmill where once again the not so nice lying nurse
set the machine to the lowest level allowed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The tread began to roll and Gladys stumbled and caught herself with the
bar, caught up to the cadence and began her huffing and puffing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just a moment or two later good old knitting
Betty hopped up on the treadmill next to Gladys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She smiled and set her machine once again to
random hills at a high speed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then she
did the unthinkable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She reached down
and grabbed her knitting and began to knit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She began to knit while climbing Mount Kilimanjaro.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What in the love of GOD is this woman
drinking?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gladys gulped down some air
and huffed and puffed praying to all things holy for the torture to end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Betty White just knitted and smiled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The clouds parted, the light came on and
finally Gladys’ fifteen minutes were finally over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She mustered up as much of a smile as
possible, drank a half a bottle of water in one swallow and begged to go home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
nurse lied again and told her just one more little machine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No big deal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Just peddle with your hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You
will feel wonderful she lied, the time will fly by she said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LIES they were all LIES.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gladys climbed onto the seat and began hand peddling
up K-2 huffing and puffing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
peddled trying to keep her coordination going when she realized once again the
knitting kitten is sitting next to her preparing to also do a little hand
peddling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gladys couldn’t take it anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had, had enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She stopped and looked over at the sweet
little old superhuman and said “if you start knitting with your feet while you
are hand peddling, I AM DONE.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Knitting
Betty White smiled sweetly and said in her saccharine voice “oh honey, I’m good, but, even I am not THAT good.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is when
Gladys fell off the machine…… laughing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-39091651524734963202018-08-21T06:44:00.002-07:002018-08-21T07:59:02.704-07:00JOHN WAYNE SLEPT HERE ( A Trooper Bob Tale)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> It’s been
awhile since I written a Trooper Bob story, in fact it’s been awhile since I’ve
been here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could say I’ve been busy
but that isn’t completely true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could
tell you I’ve been depressed, kind of like Duane in<a href="http://www.simonandschuster.com/authors/Larry-McMurtry/547/books" target="_blank"> Larry McMurtry’s</a> <i>Duane’s
Depressed</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I haven’t taken up
walking everywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could tell you all
kinds of things but the truth is, I don’t know why I haven’t been here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> I have been
spending a lot of time with Trooper Bob lately and every now and then a story
will fall out of his brain and I have been remiss in reporting them here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that man has more stories than Carter
has little liver pills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you don’t know
who Carter is or what little liver pills are, well GOOGLE it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span> I digress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Let’s welcome back the Chronicles of Trooper Bob.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> They sat in
the old stone building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The one where
John Wayne had slept, where George Patton had smoked his cigars and written in
his journal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had gathered from all
over the state.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The border was in a
state of flux and there was an uprising on the horizon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Colonel had given the order and they had gathered with their riot gear driven hundreds of miles and now they were waiting for
word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A gaggle of men dressed in summer
wool DPS uniforms in the South Texas heat, waiting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some played cards, some read Zane Grey novels
bought at the five and dime in Brackettville but most napped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They napped because it was smart to grab the
sleep when you could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tomorrow was
unknown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heck and hour from now was
iffy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Trooper Deal
and Trooper Bob sat talking old times and telling tales.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Waiting for others to nod off so they could
play a prank or two on the unsuspecting victim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sometimes it was as simple as the shaving cream and feather trick which
would cause the newly shaving cream covered victim to come alive spitting and
cussing while the rest would scream in laughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> The worst
part of the detail was the waiting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
waiting produced boredom and boredom gave them way too much time to come up
with new ways in which to torment the other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> The shadows
were getting long and another day had almost passed when the bell clanged and
they shifted from leaned back chairs and legs draped over easy chair arms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had been waiting for something to happen
and now it had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chow time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Trooper Bob eased off his chair and picked up
his gun belt. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Strapping it on he also
stuffed something in his pocket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
wandered close behind the others smirking just a little<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hey, Hutch” cried Deal “I’m so
hungry I could eat the south end of a north bound cow.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The way that hamburger tasted at
lunch it might have been all asshole” Trooper Bob replied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well I guess you’d know what
asshole tasted like, you bein one and all” Byron shot back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’ll remember you said that, I have
a long memory” Bob answered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They filed
into the mess hall and pulled out the metal chairs lined along the makeshift
tables.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bob made his way around the
table passed the Colonel’s chair at the head of the table pausing just a moment
to notice a nice cushion placed on the chair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Guess old lead bottom had a delicate derriere he mused.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then he moved on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Colonel Leadbottom stood at the end
of the table cleared his throat and in his best imitation of George Patton he
gave his speech.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How in difficult time
brave men step forward to do their duty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He droned on and the men shuffled feet and fidgeted in their seats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their greasy fried chicken and instant mashed
potatoes grew cold on their plates the gravy congealing in puddles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally, he finished up and lowered his incredibly
ample ass onto the chair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>PLFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT echoed through the stone walls. Someone in
the back of the room yelled AMEN!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Leadbottom jumped to his feet huffing and puffing,
he stormed around his chair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Leaned over
and with thumb and forefinger plucked a whoopee cushion from his chair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The room erupted in laughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Leadbottom stormed out leaving his congealed
gravy and soggy chicken.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Trooper Bob grinned knowing that the Ben Franklin sold more
than just Zane Grey novels and Juicy Fruit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Night fell and the stars shone
bright over the old fort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ghost of Pecos
Bill and Skinny Jim Wainwright haunted the halls and watched over the troopers.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Snores echoed through walls and off of
the wooden beams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All quiet on the
border.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The next morning the word came and
the big yellow school buses started pulling up in front of the Officer’s
Quarters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The men roused from their beds
cowlicks standing tall and sleep still in their eyes began their preparations. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The troopers shined their boots, cinched on
their Sam Browns and pinned on their badges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There were no jokes, no grab assing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This was serious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was Poncho
Villa serious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a border war
brewing and these men were the first line of defense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They checked their cartridges and revolvers
grabbed their shields, replaced their signature Stetson hats with helmets and
moved out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>One by one they boarded the buses; the
Colonel checked the names off his roster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They were seated side by side, ready to do or die.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Colonel cleared his throat and gave the
instructions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“On this auspicious
occasion we must remember these are civilians, Mexican citizens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember no violence unless necessary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are here to defend our citizens, never
attack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Keep your cool don’t let them
goad you into a battle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are here as a
show of force. I know you all have trained for riots but remember this is not
training, men.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the real deal. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, does anyone one have any questions?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The men squirmed a bit not really
sure what to expect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The colonel made it
sound so ominous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was there really going
to be violence?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was the joking around
and hijinks over and now it was all business?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Deal raised his hand “Colonel, sir?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes Deal?” the Colonel replied<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Shouldn’t somebody stay back and
defend the fort?” Deal asked with a straight face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Shut up Deal and put on your helmet”
The Colonel shouted over a bus full of laughter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Trooper Deal leaned over and
whispered to Trooper Bob “John Wayne would have never left the fort undefended.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-70099838092381604092017-10-22T10:49:00.001-07:002017-10-22T10:59:00.427-07:00GLADYS IS THE MISS MANNERS OF CAMPING<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
Years and years ago my family went camping in the mountains
of New Mexico. I was probably four years
old but I still remember it like it was yesterday. All of us piled in the salmon colored Ford station
wagon, our beloved daschund huddled in the back seat with the rest of us kids
drinking NeHi grape soda and eating Cheetos.
Hey don’t judge until you’ve
tried it. Muck the magic wiener dog
loved it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There we were in the wilds of the Gila Mountains. Bare cliffs to the north of us and desert to
the south of us. My brother would tell
me to get down in the floor boards because there were Indians on the cliffs and
they loved to kidnap little girls with frizzy hair and buck teeth. I looked up to my big brother and believed
everything he told me. Well, almost
everything. <o:p></o:p></div>
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It was in those early days that I learned the Golden Rules
of Camping. Yes, there are RULES. There are rules for everything and
everyone. You don’t get a pass just
because you think you are special. Trust
me you’re not. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Let’s go over some of those rules and see if you are guilty
of these or if you are a happy camper.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]--> The
standard you bring it in, you take it out.
Everything from the wrapper on your snickers to poop. Unless of course, facilities are provided. Nobody wants to be out trekking the wilds
only to come upon a big pile of your feces.
Novices to hiking will stand around with their guide books pontificating
about which animal left their scat under the elm tree. “It could be the Puma Concolor” Biff will
pose while Skip will argue that it is the Ursus Americana. Nope it will just be the old Americana
Dumbass.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEOZOgRY1CaOaL0tz37YZxA6248eNhsIgMS_lMawayNZCY09wl1fOdBUd0imAJNVuBuv36QTe-k3QRgWZqCxi9eGSUVJ7rO3eBa_4Qv5IUfB1BxZfvFRgTFEMTGFt1jfZWFfwbdE-mmY/s1600/sign_packit_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="360" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEOZOgRY1CaOaL0tz37YZxA6248eNhsIgMS_lMawayNZCY09wl1fOdBUd0imAJNVuBuv36QTe-k3QRgWZqCxi9eGSUVJ7rO3eBa_4Qv5IUfB1BxZfvFRgTFEMTGFt1jfZWFfwbdE-mmY/s320/sign_packit_web.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->2.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]-->If camping in a camp ground be respectful of
your neighbor. Now see I believe this
goes back to that golden rule of life.
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. What I mean is don’t take up more space than
was allotted you. Don’t be noisy and
rambunctious after ten pm and don’t be that morning clatterer clanging pots and
pans before six in the morning. Be
respectful. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->3.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]-->Just because you are camping does not give you
or your children permission to act like fools. Kids
will be kids but teach your kids to respect themselves as well as others. Don’t trample through someone else’s camp
site. Don’t set up camp in the middle of
walk ways and or driving lanes. Yes, we
are all thrilled this is little Psummer’s with a silent P first camping trip
and that little Gailey, pronounced Hailey, just loves to play in the stream but
keep an eye on them for goodness sake.
No one wants to police your kids.
That is your job.</div>
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<o:p></o:p><br />
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->4.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]-->If you have a large group camping together,
please for the love of all things holy, do not take over the whole camp
ground. There are other people there
trying to enjoy it too and may not want to be in the middle of your Corn Hole
game or listen to your Uncle Bill’s rounding rendition of Jail House Rock.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->5.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]-->Pets. Can
we talk about your pets? I love dogs,
cats, ferrets and birds of all flavors but if you can’t control your animal
then don’t bring it with you or at the very least keep it on a leash. I know you love Fluffy and could not stand to
be a minute away from the hairy little fuzz ball but remember Pete Puma loves
Fluffy too. Fluffy tastes just like
chicken. Also remember all animals do
not instantly get along. Dog fights are
unpleasant, a kitty being terrorized by Fido is awful and your ferret burrowing
into your neighbor’s camper is rude so keep your pet under control at all
times.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
OK, I’m gonna stop preaching here
and leave you with a few thoughts. Some
people LIVE in their RV’s. It is their
home. They go from place to place
enjoying this wonderful country of ours.
Most of them are good at what they do.
They enjoy meeting new people and new faces. So, when you're camping and someone says Good
Morning or Good Afternoon, don’t be an ass.
Smile and return the greeting. It
will make you a better camper.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
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Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-78989427425089100362017-10-02T11:34:00.000-07:002017-10-02T11:43:15.455-07:00The Incident of the Shabby RV at Night<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">So, this happened... <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Last week my Kahuna had travel out of town which meant he had to
leave extra early. We drag ourselves out of a nice comfortable
slumber as the alarm screeched at us.
This was around 3:30 in the morning.
As is my pattern I rose and made him coffee and packed his lunch and
breakfast. We said our goodbye at the
door. I noticed an older shabby motorhome had
parked across from us in the middle of the night. Odd but not alarming.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"> Let me
explain a little. We are living in a motor
home in a very nice R.V. Park at a Native American Casino. Lots of nice rigs in a very quiet park. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">I went back to bed but traveling with a little dog you never get
to sleep in. I got up around six to let Bozz
out to pee. Which is when I noticed that there was a young man in a Kia parked across from me
at the shabby RV. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"> Ok Odd but still not
alarming. I mean people wait for people all the time, right? I got ready to go to the store at about ten a.m. and the Kia was still parked in front of RV with the guy still sitting there.
You know that feeling in your gut when something just doesn’t seem safe? Yeah, I had that. I needed to go grocery shopping and got in my
car but still felt apprehensive about both the RV and the man waiting in
front. As I was leaving the park the
ranger pulled in. I stopped and told him what spot I was in and what I had
witnessed. He told me thanks and I went on my way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"> I got back to my RV
around noon and low and behold the little Kia pulls in shortly after I did.
This crack head looking guy got out of Kia ran into RV and then came back out
and took off in a hurry. About an hour later I took Bozz for a walk and came back to sit
outside and again another car pulled up to RV, guy gets out ran into RV and
then out and sped off. This happened all afternoon. It was like watching a
revolving door. Car would pull up,
person get out ran into the RV, door would fly open, off they would speed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"> I walked to the office
and told the girl at the desk what I had seen. I told her something just seemed
sketchy. She asked what spot and I told her. She jumped up and told me that
there is no one in that spot. Ummm Yeah there is. She called the ranger who informed her he has
stopped by there twice on suspicious vehicle calls, but had observed nothing.
OK... I go back to RV. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Within minutes of me sitting down in my chair and opening my
book a car sped up to RV. A girl jumped out and started pulling the hook-ups.
It was like Mario Andretti’s pit crew.
She had water, sewer, power and cable pulled and in the RV in seconds
flat. They fired up the rig and drove
off down the road, WITH SLIDE-OUTS STILL OUT.
Yes, that is what I said. The
slide outs were still fully extended. They
pulled up the road a little and I watched as four scruffy looking young men ran
through the bushes and hopped into the shabby RV. They goosed the diesel engine and in a cloud
of bluish-black smoke they sped rocking and swaying out of the park, WITH
SLIDES STILL FULLY EXTENDED. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">The girl from the office sped toward the listing RV she took the
first corner on two wheels of her golf cart followed by the Tribal Police and
the Park Ranger. They convened in front
of the vacated spot. I stood and yelled
to them “You just missed them. They just
rounded the corner in a cloud of smoke, but I don’t think they will get far”. Ranger Tom called back “Why not?” I laughed “THEIR SLIDES ARE STILL OUT”. Ranger Tom and TPD Officer Brent sped off in
pursuit of the shabby RV with its slides extended. The girl from the office checked to make sure
nothing had been damaged in the expedited exit of said RV. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "inherit" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Later I spoke with the front desk and they told me that they had
indeed caught the shabby RV down the road trying to suck in their slides and
that they had been apprehended and dealt with.
And yes, to answer the big question in the spirit of Jesse Pinkman and
Walter White it was indeed a meth RV.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-15619491631241739242017-04-06T17:59:00.001-07:002017-04-06T17:59:43.481-07:00DRIVING NAKED OR WHY I DON’T TAKE AMBIAN<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I have suffered from intermittent insomnia for
years. Oh, don’t get me wrong I can fall
asleep easily, I don’t obsess or have racing thoughts, nope falling asleep is
not my issue. I am not saying I don’t
have issues believe me I have issues about my issues but falling asleep is not
one. I do however have a terrible time
staying asleep. Most people go into REM
sleep and then they pass on over into Beta sleep which is that deep restful
sleep. Not me. I go into REM sleep, jerk and I am
awake. Sometimes I can fall back to
sleep but most of the time I spend the rest of the night tossing and turning
willing myself to fall back asleep. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Years ago, my doctor sent me
to a sleep clinic. They attached
electrodes to my head and wrapped chords around my body and then told me to go
to sleep. I mean what could be more
restful than being trust up like a Christmas goose and told to sleep.<br />
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Nope, no pressure there. I tried to sleep. I turned this way and squiggled that way
until I finally dozed off just enough to have that falling off a curb
feeling. I jerked awake and that was all
there was to sleep for the next eight hours.
When the test was over and the doctors all converged watching the video,
examining the EEG and the EKG and the ABC’s of my night they all came to the
conclusion all I needed was a good sedative.
Low and behold there was a brand new one on the market. Everyone was talking about it. Drug reps were handing them out like Tic Tacs
at a garlic festival. <o:p></o:p><br />
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I happily filled my
prescription in anticipation of a good night’s sleep. I celebrated by going to bed early. I fell asleep quickly and remembered nothing
until I awoke in my backyard. It was the
middle of the night and I was standing in the middle of my backyard, in the
middle of winter, naked. I had pajamas
on when I fell asleep but here I was wide awake in my backyard without a
stitch. I made my way back in the house
found my pajamas wadded in a pile on the floor of my kitchen, the refrigerator
wide open and the water running. I thought,
hum that’s odd. Someone broke in my
house raided my refrigerator and left the water on. I checked the locks after I dressed secured
the house once again headed off to bed.
I tossed and turned wondering what in the hell had happened that I would
tear off my clothes venture into my yard wearing nothing but my birthday suit. The next morning, I felt like I had been on
a ten-day Tequila bender. I pulled
myself together and drove the sixty miles to my office. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I continued to take the
sedative hoping and praying that it would put me to sleep like that woman on
the Sominex commercial, sleep, sleep Sleep.
Each night I would wake in some form of undress in either a closet, the
kitchen or one time standing in the shower.
I spoke to my physician about the sleep walking and she told me it was
one of the side effects of Ambien, that some people had complained of sleep
eating, but that I shouldn’t worry and the side effects would eventually go
away.<br />
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Then it happened. The reason I will never take a sleeping pill
again. It was a night much like any
other. I got the munchkin in bed,
completed my nightly routine then snuggled down in my bed for hopefully a night
of sleep. I fell asleep easily enough. I slept.
I slept soundly. I slept soundly
until I awoke in front of my office door.
Standing in front of my office door that was sixty miles from my house
in the dark of night. I was standing in
front of my office door sixty miles from my house NAKED. Not a stitch.
I was letting it all hang out. I
was airing out the laundry. I looked around
and luckily not a soul was around. I ran
to my car and popped the trunk and like Eve I began searching for something to
cover my nakedness. I found a rain
poncho and some work-out pants and quickly put them on. <o:p></o:p></div>
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About that time a police car
drove up. The officer rolled down his
window and smiled and asked if everything was all right. WAS EVERYTHING ALL RIGHT? No, it wasn’t all right. I had driven sixty miles in the middle of the
night ASLEEP!! Not only was I asleep but
I was NAKED and asleep. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I still don’t sleep. I still suffer from intermittent
insomnia. I do not take any kind of
sedative. <o:p></o:p><br />
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I told the doctor what happened and she paused then replied "Well I wouldn't take that anymore if I were you." Thanks Doctor Obvious. </div>
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Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-73087233346820394552016-06-14T12:24:00.001-07:002016-06-14T12:25:28.664-07:00SHE ISN'T MY DOG<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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She isn’t my dog. Really
she isn’t. She smells like death and can
barely walk. Good thing she isn’t my
dog. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I first met her about eleven years ago. Her coat was a shiny black and her eyes were
bright. She ran to greet me and guide me
to a dinner date. It was the first night
I had dinner with Kahuna’s family at their house. She was just a big black bouncy Labrador mix
happy to greet me. I exited my car and
she immediately got up close and personal.
When I say up close and personal I mean snout in the crotch
personal. A kind of how do you do let me
record your smell in my mind so that I will always know it’s you. She was an outside dog then. She ruled ten acres of rough Southern
California desert terrain with an iron paw.
Her name was Nikki and she was the alpha dog and she isn’t my dog.<o:p></o:p></div>
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That first night I knew I liked her. She was bright, attentive and definitely had
a mind of her own. I hoped she liked me
back. She must have because on
subsequent visits to Casa de Bruno she brought me presents like squirrels,
lizards, tarantulas and once a pig’s head.
Yes, a pig’s head. We think someone must have buried a pig in the
ground for a Luau and she dug it up.
What a surprise they had when they dug uptheir succulent pig and found it
uncovered and headless. Good thing she isn’t my dog.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJIGAhDexP1icI_xqhz3DjtmTJ8AghIb0NLe94uNN7pboL7ieqXgq3EiQUwjt-dDh2pZ9u7YrOpZLxAnFMsN8jCXwUDuHfbWHcEAk-VMy7k-XRewL4tDAo1Y8EDLOUAf9qifUajnAiSFk/s1600/2010-January+031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJIGAhDexP1icI_xqhz3DjtmTJ8AghIb0NLe94uNN7pboL7ieqXgq3EiQUwjt-dDh2pZ9u7YrOpZLxAnFMsN8jCXwUDuHfbWHcEAk-VMy7k-XRewL4tDAo1Y8EDLOUAf9qifUajnAiSFk/s320/2010-January+031.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So began our relationship.
Pretty soon I became part of the family and she became a bigger part of
my life. She protected me when I was
home alone. This was usually done by me
bringing her into the house at night because of the coyotes. I would make her a bed of old blankets on the
floor and tell her to stay. She would
wait until I was fast asleep and sneak over to the sofa where I would find
her in the morning stretched out, all
four feet in the air snoring. We played
this game of no no/yes yes. I would tell
her no and she would ignore me and do whatever she pleased. I saved scraps of meat and bones for her and
she in returned gave me companionship, security and unconditional love. Good thing she isn’t my dog. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7RQIF0D0XSbK0ObDTugwpBaWOYrnJxc3AW1TWL4v7zLOu9-iYmHFmI3Oj2bsXj7g7-q-Na3C8aef_5UrXCGuPjYM_XYpDVPB4MsYYQtHHlyR5FJuw3BqyZAeCCCB9yy2wkd0QM16UA7k/s1600/2010-1-21+NIKKI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7RQIF0D0XSbK0ObDTugwpBaWOYrnJxc3AW1TWL4v7zLOu9-iYmHFmI3Oj2bsXj7g7-q-Na3C8aef_5UrXCGuPjYM_XYpDVPB4MsYYQtHHlyR5FJuw3BqyZAeCCCB9yy2wkd0QM16UA7k/s320/2010-1-21+NIKKI.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Years have passed and we moved away from Casa de Bruno into
the suburbs where she can no longer run free range. She has become a house dog. She has spent the last six years languishing
in the cool indoors watching television and waiting for her walks where once
again she is allowed to run like the wild animal she dreams she is. She lies as close to me as she can get as she
does others. She needs human contact
now. She wants to know she is safe,
secure and has a companion. Now she
struggles to go on her walks, some days she only runs in her dreams. Good thing she isn’t my dog.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-4uiZ3YLT9EmO93U5ol0q7Dr3-w0oAAhyScLKhE3l1ti3oUtmdqYgWQY885bOvxLG1DuWMCpuk516i9ZG7VeACz5NhSll-GU31c8MiLO8lnoXtuC1x0HGThQaN5Ylc886fq3RjtWzFHA/s1600/Copy+%25282%2529+of+2010+March+house+and+horses+005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-4uiZ3YLT9EmO93U5ol0q7Dr3-w0oAAhyScLKhE3l1ti3oUtmdqYgWQY885bOvxLG1DuWMCpuk516i9ZG7VeACz5NhSll-GU31c8MiLO8lnoXtuC1x0HGThQaN5Ylc886fq3RjtWzFHA/s320/Copy+%25282%2529+of+2010+March+house+and+horses+005.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her muzzle is grey and there is a large cancerous growth
below one eye. Her body is lumpy and she
smells bad. She is banished to a corner
of the kitchen where if she has an accident it is easily cleaned. She watches every move we make and wags her
tail happily when paid the slightest of attention. Good thing he isn’t my dog.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwd292rPCEN8E7hshm9S4zyGH1oC4iqUKm3eI9Hpwpxrw1Q6A1MOXhzHHVNeLL-gDvUih3DmT-4u1tzXBrrgSuYw8Cr5tuqXc41MZ3VF0earGg9ryYgxxS1kkwoYkwDq1h7JautAGOXFg/s1600/IMG00035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwd292rPCEN8E7hshm9S4zyGH1oC4iqUKm3eI9Hpwpxrw1Q6A1MOXhzHHVNeLL-gDvUih3DmT-4u1tzXBrrgSuYw8Cr5tuqXc41MZ3VF0earGg9ryYgxxS1kkwoYkwDq1h7JautAGOXFg/s320/IMG00035.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4uCpE-UtsXaKq_Eb6jeZgyhbCqVVd3XhGeFhWa7PzCgUFIuMZUJIyGhmGOxcu_zufLO85JokBHEVaG7EGXAowqbJ0d3m6CxVtK-Mr1JR3IKk_SPYJ1he_Ptc-tMmG3sNpNLu0xRFCsZY/s1600/20131203_154259.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4uCpE-UtsXaKq_Eb6jeZgyhbCqVVd3XhGeFhWa7PzCgUFIuMZUJIyGhmGOxcu_zufLO85JokBHEVaG7EGXAowqbJ0d3m6CxVtK-Mr1JR3IKk_SPYJ1he_Ptc-tMmG3sNpNLu0xRFCsZY/s320/20131203_154259.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXp1zp31sYeTCcA_eBVuUP_7E5Je6vXVgED5_XBAFT_yxSH4cct-4sHRg-SKK48DSr90alBDifWGmJFNiSX57tUWYTHoy-54vAi5MG0gvrXNs-XA_xdP5EDsz3m3vPiKcIt30Rtylg-Go/s1600/IMG_0750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXp1zp31sYeTCcA_eBVuUP_7E5Je6vXVgED5_XBAFT_yxSH4cct-4sHRg-SKK48DSr90alBDifWGmJFNiSX57tUWYTHoy-54vAi5MG0gvrXNs-XA_xdP5EDsz3m3vPiKcIt30Rtylg-Go/s320/IMG_0750.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9OcVRoljInVmQ8uxghSNy7ihj0L3s2VKQaw0u8FxxQ-uv2e7m7xxu_35EY8VKvdKUi1yRiYzau3-tm3YPFnRJuX_tz5O9Vjn9mJ6AnvhKkB2O1PgCmIQTfvcXyhlaem9vr7GVXvRGH7I/s1600/IMG_1328.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9OcVRoljInVmQ8uxghSNy7ihj0L3s2VKQaw0u8FxxQ-uv2e7m7xxu_35EY8VKvdKUi1yRiYzau3-tm3YPFnRJuX_tz5O9Vjn9mJ6AnvhKkB2O1PgCmIQTfvcXyhlaem9vr7GVXvRGH7I/s320/IMG_1328.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know her days are numbered. Soon she will cross the rainbow bridge where
she will once again chase squirrels, antagonize bunnies and dig up pig
heads. She will be free from the
constraints of her corner in the kitchen and of the pain. My heart is breaking as I watch her hobble to
her spot and she turns those big dark
eyes no longer shining up at me as if to say I’m okay right here as long as I’m
close to you. Good thing she isn’t my
dog because I can’t imagine my heart breaking any more than it is.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-57905439751766864682016-05-03T10:04:00.000-07:002018-08-24T13:12:32.482-07:00THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
The smell of Sulphur was strong in the room. A faint light illuminated the doorway and
outlined the shadow standing there. A
bubbling, sucking noise surrounded her and the weight on her chest was excruciating. She was half asleep but also half awake. She struggled to move but found herself
completely paralyzed. Eyes finally
adjusting to the dim light she was able to make out the figure who sat on her
chest.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She gasped for air as the grotesque figure bent low as if to
kiss her. She tried to fight but he must
have put some kind of spell on her for she could not move, not one muscle. It was a chore to breath. The little creature moved pinning her shoulders with its claw hands and
slobbered hungrily. He snarled and
breathed his Sulphur breath on her face and made a snorting sound.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
From the corner of her eye she could distinguish the other
creature moving toward her. Her panic
was so intense she emitted a silent scream.
Both creatures chortled their screeching laugh and moved in closer. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://img10.deviantart.net/4a8d/i/2012/330/1/b/gargoyles_90__s_cartoon_lexington_by_digitaltofu-d5mai6g.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://img10.deviantart.net/4a8d/i/2012/330/1/b/gargoyles_90__s_cartoon_lexington_by_digitaltofu-d5mai6g.jpg" height="320" width="232"></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She knew what this was.
She had experienced this before.
They were here to suck the soul from her. They would each take a turn to give her that depleting
kiss of death. They were here to take
from her all she had and leave nothing but a shell. She could not move, could not fight them
off. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They were the things that come in the night while we are in
our dream world. They creep from bed to
bed looking for their next meal, their next soul to consume. We never see them, nor do we know they are
there because we are paralyzed in our sleep sinking deeper into the abyss of
our dreams. Every once in a while,
though, we will be in the in-between and that is when we spot them. We see them hanging over us, taste testing
our soul to judge if it is ready for harvest.
It is at this time we are most
vulnerable. We cannot defend ourselves
nor can we cry out for help, they have us captured.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She steeled herself for what would come next. </div>
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</div>
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://thoughtcatalog.files.wordpress.com/2015/07/screen-shot-2015-07-06-at-9-45-46-am.png?w=955&h=535" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://thoughtcatalog.files.wordpress.com/2015/07/screen-shot-2015-07-06-at-9-45-46-am.png?w=955&h=535" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The last time they had visited they had both
taken a taste and deemed her not quite ripe.
She tried to pull away as the second creature leapt to the head of the
bed and caressed her hair. Bending low
staring into her eyes it sniffed her face, stuck a tongue in her ear. She wanted so much to cry out and pull away
but her body would not cooperate. Was
this really the end? Was she ripe for
harvest? Was her soul ready to be drawn
from her body to energize these gargoyles?
NO! Her brain screamed. GET OFF
OF ME! LEAVE ME ALONE!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her heart pounded and her chest ached with each labored
breath. Her eyes wide open she watched
as they debated, gesturing with their long talon fingers. The one at the head of the bed insistent the
other less sure. Little by little she
could feel her body being freed. She
kicked her legs and tried to sit up to shake the creature from her but she was
still bound by his weight. She felt a
spec of spit it her cheek and looked as the creature at her head shook its head
and motioned to the other. In a flash
they were gone, the weight lifted from her chest and her body was returned to
her. She jumped from the bed panting and
pacing. She had been spared yet
again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
That is when Gladys swore she would never eat Mexican food
after seven o’clock at night again. <o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-80872495424965422482016-05-01T19:13:00.000-07:002016-05-02T07:42:47.974-07:00Gladys Gets Assy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
You know those days you get dressed and you just know you
look cute. Shut up! I know I’m old but I can still look
cute. You stand in the mirror and your
make-up looks just right and not at all like a drag queen or a clown. Not that there is anything wrong with looking
like a drag queen. I myself wish I could
look that good. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/89/b1/7d/89b17da19adde2d5fd698d4a115d1307.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/89/b1/7d/89b17da19adde2d5fd698d4a115d1307.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Clowns are a different
thing altogether. Clowns are evil. They are.
If you don’t believe me call Stephen King and ask him. By the way, if you call Mr. King could you
then call me and give me his number cause, I mean after all, he is <a href="http://stephenking.com/" target="_blank">Stephen King</a>
and who wouldn’t want to talk to him. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://static.srcdn.com/slir/w700-h350-q90-c700:350/wp-content/uploads/it-stephen-king-movie-director-cary-fukunaga.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://static.srcdn.com/slir/w700-h350-q90-c700:350/wp-content/uploads/it-stephen-king-movie-director-cary-fukunaga.jpg" height="160" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p> I digress.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was talking about how cute I looked. I looked <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/" target="_blank">Pinterest</a> cute. I looked fashion blogger cute. You know, one of those <a href="http://www.faboverfifty.com/" target="_blank"> Fab over Fifty</a> or Fifty something Fashionistas
or some such something blogger where every day they post a picture of the cute
clothes they found at <a href="http://www.jjill.com/jjillonline/index.aspx?LID=43700006721572101&searchterm=j+jill&adgroup=Brand+Core&gclid=CjwKEAjw0pa5BRCLmoKIx_HTh1wSJABk5F_4Dpup-8xhWeeH2rSp3Xowp5dkA50r0zdwz7yj6uNydRoCm7vw_wcB" target="_blank">J. Jill</a> or<a href="http://www.lordandtaylor.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/en/lord-and-taylor" target="_blank"> Lord and Taylor</a>. I guess I could do one of those post, only I
would be over here in my Target top and my Payless Shoes with my Goodwill jeans and my EBay purse. Can we say I am a frugal shopper? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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</div>
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<a href="http://www.high50.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/Style_Red_jacket_McQueen_300_high50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.high50.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/Style_Red_jacket_McQueen_300_high50.jpg" height="320" width="172" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i>Love the outfit but couldn't afford the sand in her shoe.</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
Again, I digress.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was feeling all cute and sassy in my skinny jeans cuffed
at the ankles with my cute little red and white polka dotted top and a cute
sweater to top it all off. I even put on
jewelry and finished off the ensemble with a pair of retro Keds. Remember when you were a kid and you got a
new pair of Keds? Oh MAN! You were in high cotton, sporting those
bright white tennis shoes all new and pretty.
Then at the end of summer they were all grey and stained with holes in
the toes from stopping your bike with your feet. Yeah those were awesome days. Again I digress.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNBnrFv9FUafVIuDlwt5iGvg4USLovLr0mbh6ElDAhqBvw7bUxlfbS04ekemZChTtriM_xkCCZU3DojSdkO93DtuSi4iELonOEBV9wy3g63HjDN2NyYomaNhLExw8qCo5yLv6MI75uqEg/s1600/Bee+Age+5+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNBnrFv9FUafVIuDlwt5iGvg4USLovLr0mbh6ElDAhqBvw7bUxlfbS04ekemZChTtriM_xkCCZU3DojSdkO93DtuSi4iELonOEBV9wy3g63HjDN2NyYomaNhLExw8qCo5yLv6MI75uqEg/s320/Bee+Age+5+001.jpg" width="249" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So here I am with this cute outfit and my hairs all done up
pretty because my friend Lola had just cut them and styled them all
pretty. My make-up was looking good and
I felt good. I mean really good. I was going out on the town in my cute outfit
good. Now let me just say that my going
out on the town is probably not what you think.
My going out on the town is more I’m gonna go to the grocery store and
if I’m feeling really daring maybe even stop in at the thrift store, good. So here I am feeling all good about myself
and my outfit so I hop in my little car and head out. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Growing up we called it going to town. My momma would grab her keys and put on her
Ray Ban sunglasses, fluff up her bouffant hair and with a Virginia Slim between
her lips yell “Y’all come on we’re going to town to get groceries.” We all went with her because my brother would
push the cart over while careening down the aisles at breakneck speeds making
race car noises while my sister and I ran screaming at the top of our lungs “he’s
trying to kill us or worse”. My mother
would beat on him with whatever she had in her hand and scream “you kids better
knock this shit off or I’m gonna beat you in front of GAWD and everybody!” This must have been relaxing for her because
she continued to take us. Again, I have
gotten off the subject. Shut up! This is my story and I’ll tell it how I tell
it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Because I was looking so cute and feeling good; I decide to
go to an estate sale that just happened to be on my way to the grocery
store. I pull in front of a very pleasant
house with ten gazillion cars out front, a big sign that read ESTATE SALE, and
one of those fly guy dancing things out front.
I decide this indeed must be the estate sale advertised. I enter the front door and notice the house
is full of big heavy furniture, much too big and heavy to fit in my little car,
so I peruse the multitude of books on a shelf.
I determined from the look of the house and the contents of the walk-in
closet, that a woman had lived in the house alone. There were no masculine accoutrements, or
where I come from acootermints, to be seen.
Her taste in clothing and furniture were different than mine so I moved
on to the kitchen where one of the estate sale clerks stood making sure no one
made off with the silverware or the 5000 bottles of vanilla extract. I made polite conversation with the woman who
seemed pleasant enough and told me how cute I looked, I told her it was my new
favorite outfit. I commented that the
owner must have been a single woman.
When I mentioned the owner of the merchandise the clerk immediately
genuflected and then spat “She was a WITCH!”
Well of course I was gob smacked.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“A Witch?” asked I.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“A WITCH!” she spat as she again made the sign of the cross.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Did she turn you into a newt?” I responded skeptically. (you see where I was going with this, right?)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What? A newt? NO!
Didn’t you see all those books on her book shelf?” the worker barked and
again crossed herself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I told her I had indeed seen the Edgar Cayce, <a href="http://marianne.com/" target="_blank">MarianneWilliamson</a> and <a href="http://thework.com/en" target="_blank">Byron Katie</a> books but told her that didn’t make the woman a
witch. It just made her
enlightened. Again the woman made the sign of the cross and
explained that there were <i>OTHER</i> books. She whispered
“books about harnessing the light and celebrating mother earth and the
Goddess Within.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I leaned over in a loud whisper “WELL I’M NOT BUYING THAT BIG SCREEN TV, SINCE
YOU SAID IT HAD A CURSE ON IT” and then walked out the door. I had planned to go back the next day and see
if the TV I wanted was still there at a reduced price because of, well, you
know, the curse. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Stay with me. I promise
this story is going somewhere. Maybe not
where you wanted it to go, but it is going somewhere.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4dkYnaSECQA2ahDDN8hwSN3olhB3ZOMo04ttVS3wNlac7gRcqUZpglsFjq7lODc-wOUemnva-JWOB49CurWXd7fd5_2G7nkmtYVek3u39dGmw59OaSgq2rE1AsSPQN54Y3UHZsBrAgw/s1600/IMG_0153.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4dkYnaSECQA2ahDDN8hwSN3olhB3ZOMo04ttVS3wNlac7gRcqUZpglsFjq7lODc-wOUemnva-JWOB49CurWXd7fd5_2G7nkmtYVek3u39dGmw59OaSgq2rE1AsSPQN54Y3UHZsBrAgw/s320/IMG_0153.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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I left the sale and headed
across town still 100% convinced I was the cutest fifty-something out on
the town. I headed to the used book
store where again I perused the shelves on a quest to reacquaint myself and my
granddaughter with Mr. Potter and the rest of the Hogwarts group. I was up and down and squatting and moving,
shifting and turning and finally found one of the Potter books for a dollar! A DOLLAR!
What a coup! I got in the car and
excitedly texted Tadpole. Then I
realized, I had bought the same book the day before. I had two of the same book! Oh well a grandmother can never have too many
Harry Potter books. The good thing was I still had on my favorite
jeans and I still looked cute. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmn-7GKVBMujjr5uX7Gguq5sYQ1PLuv6oi-zdHHUJYz5lYA_xYGMOP7bn_c-Yy4FqE22Xaeu5qMshe_3lVUUZfZ4dt_a5DmA2jqxGC1hjhltpb3u0hcE7WpXtoHAz3eqYbK6eHY2jxi7I/s1600/IMG_20160501_122624.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmn-7GKVBMujjr5uX7Gguq5sYQ1PLuv6oi-zdHHUJYz5lYA_xYGMOP7bn_c-Yy4FqE22Xaeu5qMshe_3lVUUZfZ4dt_a5DmA2jqxGC1hjhltpb3u0hcE7WpXtoHAz3eqYbK6eHY2jxi7I/s320/IMG_20160501_122624.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEDDkDWkSBmGXX4jxqOJy3GpIpjGyg30szgdEGHKQtKKGxZM0Hv5hrr_Gsxba4YQ-pxyGl9EO43MHoTvk6fzjWwBwVC0wJYbWH3qAlkj2hZgopCCVzMel44B62JI5ux9W1GCQF0hkQ4ao/s1600/20160427_112254.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEDDkDWkSBmGXX4jxqOJy3GpIpjGyg30szgdEGHKQtKKGxZM0Hv5hrr_Gsxba4YQ-pxyGl9EO43MHoTvk6fzjWwBwVC0wJYbWH3qAlkj2hZgopCCVzMel44B62JI5ux9W1GCQF0hkQ4ao/s320/20160427_112254.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i>Why don't they keep the covers consistent? </i></div>
</div>
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I entered the grocery and again there was much squatting and
stretching and reaching a kvetching as I pulled the gluten free macaroni from
the top shelf and fetched the dried chick peas from the bottom shelf. Have you ever wondered why they put the chick
peas on the bottom shelf? Is it because
no one really knows what to do with chick peas or in fact what they really
are. I finish my shopping and head to my
favorite cashier who always has a smile on her face and a sarcastic remark. She is my kind of happy. Anyway the first thing she did was comment on
how cute I look. I beamed with pride and
told her it is my new favorite outfit. </div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I carried my groceries to the car again bending and
stretching thinking how much I love my jeans that move with me. When I returned to the cart to the store a
really nice man was collecting money for homeless veterans and let me ask you
is there any better cause to contribute to?
I certainly think it is a very worthy cause. As I fished out my change from my purse the
nice man commented on how cute I looked.
I beamed and told him it was my new favorite outfit. I was feeling especially fashionable, I strutted like a super model back to my
car. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Back at home I unloaded the bags and deposited them on the
counter. Stretching, bending and
squatting I shelved the newly bought vittles and began cooking the evening
meal. I was still feeling especially
spiffy in the cutest outfit in the world, when Kahuna came home. He spun me around and gave me a kiss. He looked me up and down and said “That is a
really cute outfit, but did you know you have a big hole in your jeans?”<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I immediately took stock of my jeans “where?” I cried.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Right here motioning to the ass of my jeans. The whole right cheek of my jeans was
completely gone. I am not talking about
a little pinhole or even one of those new holes that really isn’t a hole cause
it’s got material underneath but looks like you’ve worn the ass out of your
jeans. I am talking the right down to
your drawers hole. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had gone all over town with my ass hanging out all
day. Maybe that estate sale was cursed
or maybe that was why I found the jeans at Goodwill.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-73206700714351635802016-04-25T22:36:00.003-07:002016-04-26T07:14:25.168-07:00A Platform on Which to Stand<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiflilpkutviWzs8CkjFhQZF3HIdttreVzat_jaAwzyP-L8XRpENvFzHTPujg1GTBWp8MiNdOnbVPzftEFThpvwFuxF3WG2utjvrjfsKb23UBO0hCdBXDdugxJ5w8P19uRjYp4MKs06abi0/s1600/nice9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiflilpkutviWzs8CkjFhQZF3HIdttreVzat_jaAwzyP-L8XRpENvFzHTPujg1GTBWp8MiNdOnbVPzftEFThpvwFuxF3WG2utjvrjfsKb23UBO0hCdBXDdugxJ5w8P19uRjYp4MKs06abi0/s1600/nice9.jpg" width="275" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Gladys leapt from the bed and made her way to the closet she
shared with Matilda. Being the little
sister she often got her older sister’s hand-me downs, but not her shoes. Matilda was a good four sizes bigger than her
foot wise. No she wasn’t four foot taller
but wore a size eight and a-half where Gladys had a little foot and barely wore
a size five. She was diminutive. Not in personality or energy but in
stature. Gladys and Matilda would talk
their older brother Buck into driving them to the most fashionable store in
town, Grigsby’s Rag Doll, that’s where Matilda’s clothes were purchased.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://scontent-lax3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc3/v/t1.0-0/q83/p296x100/998539_620167568013788_3755436_n.jpg?oh=3ad38ef9a53fa818da305a1f190cbb96&oe=57A2C85C" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://scontent-lax3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc3/v/t1.0-0/q83/p296x100/998539_620167568013788_3755436_n.jpg?oh=3ad38ef9a53fa818da305a1f190cbb96&oe=57A2C85C" width="240" /></a></div>
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The Rag Doll was where all the cool girls shopped. It was upbeat and smelled like leather and
<a href="http://www.drpepper.com/en?gclid=Cj0KEQjwo_y4BRD0nMnfoqqnxtEBEiQAWdA12zIhcBttg4h89tYSvQWDHFMeSHOGtnKjcPhg_9ncRtAaAs5Y8P8HAQ" target="_blank">Dr. Pepper</a>. The sales clerks were
cheerleaders and in Gladys’ eyes rivaled New York models that landed on the
cover of <a href="http://www.seventeen.com/" target="_blank">Seventeen</a>. She would paw
through the racks wishing something in the store would fit her, but it never
did. Matilda on the other hand could
find a skirt or a top that was just perfect.
She would ask the clerk to put it on “hold” and then we would go home to
beg Nurse Meme to go buy it next payday.
Matilda would use logic on Nurse Meme.
She would tell her what a good deal it was and of course she would share
it with Gladys when she got big enough to wear it. Gladys would agree and nod along with the
argument Matilda made as to why said item was a good purchase. Not thinking that she might be 50 before it
would fit her. It didn’t matter, someday
she would get to wear whatever it was that was the need of the moment. Gladys would argue that it was for both of
them, that they needed said item or they would simply die of embarrassment for
wearing the same old shirt, sweater, dress etc.
even though she rarely if ever got to wear the item.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPpNpG0qLpddAmifOq0qjb-fw5Qa-skHicG4EyytHt53Ot-l397SVkWGZg2TeVF_mPxiirVommpTm6-yQc4YD9de4yPVlZekBtu-exwSm_riXJWipbWbsC7xWSVVfY7u9-hNDuJWjc21w/s1600/chris+15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPpNpG0qLpddAmifOq0qjb-fw5Qa-skHicG4EyytHt53Ot-l397SVkWGZg2TeVF_mPxiirVommpTm6-yQc4YD9de4yPVlZekBtu-exwSm_riXJWipbWbsC7xWSVVfY7u9-hNDuJWjc21w/s320/chris+15.jpg" width="233" /></a></div>
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This cool spring morning when Gladys made her way to the
shared closet she didn’t see the green K-mart skort with the matching yellow
top or the Kenny’s sandals she saw the cute outfits that were not her size. There was no Marsha Brady jumper with the
polyester wide lapel blouse hanging there, at least not in Gladys’ size. She could live with that. She could live with the homemade bell bottom
pants Nurse Meme made her because the store didn’t sell them in her size. She was used to things not fitting. She would watch with envy as Matilda pulled
on her Dacron blouse and her polyester pants carefully choosing a sweater vest
to coordinate the pieces. She would
spray her Straw Hat cologne and then carefully apply her Maybelline mascara carefully
separating each eyelash with a safety pin to get just the right starburst
effect on her blue eye shadowed eyes. She copied and imitated each movement of her
older sister, trying to achieve that same look. She would look at her unruly hair and compare
it to the perfectly straight hair of her sister with just the right amount of
curl on the ends. How did she do
it? So perfect all of the time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgS2CjJvOWs43UoXy2om3gfJSYArJlz4pW4Yz3XMoZPvlEjQ6ne7Bhyphenhyphen-lXz8qUoaU7874iR2EU9MrTdlD3T8hCb0FlUPQ022WCIL8sI46KefJdIKrc8DPaoqOuU_d7bNrsgLWXk8DS17c/s1600/Chris%252C+Chuck%252C+Taco+and+Bee1970.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgS2CjJvOWs43UoXy2om3gfJSYArJlz4pW4Yz3XMoZPvlEjQ6ne7Bhyphenhyphen-lXz8qUoaU7874iR2EU9MrTdlD3T8hCb0FlUPQ022WCIL8sI46KefJdIKrc8DPaoqOuU_d7bNrsgLWXk8DS17c/s320/Chris%252C+Chuck%252C+Taco+and+Bee1970.jpg" width="280" /></a></div>
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She could live with all of that. She could live with the fact that her sister
was athletic, pretty and popular. She
could live with the fact that she could wear clothes from the cool stores. She could even live with the fact that her
sister was cheerleader material. What
she couldn’t live with was that her sister had a pair of Baretrap sandals. They were all the rage. Matilda had gotten a pair of Moxie’s and a pair of blue suede lace up shoes that
perfectly matched a blue velvet dress she wore to a banquet and though envious
Gladys was okay with that. It was the
Baretraps that did her in. Those brown
three buckle wooden souled platform sandals the thing Gladys coveted. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So on that spring morning when she went to the closet she
didn’t see the plain old little girl sandals waiting for her but instead saw
the Holy Grail of shoes. She sat on the
floor and slid her foot onto the cool wood sole and pulled the ankle strap as
taught around her ankle as possible she grabbed the door handle and pulled
herself up onto the shoes. She stood a
little straighter and a whole lot taller perched on top of the platforms. She felt as if she were at the top of Mount
Olympus. She stood there in her shorty
pajamas with her hair sticking up all over her head and decided she was going
to borrow her sisters shoes and wear them to school. She turned to tell her sister and promptly
fell off of her platforms and right on to the floor. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
She landed with a thud which cause Matilda to stir from her
place on the bed. “What are you doing”
she yelled at Gladys. “Nothing” Gladys
replied and again she stood and shoving her feet as far into the shoes as she
could without sliding out the bottom she tried to walk toward the
bathroom. She took one step, then
repositioned her foot back into the shoe and then tried to take another. She was able to take two steps then three and
then she hit the floor again. She didn’t
try to get back up this time. Instead
she removed the shoes from her feet and threw them at the closet. Frustrated and jealous she stormed into the
bathroom to get ready for school. In her
mind all she could thing was <i>dumb old
shoes. I didn’t want to wear them
anyway. Now I have to wear my stupid
little girl shoes. I’m never gonna be
cool. I’m never gonna be glamorous like
Matilda.</i> <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Matilda appeared in the bathroom door “did you throw my
shoes” she asked as she bent to brush her teeth. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes” snapped Gladys in reply<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Matilda turned mouth foaming and cinnamon odor of Close-up
toothpaste filling the room and said “well before you walk in someone else’s shoes
you better make sure they fit.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gladys learned a lesson that day and many times
thereafter. It isn’t always as glamorous
as you think it’s going to be to walk in someone else’s shoes and that if the
shoe doesn’t fit, it isn’t the shoe for you.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-6880075424509553462016-04-14T09:10:00.002-07:002016-04-14T12:21:30.292-07:00Would You Rather?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Remember playing that game Would You Rather as a kid? You know the one. Would you rather eat a bug or touch a
snake? Would you rather walk on hot
coals or pet a snake? I would choose
whatever didn’t have to do with being in the vicinity of the snake. I have a phobia of snakes and would rather set
my hair on fire than see, be around or especially touch a snake. My friends and family always made sure to put
snakes in the rather because they know how I feel about snakes. I mean really I understand snakes are a
necessary evil. We would be overwhelmed
with rodents if it weren’t for snakes. I
get it. They serve a valuable purpose
but please just let them do it far away from me. I digress.
This is not about snakes, or rats or even being a kid. This is about Would You Rather.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq9fPbYKLP4I8DjnkG7koMA7SQ7TwHOzpj8HgJmRtUj1iIyYZcjV9NgLkU6PNO2VdtIITfOdqcu0nPOKESToBpVC7x-VaIDmeHCq38pVQcCHxpZfzZwhriUgnx0Aa9GQ-J5BJYvyaEtBA/s1600/Red-Diamond-Rattlesnake_0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq9fPbYKLP4I8DjnkG7koMA7SQ7TwHOzpj8HgJmRtUj1iIyYZcjV9NgLkU6PNO2VdtIITfOdqcu0nPOKESToBpVC7x-VaIDmeHCq38pVQcCHxpZfzZwhriUgnx0Aa9GQ-J5BJYvyaEtBA/s320/Red-Diamond-Rattlesnake_0.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I have an <a href="https://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/000816.htm" target="_blank">autoimmune disord</a>er. I won’t go into details other
than I’ve had it most of my adult life and yes it’s a real illness. I won’t call it a disease because that sounds
icky and curable. It is one of those
illnesses that you can’t see. I don’t
walk with a limp or have huge sores all over my body. It is invisible. Believe me, just because you can’t see it
doesn’t mean it isn’t there. It causes
extreme fatigue. The kind of<a href="http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/chronic-fatigue-syndrome/basics/definition/con-20022009" target="_blank"> fatigue</a>
that makes you feel like all your energy just ran out your toes and spilled
into a puddle on the ground. You want to
bend over, gather it up and put it back in your body but you can’t because you
are just too damned exhausted. Your body
aches like you’ve been on a three day drunk and you are trying to sober
up. It is as if you have the worst case
of flu you’ve ever had times one thousand.<br />
<br />
You don’t always know when it will flare but you can bet it will be at a
most inopportune time. Standing in the
check -out line at Target you will feel a wave of exhaustion and then you are
unsure of whether you can make it to the cashier before your body gives
completely out and you will need to be carried out like a sack of potatoes. Those of us who are experienced at this know
the only thing to do is apologize to those around and abandon your cart and
head for your car, where you sit until you can gather the energy to drive
home. You leave a contrail of your
energy as you go. Sadly with your energy
so goes your cognitive abilities which means you must concentrate very hard on
driving which drains more energy. It is
a vicious cycle the more you concentrate the more energy is expelled and the
more energy you expel the more fog you create in your brain. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
During these flares you tend to play the Would You Rather
game. Only instead of would you rather
ride an elephant or swim with stingrays or some fun activity you play would you
rather take a shower or make breakfast.
You only have energy for one activity and you make these choices based
on where you are in life. You
rationalize <i>I took a shower two days ago,
so I can make breakfast today. </i> Or you tell yourself <i>I ate yesterday so I can shower today.</i> Yes, really.
You are really that fatigued. You play this game with yourself all day
long. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I say fatigued
because fatigue is different than being tired.
<a href="http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/chronic-fatigue-syndrome/basics/definition/con-20022009" target="_blank">Fatigue</a> is wanting to do and go and be but you physically are unable to
muster the energy. Tired is from lack of
sleep, or exertion. The kicker is you
are tired because you don’t sleep. The
fatigue keeps you from sleeping which feeds the exhaustion which exacerbates
the fatigue. Not only are you fatiqued but you are tired and exhausted which makes your fatigue much worse. This is a feeling that is deep in your bones
and consumes your soul. You try to read
a book or watch a movie but you can’t follow the plot because it takes too much
energy. It is not depression or laziness
it is fatigue. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
What’s your Would You Rather have an <a href="http://www.lupus.org/answers/entry/what-is-lupus?gclid=CjwKEAjw_7y4BRDykp3Hjqyt_y0SJACome3Tu3d5Qe-2EyU8wkR6HlB6F1Y4S2DB7p80nQTTbMpqexoCVXLw_wcB" target="_blank">autoimmune disease </a>or
pet a snake? Hand me that snake. <o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8575611281212353750.post-8115536683535877462016-04-06T21:02:00.003-07:002016-04-06T21:02:56.406-07:00The Professional<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
The doorbell rang and I checked the peep hole. Outside stood a non-descript man in a ball
cap and sunglasses. I had second
thoughts about opening the door. I knew
what this man was. He was a killer plain
and simple. I sucked in my breath
unlatched the deadbolt and opened the door.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He said nothing just stood there with me looking at my
reflection in the mirrored glasses. Then
he cleared his throat and said “Are you Gladys?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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Nervously I nodded the affirmative as I looked up and down
the street to see if my neighbors were watching. “He’s over here” and motioned for him to
follow me. We entered the side yard and
I closed the gate behind us again scanning the street. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The man in the mirrored glasses chewed on a straw as we
quietly walked to the back patio. I
motioned for him to be quiet and I put a finger up to my ear “Can you hear
him?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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The man nodded the affirmative and crept the rest of the way
around the house to the back patio. I
stayed back not wanting to watch what was about to take place. Yes I had contacted him, but I really didn’t
have a choice. It’s amazing what people
advertise on Craigslist. It was
difficult making the call but I knew my relationship wasn’t going to work. I knew that he had to go. The dogs didn’t like him and if they were
younger they would have chased him down and killed him themselves. I had tried to do the deed. A little poison here and there, but I was
afraid it wouldn’t kill him and then where would I be? Besides what if one of the dogs got the
poison and not him? So I had called a
professional killer. There I admit
it. <o:p></o:p></div>
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It was so quiet. What
was the killer doing? Had he already
finished? I couldn’t stand it anymore so
I snuck around the side of the house. There he stood on the hill above the patio his
weapon of choice perched above the bastard waiting for him to make his
move. He stood waiting for what seemed
like a lifetime and then he relaxed and made his way down the hill. “Ms. Gladys that ain’t just one gopher you’ve
got here. That is a whole gopher
village. I’m going to have to treat the
whole yard. This might take a while but
we guarantee complete eradication.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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Yes I am now an accomplice to a gopher massacre, but I’m
alright with it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">Great green globs of greasy, grimy gopher guts,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">Mutilated monkey meat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">Dirty little birdie feet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">French fried eyeballs swimming in a pool of blood<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">And me without my spoon<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Gladyshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04871936987053625828noreply@blogger.com0