Gladys Tells All

Gladys Has Coxiellosis of the Blowhole

2011-12-14T07:54:00.000-08:00

I’ll admit it; I’m a little bit neurotic with a touch of paranoia added to a scosh of hypochondria. Now I know that is hard for those who know me to believe but it’s true. I like to think of it as having symptom empathy for my fellow medically challenged humans, oh and animals too.

You see I have always been a little, as my Granddad would say, puny. In my defense, when my fellow 1st graders filed out into the play yard I was the runt. They were all robust healthy 6 year olds and I was half their size, pale, skinny, buck teethed and big eared. It continued to be that way my whole school years. Why even my first day of junior high school gym class Coach Perris thought I was lost and thought I was some elementary school kid dropped off at the wrong school.

Just the fact that I was small and thin made other’s think that I was unhealthy. I would hear things like “oh, my! Are you alright? Can I get you some water, a doctor or perhaps a pint of 0 negative?” I of course would begin to believe that I was dying of some mysterious illness. It didn’t help that I was highly impressionable and imaginative also my mother was a nurse and I had access to medical journals. A typical morning before school would go something like this:

Momma, I’m sick and can’t go to school today.

Really Gladys? What is wrong now?

Well, I have green snot coming out of my nose and my head hurts. Oh and I have a tingling on my tongue.

Oh really? Well maybe you just need to blow your nose and get dressed.

Oh NO! I think I have coxiellosis of the blowhole and that is terribly contagious.

You have what? You don’t have a blowhole. That is a disease a whale would get. Whales have blowholes.

Well, I did read Moby Dick last week.

I would have multiple days of multiple symptoms of deadly diseases to which Nurse Meme would always answer “pull up your big girl panties and go school.”

I tell you all of this to tell you I am convinced I have a brain eating amoeba. I know this because I use a netti pot. I use a netti pot and I have been using tap water.

I know this because I use a netti pot with tap water and I read this article yesterday, Amoeba Netti Pots Prove Deadly. See now you are wondering if you have a brain eating amoeba too aren’t you?

Gladys Reelz in Reality

2011-11-27T08:44:00.000-08:00

Lately for some unknown reason I have been watching more television than normal. Maybe it’s the fact that the sun sets at noon or perhaps it is because I need the distraction. I don’t really have a good excuse I just am. I do have to say that my choice of television fare has been a little, unique.

I am usually a Turner Classic Movie kind of girl. Oh you know what I’m saying I watch Father’s Little Dividend or It Happened One Night even though I’ve seen them a bazillion times and can recite the dialogue line for line. Lately, though, I have been indulging in the equivalent of television fast food.

I am addicted to watching the gold mining, ice road driving, crab fishing, oil drilling, hog hunting, alligator wrestling, dirty job working heroes that are all over Discover, History Channel and A & E. Not to mention those guys out in Vegas buying our treasures, the two guys who dig through barns and of course we can’t leave out Rick who rebuilds it all. Oh don’t think I’ve forgotten the Storage Bin Bidders, YUUUUUUUP, I watch them too.

I know what Chum Lee bought and where Mike and Frank found that really cool whirly gig.

I do have favorites and feel especially sad when their season ends. I look forward to watching Jack, Todd and the Alaska Gold Rush gang run around totally clueless trying to extract that precious metal from the frozen tundra only to be foiled again. I mark my calendar to remind me when Troy, Elizabeth and the crew will be in the swamps of Louisiana. I do have to admit they also can be very frustrating.

Who doesn’t want to remove that wad of snot from Jack’s throat on Gold Rush so that he doesn’t have to talk through his nose? Oh and I want to just tell everyone that as a native Texan I do not need subtitles when I talk to people. Honestly, Mr. Campbell from American Hoggers can you not remove that wad of Redman so we can understand what you are saying.

This does not even include my biggest question are these people really this stupid? Do they not plan things out? Do they not research and get advice before venturing off into the wilds of Alaska or sail off into the frozen seas? I sit and yell instructions at the television as if Hugh and Rick can hear me yelling that the ice on the lake is too thin don’t chance it or for Frank and Mike to look in the corner of the old warehouse because there is a Sinclair Sign in perfect condition.

Yes this is how I spend my days and nights checking in on my favorite REAL Reality Stars. I don’t know who this Snookie person is or why there is a Situation. I don’t really care what the Kardashian family is up to or who is in celebrity rehab. I want to know if the Pawn Stars guys bought a deal or a dud. I want to watch Barry and Jarrod stick it to Dave, Yuuuup.

Francis, A Tribute

2011-11-14T19:48:00.000-08:00

When the phone rang I almost didn’t answer it. I saw Trooper Bob’s name on the caller i.d. but I knew this time it wouldn’t be one of our normal calls. It was the news that was inevitable but not at all what I wanted to hear.

You see with that call I knew she was gone. I knew that that part of my heart was going to have to break and that I would have to be an adult and accept the fact that she had gone to the big swimming hole in the sky.

Most of my memories of her are around water. She, being one of the greatest ladies I’ve ever known, loved the water. Even though she couldn’t swim she would shimmy into her swimsuit and strap on her life-vest. She would grab my little hand and bellow her boisterous laugh “come on Gladys let’s get wet!” Off she would run with me down to the lake not to be confused with a tank and make a big splash. She would grab me and her youngest son, John-John, and drag us down to the water to splash and float and play. Encouraging us to explore and be brave.

My earliest memory of her involved a hot summer day and nectar served in a glass jar. I think I may have been three or maybe four when she offered me a mason jar full of a golden substance that tasted nothing like anything I had before. Nurse Meme made sweet tea, but hers did not taste like the cold liquid gold she poured. I was convinced it was the jar that made the tea taste so good. She laughed and told me of course it was all the while smiling out the window admiring her water softener.

Mostly I remember the freedom of her home. I remember sitting cutting out flowers and horses in the middle of her living room creating a mess that would have never been allowed in my own home. She urged creativity, she encouraged imagination and she didn’t mind the mess it made. Her words were encouraging and uplifting and when you needed to be brought to reality she did it with love and compassion.

She was my family, my kin, a part of my heart. She would wrap you in a hug that would make your sadness disappear and make you laugh until your face hurt. She will forever be in my memories and my blood. She was my Aunt Francis and I will miss her dearly and remember her fondly, yet somehow I know she will always be with me. I will forever hear that full-bodied belly laugh and feel her joy in my heart.

Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.

It's Been Awhile

2011-11-11T10:03:00.000-08:00

The text conversation went something like this.

Gladys: What are you wearing tonight? I’m trying to figure out how to transition from wedding to club

Lola: Me too. I’m starting out in plain black dress right now.

Gladys: Well, I’m behind the camera so I’m not sure how dressed up I’ll be.

Silence, for a very long period of time.

Gladys: You still haven’t told me what to wear to the hip disco.

Lola: Wear whatever you want. I’m probably just going to wear my black dress.

Gladys: So I take it by my lingo you can’t tell I haven’t been to a night club in a while. Do they still do the Hustle?

Silence

Anyone have a jumpsuit and some platform shoes I can borrow?

Gladys Got Hope

2011-11-04T21:28:00.000-07:00

Gladys looked at herself in the mirror one last time not actually knowing what a golf cart driver should look like but she was as close as she was going to get. She straightened her pink Izod polo shirt, smoothed her golf skirt and tied her sweater around her neck as she headed out the door.

Her mentor and employer had requested that she, Gladys P. McGuillicutty, escort the celebrity guest through the celebrity golf tournament. He had entrusted her with the auspicious duty of escorted one of her all time favorite and most revered movie stars around the golf course.

She pointed her little sports car towards the country club so nervous she shifted into second gear twice. She slowed at the entrance and read the banner “Celebrity Golf Tournament” along with a list of minor celebrities and then in large letters the name of THE celebrity. Her heart pounded just thinking she was actually going to meet one of her idols.

She drove up the tree lined lane breathing in the smells of early spring and admiring the finely manicured lawn. She arrived at the stately columned building and checked her make-up in the mirror. Smiling she handed her keys to the valet and grabbed her tote-bag full of goodies. “Where are the golf tournament people meeting” she asked as she skipped up the steps to the main building.

The valet stopped just as he was about to squeeze himself into the small cockpit of the car. “Are you a golfer or a helper?”

“Oh, I’m supposed to escort the main celebrity around the golf course” she said with importance.

The young man smiled a knowing smile “oh….well, in that case you need to go around to the back and they will have a VIP cart for you.”

Gladys took a deep breath said her thank you’s and ran back down the steps to the back of the main building. She heard some mumblings and as she got closer saw a group of young people in khaki pants and green jackets. Gladys looked down at her white golf skirt and fidgeted a little.

“Hi, I’m here to, um…” she stopped when she realized all the green coats turned to stare. She started again “I’m here to um, drive for um…”

“Oh, you must be Gladys, yes I have your name right here. You are to take the Rolls cart. You do know how to drive a cart don’t you?”

She cleared her throat “of course. I mean I guess so, it’s just like a car right?”

A few chuckles ran through the crowd and the man with the clip board walked toward Gladys “I’ll show you where the Rolls is parked.” He put his hand on her shoulder and maneuvered her toward a small building with garage doors. As he rolled up the door he quietly said “you put your foot on the accelerator to go and take it off to stop. It’s electric so just go slow and you will be fine.” The sun caught the front of a small vehicle designed to look like a Silver Cloud Rolls Royce.

Her breath caught in her throat as he walked up to the vehicle. She would be spending all day with one of her favorite celebrities in this carriage. It would be just the two of them alone together. She placed the bag in cart and looked at the man with the clipboard. “Where do I go now?”

The man looked at his paperwork and then back at Gladys “they didn’t tell you that you were supposed to dress in Khaki did they? I guess it’s ok just make sure you wear your name tag” as he handed her a sticker with Gladass printed on it.

She didn’t care, she was just so excited. She climbed into the driver’s seat and tried to familiarize herself with the cart. She stomped her foot down on the pedal as the little vehicle lurched forward with force knocking Mr. Clipboard off to the side. Instinctively she took her foot off the pedal and the cart came to a halt.

“Well it looks like you have the gist of it. So now go round front and pick up your guest. You will then need to proceed to the first tee.” He limped off cursing and mumbling.

She gently pushed down on the accelerator and maneuvered the red Rolls around the main building and up to the front door where the covey of dignitaries were gathered. She tried to slowly roll up to the group but jerkily stopped and started until she inched her way forward.

Then she saw him standing in the center of the crowd. He was unmistakable. His profile was like none other. Her heart skipped a beat. There he stood wearing plaid knickers, a bright yellow sweater and a cap with a tassel on top. He turned and their eyes met. He smiled his classic smile and started down the steps toward the cart. She jumped from the cart and ran around to grab his bag only it was bigger and heavier than she. He stopped and said “Oh no I’ll carry this…” then he leaned toward her, so close she could smell his shampoo “Glad-ass?”

That was how Gladys met the one and only Bob Hope.

Her Not So Storybook Life - The Book

2011-09-29T20:54:00.000-07:00

Twitter oh how I love you, let me count the ways in 140 characters. No really I love twitter. I don’ know why, I just do. So today I get a tweet from Mabel’s House.

Okay, so I didn’t know who Mabel was before today or that she even had a house. Today however not only was I introduced to her but I was invited to read an excerpt of her new book. I was so excited I almost peed myself. Which I guess if you think about it is a lot better than peeing someone else. I digress.

So I read the clip from My (not so) Storybook Life by Elizabeth Owen. I loved it. I lived it. No really I lived the same situation she wrote about. I was there with her holding my breath, praying for fresh air and trying to keep the poopacalypse from seeping into every aspect of my being.

Ms Owen did a wonderful job and I can’t wait to read the rest of her not so Storybook life as soon as it is available. You need to too.

My Found Day

2011-09-13T11:03:00.000-07:00

Not to seem ungrateful to all of you who have sent me birthday wishes but I feel compelled to correct you. Today is my “found” day. You see I was not born but instead my family unit found me under a rock many many years ago. No really go read about it here. I'll wait. http://gladysspeaks.blogspot.com/2009/01/found-under-rock.html

Now you may recall from my earlier post about it that I might have been left by a circus that not-so-accidently moved on without me. This theory has long been Matilda’s explanation of my coming to reside with her family. You see for her it was the only way to confirm my enormous Dumbo like ears, brillo pad hair and my buck teeth.

Her theory lies in that I was in fact the love child of two circus freak performers and as such I was so hideous that even they didn’t want me. Trooper Bob and Nurse Meme being the giving loving people they were overlooked my hideousness and instead graciously took me into their home.

Matilda believed that they had in fact done this so that she would have someone to whom she could hand over her chores. Thus giving her more time in which she could separate her eyelashes and stroke her beautiful Marsha Brady hair.

Buck on the other hand was convinced that I had been left by an alien space craft which had unfortunately crashed upon the site. The alien baby seeking shelter crawled under the rock because it was similar to the conditions of its home planet.

In his theory there was a meteor which hurdled toward the earth burning and turning. It hit the earth’s atmosphere and much like Superman the meteoric like craft came crashing into an open expanse of desert. He tried to prove this theory by using me as his private laboratory specimen. I of course have had a fear of being struck by meteor’s my whole life not to mention I won’t go near kryptonite. Unfortunately the only “super” power I can report to is the ability to talk a person to death.

No really I can. I truly believe one of the reasons I have never been taken hostage is because terrorist take one look at me and say “No Fred, don’t take her. She will kill us with her words. Too many words.” Then like Dick Van Patton in High Anxiety they would be found dead on the ground with blood oozing from their orifices. I digress.

I believe I was explaining to you all that while “birth day” is appropriate for most normal humans, it does not relate to me. You see I am not a normal human. I am in fact the girl who was found under the rock. The anomaly, the mystery, the enigma of a being who never seemed to fit. I tried to talk like everyone else, walk like everyone else and even dress like everyone else. When Matilda got Farah Fawcett hair, I immediately went out and tried to replicate that but instead looked more like Gilda Radnor’s rendition of Roseanne RoseannaDanna.

When Buck excelled in math and science I too tried to understand the Pythagorean theorem but mistakenly understood that it had something to do with Pythons and I’m deathly afraid of snakes.

The whole point of this is to tell you thank you for celebrating my Found Day with me. You see every year on my Found Day I look in the mirror and celebrate the fact that I am. I don’t care that I was found under a rock. With each year I progress and learn to love my Dumbo ears and my Melissa Gilbert overbite.

Each year I age I accept the fact that I’m never going to be Stephen Hawking or Albert Einstein. I instead take the day of my Finding to celebrate me.

So are your ears bleeding yet?

The Winter's In Bloom

2011-09-08T21:37:00.000-07:00

A couple of months ago Simon and Shuster sent me a request to review a book. I’ve been unusually busy lolling about and being lazy and really hadn’t given it another thought. One day last week Kahuna looked at me with that look in his eye and whispered those loving words in my ear “Surf’s up!” I of course instantly grabbed my beach bag and bikini, yes I still wear a bikini it may not be pretty but I still wear one, and headed out the door. I did pause long enough to grab The Winter’s in Bloom by Lisa Tucker.

I read this story with the waves crashing and the sea gulls squalling but was oblivious to anything but Ms. Tucker’s story of a young woman’s strife and life as an abandoned child.

The story begins with a young over protected boy and the world in which he lives with two highly smothering parents. Michael, the boy, relates his world of making sure he made his parents feel safe about him being safe, but was he safe? He was beginning to believe he had made a huge mistake going with the nice lady.

The story winds and twists telling each character’s insecurities, feelings of guilt and reaction to the little boy whose has mysteriously gone missing. Each person has their suspicion as to who has taken him. Each character then must deal with the skeletons in their respective closets and try and figure out how they and their past played a part in Michael’s disappearance.

I loved this book because it is much more than a mystery it also gives us a glimpse of what many in our society wrestle with every day. We all have feelings of abandonment and loneliness. Ms Tucker really delves into how it affects her characters and the fears we create because of those feelings. It made me stop and think about how many of my fears are based on my perception of events and not on truths.

Ms. Tucker kept me turning pages and wanting to know how this family could and would work through this horrific event. She did so beautifully with the right tempo and beat only revealing the facts as they were needed.

I recommend The Winter’s in Bloom by Lisa Tucker which is scheduled for release on September 13, 2011. Download it on your Nook, Kindle or Ipad or go all wild and old school and pick up the hard copy at your local bookstore. You will be glad you did.

Bridge Over Troubled Waters

2011-08-08T15:10:00.000-07:00

I’ve been absent but I have a doctor’s excuse. What do you mean that Witch Doctor’s don’t count? I think he counts. I believe everything he tells me otherwise I might end up a shrunken head.

Why is it always heads why don’t they shrink butts? Now that would be a VERY successful Witch Doctor, especially in L.A. No I haven’t been sick, just off. I can’t explain it other than life has been getting in the way of my writing. I had a little time and thought I would check in on my friends over at Theme Thursday and guess what? This week’s theme is Bridges. Wouldn’t you know, I just happen to have a story about a bridge.

Gladys held on to the steering wheel tightly as she drove over the bridge. She tried to concentrate on just what was in front of her but her eyes kept being pulled to the guard rail. She had to know, she had to see, it was an obsession, a sickness of sorts. The car drifted toward the edge, as she slowed on the crest of bridge she craned her neck toward the precipice and tried to look past the concrete barrier and tall railing.

Cars blared their horns behind her and she thought she might have heard a explitive or two but she just couldn’t force herself to go any faster or even for that matter drive at all. She was frozen in time and place as she took in the depth and breadth of the sight just over the edge. Her stomach knotted and her breath came quick as she peered at the sparkling ocean far below her.

Honk, honk, bleeeeeeeep came from her fellow motorist shaking her from her state of catatonia. She looked down and realized the little blue hatchback had slowed to 10 miles per hour. She looked in her rear view mirror and saw a man exiting his vehicle and heading her way. Why was he walking? Why was he headed toward her car?

Gladys looked around and realized everyone on the bridge was looking at her. The opposing lanes were even slowing down and starring at her. She tried to down shift the little Hyundai Excel into 2nd gear but it bogged down and sputtered and died. She began rolling backwards down the steep incline of the bridge.

She jammed on the brakes and tried to get the little car going in the right direction. She knew how to drive a stick shift and wasn’t intimidated by hills but this was different. She ground the transmission into first gear and hit the starter. The little car sputter to life and jumped forward coughed and died.

Gladys sucked in a deep breath and tried again. The little car’s engine revved as she gave it all the gas she could as she tried to ease out on the clutch and move on over the bridge, but the water kept distracting her causing her to pop the clutch and die. Finally she caught the gear and moved on up the bridge to begin the descent into Coronado just in time to hear on the radio that a stalled car on the Coronado Bridge had caused a traffic jam all the way up the 5 freeway.

Gladys smiled as she eased onto Coronado Island. All of that because she never crosses a bridge that she because doesn’t look to see if there is water underneath.

The Soul Sucker

2011-07-19T22:21:00.000-07:00

Gladys sat in the feel good place listening to the sounds of the beauty around her. She sat peaceful, safe and happy in this place just as it was meant to be. The angel woman fluttered in and floated out of the space delivering unto those who visited love and beauty. She watched as one by one they came from the feel good place glowing and shining.

Gladys sat listening to the conversation between the two women. She watched as one woman wailed and the other listened patiently. Gladys looked up from her notes and noticed something odd about the wailing woman. She was black. Not African American or even covered in soot, there was a blackness surrounding her. Gladys automatically thought of the Charles Schultz character PigPen and how when he walked he brought this cloud of dirt with him. That is how this woman was, a cloud of blackness.

Gladys had always heard how others could clearly see auras and energy. It wasn’t that she wasn’t capable or didn’t believe but she had just never experienced one so pronounced. This was the thickest darkest aura she had experienced and it was overbearing.

She cried and wailed as the angel with the open heart listened and consoled. Gladys watched the scene play out and felt ever more constricted. The wailing woman continued with her plight of woe, something about money and shut of utilities, as she talked the ominous black cloud around her thickened and swirled filling up the space consuming all the air.

Gladys felt herself gasping for air as her chest compressed with the weight of the blackness. She felt the hair on her neck start to rise and the need to run was great within her. She watched as the two women walked from the room. The oppression lessened as the dark cloud moved away from her. Gladys wanted to run after the angel woman and rescue her but knew that there was nothing she could do to save her from the soul sucker. Gladys pulled within herself and felt her shoulders draw in.

Gladys waited in guarded anticipation, knowing that soon the soul sucker would again emerge from the depths of the feel good place. She hoped the soul sucker had not robbed the peace and tranquility from the feel good place but knew that it would not be the same until the black energy was gone and the space was cleansed. It made her sad and she decided to make sure before anyone else entered the space she would cleanse it. She took a deep breath and tasted the vile aroma of the darkness she left in her wake. Yes, she would cleanse this space.

The angel appeared with the soul sucker and brought her in front of Gladys. The soul sucker then turned toward Gladys and began spewing and spitting her darkness. Gladys pulled into herself and protected her heart from the darkness. She watched as the angel guided the soul sucker from the room and guided her out the door. The soul sucker wailing and keening left the feel good place.

Only after the soul sucker left and the angel returned was Gladys able to rid herself and that of the angel of the caliginous.

This Shark Swallow You Whole

2011-07-17T07:17:00.000-07:00

The waves crashed into the shore under a beautiful blue sky, the salt air sprayed gently on their faces as they settled in for a relaxing day on the beach. Then out of the mist came the monster (cue music from Jaws) …..the land shark was on the move and parked right next to them. Then she spent the whole day talking non-stop and ruining the peace and quiet of the day.

Kahuna and I packed up our towels and slathered on our sun screen and headed out to the beach last week. I spent the day trying to read a book but instead ended up eavesdropping instead.

Overheard on the beach… “Oh I would get a part time job but I can’t, they would take away my unemployment and disability check. ” and we wonder why we have trillions in debt.

Overheard on the beach…Dad to son “keep trying to surf and maybe you will actually be better at something than your brother.” Gee Dad way to instill self-worth and confidence.

Overheard on the beach man to wife “you know this beach was voted dirtiest in the Country.” Wife to husband “only because you come here.”

Overheard on beach: Old surfer to young one “we were going to call and tell you we were coming but we didn’t want you to come.” UH?

Overheard on the Beach: 40’ish man to young surfer “My electricity got shut off yesterday, my mom said I had to get a job cause she wasn’t going to pay it anymore.” Young surfer to 40’ish man “bummer, I hope my mom doesn’t do that.” Wow both these guys sound like dating material.

And so ends another episode of Overheard on the beach. Gotta go now, I have my towel and my bag...you never know it might be Gladys sitting beside you on the beach pretending to read War and Peace.

Centuries Of June

2011-06-30T11:24:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago I was contacted by Crown Publishers to review Centuries of June by Keith Donohue. Although Mr. Donohue has published two other novels, The Stolen Child and Angels of Destruction, I was not familiar with him. I am always thrilled and excited to read new authors so I readily accepted.

It is difficult in this age of instant gratification and self publishing to find original and intriguing stories. You know how it is you pick up a book and start reading an instantly know you have read this story before except instead of Miami it was set in Milan and instead of the protagonist being Joe its Juan. Oh honestly I don’t blame the authors, especially if they are avid readers, it’s just a natural progress to begin incorporating other stories within your own. Not so with this story. He did incorporate other stories but he made them his own by entwining them into his own tale.

I began reading Centuries of June by Keith Donohue and immediately the movie began playing in my mind. I love it when an author can create a story so vivid I loose all sense of space and time and this is exactly what Mr. Donohue accomplished I had instantly cast each player as they appeared and I could see in my mind’s eye the whole scene play out.

A young man struck in the head and the 7 women who visit him through his stupefied state. The old man who protected and helped him through the journeys of his mind and who and what was he really? Each visit opened more questions with little resolve, each ghostly and beautiful visitor adding to the mystery as well as the question as to why our main character was bludgeoned in his own bathroom. The more you read the more you try to decipher who the old man is and why is he there, why are these women all trying to kill our poor architect and who is the woman asleep in the bed facing the wall.

Mr. Donohue’s writing style kept me turning the page and his story kept me enthralled. His dark humor and storytelling abilities kept me on the edge of my seat waiting for the punch-line. He took me into that cold tiled bathroom and then carried me from primeval forests of the pacific northwest through the gold rush and on into the early 20th century reminding me of the pain and suffering women have lived through to give me the freedoms I have today. More importantly he told the story of the man’s own insecurity and strife.

I thoroughly enjoyed my romp through the centuries with Mr. Donohue and his rough and primal ghosts. I highly recommend this to those with an adventurous spirit and an open mind. Oh and I have taken to looking behind me when I enter the bath.

Lola's Special Purpose

2011-06-26T22:24:00.000-07:00

Lola was bee-bopping to the radio when out of the blue they ran a contest to win tickets to go see Patti Stanger. Lola stopped what she was doing, picked up the phone and called. The contest gods were on her side and she was the 10th caller.

When Lola asked me if I wanted to go to see Patti Stanger with her the first thought in my head was “Why do I need a Millionaire Matchmaker?” Then the rational side of my brain took over and I thought “it’s not about YOU numbskull!” So I opened my mouth and out fell “Well of course.” Lola follows her heart and who am I to question that? I was honored that she asked me to attend this little soiree’ with her and figured whatever was supposed to happen would.

Those of you who read me on a regular basis know that I have a wonderful husband, Kahuna, who is priceless to me. So why would I, an old married lady, go see this Yenta to the rich and famous? My answer would have to be, because something in me said I needed to go. I didn’t know why I needed to go but I just knew that Lola would not have asked me to go if it were not for a reason.

I rushed home from work and changed my clothes, slipped on my cutest shoes and went to pick up Lola. We chatted on the way to the venue, but then again we chat no matter where we are. We arrived and as chance has it the Valet was full; but, as we pulled up they decided they could take 1 more car.

We made it into the Comedy Club, signed our waivers and were escorted to our seats. Lola fidgeted in her seat and wondered aloud why we could not move to the front row. A really nice man whispered to her “we seated you here so that you could go out the side door when you meet Patti.”

Wait? What? Meet UH? Lola raised her eyebrows, pursed her lips and mouthed “We get to meet Patti?” I shrugged sipped my glass of million dollar sparkling wine. Next thing we knew we were being ushered into the back room where we had our meet and greet with Patti. Who may I just take this opportunity to say is skinny, skinny, SKINNY. I digress.

We were escorted back to our table by the nice young man where our million dollar sparkling wine was waiting. Patti came out on stage and blew us all away. She gave some great advice, did some fun role playing, critique the flirting style of one man who committed one of her major no-no’s.

Patti asked if anyone in the audience was there to “put a ring on it”.

There was a couple center stage audiences who got pointed out. Patti pulled them on stage and she asked how long they had been together. She went through all the pertinent questions as to why they were co-habitating but not engaged and the young man stated that he couldn’t afford to buy his intended a ring.

Now if you have never watched Millionaire Matchmaker on Bravo, you really should. The way she handles people is a little blunt and brash but she definitely gets her point across. It isn’t all about hooking up with a millionaire, it is about being smart about how and who you date and finding the one you were intended to be with.

Let’s get back to the couple in the spotlight. Patti asked why he hadn’t bought her a ring and the young man’s answer was “because I can’t afford to buy her a diamond, and she deserves a diamond.” Patti explained that it didn’t have to be a diamond, it could be an emerald or a topaz that what mattered was the commitment.

They left the stage and Patti asked if there were more questions. That is when Lola jumped to her feet and held up her hand. “Patti, Patti” she cried “I will give them a ring if he will get down on his knee and ask her to marry him.” The next thing I knew Lola was on stage handing over the ring she has worn since the day I met her to a complete stranger. We all watched as the girl accepted the ring and the proposal. We watched as he slipped the ring on her finger and just like Prince Charming slid the glass slipper onto Cinderella’s foot it was a perfect fit.

Lola came and sat back down next to me smiled a huge smile picked up her champagne glass in a toast and said “now I know why I won the tickets.”

PS...Look for Lola on this season of Millionaire Matchmaker, she is the pixi in the hot pink shoes.

Her Name Was Lola...She Was A Showgirl

2011-06-23T22:26:00.000-07:00

You know how you meet someone and you hit it off? You have this karmic connection and you both know it, so you kind of hem-haw around and finally you write that note that says to check yes or no. Then you go around on pins and needles until you get the answer. Finally the note gets passed back to you. Anxiously you shakily unfold the tri-folded paper, open up the note and pray that it is marked yes.

There are always those few minutes, days or weeks where you are unsure if the other person feels the same way you do or if you are compatible.

There have only been a few times in my life when I have truly felt accepted and appreciated. When I met Lola of the Cabana it was synchronistic. I had recently moved to a new town after literally losing everything. I was feeling very much alone and lonely, because you know you can be in a crowd and still be lonely. By chance I was given a gift certificate to get a highlight and a haircut at a salon I had never before patronized and I called for an appointment.

I arrived at the salon for my appointment only to realize that the gift certificate had expired. I sheepishly apologized to the stylist. She looked at me smiled and said “it’s okay. You were supposed to meet me today.”

We began chatting and honestly haven’t stopped. I tell you this because I want to share her with you. She is my hair whisperer and my friend. She is also a fellow blogger. So please go over to So It Is with Lena and make it a regular stop. She will enlighten you with wisdom, make you laugh with her humor and impart love and advice. All you have to do is ask.

Oh and when you go…tell her Gladys sent you.

Hook Line and Sinker

2011-06-19T22:28:00.000-07:00

In honor of Father’s Day I thought I would share a new episode of the Trooper Bob Chronicles. I know it has been a while since I’ve had one but hey it has been a long time since I was able to sit down and squeeze a story out of the staid trooper.

It was last week whilst I was visiting with him that this story popped up in my head. I almost forgot about it but then just like a shooting star it flashed through my mind, and then it was gone. Luckily I awoke from a dream and the story popped back into my mind. This one if for you Trooper Bob, Happy Father’s Day.

Trooper Bob had worked all week writing tickets and saving damsels. He had herded a truck load of shook-up chickens off the interstate after the chicken truck had driven into the ditch and the fowl had gotten foul all over the road. It was finally his day off to do with as he wished. Nurse Meme was nursing sick people at the hospital and his lovely children were scattered to the winds doing what teenagers will do. Now was his chance to sneak off and do some fishing.

Trooper Bob went into the garage and under the discarded bicycles, skateboards and boxes of Barbies he uncovered his beloved tackle box. The one that his son, Buck, had to retrieve from the bottom of Lake Granite Shoals after he knocked it off the dock, open and full of brand new lures.

Bob loaded up his trusty white Ford F150 and headed out to his favorite honey hole. He arrived at the secluded little lake some 40 miles out of town and settled down with his tackle box, Zepco rod and reel and his bologna sandwich. He put his folding stool on the bank, tied his favorite Lindie lure to the line and cast it forth into the rippling pool. He sat down on his stool and took a bite from his bologna sandwich. He watched the trees bending in the breeze and the dragon flies flitting and fluttering above the water.

He felt the line go taut and grabbed the pole. He pulled back sharply to set the treble hook in the crappies mouth and began reeling it in. He reeled quickly toward himself and shore but failed to notice the big log resting just below the service. The clever crappie dove just as it hit the log and took the monofilament line with him. Trooper Bob sat his sandwich down on the wax paper wrapping and grabbed the rod with both hands to pull the feisty fish from under the log. He tugged and pulled and the more he did the more snagged the line became with the log. He jerked fast and hard and heard the all too familiar sound of the line snapping. He stepped back with the slack of the line and stepped on his sandwich. Trooper Bob let loose with a few expletives then sat down hard on his stool.

He looked at his ruined sandwich and sighed heavily. This wasn’t getting off to a good start he thought. He reached into his trusty tackle box and searched for another Lindie Lure. Not being successful he reached in to grab the golden shining treble hook from the box. His hand rested close to the stack of hooks and then he plucked a brand new one from its resting place. He tied it to his line and baited it with the worms from the dirt filled red Foldger’s Coffee can. He stood and cast it back out into the lake.

Bob sat and waited trying to enjoy his afternoon of freedom. He thought this was going to be a peaceful spring afternoon but the birds seemed to be a bit chirpier and the sun was a little too warm. He scooted his chair closer to the shade of the elm tree, checked his line and reached into his pouch of Redman chewing tobacco for a chew. He spat and chewed and sucked on the leaves and waited. As he began to relax he leaned against the tree and propped his feet up on his beloved tackle box. Just has his head started to loll down and to the side it happened. The line went taut and once again Bob jumped into action. He grabbed the pole and yanked hoping to miss the submerged log and land the fish.

Instead he pulled too hard and the hook exited the fish and flew straight back at the anxious angler. He raised his hands in an effort to protect himself from the glittering gold projectile. He ducked and weaved narrowly missing the projectile with his head but instinctively he instead grabbed for the line. He caught instead the hook in the webbing of the thenar space or what is normally called that area between your thumb and your pointer finger.

The hook wasn’t just stuck in the thenar space it was all the way through the webbing perfectly in the center. Bob swallowed forgetting that he had a wad of tobacco and felt a little light headed. He bent over and spat the rest of the tobacco juice out cussing and puking just a little. Then he sat back down on the stool and looked at his injury.

He reached into his tackle box and rooted out a pair of needle nose pliers. He pulled one way but the barb caught. Then he tried pulling the other way but the eye was too large. He tugged one way then the other but couldn’t budge it. He looked around at the secluded area and realized he only had one option.

On the drive back to town he dreaded what he was going to have to do. He went over it and over it in his mind and decided there was only one thing to do. He would just have to tell them about the one who got away.

Trooper Bob walked into the emergency room with his hand wrapped in his handkerchief. Nurse Goodgame met him at the door “what in the hell did you do this time” she asked hands on her wide starch white uniform clad hips.

Bob gave her his best sleepiest smile and replied “well I was out feeshing and me and this great big ole feesh got into a fight” holding up the hooked hand.

“Looks like the feesh done hooked you” she replied.

Trooper Bob thought a minute and replied “well you should have seen the size of that feesh!”

Safety First Gladys

2011-06-13T20:27:00.000-07:00

Gladys looked down at the stack of books on her desk and tried to listen as Mrs. Carter, her third grade teacher, instructed them what to do with their supplies. Gladys raised her hand and hopped up and down in her seat a little to make sure she would be seen.

“Mizzuss Carter, what are we supposed to do with this great big book? The one that won’t fit under our desk?” Gladys asked still hopping up in down in her chair.

Mrs. Carter reached over and picked up a large thick big book off her desk. She held it in both hands and declared “Class, and Gladys, this is the MOST important book in our stack. It is the one you will use the most. You will need to keep this book on your desk or under your desk at all times. So make sure you take great care when you apply your cover to your book. Write your name in LARGE printed letters on the front and back as well as our class room and your teacher.”

Gladys hefted the book in her hand and opened it to the middle. It looked well worn but pretty boring. She sighed shut the book and pushed it to the side of her desk. She looked around the room at her fellow pupils and saw that they too were nonplused by the bulky volume. She shrugged and took a piece of brown paper bag from her stack and began tightly wrapping the book. She took her blue green, lemon yellow, and magenta crayons and began designing her name in on the cover. She wrote out each letter in one color then outlined it in the next making sure that her name could be read while still having flair.

Mrs. Carter was groovy that way. She let them be artistic and let their creativity shine. She didn’t mind that Gladys drew horses on every piece of paper that was available or that she cut daisies out of construction paper like her cool older cousin Bird had taught her. All of her cousins were very artistic and creative. Gladys’ whole family was innovational. They were painters, writers, musicians, singers and creators. Gladys tried hard to immolate them. She knew she did not have their natural ability but that didn’t stop her she still tried. So she drew a few more flowers and then drew a horse eating the flowers for good measure.

The day wore on what with all the book covering and paste eating. Finally it was getting close to the end of the day when there was a squelch from the loud speaker the National Defense siren began to wail.

Mrs. Carter raced to the front of the room and announced sternly “Everyone, we will be exiting out the front door into the interior hallway of the main building next to the cafeteria. I want you to pick up your Social Studies Book, the big thick book under your desk, and bring it with you. Now we will start with the row the farthest from the door, quietly walk single file and do not stop on the way. Gladys, you need to make sure the room is clear since you are the last one on your row. Can you do that?”

Gladys stood up straight and tall and nodded in the affirmative. She furrowed her brow and watched as each of her classmates filed from the room. She shifted the large manuscript feeling it heavy in her hand. She walked to the door stepped out, then stepped back in and switched off the lights because her daddy taught her to always turn the light off when you leave the room. Ready Kilowatt didn’t like it when you wasted electricity.

She followed the snaking line of children pushing and laughing happy to be out of the classroom for even the few minutes that the emergency drill would take. Gladys looked up in the sky and noticed that it wasn’t the normal clear blue, nor was it even the gloomy grey that sometimes takes over the sunshine in September. It was instead a menacing green. The clouds churned overhead like a bubbling pot of stew. The air had a tinge of cold and the wind had started whirling and whipping.

She turned to see the wind catch the door of the portable classroom and nail it against the wall. It was blowing so hard that Gladys was glad she had the gigantic book in her hand to help weight her down.

She made it into the building in time to see Principal Ledbetter giving everyone instructions to huddle in the hallway and place their books on the back of their heads. Gladys fell in place next to her friend Esther and whispered “It looks bad out there. I think there might be a tornado.” As if on cue there was a loud clacking and banging on the roof of the building. They could see the lightening and the crack of thunder. A huge pop and poof the lights went out. Gladys cowered lower on the floor with the heavy weight of the book on her neck.

Mrs. Carter came and checked each student making sure they had their book on their head with their name and class visible. “Alright, class I want you to remain calm and quiet until we give the all clear.”

It seemed like an eternity that they crouched in the hallway but eventually the horn sounded and the announcement came to return to their classrooms. Once again everyone filed from the building and Gladys tailed behind. She was lost in her thoughts about what had just transpired.

Could it be that the only thing that stood between her and the torrent of Mother Nature’s turmoil was a binding of facts of faraway places? This large manuscript was her protector and benefactor. It was all so clear now. This is why they wrapped it tightly. This is why they wrote their names on it. It clearly had magic powers that protected her from anything bad. She knew then that she must possess one of her own to carry with her always.

That is why to this day Gladys still owns a very large manuscript with facts of faraway places as protection against all of life’s ills.

Gladys Reviews How To Write a Book Proposal

2011-06-05T15:48:00.000-07:00

I have a dream, a dream that someday… Oh wait, wrong dream. My dream is to someday be published. I know, you say “Gladys you are published. You are on the World Wide Web and that is published.” I mean published as in have a manuscript lingering on the New York Times Bestseller’s list for 50 bazillion months.

I decided to be proactive and do my research. Thomas Nelson publishing gave me the opportunity to review Michael Larsen’s How to Write a Book Proposal and I of course jumped on it.

I waited anxiously for the arrival of the text. When it arrived in the mail I tore into it like a fat chick into Oreo’s. I began ravenously devouring the years of knowledge Mr. Larsen has in the literary world.

He explained the basics of the proposal as well as infusing his text with stories from submittals he has seen both good and bad. He writes with a flow that keeps the work both interesting and absorbable.

He explains the importance of titles as well as what you can do to market your manuscript. He takes you all the way through from how to bring your idea to fruition to submitting your proposal. He includes examples of proposals and ideas for making your work rise above the fray.

Although Mr. Larsen’s book was aimed at the non-fiction genre it seems to be just as viable for the fiction world. I am excited to recommend this to other aspiring novelists who are struggling to get the perfect proposal sent to the best publisher for their work.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze®.com book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

I AM And So Are You

2011-05-28T21:16:00.000-07:00

Kahuna had been after me for weeks. “Oh come on, you know you want to. I promise you’ll like it” he would cajole. I would shrug and reply “maybe.”

He persisted day after day, week after week until I finally gave in. I stripped off my yoga pants and stood in there in my nothingness looking at him with the disgusted look of a woman who was being made to remove her favorite sweats, kick off her favorite slippers and put on real clothes to go out into public.

I donned my “mom” jeans and slipped on a sweater and fluffed my hair. Kahuna grabbed my hand and drug me to the car. We were off in a run to L.A. We drove up the freeway talking about our destination. What did it mean, what was it about?

We arrived at the theater, paid our matinee senior citizen discounted fare and stumbled through the dim theater to a couple of seats in the middle, not too close where our necks would break but close enough we could see without straining.

The film Kahuna had been itching to see was “I Am” by Tom Shaydac. Don’t know who he is? Ever heard of the movie “Ace Ventura” or “Liar, Liar”? How about “Evan Almighty” or “The Nutty Professor”? Yeah, that guy, but not that kind of movie. Just so you know, if you don’t know who he is don’t feel bad neither did Bishop Desmond Tutu.

Mr. Shaydac had an accident which resulted in a concussion that caused him chronic and intense pain. It was through his feeling of helplessness and hopelessness that he found a new passion. He had a moment of clarity. He grabbed a 4 man crew and set out on a mission to research and document this epiphany. He meets and interviews a variety of remarkable people including scientist, philosophers academics, and men of faith such as David Suzuki, Noam Chomsky, Howard Zinn, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, Lynne McTaggart, Ray Anderson, John Francis, Coleman Barks, and Marc Ian Barasch. Shaydac asks these great thinkers the question what is wrong with this world and what can we do about it.

The result is a life-affirming film that challenges our preconceptions about science, religion, spirituality and the irrepressible human spirit. It reminds us that what we do not only effects us but everyone. It tells us that we are truly not alone.

I am so glad that I shucked off my yoga togs and donned my city clothes. I highly recommend this film for anyone who asks themselves the hard questions. “When you ask what is wrong with this world, the answer is I AM”.

Gladys McGuillicutty and the FBI

2011-05-16T20:19:00.000-07:00

I got this in my email today and I am so thankful to know the Federal Bureau of Investigation is on the job!

Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI)
Anti-Terrorist And Monitory Crime Division.
Federal Bureau Of Investigation.
J.Edgar.Hoover Building Washington Dc
Customers Service Hours / Monday To Saturday
Office Hours Monday To Saturday:

Dear Beneficiary,

Series of meetings have been held over the past 7 months with the secretary general of the United Nations Organization. It is obvious that you have not received your fund which is to the tune of $850,000.00 due to past corrupt Governmental Officials who almost held the fund to themselves for their selfish reason and some individuals who have taken advantage of your fund all in an attempt to swindle your fund, which has led to so many losses from your end and unnecessary delay in the receipt of your fund.

The National Central Bureau of Interpol enhanced by the United Nations and Federal Bureau of Investigation have successfully passed a mandate to the current president of Nigeria to boost the exercise of clearing all foreign debts owed you, and other individuals and organizations who have been found not to have receive their Contract Sum, Lottery/Gambling, Inheritance and the likes. Now how would you like to receive your payment? because we have two method of payment which is by Check or by ATM card.

ATM Card: We will be issuing you a custom pin based ATM card which you will use to withdraw up to $3,000 per day from any ATM machine that has the MasterCard Logo on it and the card has to be renewed in 3 years time which is 2014. Also, with the ATM card you will be able to transfer your funds to your local bank account. The ATM card comes with a manual to enlighten you about how to use it. Even if you do not have a bank account.

Check: To be deposited in your bank for it to be cleared within three working days. Your payment would be sent to you via any of your preferred option and would be mailed to you via UPS. Because we have signed a contract with UPS which should expire by MAY 14 2011. You will only need to pay $155 instead of $540 saving you $385 So if you pay before MAY 14 2011, you save $385.

Note You are advised to stop all communication with every other person if you have been in contact with any. We guarantee the successful delivery within 24hrs after the receipt of payment has been confirmed.

Below are few list of tracking numbers you can track from UPS website www.ups.com to confirm people like you who have received their payment successfully.

R. BLALOCK 1ZA 3274 W034 013 5717 www.ups.com

A. FONTANEZ 1Z 57V 268 03 4707 4975 www.ups.com

T. ANDERS 1Z 57V 268 03 4865 0322 www.ups.com

To effect the release of your fund valued at $850,000.00 you are advised to contact our correspondent in Africa the delivery officer Mr. Danny Brown with the information below,
Name of Agent: Danny Brown
Email: steve.bahie1@info.lt

Payment should be made by westernunion using the following info:

Receiver: Danny Brown
Location: Lagos-Nigeria
Text Question: Color
Text Answer: Brown

You are adviced to contact him with the informations as stated below:

Your full Name..

Your Address:...

Home/Cell Phone:...

Preferred Payment Method ( ATM / Cashier Check )

Upon receipt of payment the delivery officer will ensure that your package is sent within 24 working hours. Because we are so sure of everything we are giving you a 100% money back guarantee if you do not receive payment/package within the next 24hrs after you have made the payment for shipping.

Yours sincerely,

Miss Donna Story

FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION
UNITED STATES DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE
WASHINGTON, D.C. 20535

Note: Do disregard any email you get from any impostors or offices claiming to be in possession of your ATM CARD, you are hereby advice only to be in contact with Mr. Danny Brown of the ATM CARD CENTRE who is the rightful person to deal with in regards to your ATM CARD PAYMENT and forward any emails you get from impostors to this office so we could act upon and commence investigation

Don’t you love the safety disclaimer at the end?

I am so excited that the FBI is finally taking care of those Nigerian Prince scammers and that Agent Donna Story has quite a story. I have been sending them money for years and never receive anything in return. I also have not seen the my inheritance from Jacabson Brown Esq. nor has the Bank of China. Here I have been funding my funds by sending them funds to fund the funding of the funds.

Sorry I can’t tally, I must hurry down to Western Union and send the FBI my money for my ATM card.

Sleeping Beauty

2011-05-05T17:50:00.000-07:00

It has been awhile since I’ve joined in the Theme Thursday blog fair. I saw this and of course it brought back a story. I thought I’d share this one with you about Sleep.

Gladys woke with a start and rubbed her eyes. “Was I asleep” she asked Kahuna. He nodded and rearranged his arm shaking it a bit when he did.

How could she have let this happen? She hadn’t felt well but had agreed to see him anyway. She had rushed home showered and primped. She dressed in her cutest top and fluffed her hair. She gargled with warm salt water trying to stave off the sore throat then drank a double espresso to keep her exhaustion at bay. She had worked close to 60 hours that week not to mention had crammed in a 2300 mile round trip for a court hearing. But he was such a nice man and had been such a gentleman on their first date several weeks back.

Gladys had been single for quite some time and her last endeavor into a relationship had ended catastrophically to say the least. Her daddy had told her that her picker was broke and boy was he right. Every man she had chosen had been a really bad choice. They were either lazy, a cheat, mean, or just downright dastardly or all of the above. Kahuna seemed different.

He actually seemed to be the answer to a prayer if you didn’t count the fact that he was a movie talker. He was attentive without being clingy; he was kind and sweet without being weak, he was available and best of all he had a great sense of humor. So she made an exception to her newest rule of not dating.

They sat close together watching the movie, his arm around her shoulder. Gladys watched as the plot unfolded and her eyes got heavy. She watched as Leonardo DiCaprio flew the Spruce Goose.

She tried to watch but something happened and her eyes closed. The next thing she knew it was the ending credits and she had been out cold for almost 3 hours. She had fallen asleep and had laid her head in her date’s lap at the local movie theater. She was mortified. If that wasn’t bad enough she had drooled. She had drooled all over this nice man’s pants. Oh she had not just exuded a little spittle. Oh no, she had emitted enough saliva to over flow the banks of the Mississippi. She wanted to die. She prayed that the roof would open up and that GAWD would smite her right there in the local Edward’s Cinema.

Kahuna shook his arm again and dabbed at his soaked dungarees with a napkin “do you feel better now?”

“I am so sorry I fell asleep on you. I didn’t mean to. I mean I know you know I didn’t mean to. What I meant was I wouldn’t have accepted the date had I known I was that exhausted.” Gladys wiped the spittle from her cheek and chin and tried to put her now disheveled hair back into some semblance of order.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you had a good sleep.”

Gladys reached in her purse and pulled out her wallet “Please let me pay you for my ticket. I mean how rude of me to allow you to pay for my ticket and then, well, you know.”

Kahuna held up his and “Nope it was well worth the money. I mean I can’t tell you the last time I spent three hours watching a movie with a woman asleep on my lap.”

Gladys was awfully embarrassed by the whole scenario and headed toward the exit. “Thank you so much for asking me out. I really do appreciate, um, well you know, your not being upset.”

Kahuna smiled “how could I be upset with someone who made them turn the volume up because she snored so loud?”

That was it Gladys searched her purse for a knife, a letter opener, anything so that she could slit her wrist right then and there.

Gladys Gets Ready

2011-04-28T17:35:00.000-07:00

I am just beside myself. Wait if I’m beside myself does that make me bi-polar or multi-personality disorder? Either way I’ve been running around like a chicken with my head chopped off, which if you have ever seen you know is quite messy. What with blood spurting here and feathers flying there. I digress.

Oh I know I should have been better prepared. I should have planned in advance. I should have, but I didn’t. Then I took Nurse Meme day off and flounced around all day and got nothing done. Well nothing except went to Wal*Mart. That brings me to another side track. I believe we need more rules in this country. One of which is if you are going to make me pick dog poop up off of your dirt then you should be made to pick your child’s poop up off the Wal*Mart bathroom floor. I think that is a good rule.

I know about now you are looking at your computer and screaming out “WHAT? GLADYS DID WHAT? WHERE?” Well let me first share this little story and then I’ll get back to my other little story. I went to the Squal, um I mean Wal*Mart yesterday to pick up some of those cool little tooth picks that have the stringy thing on them that lets you floss your teeth without having to unhinge your jaw to get to your back teeth. It kind of surprises me that they have them at our Wal*Mart seeing as most of the people in our Walmart don’t have back teeth, come to think of it they don’t have front ones either. I have been suffering from a little bout of e-coli that was produced from eating tainted Jenny-O turkey burgers. This puts me in a precarious situation since the effects of it will hit me in the most obnoxious way at the most inopportune times. I was standing in the aisle when all of a sudden old Mr. E-Coli decides to do a number on me and I rush for the bathroom. Well in true Wal*Mart style the one closest to me had a big yellow cart parked in front of it with the words “OUT OF ORDER”. I pointed at that cart and shouted “Out of order! YOU’RE OUT OF ORDER”. Then I promptly turned around and high tailed it, so to speak, to the back of the store where I hoped and prayed the other restroom would not be having a judgmental moment.

I found the door to be free of blockage and ran for a stall. I settled on the first open door and began my germ blockage regimen. When I bent to place the ass gasket on the stool I noticed something on the floor not quite in my stall. I looked a bit closer and realized it was 3 small child sized turds on the floor. YES, I said TURDS as in more than one on the FLOOR. I ran for another stall and finally found one open and was able to find one that was turdless.

I was washing my hands when I spied a Wal*Mart employee drying her hands and so I said “Excuse me, but someone has relieved themselves on the floor in stall number 2. Shouldn’t someone come clean that up?” Becky, I know her name was Becky because it said so on her Wal*Mart name tag, replied “That doesn’t surprise me.” Then she went back to checking her passion pink lipstick and fluffing up her 1980’s over-permed mullet. I stood in disbelief and asked “aren’t you going to do something or tell someone?” Do you know what Becky the Wal*Mart employee said? She said “Nope.”

Well I trotted my little self right on up to the customer service desk and I demanded that they de-turd the restroom for the health and safety of the other Wal*Mart patrons. Then I told them exactly what I told you. I told them there should be a sign just like the sign in the park. You know the one that shows the person picking up dog poop, only with them picking up kid poop. You know what Youlanda, the Wal*Mart customer service lady and I know that was her name and what she did because it was on her name tag, said to me? She said “WHO DOES THAT?” My thoughts exactly. Now where was I?

Oh Yeah, me being schizophrenic or Catherine Zeta Jones or whatever. I have been working feverishly all day today. Why you ask? Well because it is the day before the Royal Wedding and I am just not prepared. I spent my morning getting the house all dusted and shined. I waxed the tables and cleaned the glass. I have been on the phone for hours looking for canopies. I called all around and they all said the same thing that I should get an Easy-UP. I keep telling people that I want little individual cakes and crackers with crab dip on them but for some reason they tell me it won’t be shady enough.

I ironed my outfit and gathered my pearls. I found my hankies and polished my tiara.

Then as I was walking around my kitchen talking to Omar the Tent maker about setting up some awnings and tables I realized my silver had not been shined.

Well this started another feverish flourish in the house of McGuillicutty.

I promptly began wiping and polishing and polishing and wiping which made me realize that I did not have a decent tin of tea in the house nor did I have any scones, biscuits or curd anywhere around.

What am I to do? I mean the wedding is tomorrow morning at 3 a.m. my time.

I was in a panic until I realized that no one in the house of McGuillicutty cared about the whole Royal fiasco but me. I just hope no one leaves turds in the restroom floor of Westminster Abby.

Gladys Quotes Nurse Meme

2011-04-20T18:59:00.000-07:00

It is April which means it is spring, which means there are pollen and mold spores and all kinds of floaty fleety things in the air. It happens every year and every year it takes me by surprise. I wake with puffy eyes, running nose and a raspy voice that sounds like I have drank a few too many whiskeys and smoked ten too many cigarettes even though I haven’t. It is also the birth month of Nurse Meme.

I thought about this one morning when I woke way too early. I wondered what I could do to celebrate and commemorate my mother. I decided that I would each day post on my Twitter @gladysspeaks one of my mother’s sayings. Now some are original and some are bastardizations of clichés but all of them came out of her mouth at one time or another.

Nurse Meme could deadpan better than anyone I’ve ever known, but she was loud and clear when she was being serious. She would preface this fact with “I’m NOT LAUGHING” which would be preceded by either y full name complete with my first, middle and last name or with “young lady”.

One day when I was a young woman, oh shut up I was young…once, I was having a particularly bad day. My boyfriend was being an ass, my dog was sick and my clutch had gone out on my car and I thought it was the end of the world. I was sitting at the kitchen table having myself a real nice pity party. Nurse Meme came into the kitchen and took one look at me and shook her head “Gladys, what the hell is your problem?” I looked up from my cup of coffee and whined “my life is just terrible. I’m so tired of things going wrong all the time.” Nurse Meme got a pained look on her face and replied “Oh for cryin out loud! Pull your big girl panties up and get over yourself!” That was it. That was all she wrote. I was done for. I started laughing and couldn’t stop. She had totally nailed me. She was good at that. Now I know her intent was to basically tell me to knock it off but it was the way she told me to knock it off that made the difference.

If the art of being blunt was gold, Nurse Meme would have been 24 karat. She could see you the first time in 2 years and immediately note out loud that you had gained 5 pounds and exactly where they were situated. The conversation would go something like this. “Earlene, why I haven’t seen you in 2 years. How are you? Howsyourmommandthem? Has your sisters hair grown back in after the bbq explosion? I told your dumbass brother-in-law that kerosene isn’t a very good choice of charcoal lighter. You know I think I’ve had him through the Eemerg-incy room 5 or 6 times this year. Well gurl you are looking good. You know it looks like you have put on a pound or five, right there round your hips. Oh now don’t go pulling that little short top down tryin to hide it. It looks real good with those low slung pants. You got one of them, what is it the kids call it? Muffin top? Well now you make sure you tell yourmommaandthem I said HI.” Then she would sashay off with her hair and make up in perfect order, her jeans freshly starched and pressed waving bye and never once batting an eye that she might have crossed a line. She said what she thought. She was blunt.

I loved that about her and wish that I too could be that blunt. So in memory of Nurse Meme I am posting my collection of Nurse Memeisms

"If you keep eating like that your ass is going to be as broad as an ax handle.". Nurse Meme

"You can get happy in those same panties you got mad in" Nurse Meme

"If everyone else were jumping off a bridge would you jump too? If you would then you're as big a dumb ass as they are" Nurse Meme

"There isn't any thing that a little Camphonphenique won't cure." Nurse Meme

"If you don't have something nice to say, then shut the hell up!" Nurse Meme

"Don't sh*t where you eat" Nurse Meme

"Don't cry over spilled milk, get off your ass and wipe it up." Nurse Meme

"Can't never could do anything" Nurse Meme

"Just put on more lipstick, you'll feel better." Nurse Meme

"If you lie down with dogs, you're gonna get up with fleas and you'll smell like a dog" Nurse Meme

Now go on and eat your veggies because there are starving children in China who would just love to have your brussel sprouts.

Gladys Has Western Union Man Thoughts

2011-04-15T18:25:00.000-07:00

Here it is Friday again. Can you believe it? I mean it seems like it was just Sunday and Donald Trump was telling Mark What-his-name that he was fired and telling crazy Gary Busey that he needed to straighten up. REALLY Donald? Busey straighten up? He is crazier than Bugs Bunny on crack. Did you not watch Celebrity REHAB?

Mrs. 4's over at Half Past Kissing Time Hosts Friday Fragments. Go on over and check out the wandering wonderings of her crew, but only after you have read mine.

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I am so excited to tell you all that I will be making a trip to the South Pacific soon as I just got notified of a huge windfall. See below.

From: Western Union® Money Transfer [mailto:melgamal@eri.sci.eg]

Sent: Friday, April 15, 2011 12:16 PM

To: undisclosed-recipients:

Subject:

Please be informed that you have $250,000.00 Lodged in our Western Union outlet to be transferred to you as a Compensation. Contact Western Union Office.

Mr. Richard Quest.

Aren’t I just the luckiest girl in the world? I mean I actually have $250,000 LODGED in their Western Union Outlet.
What exactly is it lodged between? What outlet would that be, an electrical outlet?

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On another note do you think that Mr. Richard Quest might be kin to my old flame Johnny Quest? And Bandit?

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This correspondence brings me to another point on which I ponder. Do you remember in the old black and white movies the Western Union person would come to your house and deliver a cablegram? Do they bring you money with a money transfer? But more importantly do they wear the hat?

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As you know it is Easter time which means only one thing. Yes Cadbury eggs. You see when Jesus died on the cross and they put him in the tomb then a Giant Chicken in Bunny Ears placed the egg in front of the tomb. Therefore we celebrate by eating a giant Cadbury Egg.

What do you mean that's not how the story goes?

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Now tell me truly do you remember when you didn’t dare go to church on Easter Sunday unless your shoes matched your purse and your hat and gloves were white? Oh and shopping for that Easter dress was an event? Or if you are of the male persuasion you got a new tie?

Oh so you’re old too?

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Okay that is it for this week. I’m off to enjoy the beautiful spring sunshine and wait for the Western Union Man to deliver my big wad of cash.

Oh and I know I'm a week early for Easter but who says I won't have more next week?

Now go on and be good to one another and remember thoughts become things...think good ones.

Just The Facts 4-4-2011

2011-04-07T17:37:00.000-07:00

I have been remiss in report the goings on in the Flathead Valley.

There are a million stories in the city.

Dum-dah-dum…dum-dah-de-dum-de-dum.

"The story you are about to hear is true; only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.")

The Flathead Beacon:

Police Blotter for the week ending 4-4-2010

A sampling of crime briefs from the Kalispell Police and Flathead County Sheriff’s reports…by Christie Burns (comments by Gladys)

Wednesday 3/23/2011

7:20 a.m. A woman “screaming at the top of her lungs” could be heard over an open line to 911. A Kalispell man was arrested for assault after biting and hitting the woman.

This would explain the screaming at the top of her lungs.

4:52 p.m. A Hungry Horse girl reported that her 15-year-old brother pushed her into a mud puddle then rode away on his bike.
You can call the police for that? REALLY? Man I would have kept the PD busy with Buck’s shinnanagins
5:22 p.m. A Martin City woman threatened to “gut” some people during a phone call..
Gut? Not just stick a shive in but to gut them? Wow!

3:07 a.m. A Martin City woman said she found some bruises on her body from two days ago.
Maybe it was from all that gutting she was doing.

Monday 3/28/2011

8:15 a.m. A man on Ridgewood Drive believes someone stole his identification and is collecting his unemployment.
How did that happen? I mean do you just walk into the unemployment office and throw down McLovin’s I.D. and say “give me my check”?

8:22 a.m. A Kila man was upset that someone had dumped a couch in his driveway. He also complained about a lack of green box sites and talked the about government conspiracies.
Yes, it is the great Couch Conspiriacy. What? You haven’t heard of it? Yes it has to do with a grassy knoll, the CIA and the Mafia and Mel Gibson.
10:44 a.m. A home on Brook Drive was toilet papered and egged sometime last week. Also, Feces was left on the front door step.
I don’t understand. They obviously had plenty of T.P. why leave it on the door step?

5:50 p.m. A Columbia Falls man reported that he slapped his wife.
Was he feeling guilty so he called or was he trying to beat her to it?

3:45 a.m. A man on West Reserve Drive complained about his neighbor’s excessively loud sexual activity. She was advised to quiet down.
Well that is embarrassing.
Tuesday 3/29/2011

10:20 a.m. A woman on Wettington Drive claimed her ex-boyfriend threw a tantrum and trashed her house during an argument over a neighbor. He was calm and putting away misplaced items when deputies arrived.
Well at least he picked up after himself.
1:54 p.m. A man on Kings Loop thinks someone stole a little bit of his firewood while he was moving. He hid the rest of the wood for the remainder of the move.
Where would you hide fire wood?
2:57 p.m. A stray dog took over a valley resident’s doghouse. The stray was taken by the animal warden to a bigger better dog house on Cemetery Road.

Would that make him a dog squatter?
7:09 p.m. An unfamiliar man was seen squatting and smoking a cigarette in the yard of an elderly couple’s peach house. Deputies found that the squatter was someone visiting the residents.
Was he sent to a bigger better house to squat on Cemetary road too?

Wednesday 3/30/2011

8:01 a.m. Someone in a silver Lexus on Highway 93 reportedly drove really fast, honked the horn then showed someone their middle finger.
Sounds like someone up there knows California sign language.
10:17 a.m. There is talk of litter on Goat Trail in Whitefish.
Was it the Goats talking of it?

8:21 p.m. Someone on Foothill Drive said a suspicious but clean-cut man tried to sell them meat out of his truck.

Yes I’m usually suspicious of men trying to sell me meat.
9:25 p.m. According to spectators, a Hungry Horse man ripped off his shirt then pushed a woman to the ground. She got up and punched him. The two left the scene on foot, beer cans in hand.
Was it the Hulk and Wonderwoman?

2:57 a.m. Someone reported a drunken person recklessly driving round and round the roundabout.
Well if they weren’t drunk before they will be now.
Thursday 3/31/2011
12:39 a.m. Someone tattled on the driver of an 80s Camaro who “squealed” their tires at a stop sign on Third Street West.

Dude! It’s a 1980’s Camaro, it can’t help but squeal its tires.
1:06 a.m. A Martin City woman believes a weird kid down the street called and told her she would die if she crossed the street. She also said that grownups have been throwing things at her house and the two incidents may be related.
Just another confirmation of that conspiriacy theory.
Sunday 4/3/2011
8:40 a.m. A Hungry Horse woman reported that her drunken ex-husband violated their parenting plan when he called the night prior and asked what kind of panties she was wearing.
Just exactly what kind of parenting plan would that be?
10:24 a.m. A small poodle wearing a red sweater ran away from its home on Smoke Ridge in Kila last night.
At least he was dressed warmly.

10:45 a.m. A truckload of wood was stolen from a home in Hungry Horse.
They should have hidden it.
3:01 p.m. A Kila woman said her ex-husband yelled at their daughter and made her cry. He then took away some of her stuff.

I didn’t realize Alec Baldwin’s ex lived in Montana.
10:30 p.m. A woman on Park Street reported that her 15-year-old daughter hit her and may have bitten her. At the time of the call she was trashing her room.
Just because your daughter is mean to you is no reason to trash her room

Now go on and be careful out there.

Gladys is a Rambler

2011-04-03T18:32:00.000-07:00

I don’t know if I have shared this with you but I’m old. No really I am. I am old as in I get mail regularly from AARP and my insurance wants me to take an updated driver’s program in order to qualify for a discount. I’m not shy about the fact that I’m old I’m just, well a bit disappointed it happened so fast.

One minute I’m young and hip; okay I was never hip, but I was young. The next minute I turn around and I’m a grandmother. Now don’t get me wrong I don’t mind being a grandmother. As a matter of fact I always said I would rather be a grandmother than a mother. What’s not to love about being a grandmother? You get to spoil the kid, love all up on them, buy them very loud messy toys and then when their diaper is dirty; you just hand them back to their parents. Yes, grand-parenting is the sweet life. The only problem is you have to be old, well older, to be one.

I guess you could be like my friend Betsy Sue whose grandmother was only 30 years old when she was born. See it went like this. Her grandmother was 15 when she had Letty, Betsy Sue’s mom, and Letty was 15 when she had Betsy Sue and then Betsy Sue had Wanda Kay when she was 15. So Wanda Kay’s great grandmother Ida May was only 45. What can I say, they came from the shinery.

So technically I don’t guess you have to be OLD per say but OLDER.

Okay where did I loose you? Did I loose you at the fact that this family who came from the shinery had baby girls every 15 years or are you scratching your head at what the heck a shinery (pronounced shein-er-ee) is?

Let me break this down for you. Where I grew up there are fields of these short little nothing mesquite trees that are only shin high. It is flat and scrubby with little or no character, unlike the people who live there, and is a pain in the rear-end to walk or ride horses through. That is what the shinery is. Now then as far as my friend goes you try and figure out her family tree, because I’m old and too tired to.

Now what was I saying? Oh yeah, that I like being a grandmother. I really do and that is funny because I’m really not good with kids. There is all that whining and crying and fit throwing then their parents come and take them away to make me stop.

I really love it when they are really little and sweet and they still have that baby smell. I like it when they are all cuddles and smiles and laughter and play. Yep that is what makes being a grandmother fun!

Gladys Wears Liz Taylor

2011-03-25T11:35:00.000-07:00

Little Gladys watched the movie intently on the 13” black and white Zenith portable television. She was home sick with the flu and Nurse Meme had moved her brother’s small television close to the bed so she could watch Captain Kangaroo. Gladys liked Captain Kangaroo but she liked the Mid-day Movie Matinee better.

She loved watching the old movies. She didn’t always understand the plots, the sub-plots, the twists, the conflicts or the protagonist and antagonist delineations but she always understood their clothes. She loved that beautiful Grace Kelly would dress down and be ugly with Bing Crosby in The Country Girl then turn right around and dress in haute couture in Rear Window.

Gladys would watch these movies and vow to herself that one day she would dress in just those fashions. She would watch as Elizabeth Taylor paraded around in gorgeous gowns and beautiful dresses with jewels dripping from her ears, fingers and neck. Gladys would wind pieces of wire and string around her fingers and fashion earrings from paper clips. She would make shiny silver chains from gum wrappers and wrap old curtains, blankets or sheets in toga style. She was a fashion maven. She would pile her hair high on her head, slip into an old pair of Nurse Meme’s heels and transform herself into Helen from The Last Time I Saw Paris

or Jean in The Girl Who Had Everything.

Gladys saw it from the door. She knew it had to be hers. She made her way past the faded bell bottom jeans and on past the racks of “Keep On Trucking” tee shirts. She carefully lifted it from the rack and ran the material between her fingers. It was gold and shiny with big dangling ornaments hanging from the belt. It was perfect. She looked around the little vintage clothing store and made eye contact with a beautifully coiffed woman. “Would you like to try it on” the woman asked.

Gladys fingered the cloth and nodded her head. The woman showed her to the dressing room and settled her in. “You know, I have it on good authority that this came from a sale of Elizabeth Taylor’s clothing.” Gladys’ heart stopped. The room dimmed and the dressed gleamed like the Holy Grail. Gladys in fact thought she might have heard angels sing.

She carefully lowered the zipper. She felt the silky lining of the heavy dress. She slid it gently over her head and pulled it into place. She smoothed the gold jacquard over her stomach and thighs and reached around to secure the zipper.

She turned to see herself in the mirror and gasped. It was gorgeous and fit like a glove, well almost. She fastened the belt and wiggled out into the store to see how she looked in the three way mirror. She turned left and then right and imagined herself at a big Hollywood premier standing on the red carpet waving to her adoring fans. She waves and the fans cheer then another limousine pulls to the curb and an embarrassed Liz steps out into the limelight. “Oh GLADYS! I am so sorry I have the same dress on as you. I will go change immediately” Liz humbly effuses. Gladys smiles and puts her arm around poor embarrassed Liz and replies “Oh, Liz! I don’t mind. Imitation is the most sincere form of flattery.”

Liz puts her hand on Gladys shoulder and says “how does it feel?” Gladys realized it wasn’t Liz but the sales clerk. Gladys blushed “it feels great! Was it really hers? I mean Ms. Taylor’s dress?” The clerk reached around and fastened a hook “that is what I was told when I purchased it. You see I purchase from many of the Hollywood elite. Sometimes I get called by their assistants and I will buy the whole lot for one price. This was a really good lot.”

Gladys turned and glanced at the back of the dress. “Do you think she wore it when she was married to Eddie Fisher?” The clerk reached over on a rack and produced a pair of big gold earrings, “here try these on. I think it would have been more the first Richard Burton era.” Gladys looked in the mirror once again and knew the dress had to be hers. “I’ll take it!” she shouted, then more softly “you do take Discover don’t you?”

The saleslady smiled “of course I do. I’ll meet you at the register.” She started to walk away then turned “you do realize of course I can’t authenticate that it belonged to Ms. Taylor.”

Gladys shook her head in acknowledgment then retreated to the dressing room. She took one more look at the dress in the mirror and then began to put on her regular boring clothes. She carefully hung the dress back on the padded hanger and grabbed her purse and stopped. “What if cost too much. What if she couldn’t afford it? What if her credit card didn’t work?” Panic had set in. She reached for the dress and began searching for a price tag. She checked all the usual places, under the arm and at the neck line. She checked the hem and around the zipper but to no avail. She swallowed hard and walked toward the counter.

“We like to keep our hangers so I’ll package it in a box for you” the sales lady said as she removed the dress and began to wrap it in tissue paper. Then she turned to the big brass cash register and began typing in numbers. Gladys opened her wallet and took out her card. She squeezed it tight and prayed it would cover the cost of the dress.

She watched as the card slid through the machine and waited like a gambler rolling the dice. She held her breath until she heard the machine start rumbling and whirling. The little machine spit out a receipt and the sales clerk tore it off and handed it to Gladys.

Her hand was shaking as she took the paper. She poised her pen over the signature line and slowly looked up the page to the total. She let out her breath and felt a wave of relief wash over her. She grabbed her box and headed out the door feeling a little guilty for her splurge when the sales lady added “you know if your hair were a little darker you would look just like Ms. Taylor in that dress.”

Gladys’ guilt instantly dissipated and she practically floated from the shop knowing that no one else at her 30 year high school reunion would be wearing Liz Taylor.

*Dear Jody over at Couture Allure and all other vintage experts please don't tell me it didn't belong to Ms. Taylor. Because this is my story and I'm sticking to it."

Gladys has Random Things That Make You Ask Why Thoughts

2011-03-18T16:11:00.000-07:00

It has been awhile since I’ve done this but the way things have been going I felt it had to be done. I have questions, burning questions. I know they make a salve for that but I want answers. I want others to lament with me. I want to kvetch and moan and beleaguer points that need to be beaten to the point past where the horse has expired. I want to state the obvious to the point of revulsion. In other words I want to just be me.
So go on over to Mrs. 4 at Half Past Kissing Time and join in on the Friday Fragments but not before you read mine.

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Why don’t tomatoes taste like tomatoes any more? I remember when I was a kid and eating a tomato was almost as good as eating candy. Now they just taste like paper.

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Why is it when you finally pay off the vehicle you paid way too much for in the first place and now must keep even though it gets 2 miles to the gallon in the second place, it starts to break. Oh and it is never things like a wire comes loose or a new air filter. The things that break are the master cylinder that is absolutely necessary for the car to continue to run and not die at stoplights. Or it is the fuel pump that is located inside your gas tank and they can’t just reach their hand in there and unscrew it and put a new one in. OH NO! They must empty the fuel tank and remove it completely off your car, even though you have just put in 30 gallons of $5.25/ gallon fuel. FOR THE LOVE OF GAWD WHY?

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Why is it that I always have to stand in line behind someone who is tall enough that my nose hits about their waist?

Why is that when I stand in line behind above mentioned person, they have eaten broccoli, beans and eggs and they feel it necessary to release the resulting methane gas right at my nose level?

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Why is it that whatever ride you want to ride at the Amusement Park is exactly the same ride everyone else in the world wants to ride?

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Why is it when you are young the rides at amusements parks always seem so big and scarey, but when you go back as an adult they are just another version of rush hour on the 405 freeway and whole lot less exciting.

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Now go on and be good to one another and remember thoughts become things, think good ones.

CHAOS

2011-03-14T18:26:00.000-07:00

Gladys put her hand to her head and felt the wet sticky ooze coming from the gash. She looked around the smoke filled room and tried not to gasp. She kept low to the ground hoping for a just a sliver of fresh air. She could hear the others in the room but she couldn’t see them. She felt the legs of a man who was perfectly still. She crawled a little further and felt the wall.

Gladys tried to remember what she had learned in her disaster preparedness class. Was it stay away from the windows or was it go to the windows? She felt her way along the wall until she felt the window ledge. She parted the blinds and saw a glimpse of green through the haze. She felt the cool of the window and pressed her face up against it. She could see movement outside.

“HELP US! WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE!” Gladys screamed as she banged on the window. The rescue worker looked up in horror and rushed off. Gladys again screamed “HELP US! WE ARE ALL GONNA DIE! HELP US!” She pulled herself from the security barred window in hopeless defeat and sat on the floor. That is when she saw the elderly woman. She was hurt and confused. She was walking into walls and falling over furniture. Gladys got up to help her but tripped over something. It was something large and lifeless. She bit back her terror and whimpered “over here! Come over here.” The elderly woman came toward her then starting screeching “Morris? Where is my husband Morris?” Gladys tried again to reach out to the woman she remembered as Jane, but it was too late, she had disappeared into the smoke.

Gladys once again went to the window and tried to peer out. She could see the devastation. The body trapped under the concrete slab. There was smoke and fire everywhere. She could here the rescue team but they were locked up tight in the community center.

The 7.9 earthquake had occurred just as they had all gathered in the center for their quarterly meeting. Gladys had no idea it had been a 7.9 quake only that there had been one. She knew that there was carnage and chaos and she was trapped in the wreckage of the building. She wasn’t sure if Kahuna had made it all the way into the building before the shaking started. She hadn’t seen him but then again there was so much happening. The ceiling falling and the fire in the other room had commanded most of her attention. She was frightened and confused.

She crawled along the wall until she felt another body. She got close and saw her husband lying on his side. She shook him “Kahuna! Are you okay?” He rolled slightly and opened his eyes “are you okay honey” he asked in a raspy voice. He coughed and tried to sit up.

“I’m okay. My head hurts really bad. I saw some rescuers outside but they are taking a really long time getting to us” Gladys replied. She scooted closer to her husband and whispered “I think that guy is dead” as she pointed toward the large man in the naval uniform.

Kahuna coughed another lung racking cough and sputtered “I think this kid on the other side of me is too.”

Gladys crawled back to the window and raised the blinds. She banged on the cracked glass and screamed again “HURRY UP! WE ARE DYING IN HERE! SOMEONE CALL 9*1*1!” Then she heard other voices in the smoke starting to yell. The cries were coming from the kitchen and the meeting room. There were others who were crying out for help but she couldn’t get to them.

The door opened and she saw a little light then heard voices. “You go check the other room, we will sweep this area” came the voices in the dark. Gladys was anxious and afraid. She tried to reach out to the rescuer but they had passed her by. Gladys went into a panic. She bolted for the door but was stopped by a petite woman in a green hard hat. “What’s your name? Where are you from?” the woman spit out. Gladys just wanted outside. She wanted to be free from this cavernous black hole. She sprinted for the door breaking free of her capture. She went toward the light. Just then two men also in green hard hats grabbed her. One man took each elbow and lifted her from her feet. They carried her to a stretcher where another woman in a green hard hat started pinching her finger and dabbing at her head.

“Where is my husband? Where is my dog” Gladys cried. “Stop touching me! I want my husband” she screamed. The lady in the green hard hat patted her on the shoulder and replied “I’m sure your husband and dog are fine. Just lie back and let me look you over.”

Gladys didn’t want to lie back. She wanted to find her husband and her dog. She wanted to walk around and breathe the fresh air. Why were these people making her do things she didn’t want to do? Why were they there? She was cold. She was confused. She wanted to find her dog.

The woman in the green hard hat wrapped something around Gladys’ throbbing head. Then she felt for her pulse “Ma’am you need to slow down your breathing” Ms. Greenhardhat commanded. Gladys looked up at the deranged woman and wondered what in the hell she was talking about. She was just breathing. “Ma’am what is your name” Ms Greenhardhat asked condescendingly.

Gladys didn’t like this woman in the green hard hat and wanted to get away from her as soon as possible. “My name is Gladys. Now where the hell is my dog and my husband” Gladys responded.

Ms. Greenhardhat looked around just as a stretcher with a young girl was placed on the green tarp next to Gladys. “Yes, dear, um Grace did you say? I am sure they are fine. Now just lie here and be still. I will be back to check on you in a few minutes.” Then Ms. Greenhardhat went on to help the poor pale blond girl.

Gladys looked around. She saw Jane sitting on a stretcher on a blue tarp. She was talking to a young man in a green hard hat. He looked like he might know where little Bozley was. Gladys got up and started toward the blue tarp. She was almost there when she was tackled by another woman in a green hard hat. The woman grabbed her and dragged her back to her stretcher. She grabbed her face and looked at her eyes then she pinched her fingernail. “OUCH! I want my DOG!” Gladys cried. The woman in the hard hat shook her head “No ma’am you’ve been through a shock and you have a gash on your head. You need to just lie back and relax. Some one will find your dog for you. What does he look like?”

Gladys took a deep breath “he is a little white fluffy dog. He is really stubborn though and doesn’t come too good when you call him. Oh and he will pee on you if you try to pick him up.” Then she sat up and looked around “have you seen my husband? He is here somewhere. Could you find my husband? His name is Kahuna.” The woman in the hard hat patted Gladys and replied “Of Course.” Then she left.

Gladys sat up on the stretcher again and looked around at the chaos and cried “I want my doggie. I want my husband!” She edged herself off the stretcher and began going from cot to cot “Have you seen my doggie?” She grabbed the young boy’s arm and shook him. She looked down at him and saw the cold dead eyes. “OH MY GAWD HE’S DEAD! HE’S DEAD! THIS BOY IS DEAD!”

Once again a green hard hatt-ed worker grabbed Gladys and dragged her back to her stretcher. Gladys would not go down easy this time. She fought and screamed. “THAT BOY IS DEAD! I WANT MY DOGGIE! WHERE IS MY HUSBAND? OH MY GAWD THERE ARE PEOPLE DYING HERE!”

A young man in a green hard hat came over to her with a clipboard “Ma’am, I’ve gone back in that building 5 times looking for a little white dog and I haven’t seen him. I promise I will keep looking for him if you will just lie back and relax.” Gladys looked at the young man and thought “I am bleeding out my head, my dog and my husband are missing and you want me to relax?” She gave him a half smile and lowered herself back to the stretcher. He smiled back at her and turned to go.

Gladys waited until the green hats weren’t looking and once again she sprang up from her perch. She began making her rounds looking for her dog. Then on the red tarp she spotted Kahuna. She dragged her bad leg over to him and wrapped her arms around him. “HONEY! Oh honey! I am so glad to see you! Have you seen Bozz? Are you okay? You have blood all over you?”

Kahuna looked up at her and smiled “ma’am do I know you?” Then he turned back to the green hatter and replied “I don’t think I’m on any medication except for Aricept or is it Viagra? Maybe it’s Cialas.” Gladys butted in “he isn’t on any of those medications. He is on Benacort for his blood pressure. They should be in his pocket. Now have YOU seen my little dog?” The green hatter looked around and motioned to someone.

Once again Gladys was grabbed up and carted back to her stretcher. This time by a large woman in a green hard hat. She looked at Gladys and put her finger in her face “Ma’am, you need to stay put. You need to lie here and be quiet so we can take care of these other people. Now do as you are told or I will get a rope and tie you to this stretcher.”

Gladys started to rise but then thought better of it and squeaked out “will you find my doggie?” The green hatter snorted and walked off. Gladys did as she was told for a moment but then couldn’t contain her another minute and got up once again. She wondered through the make shift hospital and watched as 3 men worked to free the poor soul from under the huge hunk of concrete. She walked up and asked “have you seen my doggie? He’s white and about this big?” They grunted and groaned as they lifted the large rock with the pry bar. She wondered past the trailer full of supplies and back into the burning community center yelling “here Bozz! Here boy.”

Next thing she knew she was once again being marched back to her stretcher. Jane was chattering on about something over on another cot. “Jane? Are you okay?” Gladys asked. The elderly woman stopped her chattering and looked at Gladys. She coughed and sniffed and said “have you seen Morris? I can’t find Morris.” Gladys looked around the various tarps and replied “nope, but Jane I don’t remember him coming with you. Was Morris with you when you got here?” Jane got up from her seat and came over to Gladys. She stood over Gladys and started yelling “YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOUR TALKING ABOUT! YOU’RE CRAZY!” Then she stormed off in the direction of the center.

The whistle blue and Fire Chief Dan said “FREEZE”. The green hatters, the victims, the dead and the firemen all stopped and looked at Chief Dan. He cleared his throat and announced “THE DRILL IS OVER.” Gladys relaxed and looked over at Jane. The two of them began to laugh. The green hatter next to Gladys snorted “are you a professional actress? If you aren’t you need to go to Hollywood and become one.” Gladys giggled.

Chief Dan looked at Gladys then at the rest of the group “what was the biggest mistake you all made?” The green hard hatt-ed emergency workers looked at one another and shot out a couple of “well we didn’t get the fire out quick enough” and “we forgot to turn the gas off right away” and another yelled out “we left the dummy under the concrete too long”. Chief Dan shook his head then he pointed his finger right at Gladys “No! You spent way too much time with that crazy woman. She was fine. She was walking and talking. You guys were busy looking for her dog and carrying her back to her cot! You should have just stuck a rag in her mouth, tied her to the cot and got on with your jobs!”

Gladys smiled knowing she had done her job well. Chief Dan had asked her to create chaos and chaos she had given him. Now it was time to wash the fake blood and bruises from her face and hair but not before her, Bozz and Kahuna stopped at Dairy Queen for some ice cream.

I participated in this exercise as part of the Community Emergency Response Team. Check your local Fire Department and see how you can become involved.

Me and Charlie Need A 12 Step Program

2011-03-03T17:50:00.000-08:00

It has happened. I never thought this would happen, especially not to me. I mean I always said it wouldn’t happen, no way, no how. I used to see people like I am now and be all righteous and pompous. I would say things like “look how ridiculous! They are making a fool of themselves.” Or I would think “they are just addicts. Look at them digging in trash bins and garbage piles just to get a fix.” Yes, I thought it would never happen to me, then…. I found someone named Craig and he ruined my life. I am addicted. I am addicted to junking. I spend hours upon hours with my new friend Craig. I need him like a fish needs water. I am so ashamed and well frankly aghast at myself.

I spend hour upon hour scrolling through the For Sale listings on Mr. Craig’s list. I am always amazed by the title of the postings. I wonder if people ever proof read what they have written. For example here are a few listings that caught my eye recently and yes I was insightful enough to copy and paste them.

Feb 8 - COUCHE AND LOVE SEAT - $100

What exactly is a couche? Is it like a cootchie and then would it be redundant to say couche and love seat? Hey! $100 bucks same as in town.

Feb 8 - Coffer table for sale

I know what a coffer dam is but a coffer table? Is it a table that holds back water?

Feb 6 - ANTIQUE STYLE DEST

Antique dest? What the heck is a dest?

Feb 6 - MEXICAN STYLE YARD SALE

I have no clue. Ask Craig maybe he can answer.

Antique Dresser 150! - $175

Ok is it 150 or a 175?

Feb 28 - @@@ Ejecutive Desk @@@ -

Is that so your boss can eject you out of your seat and onto the street?

Feb 23 - Solid WOod Rolling top desk! –

How do you write if your desktop keeps rolling? If you get 3 cherries does it spit out quarters?

Feb 23 - BED AND DESK TOGETHER

Watch out it might be an ejecutive desk and you will get ejected while asleep.

I could go on forever but I can’t because Craig is calling me and I must see what he is trying to tempt me with today. Besides,

"I have one speed, I have one gear. 'Go!'"
"Dying's for fools."
"The only thing I'm addicted to is winning."

"[A.A.] was written for normal people, people that aren't special. People that don't have tiger blood, you know, Adonis DNA."

"Can't is the cancer of happen."

I think Charlie has been dipping into the Tom Cruise Well of Whacky Water.

Hard To Get Valentines Day

2011-02-14T04:21:00.000-08:00

Gladys cradled her shoe box covered in pink tissue paper and adorned with cut out hearts. She had worked on it all weekend. Gluing red felt hearts to white doilies she worked her way around the box. They hadn’t had any empty shoe boxes so Nurse Meme had finagled one from the Buster Brown store and even managed to get Gladys a Buster Brown Egg. It was a true work of art or better said, work of heart.

Gladys walked spine straight, chin up into Mrs. Perkins class and gently placed her masterpiece in the center of her desk. She smiled smugly at her classmates and critically eyed their receptacles. She perused the smorgasbord of offerings. Mildred Dubois barely had any coverings on her box. Rusty Robin covered his in the Sunday comic page, how droll, she thought with an eye roll. She moved on to Max Wiseman and snorted when she saw his was covered simply in white butcher paper with crayon colored hearts. Gladys was feeling far superior than her classmates, what with the felt hearts and the curly cues that sprang randomly from her tissue paper covered box. She absent mindedly stroked the big red felt heart on the top of her box and swelled with pride.

She took a deep breath and pulled the 25 envelopes from her plaid book bag. Each envelope had a name written on the outside but inside each had its own special message. Gladys had gone through the whole bag of candy hearts and picked one for each of her fellow students. Then she had taken just a dab of Elmer’s glue and stuck it to the card. It was genius! She didn’t have to write anything on the little valentine because the candy heart people had done it for her. She walked from desk to desk slipping her envelopes in the little slot cut on the top of each box.

She had chosen one that said “flirt” for Patty Moore and another that said “true love” for Brad McElroy. She could imagine Brad opening the little envelope and pulling out the heart shaped card. He would stare at it for just a moment then he would look across the room at Gladys and he would know that she was the only one for him. It would be a 3rd grade romance of legend. Yes, this was perfection. Now all she had to do was wait until after lunch when they would have the Valentine Day Party.

Time moved slowly as Gladys watched the clock and paid little attention to her SRA workbook. Heck she couldn’t even concentrate when it was reading time. Finally the bell rang for lunch and the whole class buzzed with excitement. They uncharacteristically lined up quietly for lunch. They walking in a straight line, not pushing or shoving, but politely and reverently toward the cafeteria. Gladys spotted Mrs. Wells, one of the room mothers, unloading cupcakes and balloons from the back of her station wagon. Gladys tingled with excitement.

Lunch was a blur of mystery meat and milk. She didn’t taste a morsel. All she could think about was Brad finally knowing how she felt. She had watched a movie on television about a woman who was in love with a man, only he didn’t know it. This woman had sent him a letter anonymously, but the man knew it was from her. He rushed to her and professed his deep and eternal love and they lived happily ever after. Gladys figured if it worked on the black and white screen then it would work in Mrs. Perkins third grade class room.

The class entered the room and it was a Valentine wonder room. There were balloons and accordion folded hearts hanging from the ceiling. There were little accordion hearts on each desk surrounded with little cinnamon red hearts. Gladys was vibrating. She had been on her best behavior all morning for fear of loosing the opportunity to partake in the festivities. Now the moment of truth had arrived.

Mrs. Wells and Mrs. Goody passed out cupcakes with sprinkles and little glasses of Hawaiian Punch. It was a feast fit for the gods. Then Mrs. Perkins did something dastardly. She did something heinous. She instructed the class to choose only one envelope from their box and open it, read it to the class and then open the rest at home. Gladys panicked. What if he didn’t choose hers? What if he DID choose hers and read it out loud in front of God and everyone? Oh NO! She would die of embarrassment.

Gladys pictured it all in her mind. Brad would stand and he would pull her envelope out of the box. He would open it. He would read it silently then look across the room at her and then he would announce it to the world. Her moment would be ruined! She of course would have no option but to melt into the scraped and scratched wood of her desk. She would die in a puddle of embarrassment only to be swept up by the janitor with that sawdust stuff he threw on vomit.

Gladys’ heart beat loudly in her ears and she couldn’t swallow. “GLADYS! I said it’s your turn” she heard Mrs. Perkins say. She swallowed the half chewed bite of chocolate cupcake and reached blindly into her pretty pink tissue paper covered box. She pulled out an envelope and opened the card. She stared at the card but couldn’t see the letters. She could only see the signature. There in scrawling penmanship was HIS name. She drew Brad’s card. She cleared her throat and read “Roses are red, violets are blue, skunks stink and so do you!”

Gladys felt as if someone had just kicked her in the stomach. She stank? She stunk? What did he mean? Did he mean she smelt bad or that she had girl cooties? She was heartbroken. The whole class giggled then they laughed harder. Gladys smiled as best she could and tried to act like it was a big joke so she replied “Oh yeah, Brad, well you smell like boy cooties!” Mrs. Perkins put her hand on Gladys shoulder and gave her the teacher silent code for sit down. Gladys sat and turned the card over and over in her hand. Then it hit her. He had HER card. Oh NO! There was no way to get it back. What if he opened it and read it in front of the class now? What was she going to do?

Gladys looked at the half eaten cupcake. She glanced at the now empty container of cinnamon hearts and the sucker string that lie on her desk. She looked up at Mrs. Perkins and then over at Brad. There was only one thing she could do. Yes she must do it to save herself. She raised her hand and covered her mouth with her other hand. Mrs. Perkins turned to Gladys “Yes what is it?” Gladys removed her hand from her mouth “I don’t feel so good.” Mrs. Perkins cocked and eyebrow and started walking back toward Gladys. Gladys gagged and choked. There was a moment of the whole class sucking in air then expelling it all at once in anticipation of the volcanic eruption that would happen next. Mrs. Wells jumped into action grabbed Gladys and pulled her through the back door. “Let’s get some fresh air” Mrs. Wells said as she drug Gladys into the afternoon sunlight.

Gladys stood in the sunlight biting back tears. “Honey, it’s okay. I was probably just all the sweets and the excitement. Everyone gets sick from time to time” the sweet Mrs. Wells consoled. Gladys turned away from the classroom and took a deep breath. “May I call my mother? I think I need to go home.” Mrs. Wells patted Gladys on the back “You sure can sugar. Let’s go on up to the nurse’s office and give her a call.” Gladys looked up at Kitty Wells mother with gratitude. “Mrs. Wells, will you have Kitty call me after school? I want to know how the rest of the party went.” Mrs. Wells took Gladys by the hand and replied “I sure will sugar. Don’t you worry; we will even save you some goodies.”

Gladys sat in the bed with a thermometer in her mouth. Nurse Meme was in getting ready for her shift at the hospital and came in to check on her. “Temperature is normal. Is your stomach still hurting” she asked as she shook down the mercury and wiped off the cylinder with alcohol. Gladys knew that she had to play it out and replied “yes ma’am. It fills all wooshie.” Nurse Meme pulled down Gladys’ lower eye lid and looked in her eyes, and then she made Gladys breath out and in. “You know, your breathe is pretty metallic and I don’t like the look of your eyes, they are a little yellow.” Then she was gone.

Gladys fell back on the pillow and closed her eyes. She could just imagine what had transpired after she left. The party would have resumed and each person would have read their cards. Brad would come to her card and he would announce to the class that STINKY SKUNKY Gladys loved him and he didn’t love her back. She wanted to die. She wanted to run through the moors and fall off a cliff like that woman in movie “Wuthering Heights”. She wanted to disappear into thin air like the invisible man.

Nurse Meme broke into her imaginings and brought her back to reality. She held a tablespoon and a bottle. She poured the liquid into the spoon and started toward her “What’s that?” Nurse Meme cleared her throat and replied “medicine. Now open your mouth and swallow ALL of it.” Gladys did as she was told. She opened her mouth and then it hit her. The smell, then the taste of Castor Oil. “That should make you feel better” Nurse Meme declared. Gladys gagged and sputtered and spewed. “but I already feel better, momma. I don’t need anymore of that stuff. Really I feel good. I’ll go to school tomorrow I promise.” Nurse Meme raised an eyebrow and prepared the second dose. “Gladys, you take this and that is all there is to it. If you were sick enough to come home from school in the middle of a party, then you need this medicine.”

She had just had injury added to her insult. She had been found out by her mother that she was faking. She had been insulted by the love of her life who could go jump off a cliff himself for all she cared now. She had left her cupcake and candies on her desk and she didn’t even get to read the rest of her Valentine cards because her pretty pink tissue heart encrusted box was still at school. “Now then young lady you want to tell me what is really going on?” Nurse Meme demanded. Gladys picked at her cuticle and then it all came gushing out in racking hiccupping sobs. Nurse Meme stood looking down at her and said “well looks like you had a pretty shitty Valentines Day and now it’s going to get a little more so.” Gladys wiped a snot bubble and blew her nose into the Kleenex her mother handed her. “You just have to remember that name calling and hair pulling are usually the way a third grade boy tells a girl he likes her. Don’t get so worked up over it. Just play hard to get and you will have him eating out of your hand. Now lie down and take a nap. Your eyes really don’t look too good.” Nurse Meme kissed Gladys on the forehead, pinned her nurses cap onto her beehive hairdo and disappeared form the room.

Gladys dozed and dreamed of falling in a hole and trying to climb out but she couldn’t. She was stuck and the school bell was ringing. She was going to be late. She jerked awake and realized the telephone was ringing. She jumped out of bed and ran for the kitchen. It rang again and she leapt for it. She grabbed the receiver from its cradle and blurted “Hello?” There was a crackle and then “Gladys?” She froze; this wasn’t Kitty, her best friend. It was a boy. “Yes” she squeaked. “Um this is Brad. Um, you know from school?” Gladys nodded her head. “Are you there” he asked. Gladys whispered “yeah.” Then even stronger she barked “what do YOU want?” The line was silent for a moment then “I wanted to see if you were feeling alright. I mean, we all thought you were going to blow chunks. Did you? Blow Chunks?” Gladys blushed with embarrassment. She would be forever known as the girl who almost vomited on Valentines Day. “Um, no. I just didn’t feel good. My mom says my eyes don’t look good and I might have sam and ella or something and she’s a nurse so she should know.” Gladys stood up straight and tall. She wasn’t going to let him insult her again. “Oh, um that’s good. I mean that you didn’t vomit. I mean you know because …um well. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“Well, thanks Brad. I mean for calling. Is that all you wanted?” Gladys waited while there was a long pause from the other party.

“I wanted to say thanks for the card too” he replied. Gladys sucked in air. Oh my gosh, he read my card. Brad cleared his throat and then said “would you like to wear my I.D. bracelet? I mean when you come back to school and are feeling better?” Gladys smiled remembering what Nurse Meme had said and twirled a ringlet of hair and replied “um, I don’t know. We’ll see.”

P.S. HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO TROOPER BOB AND DOE. http://gladysspeaks.blogspot.com/2009/02/about-boy-and-girl.html

Hang Em High

2011-02-07T17:50:00.000-08:00

Gladys threw the rope over the beam and pulled hard to make sure the end had fed through the loop then back through again. It was invigorating even if it was only a knot. It gave her a feeling of accomplishment. She felt in control as she pulled and tugged and made sure it had choked itself off. She stepped back and looked at her handy work, dropped the extra length of rope on the ground and went inside the house.

This was her third move in as many years. She was exhausted. She had packed and unpacked. She had loaded the dog, cat and child up in the car and driven the whole way by herself. Twenty-four hours in a car, no money to stop and stay the night. She had sang songs, told stories and stopped at every rest stop between Texas and North Carolina so that Tadpole wouldn’t see the golden arches and want a Happy meal for which she had no money to purchase. It was all too much for her.

She had thought about it for a long time. She was unhappy in her marriage. He was mean and abusive. Why had she not listened when everyone told her how he was? She was unhappy in her life. She had always been independent and strong. How had she changed into this sniffling weak human being? How had she let this happen?

She turned the shower on and stood under the scalding spray. She stood there and let the tears flow. She tried to scrub the unhappiness from her skin with the loofa, tried to dry the loneliness and sadness off with the towel. She took a deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror. She was 26 years old and felt 62.

Gladys looked in her closet and pulled out the prettiest thing she owned. It was a pink satin robe her mother had given her the year before. She wrapped it around her thin body and tied a knot in the sash. She made her way to the kitchen wiping down the counter tops and putting away the dishes. She didn’t want to do this with a dirty kitchen. She turned and let herself out the back door onto the screened-in porch.

There in the middle of the ceiling was her knot. She had done this for her. She had planned it the whole drive. She knew just exactly what she was going to do and how she was going to do it. She would wait until no one was home to bother her. She would allow herself time. She read several books on how to be successful at it.

Time was wasting if she was going to try this out she had to do it before anyone came home. She stepped to the middle of the room and sat down. She first tested with just part of her weight then shifted to the center and put more of her weight into it.

There was a slip and a crash. Everything went dark. Gladys picked herself up off the floor and looked at her hanging wicker chair in pieces on the floor. The knot had given way with the full weight of her body and had tossed her and the chair into the floor. The rope hung with the knot partially tied close to her head. Gladys shook her head and thought “I should have used a chain and hook”. She gathered up the rope and realized her peaceful afternoon to herself swinging in the chair, sipping wine and reading her favorite book was not going to happen.

Go Ahead and Jump

2011-01-17T21:05:00.000-08:00

I am trying to get my muse back. Every once in a while I catch a glimpse of her. A shadow here or or flutter there, ever evading and hiding. Then I went over to Theme Thursday and saw that this week's theme is Jump. Well as luck has it...

Gladys stood on the precipice teetering using her arms for balance. She didn’t dare look down or she might lose her equilibrium and then she would find herself spiraling into the abyss.

She stood atop the rocks feeling as if she alone were queen of the world. She looked across the vast wasteland of the desert that stretched out beyond the rock wall and breathed deeply. She knew she shouldn’t do it but she couldn’t resist. She knew she could fly if she just tried.

She closed her eyes and pictured her arms spread and her neck stretched long in flight. She would fly out over the canyons and the cactus. She would soar above the Skyway Tram and down through the pass. She would glide over Thunderbird Mountain. She knew she could do it.

It didn’t matter that she had been found under a rock. It didn’t matter that she was only 5 years old. What mattered was she believed she could do it.

She took a deep breath. She spread her wings and she threw herself from the rocks with all her might. It all happened in slow motion. She felt the wind in her face. She smelled the heat coming off the hot sand. She positioned herself just as she had seen Superman positioned in flight.

She was doing it! She was flying. She had taken the jump and she was out there. Should she flap her arms? Should she move her feet as if swimming? She floundered. She wobbled. She spiraled.

The next thing she felt was the sharp burning pain and the hot sand on her face. The air was jarred from her lungs and she felt the sun burning down on her back. She had jumped. She had fallen and now she was hurt.

She heard footfalls behind her and felt the hands on her back and head. “GLADYS! What on earth were you doin? One minute you are standing on this lil’ ole rock ledge and the next thing I know you make like a baby bird and dive off of it.” Gladys rolled over to see her older sister sitting next to her in the dirt “I was tryin to fly. I know I can do it I just need to get back up there and try.” Matilda shook her head and reached out to help her little sister up “you silly goose. You can’t fly. You ain’t got no feathers.” Gladys grabbed her sister’s hand and said “Superman ain’t go no wings and he flies.”

“Yeah, but you ain’t Superman, heck you ain’t even Supergirl” Matilda replied dusting the dirt off her knees. “No, but I am Lightening Girl” Gladys retorted then stood. She screamed in agony and her sister grabbed her “WHAT’S WRONG?” Gladys grabbed her leg and said “I think I broke my leg.”

Matilda bent down to examine the offending limb and proclaimed “It ain’t broke! You can’t break your leg jumping off a rock curb.” Gladys tried again to put her weight on it and screamed again “I think it’s broke!” Matilda shook her head “it ain’t broke it’s sprained. We need to put some ice on it.” Gladys cocked her head to one side “but that was what I was doin. I was spraingin off the curb so that I could fly.”

It Is The End Of Days for Gladys

2011-01-05T16:28:00.000-08:00

I have been AWOL for awhile. I have wanted to write. I have needed to purge but some how, some way I have found a reason not to write. First it started with Big Bertha, my laptop, being REALLY slow. No really I’m talking dial-up slow. I am talking 386 1993 slow. I’m not really sure what happened it just decided one day that it was no longer a spring chicken. I’m not sure why since it is only 6 years old. Shouldn’t laptops last more than 6 years? Shouldn’t you be able to download a bazillion songs and a gazillion pictures, a couple of movies and lots and lots of documents and it still run as fast as the day you got it? Oh wait it is 6 years old! It wasn’t THAT fast to begin with. Then came the holidays and really who has time during the holidays what with traveling and cooking and cooking while you travel it just all gets very messy.

Then it rained. Hey that is an event here in Southern California! Everything stops. Everyone goes into OH SHIT mode and we get nothing done because “it’s raining.” As in “I would have cooked supper but it was raining” or “I am so sorry I didn’t do the laundry, it was raining” or “I couldn’t do my Christmas shopping because it’s raining” or my personal favorite “I can’t come to work today because it is raining”. You see I have all kinds of excuses but what it really comes down to is I lost my muse.

I’m not sure where she is or who she is visiting but it is time for her to come back. She used to wake me in the middle of the night with tidbits to add to my unfinished novel. She used to nudge me at the laundry to write down my observations to use for future musings. She used to SCREAM at me to write about the characters in my life and now there is just quiet. So if you have my muse would you please send her back my way?

Then as I was checking my emails the other day I clicked on to MSN and I saw it. I saw the reason why I am going through such a dry spell. It is the end days. The apocalypse, no not the one with Gabriel Byrne.

It was right there on the front page. Wait is it still considered a page even though there isn’t any paper? Would it be the front screen? Which leads me to another side bar; do they still yell “STOP THE PRESSES”? Wouldn’t they yell “STOP THE ENTER BAR”?

Where was I? Oh yes, there on the screen was a woman with the message to SAVE THE DATE on her car saying that the world was going to end May 21, 2011. Now wasn’t that nice of her to let me know exactly what day the world was going to end? This makes it so convenient for me. I can go charge my credit cards up to the max because, hey come May 21 it won’t matter any more. I can also do that car shopping I have been wanting to do. I’m torn between a Lamborghini and a Testerosa. What? I can rack up all the speeding tickets in the world, it won’t matter.

It is freeing knowing that the end of times is May 21. I am no longer worried about getting that plastic surgery on my drooping body parts. I canceled my hair coloring appointment. Sorry Lola,

but if the world is ending what difference are a few grey hairs? I have given up doing laundry. Hey it’s the end of the world I’ll just buy new clothes everyday until it ends. I’ve given up on eating healthy. I’m eating what ever I want when ever I want because come May 21 it won’t matter anymore.

Kahuna began to worry a little and said “Honey, Baby, Sugarplum” (because he talks to me like that) “what if that woman is just, um, a little off by a couple of hundred years?” I hadn’t thought about that. I mean my muse left and I just can’t think abstractly. He had a great point what if?

Panic set in. I ran and looked in the mirror and realized that all those Pienear Woman’s recipes using tons and tons of butter had made my butt the size of Montana. I glared at the wrinkles, jowls and grey hairs and began to sob. I had put all my stock in the fact that this woman was right. That it truly was the end of time. I walked into the bedroom and clicked on the television to check on the weather when there it was the confirmation that it was the end of times. Hundreds of birds were falling out of the sky and fish were floating belly up. It wasn’t just one incident but numerous incidents of these apocalyptic signs. This was it! This is why my muse left and why I haven’t had a coherent thought in weeks.

Things My Grandfather Learned Me

2010-12-16T19:03:00.000-08:00

About a month ago I got an email from one of my favorite authors, Erin Bried. She asked if I would read her new book, How to Build a Fire and Other Handy Things Your Grandfather Knew. I cannot tell you how excited I was. I skipped. I hopped. I jumped. Well maybe not physically but mentally I was turning cartwheels. You see about a year ago I read her book How to Sew a Button and Other Things Your Grandmother Knew and I loved it. She interviewed a bunch of grandma’s, wait is it a bunch? Would it be a brood of grandma’s? Perhaps it’s a coven of grandma’s, oh wait that is only if they are witches. Aren’t all grandmas witches of some kind? I digress.

Grandpa’s, we were speaking of grandfathers. You know those old guys that told you stories about the Dust Bowl and the Great Depression, which if you asked me didn’t sound great at all. It sounded more depressing than great. Well Erin has done it again with Grandfathers. She grabbed up a gaggle of old guys who all are heroes in their own right, and asked them how to do things we all should know how to do. The interviews are interesting and the information is wonderful.

Mr. Rodriguez teaches us the correct way to plant a tree and Mr. Holloman shows us how to build a fire. Mr. Spooner gets us hooked into fishing and Mr. Walter advises us how to cope with bad news. Mr. Kelly makes us a friendly wager and Mr. Sulka gives us some mechanic lingo. Each man teaches us just as if we were there own children and grandchildren the essentials of getting through life. They do so with finesse and humor.

Now had my own grandfather still been with us he could have given us all a lesson in how to drive a tank. You see in the Second World War he marched down to the induction office and told them “I’m here to serve.” The Sergeant in charge looked at him and said “Mr. McGuilicutty don’t you think you’re a little long in the tooth to be signing up?” My grandfather shook his head and replied “No sir, my teeth are just fine and you boys are gonna need some of us older fellers to get you through, so I’m here to help. Now send me over there to Germany so I can kick Hitler’s rear-end.” The Sergeant shook his head, inducted my grandfather at the young age of 42 into the Army and promptly sent him too Ft. Hood to teach tank driving to new recruits. Now my grandfather had never driven a tank but he didn’t think it could be too difficult, after all he had driven tractors, wagons and model T’s; heck he even drove a Hostess Cupcake Truck during the Great Depression. He was a bit disappointed in not going over to Germany and personally kicking the Furor’s tail but he figured he would teach these kids how to just roll right on through France and take back Europe.

My grandfather was an interesting guy who I didn’t get to know until I was in my twenties. He was always busy working on this or building that. He had an incredible work ethic and worked right up until the day he died. He was a carpenter by trade and a businessman by instinct. I guess the thing he taught me that stuck with me more than anything was to always build on a strong foundation. I didn’t always adhere to his advice and learned the hard way that a foundation on shaky ground will never stand.

My dad, Trooper Bob, is a grandfather and he has taught his grandkids plenty. He taught them how to spit watermelon seeds, measure twice and cut once, how to do a cannon ball into the pool and how to keep your sense of humor through the bad stuff. My brother is now a grandfather and he too is teaching his grandson all the lessons of life; lessons such as how to catch a ball and how to plant a tree. Kahuna is doing his grandfatherly duty too, by teaching his grandkids the art of blowing bubbles in the pool and paddling out in just the right spot. So you see we continue to pass down the knowledge we gain from life and hope that our grandkids don’t think we are just a bunch of stupid old farts. They may not know how to program their cell phones but they can pop corn without a microwave and can make a telephone from two cans and string.

I guess the point to my whole rambling here is go out and buy How to Build a Fire by Erin Bried right now and put it in your kids stockings. Heck put it in your husband’s stocking and keep a copy for yourself. You could even put it in your dad’s stocking; he will get a kick out of it. While you’re at it pick up a couple of copies of How to Sew a Button too.

This Is Just A Test

2010-12-09T19:57:00.000-08:00

This week’s Theme Thursday is test. Wait a minute no one told me there was going to be a test. I didn’t study. My dog ate my homework. I thought it was on Tuesday. I can’t give you a sample I just went. Sorry, I hear the word test and well what can I say? The excuses floweth forth. I know many of you are probably thinking test as in your knowledge and others might have a mental picture of that big bulls eye screen that used to pop up on the television when there would be a test of the emergency broadcasting system, beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

My mind went instantly to an incident that happened several years ago. So my Theme Thursday presentation is here for your enjoyment. When you finish mine please go read what the other presenters have tried and tested.

Gladys sat at her desk and sorted through the envelopes. She picked up the large manila envelope and slipped out the paper. She looked at the print and sighed. She saw the long list of names and knew this was going to be yet another battle. She picked up the phone and dialed the number. “Hi Beaudreux, yeah it’s me Gladys. Uh-huh I got the list of names today. Yep, I’ll hand the envelopes out in their paychecks on Friday. You make sure they show up okay?” She disconnected and pulled out the form letter. She rolled the first one into her Selectra and began typing in the names on each letter from the list.

Emitchell, was an older man who did handy-man work in the office.He came into her office as she was sealing the last letter. “Hey der Miz Gladys, how you be” he asked as she stacked the envelopes. “Hi Emitchell, I’m jist fine how are you” Gladys asked in reply. She enjoyed Emitchell's daily visits. He always had an interesting story to tell and he always brought her little chocolates. Emitchell had worked at the company almost as long as Gladys. He was a jack-of-all-trades but usually acted as the janitor/office runner.

“So Emitchell that is an interesting name how did you get the name Emitchell?” Gladys asked. He stopped stuffing the trash into the plastic bag “when my mawma had me she couldn’t think of the name my daddy had come up with. So when the nurse asked what the baby’s name was she said Eh, um Eh, Eh-mitchell. The nurse thought she said E-Mitchell.” Gladys smiled “Well I guess it just stuck then didn’t it?” Emitchell nodded “Yep I reckon it did.”

Gladys fingered the envelopes and pulled one out. “Emitchell, this is yours. I know you don’t read very good so if you want me to read it to you I will.” Emitchell slowly walked toward Gladys and the envelope. His hand shook as he took it and asked “am I fired?” Gladys smiled “no, it just says you have to go right now and take a drug test.” Emitchell opened the envelope, squinted and read lips moving slowly trying to decipher the letters. “Miz Gladys, I didn’t study for no test. I don’t know nuthin bout drugs.” Gladys stood up and put her hand on the man’s shoulder “you can’t study for this test. It is to see if you have drugs in your system. It is mandatory, that means you HAVE to do it.”

Emitchell shook his head back and forth in confusion and looked harder at the paper in his hand. “Why they wanna test me? I ain’t sick. I don’t take no drugs.” Gladys smiled and turned the man toward the door “Emitchell just go down the hall to Miz Gwen’s office and she will get you all fixed up. Don’t worry it will be fine.” She watched as the man shuffled down the hall to take his test.

Several days later Gladys again opened the brown manila envelope labeled Specialty Labs. She glanced through the names and her eyes were instantly drawn to the middle of the page. There in black in white was Emitchell’s name in the Positive for Cocaine column. COCAINE? EMITCHELL? She felt light headed, the room was fuzzy then she realized she had not breathed since she opened the package. She took the receiver from its cradle and pushed the numbers. “Hi, this here is Gladys over at Sludge-R-Us. Yeah, um I got this month’s test results and I need to make sure that one of them is right.” Gladys asked the lady on the other end to verify the results. She asked her to double check them, triple check them and then check them again. She acquiesced and hung up.

Gladys went to the microphone and clicked the button SQUEALCH, Crackle “Emitchell come to the front office please.” She waited and looked back through the list to make sure it was right.

He came through the door and smiled “What kin I do fer ya Miz Gladys? You need yer trash dumped? You know I think that light bulb up der is bout to go on you. You want me to git the ladder and fix it?” Gladys looked at the flickering bulb and then back at Emitchell. It would have been so much easier if that was all it was but she knew he had a more difficult job to do. “Nope, Mitch, I need to talk to you. Why don’t you have a seat” she said and motioned for the chair next to her desk. “Mitch, I got your test results” Gladys said as she sat the results on her desk.

Emitchell smiled and looked over at the paper “What it say Miz Gladys?” She swallowed the large lump in her throat and croaked “it’s not good.” Emitchell looked confused and then concerned “Miz Gladys, are you alright? You don’t look so good.” Gladys shook her head “I’m not good Mitch. You see I really like you and want to do everything I can to help you.” Emitchell looked pained and then asked “why do you need to help me?” Gladys took the paper and turned it toward the man “you tested positive for cocaine. Mitch, have you been using cocaine?”

Emitchell jumped back in his chair as if Gladys had handed him the paper on fire. “No MA’AM! I never did nuthin like that. I don’t do no drugs.” Gladys looked at the paper again and pointed toward the line “but Mitch, it shows right here that you tested positive. Why would the test show positive if you never took any drugs?” Emitchell shook his head and looked at his shoes. “Miz Gladys, I swear on my Momma’s grave I ain’t never done no drugs.” Gladys shook her head in confusion.

“Mitch, is it possible you were exposed and didn’t know it? I mean like I’ve heard of people putting pot in brownies” Gladys asked. Emitchell sat and scratched his grey haired head. He thought and thought then his eyes lit up. “Miz Gladys, my girlfriend likes dem drugs. Do you think I got it from her?” Then he got real quiet and said “you know, when we is having relations?” Gladys shook her head “I don’t know Mitch, let me call the lab maybe they know if you can test positive from that.

The phone rang and Gladys was connected to the lab technician “um, yeah, I have kind of a strange question. Can you test positive for cocaine if you um yourself didn’t ingest it but the person you were um, you know, um, having carnal knowledge with did?” The line went quiet then there was a faint cough on the other end “no ma’am I don’t believe so. I mean you would have to actually absorb the powder yourself.” Gladys sighed and repeated what she had learned to Mitch. At first he just sat quiet then he smiled “dat’s it Miz Gladys! She likes to um sprinkle it on my um, my manly parts then she snorts it off. She says it makes it better!” Gladys was speechless but the lab tech was laughing and snorting on the other end. “Did you hear that? Can that cause a positive” she was finally able to ask. “Yes, ma’am. That’ll do it.”

Gladys hung up the phone. She sighed heavily and looked at the older man sitting next to her “Mitch, please don’t let your girlfriend do that anymore. I think I can explain it to the boss this time but if you fail another test. Well, I don’t know what will happen.” Emitchell stood up and patted Gladys on the shoulder “Ok Miz Gladys. I’ll tell her not to do that anymore. I promise I’ll pass my next test.”

BLACK FRIDAY

2010-11-30T19:31:00.000-08:00

I have a confession to make. Come close. No closer. I had never been shopping on Black Friday. Never. I swear. I just didn’t see the point in it. Think about it. You get to Wal*Mart at 0:darkthirty and camp out in front of the store in your beach chair wrapped in 14 Snuggies. You huddle under the wrap of fleece and squint trying to watch The Office on your I-Phone.

Your left ear bud pops out just as Pam says something and you get it plugged back in just as Michael says “that’s what she said.” WHAT is what she said? You search the crowd looking for someone who might of heard what Pam said only to be shushed by the 300 pound Samoan watching football in the group next to you and a 55” big screen T.V. he has lugged out there along with a tent, generator, satellite dish, full camp stove and electric blanket. You look longingly at his bag of freshly popped microwave popcorn and wonder once again why you are sitting outside in the freezing weather waiting for a store full of things you really don’t need or want. The poor store is getting ready to be ransacked by a group of eager shoppers thinking they are getting a good deal.

Finally the magic hour arrives and a skinny 16 year old boy who volunteered for duty because he was promised hazardous duty pay sneaks to the door. The crowd pulses like the Tell Tale Heart.

The pimply faced lad flips the lock and opens the door and runs like his ass is on fire toward the back of the store. The crowd surges like the tsunami waves hitting the beaches in Indonesia. It spills over the threshold and pounds through the aisles flooding the store with the insanity of frenzied shoppers trying to get their hand on the one and only $198.00 big screen television. Seven hundred people converge on the one box trampling small children and squashing little old ladies. A fight ensues which would make Ultimate Fighters seem like sissies. There is hair pulling, clothes tearing and name calling and that is just by the store employees. Finally a winner is declared and the 85 year old lady with the walker wins. As she drags the tattered box toward the checkout counter she leaves a wake of bloody bodies with tennis ball impressions pressed into their foreheads.

You make your way past the injured and dying and work your way toward the small home appliances with dreams of snagging that espresso machine that you really don’t need. You step over ripped boxes of Rubbermaid Containers and broken Corel Dishes. There is a crowd of people hovering over the one and only Mr. Espresso left on the shelf. A man in a striped shirt and hockey mask blows his whistle and the game begins. There are elbows flying and kicks landing.

You dodge left to avoid the woman in the stilettos shin scrape only to meet the soccer mom’s right elbow with your bottom lip. Next thing you know your lip is swelling up bigger than a basketball and you look around for the foul. The woman looks at you and declares “oh that will heal up before Christmas, get back in there.” You reach for the box and your fingers touch it. You try and grip it only to have it yanked from your hand by the large Samoan from the outside queue. You realize your nose is situated at an inconvenient height with his rearage. Just as you stretch for the box he lets loose with a bout of flatulence that would singe the quills off a porcupine. You retreat trying to catch a whiff of fresh air only to run smack into a large hairy person’s arm pit. You mumble scuze me and run for the exit.

The store is so full it’s impossible to maneuver through the aisle. You have to just go with the flow of traffic and hope that it will eventually eddy and spit you out at the door. It swirls and circles and finally you are caught in a rip tide of activity. You realize somehow you have been sucked into the toy department and there are thousands of over stimulated children under the age of 12 who have been dragged out after midnight to shop for their own Christmas presents.

They are glassy eyed and cranky. You bump into one of these Children of the Corn and jump back at the electric shock he puts off. His face crinkles up in a smile as he moves through the crowd rubbing his feet on the carpet and lighting others up with static. You can only hope he doesn’t meet up with the large Samoan.

You push your way past the toys and head toward what you hope will get you out of the building. You strain and push until you clear the garden department. You stand in the empty aisle looking for the exit when you realize it’s a dead end. You must push back through the maddening crowd and try to escape this aberration.

You see the exit ahead and continue on in your pursuit of freedom. You find yourself throwing elbows and stepping on toes. You no longer say “pardon me” or “excuse me”. All manners are out the window; this is a fight for your life. You in fact begin enjoying hearing the crunch of toes and the smack of flesh meeting your boney appendages.

You march forward to reach the door and out into the cold dark night. Happy to finally be outside you draw in a deep breath only to find you are in the middle of the crowd who escaped to smoke. You cough and sputter as you walk the 37 miles through the parking lot to your vehicle.

Once there you pull out your journal. You turn to the last page that is labeled BUCKET LIST. You find it half way down the page in capital letters BLACK FRIDAY SHOPPING. Sighing you take the lid off your black Sharpie marker and mark through it so many times the page tears. You pull down the mirror and take a look at your busted lip, black eye and ask yourself “what was I thinking?”

A Meal to Kill

2010-11-23T12:19:00.000-08:00

In the spirit of my previous post and as my participation in Theme Thursday’s Food theme I am here to give you one of my best food stories. It is one I wrote sometime ago but I’m replaying it for your enjoyment. Now read this then go over and join Summer, Kate and Halfmoose over at Theme Thursday. Frito Pie to Die From

Sometimes I get a hankering; you know a craving, for this food or that dish from my childhood. I do this even though I know that my cholesterol and my derriere do not need to eat anything but salads and drink water. Be that as it may I will invariably get out iron skillet and other assorted cooking utensils and assuage my urge. I know I have no self control.

I had one of those cravings recently and I did not control myself nor did I protect Kahuna from it either. I broke down and broke out the Fritos, wolf brand chili, and a package of chicken tamales. I lined my pan with foil I stripped and laid my tamales in the bottom of the pan already laden with Fritos. I then opened the chili, spread it all over the tamales letting it drip down to the Fritos and covered all of this with onions and grated cheese. I then lovingly and reverently slid this concoction into the 350 degree oven and let it bake until the cheese was a golden color. We then partook of this scrumptious meal. Oh it was so good and cheesy and frito-ey. It was so warm and yummy. About an hour after said dinner I began to feel warmth in my chest and a pain in my arm. I looked over at Kahuna who was squelching a belch. It was revenge of the Frito-pie. You see Frito-pie is what got Trooper Bob banned from cooking for his children.

One time Trooper Bob was left at home with his three children. The three well behaved polite children became hungry and pled with Trooper Bob to make his specialty. Trooper Bob never used a recipe. He would just start throwing things together and usually it turned out edible. This cold winter afternoon he decided Frito-pie was just the thing to warm up his adorable little children. He looked in the pantry and low and behold there in all its glory was a big can of Wolf Brand Chili with beans. The with beans is very important when making Trooper Bob Frito Pie. Then he spotted a can of Hormel Beef Tamales and he thought now that looks like a nice addition to my recipe so he grabbed that can too. He then employed his young daughters to chop up some onions, and grate a big pile of good old rat cheese. (I’ll tell you a little secret here. I was sixteen years old before I knew that rat cheese was actually called cheddar cheese.) Then he took a can of Ro-Tel tomatoes. I must tell you if you have never had Ro-tel tomatoes go buy a can mix it with a block of Velveeta and you will have the best queso you’ve ever had. He then added that into the mix. With the finesse of Bobby Flay he added a dash of cayenne and a smidgen of cumin and finished it all off with the cheese covering the concoction. Then he hefted the big casserole dish into the hot oven and let it brown.

My siblings and I sat salivating at the kitchen table anxiously waiting our tasty dinner. The timer bell chimed and Trooper Bob removed the heavenly Mexican themed concoction out of the heat and onto the table. We had sat the table with our best Chinet paper plates knowing that the regular Dixie plates would be eaten up by the tamale juice. We wolfed down our food like we had been stranded in the Andes Mountains with nothing but snow to eat. We ate our first helpings and went back for seconds, thirds and fourths until there was nothing left of the Trooper Bob Frito-Pie. We wiped our faces on our paper towel napkins and burped ready for our ice cream desert.

Later that afternoon the first pains started. Then the urgent trips to the bathroom came next. Pretty soon there wasn’t a toilet or a waste basket in the house that wasn’t being utilized. There was a retched and fetid smell in the house that was emanating from our feeble bodies. We were weak and pitiful when my mother, Meme, got home from her shift at the hospital where she had just spent 15 hours tending to the wretched and feeble. She looked at her poor wasted children and at her husband sitting in his recliner biting back indigestion and said “What did you feed them?” We all weakly and breathlessly croaked Frito-pie. She looked at Trooper Bob and said “what the hell did you put in the Frito-pie? Ptomaine poisoning?” Trooper Bob huffed indignantly and went on to tell her his list of ingredients. It was then that my mother took all kitchen rights away from Trooper Bob. He was no longer allowed to cook for the children in the house. She figured they were better off fending for themselves with a box of cereal and a jug of milk

Gladys Has Hell's Kitchen's Random Thoughts

2010-11-19T16:58:00.000-08:00

It’s Friday and Fragments over at Mrs. 4’s Half Past Kissing time and I thought since it was the weekend before Thanksgiving I’d share some recipe’s with you. These are not just ANY recipe’s. They are from my dear departed mother’s, Nurse Meme, cache’ of recipes. When you finish cooking with me go on over to Mrs 4 and have a gander at the other Friday Fragmenters.

I feel I need to tell you she collected recipes from everyone and every where. I have a box that has scraps of paper with recipe’s written on the. Well sort of… What I mean is she would scribble down a few ingredients and then she would instantly know what it was when she saw it. Unfortunately I never learned her code.

I wanted to share some of these with you and then maybe we can decipher them. I will also try to decipher her or other’s handwriting and tell you what I think they are. Ready?

Yes that says:
Flour, beer, salt, tabasco beat and cover sit for 2 hours. Now I'm not sure if you are supposed to sit for two hours after you have drank the beer thrown the salt over you shoulder, sipped the tabasco and then beat the flour or if you are supposed to mix these ingredients together and let them sit for 2 hours. The big question what the hell was my mother making?
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
The next one is:

That says:
8 oz of cream cheese
2 cups of powdered sugar
1 cup of whipped cream - whipped.

Now if it's whipped cream why are you whipping it again? Was it extraordinarily bad? Maybe she meant whip all of the ingredients together and then do what? Sit and eat it out of the bowl? Did she wish for me to get "the sugar diabeetus"? I ask you WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?
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Time for a confession. This MY handwriting from 5th grade. I recognize it. What in Sam Hill was I making? Oh and as you can see this nut didn't fall far from the tree Oh and what is marjine? Is it something like margarine? Do I let it sit in the frig or fridge? Does it bake for 30 minutes or sit in the frig? I am so confused! I am amazed I was allowed any where near an oven! .
Alright move along nothing more to see here...
22222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222

This says 2 Eagle Brand Milk
6-120 cans Orange Crush
1 crushed Pinapple
Strawberry Shasta

Whoa there Nelly! 6-120 cans of ORANGE CRUSH? I hope there is more than 1 bathroom in the place. And do you peel the pinapple before you crush it? I am sure this is a punch for a Baby or Wedding shower but honestly what good sourthern woman would make a punch without lime, orange or pinapple sherbert in it? I just wouldn't be fittin.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The next one was just too worn out to even try and scan so I will just have to share it with you by typing it.

2 Cans Eagle Brand Milk (yes we liked the canned milk in our house)
Pie Crust (this looks promising)
Sliced banana (okay, I'm still with ya)
Cool whip (I prefer real whipped cream but okay)
Boil 4 hours - put in pie crust cut banana over the top and finish with cool whip.

Wait if we boiled the cool whip for 4 hours along with the Eagle Brand Milk and the Pie crust and banana how are we going to separate out the banana, pie crust and cool whip after? I'm confused.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

And Finally:

1 C Eagle Brand (Yes my family single handedly kept the company going)

3 Egg Yolks

1/2 Cup lemon juice

Beat egg whites put 1 tablespoon sugar per eggwhites and brown in oven. Use graham cracker crust in the pie pan.

Ok where did the egg whites come from and what do I do with the rest of the ingredients?

Anyone want to come to my house for pie?

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Remember Thoughts become things so think good ones.

Ceasar, Goldman and Me

2010-11-15T16:04:00.000-08:00

I have always been a little odd. There is an old southern saying that states there are always a few nuts in every family. Look around and if you don’t see them, then it’s you. Well I look around and I don’t see any nuts, maybe a few fruits and a couple of mules but nope the nut must be me. Now in the south eccentricities are excused, heck they are even admired at times.

I once had an accountant who hung upside down from the magnolia tree in his front yard like an opossum. I have to believe if he had lived anywhere else, the first time one of his clients found him hanging by his knees from a branch they would have excused themselves and taken their business else where. Not in the south. Nope that’s how he got to be known. “Can you recommend a good CPA?” The question would be posed. “Why sure! Why don’t you call my CPA, Freddie, he hangs upside down from a branch of his magnolia tree down there on Cross Creek Road?” He was the busiest accountant in town not to mention admired by all the young kids for his ability to hang upside-down for hours at a time. But, I’m not here to recommend accountants or hanging upside-down from trees. I am here to talk about me.

I have a pretty open mind when it comes to life. A couple of years ago I went on a sojourn. I was determined to become a better me or as Oprah would say “the best me I can be”. I have always read self-help books and have always loved the study psychology. I was invited to take some classes on the interaction of sound and your emotional state. When I saw the topic of the class even my mind doubted the validity. I pulled out my big chief tablet and my number 2 pencil and set down to see what Mr. Goldman had to say about sound.

He spoke of the vibrational effects sounds have on our psyche but more importantly on our physical well being. The lecture was fascinating but I wasn’t sure how I could ever apply any of his instructions in to my own life. He spoke for hours about the fact that just the sound of our voice has calming, relaxing and healing properties for all of us. I took my notes, closed my book and went home. I wasn’t sure how what Mr. Goldman had said applied to my life but I loved learning new information.

I have three wonderful dogs, there is a boxer, a lab-mix and of course the Boz. They are normally well behaved and obedient except… You knew there was going to be an except didn’t you? Yes, except at breakfast and dinner time. The minute I walk into the garage and gather up their bowls my life becomes pure chaos. The boxer begins jumping up in the air and bouncing off the walls directly into me knocking me this way and that. The lab butts me with her head and leans all 100 lbs of her weight against me pushing me this way and that all while Boz runs in and out between my feet yapping and nipping at my feet. Oh and did I mention this also happens when it’s time to go for a walk? I have been beaten black and blue.

As luck would have it when I returned from my class it was dinner time for the three amigos. I walked into the garage to be assaulted by all three. I was dressed in nice clothes and the boxer drooled and slobbered on my favorite shoes, the lab wiped her face and head on my light colored trousers and Boz decided that I needed muddy foot prints to finish the decoration. I took a deep breath and started to chastise them for their actions. An image flashed in my mind of Caesar Milan, The Dog Whisperer, calming a pack of rabid dogs by deep breathing and being calm assertive. I wondered if I could master this. I tried to do what Caesar does. I made myself calm, or so I thought. I took a deep breath and relaxed my shoulders as the dogs performed Cirque Due Soleil’s Ka in the 3 ft area of space around me. The dogs were having none of my calm. They instead were marching to their own drummer and he was evidently playing Wipe Out.

I felt like a failure. I was sure Caesar would tell me “Eet is not jor dogs that need help. It is ju. I rehabilitate dogs, I train people.” Well Mr. Caesar, I needed re-training bad! The dogs had me trained and they weren’t in any hurry to change. I picked myself up off the floor of the garage looked at my dirty pants and feeling a blob of dog slobber sliding down the side of my hair and onto my cheek I said out loud “there has got to be something easier.”

I turned to set the bowls on the ground when they clanged together. All of the animals stood absolutely still. They didn’t move. They just looked at me. Then I remembered what Mr. Goldman said in his lecture. He spoke of the soothing effect of sound. The different vibrations had different effects on specific actions. This must be a mesmerizing sound. So I clanged the pans some more. That is when all hell broke loose. The boxer jumped over the lab who slammed into the wall and bounced off it and into me, Boz ran in circles barking like the house was on fire. Evidently they weren’t feeling the Good Vibrations.

I also remembered Mr. Goldman saying that your voice just humming could have a healing effect. Well I figured my dogs were sick with stupidity so I would try that. I began to hum. I hummed so that it reverberated through my body and tickled my throat. I closed my eyes and hummed. I opened one eye and looked to see the lab lie down on her bed and take a deep breath. Then the boxer joined her, letting out a deep sigh and resting his head on his paws. Even Bozley wiggled his way between the two big dogs and lie down in complete relaxation. I was amazed! I couldn’t believe my eyes so I shuffled my feet which normally would have caused them to have gone into frenzy. They remained in their relax state so much so that one by one they began to fall asleep.

I clanged the pans as I continued to hum and they didn’t move. I sat the food bowls down and waited for the charge but it didn’t come. I stopped humming and they looked up at me. I motioned for them to go to their bowls and one by one they calmly advanced to their bowls.

I stood there in total disbelief. This must be a fluke I mused. This can’t happen twice. I told no one and went inside to ponder what I had just witnessed. I slept on my miracle and convinced myself it must have been they had just grown tired and it had nothing to do with the humming.

Morning arrived and with it was again time to throw myself into the breach. I gathered up their bowls and filled them with kibble. I stepped through the door and was once again assaulted with their usual actions. I brought my knee up in defense and twirled to miss the labs nose in my crotch. I didn’t shout like I normally would. Instead of tensing up in frustration I tried it again. I began to hum. One by one they calmly and serenely went to the bed and lie down. Each one let out a sigh and rested their head on their paws. I could feel the calm descend upon them. I could feel the calm coming from me. I knew I was onto something.

I repeated this routine every time I went out to feed the pups. I hummed. I hummed songs. I hummed notes. I hummed whatever made them calm. I decided to share this with my family. One by one they watched this phenomenon take place. Each one looked at me with a skeptical eye and a doubtful mind. They all came away with proof that it worked. They were amazed.

I can’t tell you how it works; I can only tell you that it works. So if you need me, I’ll be hanging from the magnolia tree out front and humming to the dogs.

That's How You Build A Sand Castle

2010-11-10T19:48:00.000-08:00

I am submitting my Theme Thursday at the twilight hour. No really it's twilight, not like vampire and werewolf Twilight, but in that it is dark outside. Also it is right before the Theme Thursday theme changes again. This week's them doesn't have anything to do with vampires or werewolves but with Sand. I offer my submission to this week's theme. Go on over and check out Jeffscape, Wysteria, Califoria Girl and the rest of the gang after you read mine of course.

She had only been to the beach once before. She had been young and Trooper Bob had taken her and Matilda to the beach. They had been attacked by a crab and sun burned to a crisp. There hadn’t been sand castles on that trip. That had been years ago and she was ready to try it again. She grabbed her hat, towel, pale and shovel and headed out the door with her baby girl in tow.

Taddy was about 2 years old and had never been to the ocean. Now they lived less than a mile from the crashing waves and mounds of sand. She sat the little girl in the back seat strapped her in and settled herself into the driver’s seat. “You want to go build a sand castle” she crooned to the toddler who had busied herself with her doll. The happy little face looked up and cried “me wanna bwuild a caswell. Can I be de pwinncess?” Gladys smiled at her beautiful daughter and replied “you already are.”

Gladys had plans to build a big sand castle and run around in the surf with her little girl giving her the opportunities that she didn’t have growing up in the middle of the country. Oh sure there were rivers and lakes but they mostly had rocky or muddy bottoms and no sandy beaches on which to build reputable sand castles. She was convinced she would build a proper castle with turrets and moats. She would teach Tadpole how to mush the sand into the bucket and turn it over onto its base to form the four corners of the castle. She had it all mapped out in her mind.

They arrived at the parking area and started unloading their paraphernalia. Cooler, buckets, towels, umbrella, stroller, tote bag, hats and magazines all loaded together and piled high. Gladys reached down “Taddy, hold my hand. No sweetie you HAVE to hold my hand. I know you can do it by yourself but this is a parking lot and there are cars so you have to hold my hand. HOLD MY DAMN HAND!” Gladys righted the stack of superfluous beach goods and teetered in her white 5 inch Candies’ platform sandals. She felt the umbrella slipping from under her arm and clinched down tighter pulling her little girl off balance. Tadpole went down on one knee which caused Gladys to become unbalanced. This in turn caused the cooler laden with magazines and pales to pitch. Suddenly everything was in the center of the aisle of the parking lot.

Horns began honking and a man yelled out at her. Gladys embarrassed and a bit frustrated picked up her child and dusted off her knee, then began gathering her paraphernalia and stacking it into a reasonable pile all the while trying to pay no attention to the man in the Ford Fairlane calling her unspeakable names. Suddenly Gladys missed the chivalry of Southern Men. She managed to once again gather up her items stick her umbrella under her arm, hoist her tote bag and grab hold of Tadpole’s hand. “NO! MAW-MEEEE! You herting me!” Gladys realized she had a death grip on her child and loosened it a bit. “Sorry sweetie, Mommie is just trying to get this stuff to the beach without us getting run over.”

Tadpole looked over at the man in the Ford and shouted “Keep you pawnts on! We goin!” Gladys smiled weakly in the general direction of the car and shuffled across the tarmac balancing her belongings. “Thank you honey, but we need to be polite.” Tadpole shook her head “but he wadn’t poh-wite”. Gladys sighed heavily and replied “yes, but we need to take the high road.” Tadpole looked around and stopped pulling back on her mother “I don’t see no other woad.” Gladys grimaced and made a mental note to explain it in two year old terms once she got to the safety of the sand.

The sand on the asphalt crunched beneath her feet as she eased onto the edge of the beach. She stopped and scouted out an open spot just past the rocks and headed that direction with determination. She hadn’t thought about the impossibility of treading through sand in 5 inch platform heels until she was stopped dead in her tracks. She tried to kick off her shoes but they seemed to be stuck. She swished and wiggled and finally worked her feet from the shoes only to find that her daughter was also frozen in place.

Tadpole’s eyes were huge and her face was contorted into a pre-scream. Then it happened all at once. Taddy let loose a blood curdling scream and began contorting her body in ways a gymnast only dream about. She was all but balancing on thin air. This began the domino effect of the items layered in Gladys’ arms. First the pales went one way and the magazine the other. The cooler became unbalanced as bottles of soda and sandwiches shifted from side to side. The umbrella shot out from under her arm like an unidentified missile. Then Tadpole literally climbed up Gladys’ body and wrapped her arms around her neck.

Gladys grabbed her child turning her over and over in her arms looking for fire ants or scorpions that had to have been stinging her child. “Tadpole what is it? What is biting you?” The little girl sniffed in a big snot bubble and cried “I no like. It feel icky!” Gladys looked around for the offending substance “WHAT? What feels icky baby?” Taddy pointed at the ground and said “whatevah dat stuff is feels icky”.

Gladys peered at the ground mustering up her x-ray vision hunting for some type of subterranean offender. She saw nothing but the glittering particles of silica. She bent down with Taddy holding on as if the Sandworms of Dune were going to break forth and swallow them. “No Maw-mee, I no like it!” Gladys picked up a hand full of sand and held it in front of her child “It is just sand. This is what we are going to use to build our castle. We will mix a little water with it and shape it any way we want. See it’s harmless.”

Tadpole eyed the material and stuck a finger into it. Then she took her hand and hastily swept it all out of her mother’s hand “durtee!” Gladys grinned and said “exactly it’s just dirt. So you ready to try it again?” Tadpole looked at the ground with trepidation. She took a deep breath and announced “okay maw-mee.” Gladys lowered her child to the ground and dug her shoes from the sand. She piled the stack of items back on the cooler handed the buckets to her child and once again headed for a sunny spot where they could rest.

Gladys planted the umbrella in the sand, spread out the towels and arranged the cooler. She stowed the magazines where they wouldn’t blow away and breathed a sigh of relief to see her child sitting straining the sand through her fingers. “You want to go feel the water” Gladys asked the pensive child. Tadpole looked up from her investigation of the sand “does it feewl wike sand?” Gladys smiled “Nope, it feels like water.” The little girl reached up and grabbed her mother’s hand as they headed for the foaming edge of the waves.

Just as they walked into the surf a large wave crashed in upon itself and swept both mother and child from their feet. Spitting and sputtering they crawled out of harms way clinging to each other. “Maw-mee, dat water got sand in it.” Gladys wiped the salt water from her toddler’s eyes and said “it does? How do you know?” Tadpole pulled her bathing suite bottom down and dumped out a load of sand and replied “cause it fwilled up my pawnts”. Gladys grabbed the wet sand and replied “This is PERFECT for our sand castle!”

Gladys is Unbearable

2010-11-08T10:14:00.000-08:00

I have been remiss lately in my story telling. I have felt constipated, literarily not literally, in my thoughts. I have written volumes in my dreams but have put nothing down in print the last several months. I feel backed up and irritable. This morning at 4 a.m. my mind would not stop yelling at me and I got up and spit this out. I feel much better now. I warn you, since I have not written in a while so this is sort of long. So grab a cup of cocoa and curl up for the duration.

Gladys did something very dangerous. She didn’t think before she did it. She didn’t weigh out the consequences. She just raised her hand and it was done. Everyone in the room looked at her wide eyed and aghast. Who would be so foolish, they wondered? Who was this woman who put her hand up and was smiling about it? Who was this impetuous foolhardy woman?

The tall thin haggard looking woman at the front of the crowd leered at Gladys like a spider at the fly in her web and asked “What is your name dear?” All eyes turned and looked as Gladys told her name. “What was that dear? I can’t hear you and I want to make sure I get your name right” croaked the woman in the green dress. “My name is Gladys McGuillicutty and I am Taddy’s mother.” The corners of the woman’s mouth began to lift and a grotesque smile came to her mouth. Gladys looked around to see who else had volunteered but found her hand the only one in the air. “Mrs. McGuillicutty, you will report directly to me. You will find your kit on the table at the back of the room and you will need to purchase an outfit. You will need to study the manual completely and adhere to every aspect of the directions. Do you understand?”

Gladys turned and looked at the books on the folding table in the back of the meeting room and then back at Mrs. Haversham swallowed hard and replied “Yes, ma’am.” Penny, Gladys’ next door neighbor, leaned over and whispered “why did YOU do THAT?” A horrible screech came from the front of the room and Gladys looked wondering who was torturing an animal. “Mrs. McGuillicutty! DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM?” It was Haversham. The noise came from Haversham. Gladys took a deep breath and squared her shoulders “No Ma’am. I’m just wondering. Will there be any other scout leaders or will I be the only one?” Mrs. Haversham narrowed her gaze on Gladys and in a heinous and guttural voice hissed “Captain, my dear. You will be a Captain. Oh, there will be more. They just don’t know who they are yet.” A chill ran the length of Gladys’ spine and she looked down at her hands wondering “what have I gotten myself into? Then thought, CAPTAIN! I’m going to be a CAPTAIN!”

She clutched the book in her hand and made her way to the car with Penny yabbering in her ear. “I can’t believe you just did that. I mean what were you thinking? Now you have to work with Haversham. I promise nobody else is going to volunteer to be a Girl Scout troop leader. They are all scared to death of her. Have you ever spent anytime around her? I swear she is the devil’s sister.” Gladys opened her door and sighed “A CAPTAIN Penny. I’m going to be a Girl Scout CAPTAIN. My mom was always too busy to be anything and I was only a Brownie for one year. I think I got one badge on my sash. This is something I want to do for our girls. I want to work our way through the badges. Will you help me? You don’t have to deal with Haversham.” Penny shook her head got in the passenger seat and said “Okay, but don’t expect me to be around when Haversham is. That lady scares the bejeesus out of me.” Gladys nodded in agreement and pulled from the parking lot.

“Okay, now you take the rope and loop the free end through the looped end and tighten, no dear the free end” Gladys was trying her best to teach a room full of 7 year old girls how to macramé when she herself hadn’t a clue. She walked around with the book in her hand and checked each girl’s mangled mess of knots. “Penny, go get the library book and make sure we are doing this right” Gladys conspiratorially whispered. Penny hurriedly left the meeting room and went toward the foyer. She turned white faced and wide eyed and mouthed “HAVERSHAM”.

Gladys turned to see the starched green dress, the badge covered sash and the perfect pitch of the green beret come into the room. “OH GIRLS! Look who has come to visit us!” Gladys tried to chirp happily. The girls looked up from their tangled webs to mumble a greeting. Haversham looked around the room and then to Gladys “is that the BEST they can do? Have you not been teaching them deportment?”

Gladys glared at Mrs. Haversham as she adjusted her badge laden sash and then absent mindedly ran her hand along her own empty one. “Of course I have. The girls are just a little pre-occupied with their macramé project” Gladys rationalized. “Girls, let’s give Mrs. Haversham a more resounding Bear-cub welcome” she urged the group of girls. There was a mass of heavy sighs and a round of eye rolling but they all piped in with “Hello, Mrs. Haversham!” Gladys smiled proudly hoping that this would lead to a hostess badge for her sash. “Mrs. McGuillicutty, I need to speak with you, in private” Haversham hissed in her ophidian way.

Gladys followed Haversham to the vestibule of the meeting room trying not to visibly shake. A thousand thoughts ran through her mind. She wondered if she were to be court martialed, de-sashed; before she even had one badge to sew. Her knees wobbled and her breathing became hitched “Mrs. Haversham, they really are trying to get their Art’s badge. They have completed their papier Mache’ project and I just know they will get the macramé with a little more practice” Gladys stammered. Mrs. Haversham lifted one thinly penciled in eyebrow and cleared her throat “yes, I’m sure they will, although they will need much more practice from the looks of that mess” she retorted as she cocked her head in the direction of the girls tying each other in knots in the other room. Haversham smoothed her severely coifed hair and looked down over the tops of her cat-eye glasses “we must plan the annual wilderness trip soon. We must have it complete before winter sets in and it becomes too wet and cold for the girls. I have the maps and the instructions; I believe the first weekend in October will suffice.” She thrust a neatly bound one inch thick stack of papers at Gladys and turned to leave. “Oh, one more thing” she said as she turned and looked over her shoulder “they must complete the whole of the requirements in order to earn the badge.” She paused looked Gladys up and down and finished “and so do YOU.”

Then as if she were magic, Haversham was gone. Gladys stood with the manuscript in her hand. She had read the handbook. She knew that the girls had to identify plants, animals, set up camp and cook out of doors in order to qualify; but this was full of additional requirements. It was as if they were studying to become foresters or botanist. Gladys sighed and looked around for Penny; this was going to take some work.

Gladys and Penny had worked hard to gather all the necessary equipment. They had begged borrowed and well borrowed some more in order to get all of the girls outfitted. Gladys had pulled her own tent out of storage and had borrowed her husbands “pack”. She had found a knapsack at the Army Surplus store and had packed it with all the essentials. The day had arrived. They were as ready as they would ever be. Gladys and Penny waited for the girls to arrive. One by one mothers drove up to the Community Center and unloaded their daughters. Each one with their own array of camping gear.

Gladys surveyed her crew and realized how unprepared they all were. Little Abigail had her Strawberry Short Cake backpack full of candy and chips. Eileen’s backpack was so heavily packed with clothes and shoes that she could barely lift it. Gladys decided the only way they were ever going to earn their badges was to take the girls inside and repack their bags.

They were finally outfitted to the best of their abilities and it was getting late. They loaded up in the borrowed vans and headed to the other side of the Marine Corps Base where they would be earning their wilderness decoration. Gladys began singing “I love to go a wondering along a mountain track….” And the girls piped in “and as I go I love to sing, a knapsack on my back…” Gladys smiled knowing that she had prepared them to the best of her ability; after all they all remember the “Happy Wanderer” song.

They arrived at the campsite just as the sun was setting behind the hills. Gladys was a little worried but figured she and Penny could help the girls set up camp and they would be settled in before dark. The girls unloaded from the van and began to unload the gear or so Gladys thought. She looked up and realized they were instead running around chasing each other and poking at something in a hole in the ground. “Girls! Come on let’s get camp set up before it gets too dark. Maryanne you get the tents, Suzy you grab the food and remember we HAVE to put it in the tree so find a rope. Tadpole you and Jessica go get the cooler and put it under the tree” Gladys barked as she tried feverishly to figure out how to put the tent together.

The sun set and darkness settled on the campsite as Gladys and Penny reworked the canvas configuration and repounded in steaks. “I’m hungry” cried Abigail. “I’m cold” whined Eileen.

“I’m bored” cried Tadpole. Gladys took a deep calming breath and replied “I know you are but let’s try to get this finished. Girls stay within the lights of the van and gather some pine cones and firewood, Okay?” This time she was certain she had the tent set up correctly. Penny pulled on her side and secured it to the stake and breathed out in relief “I think that does it!” Gladys looked around at the tents set up in a circle around the haphazard fire ring the girls had built from stones and rocks. She went too the van and took out flashlights and kerosene lanterns and made her way to the center of the camp. “It is getting late, so we won’t try our wilderness cooking skills tonight, instead I brought pizza, it’s a little cold but hey, who doesn’t like cold pizza.” With that three or four little girls raised their hands and Gladys rolled her eyes. This was not working out the way she had planned.

In her mind Gladys had seen this going much differently. She and Penny would arrive with their charges in tow. They would all pile out of the vans, run around like a bunch of elves setting up camp and gathering firewood. They would have a roaring fire and dinner cooking over the open flames before the sun even thought of setting. Instead they were huddled around a barely smoldering fire inhaling copious quantities of smoke, eating cold pizza and hoping their tents wouldn’t collapse in on them during the night. Gladys shook her head and wondered “what HAD she gotten herself into?”

The girls were exhausted and Gladys even more so. They cleaned up their dinner put the cooler away in the van and tied their food stores up in the tree. She had made sure each girl had brushed their teeth and had made their way behind the tree to prepare for the night. Penny took her group of girls and crawled in the tent to a chorus of “I thought we were going to sing camp songs” and “tomorrow night can we make Some-mores?” Gladys heard the same as she settled each girl into their bedroll for the night. Then exhausted she curled up on the hard ground and tried to sleep. She closed her eyes but her ears wouldn’t rest. She heard rustling and twigs snapping. She heard screeching and howling. She heard every little tiny sound in the forest. She listened to the breathing of the girls and tried to will herself to sleep until at last close to dawn she dozed.

She awoke to sounds of pots clanging. She jumped up and looked to make sure her girls were still situated behind her in the tent. She surmised that Penny was making breakfast. She felt a bit guilty and started to rise and go to help. She unzipped the tent and peered out into the center of the camp. She froze as she looked almost face to face with a bear. The bear seemed not to notice her but was enthralled on trying to get the rope unhitched that held up the food. Gladys sat frozen unable to close the tent but wanting to protect her girls. She looked across the fire ring just as Penny unzipped her tent and looked out onto the destruction of the camp and the sight of the big brown bear. She formed her mouth into a scream. Gladys sucked in her breath and waved towards her friend. She mouthed “NO!” and made the sign of stop by slashing her finger across her throat. Penny snapped her mouth shut. The women watched as the bear managed to free the sack of goodies and tear into it taking away bags of chips and cookies. The animal shredded and chomped then grew weary and lumbered away.

Gladys could feel the fullness of her bladder and the scream lodged in her throat. She turned and looked thankful to see her girls were all still sleeping soundly. She looked across at Penny and motioned for her to wait. She did not wish to exit the tent only to have the bear return. After a long while she determined the bear was gone for good she threw herself from the tent. Penny met her in the middle and they hugged one another as they surveyed the damage. “What should we do” Penny questioned. Gladys started picking up their gear and threw it in the van. “We are leaving! Get the girls up and in the van. I’ll get all this stuff gathered up and then we are going HOME!”

Penny stood stunned for a moment. She looked at Gladys with consternation and asked “what about Haversham? What about our wilderness badges?” Gladys stopped in mid-stride turned and grabbed Penny by the shoulders “BADGES??? WE DON’T NEED NO STINKIN BADGES!”

Gladys Has Recyled Random Thoughts

2010-10-29T18:09:00.000-07:00

I haven’t done this in a while but I thought I would join in the fun this week. I have been really busy but always try to catch up with Mrs. G’s over at Half Past Kissing Time. Every week she does Friday Fragments where you can go and post things that aren’t long enough to be a full fledged blog post but you still want to share. I have lots and lots to share but I will try to be brief. Okay maybe not brief but I’ll try to keep it short. You have no idea how difficult that is for me to do. You see I am a detail person; which in my case, means I can’t tell a story unless I give every detail. I can’t just say “I went to the store”. I have to say “I went to the store over on 4th street; you know the one with the big pumpkins outside and the little flower shop on the corner? Oh and I took the long way over there and saw a clown driving a Hummer. …” you get the idea. See I already did it just trying to tell you about Friday Fragments and why I can’t keep it short. So without further adieu here are my fragments and please make sure to go over to Half Past Kissing Time and hook up with the other Friday Fragmenters.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The other day I got a call from my niece, Tooter. She said she had something for me. Well this is what she made me. Aren’t they gorgeous? Oh and they were delicious too.

SCREEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMM

I was at the Squal*Mart the other day and the lady checking me out was unusually surly. I know they are usually surly but she was even more surly than normal. She was griping and kvetching about the fact there were 56 bazillion people in line and only 4 check stands open. I looked around and asked “So you’re having a pretty bad day, uh?” She glared at me and replied “Yeah.” I leaned over to sign my credit authorization and said “maybe you should just quit. I mean you seem really unhappy. Maybe the best thing for you to do is just quit.” She sucked in air and then spit out “but I NEED this job.” I smiled and replied “then maybe you should just be happy you have a job and not kvetch about how bad it is.” Needless to say I don’t think I improved her mood.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
I love vintage clothing. I guess I have always worn vintage clothing except when I was a kid we didn’t call it that. We called it hand –me-downs.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

Last weekend there was an estate sale for a millionaire. She had recently passed away and her family was selling off her stuff. Now first of all let me tell you they started this sale on Thursday, I showed up on Saturday. The warehouse was stuffed full. I began looking through her accumulation of 80 years of books, napkins, letters, jewelry, clothes and shoes. This woman never threw a thing away. It was amazing. It was like looking through her windows and seeing her play out the movie of her life. It was deeply moving.

Then I found her shoes. Oh MY GAWD! The SHOES! There were hundreds of pairs of shoes. They were in plastic containers and covered 40 years of her life. Shoes that were specific to outfits. OH MY GAWD the OUTFITS! Everything was stylish and matched. I was in bliss. I wanted to throw the clothes and the shoes on the floor and just roll in them.

I heard a choir of angels sing and a bright light appeared above one particular pair of shoes. I slowly walked over and there on the shelf was a pair of 1960’s Salvadore Farragamo reptile skin pumps. My breath caught in my chest, everything else in the room went blurry as I reached out to touch the holy grail of shoes. Then from out of no where a hand reached out and snatched them from the shelf. I fell to my knees and screamed “NOOOOOO!!!!!! I wasn’t done petting them.” Then just as the little boy in the final scenes of the movie Shane I screamed out “Come BACKKK!” sniffle, sniffle “PLEASE COME BACK!!!!!”

RRRRRIIIIIBBBBBBIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTTTTTT
I went to a “Green” conference last week also. No it wasn’t a conference about Kermit The Frog, which brings me to question who gives their child the middle name of THE? I digress.

I think it’s interesting that architects and builders are touting things as “green” and sustainable when our grandparents called it being thrifty. I mean honestly when I was a kid I thought that we reused foil because we were thrifty who knew I was being green?

Oh and did you know transom windows are now considered green and living above where you work is green? I guess that proves the point everything old is new again.

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Now as usual remember, Thoughts become things. Think good ones.

I also want to share this little tid-bit with you. Remember people aren’t your perception of them; they are their perception of them.

Uncle Sam's Plantation - A Book Review

2010-10-18T18:36:00.000-07:00

First let me say that I am usually funnier than this but there are some things going on today that just aren't very funny. I mean they are funny but they aren't ha ha funny. You may or may not agree with my politics or dogma but I think we all agree that this country is broken and we need to do something different.

I was recently sent “Uncle Sam’s Plantation” written by Star Parker and published by Thomas Nelson. I received this book and read what I already felt was true. She, Ms. Parker, drills down to the core the reality of the Welfare system and the prisoners it keeps.

Ms. Parker tells her story of being brought up in the strife of the civil rights movement. She relates how she was raised by hard working upstanding citizens but believed the lies that she was told. She believed she was owed something. She believed she could not succeed because she had been told she would not be allowed to succeed. She believed the blathering and blithering of uninformed politicians and social reformers who told her that she did not need to work, Uncle Sam would provide. She believed the lies and lived their life on Uncle Sam’s Plantation.

She had an epiphany while sitting in church one day when she felt the pastor spoke directly to her and asked “why are you living on welfare?” It was as if the sky opened up and she finally saw the light. Why was she living on welfare? Why was she not providing for her and her child? She could only answer “because I was told I would be taken care of.”

She saw what the welfare system had done to her and how it had kept her from achieving her highest potential. She broke free of the shackles and began preaching it from the rooftops. She became president and founder of the Coalition of Urban Renewal and Education (CURE) and self-proclaimed "former welfare queen."

Ms. Parker explains how the moral downfall of our modern society has taken its toll on the advances minorities had made through the years. It looks as if its one step forward and ten steps back. She admonishes us for not parenting our children, not sticking to promises and most of all trying to raise our children without two parents. I wish I could disagree with her, but I can’t. You see I have said for many years now that the downfall in our society happened when women burned their bras and men stopped wearing hats. We forgot what a family was supposed to be and became egocentric and selfish.

Ms. Star did a great job keeping not only my attention but making me re-think my opinions on many of our social and political programs. This is not a book to take lightly but read between the lines. It is not just about one race or the other; or one political party or the other, it is a book about our society and where we have gone wrong and what we can do to fix it.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from Thomas Nelson Publishers as part of their BookSneeze.com book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

Gladys Was a Knotty Girl

2010-10-17T15:50:00.000-07:00

This week’s Theme Thursday is Knot. Now I have stories about lots of stuff. I have a story for just about everything. Yes I even have a knot story. It’s not that I have been everywhere and done everything it’s just that things happen to me or around me. Now I went on over to Theme Thursday at took a look at what my fellow Themed Thursday-ers have done and boy am I off on a different path. Heck I don’t even think I’m in the same neck of the woods. What with Jeffscape off tying people to trees and Rinkly Rhymes speaking of love knots not to mention Notae speaking to the dead, my story seems out of place. Does that get my knickers in a knot? Of course not. I present it for you anyway, then go on over and read the rest of the knotty crew at Theme Thursday.

“Throw me the rope” Button yelled. Gladys coiled the rope and threw it in the general direction of the voice. “NOT THE WHOLE ROPE!” the voice yelled back. Gladys leaned over the side of the cliff and looked down. “Oh, sorry! Can you throw it back up here” she asked.

The end of the rope struck her foot and she reached down to grab it. “Ok, now I want you to tie the end of the rope to that mesquite tree. Tie it up good so it will hold the weight. Can you do that?” Button yelled from the bottom of the crevice. Gladys took the rope and wrapped it around the trunk of the scrawny mesquite tree. She made a loop and then stuck the end through and pulled tight. It looked pretty solid. She walked back to the ledge and yelled down “OK. I wrapped it around and made a knot.”

Picture from betterhardwoods.com

Button looked up as he looped the other end of the rope around his waist. “Okay, make sure that knot is tight. Gladys nodded and ran back up to the tree. How in the world had they gotten into this situation? They had been out riding in the back pasture having a perfectly lovely afternoon when the next thing she knew she was trying to help a 200 pound rodeo clown climb the side of a red clay hill.

She felt a little responsible. She probably shouldn’t have screamed like a banshee because she thought she saw a rattlesnake. It looked like a snake. How could she know it was a craggily branch that looked like a snake? How could she have known that Button’s horse was skittish about women shrieking out “snake”? She never even imagined that Blue would throw his master right over the side of the dry creek bed bank and run off like his tail was on fire? She had no idea.

These thoughts were running through her head like water through a sieve as she watched Button trying to pull himself up the steep bank. She watched as his boots caught then slipped. She saw the rope taut one minute then slack the next. She saw her boyfriend halfway up the sheer one moment and laying on his back in the dry creek the next.

“Glaaaadisssss!!!!” came the cry. She leaned over the side and starred down in horror seeing the big cowboy lying in the dust.

“Button? Are you awright” she asked with true concern.

“What kind of knot did you tie” Button asked brushing and dusting and spitting out his tobacco.

“The only kind of knot I know” she answered.

He shook his head and sat his hat back on his head looking at the rope in his hand “Do you know how to tie anything other than a SLIP KNOT?”.

“Nope. I never got my knot tying badge in Girl Scouts” she replied.

The Game of Life

2010-10-12T12:03:00.000-07:00

This week’s Theme Thursday, oh shut up I know it’s Tuesday, is GAME. Now several years ago Michael Douglas and Sean Penn came out with a movie called The Game. Have you seen it? It was a very interesting movie that had me on the edge of my seat the whole time. It has a lot of twist and turns. I love movies like that and I love Michael Douglas, bless his heart. Isn’t it horrible that he has cancer? He seems to be attacking it with gusto and lots of positive energy. I hope everything works out for the best for him. Sorry, I got a little side-tracked. Nope this week’s post isn’t about Michael Douglas or his 1997 movie The Game. It is however about a game I used to play. So without further blathering here is my post on Game. When you have finished you can then go on over to Themed Thursday and read what the rest of the group has to say.

Gladys reached for the telephone as it rang for the third time. “Are you ready? I have a thermos of hot chocolate and the others are ready” she said to the voice on the other end of the line. “Yep, let me get my coat, when will you be here?” Gladys grabbed her gloves and her hat and headed for the driveway. She climbed into her little orange Vega and turned on the radio. It wasn’t just a radio it was a C.B. radio. It crackled and popped and voices started breaking through here and there. Lights appeared in her rearview mirror and flashed twice. Gladys picked up the microphone “breaker one nine, breaker one nine this is Heebeegeebee, how bout you Horsecandy you out there?” The radio squealed and squalled and a voice replied “that’s a big ten-four Heebeegeebee. You ready to head to the starting gate?” Gladys felt a little bit of a thrill and replied “that’s a big ten-four. I gotta stop and pick up Flygirl first. I’ll see ya there.” The radio crackled and the lights flashed again in her mirror as the car pulled away from the curb and headed down the street “ten four lil’ buddy.”

Gladys pushed the eight tract tape into the player and Barbara Mandrel started telling her about sleeping single in a double bed. She cruised the winter night looking at the beginnings of Christmas lights and loving the crispness of the evening. She pulled up in front of the house and honked the horn. A petite curly headed blond bounced out of the house and jumped into the shotgun seat. “Hey, where we meeting” she asked. Gladys turned down the radio and said “at Fair Park, by the monkey house.” Flygirl nodded and settled in taking the microphone in her hand and keying in “breaker one-nine, breaker one-nine Horsecandy you got a copy?” The radio clicked and replied “I gotcha Flygirl, what’s your 20?” Flygirl cleared her throat and replied “we are on our way we’ll see you in a few.” The two girls chatted and laughed as they cruised through the lit streets.

Gladys pulled into the parking lot and flashed her lights. She was met with a dozen pair of headlights flashing in reply. She eased her little hatchback into a slot next to the little maroon Subaru. There were a few people milling about drinking coffee and hot chocolate from thermoses and paper cups. Gladys and Flygirl joined them in anticipation. There were murmurings and speculations of what the night’s mission would be.

There was a crackling and a squeal at the front of the pack over the P.A. system attached to the leader’s radio. The crowd froze as out from the night came the instructions. “Everyone get a piece of paper from the table. On it will be your mission. You must follow it to the letter or you will be disqualified. You will either be a Hunter the Game. It will be stated at the top of the page. If you are the Game you will have exactly thirty minutes to get into position. Hunters, you will call in every 5 minutes and give your 20. Should you find the Game you must first give your call name and then the name of the GAME. You must then beat the Game back to base or your find will be null and the game will start over with a new Target. Now everyone get into place and let the GAME begin.” There was a crackle and a pop signaling the crowd to attack the table and get their assignments.

Flygirl grabbed the paper and whistled low. Gladys looked in question as Flygirl entered the car. “Looks like we are gonna be hunted.” Gladys blew out a long breath “okay, I scouted out some good hiding spots this afternoon. Let’s pull out and we will just act like we are gonna be huntin.” The cars began fanning out in different directions, one by one clicking on the radio and giving call name. “Possum headin out”, “Sweet Pea on the road”, “Horsecandy is making like a tree and leafing”, “Catfish saying see ya round like a doughnut” and on and on until each team had reported in.

Gladys and Flygirl sped in the direction of the M-system store constantly looking in their mirrors for followers. They circled the shopping center then crept down the side streets until they had doubled back around town to the backside of Fair Park. Flygirl constantly watching the clock and reporting in “Flygirl and Heebeegeebee checking in” she would repeat after keying the mic. Gladys turned her headlights off as she crept behind the stadium and past the bleachers. She eased the little car into a spot just under the home-teams bleachers next and turned off the motor. “I don’t think they will find us here” Gladys said as she poured herself a cup of cocoa. Flygirl looked around “Can they see us from Barrow Street?” Gladys took a sip “I don’t think so. I couldn’t see anything when I drove by this afternoon. There was a cop sitting here and I didn’t see him until the sun hit his bumper.”

Gladys and Flygirl sat and waited calling in and listening for others to do the same. They sat for an hour and listened to the chatter on the radio laughing to themselves about what a great hiding spot they had found. They sat while the chatter got thinner and thinner and the two girls fell asleep. “Gladys, it’s midnight! I’m gonna be grounded! We gotta go home!” Flygirl cried as she jerked awake. Gladys started the engine and put the gas pedal to the metal. They flew past the high school and sped up the deserted streets. They skidded around corners and barely stopped at stop signs. “Hurry Gladys! My dad will KILL ME!”

Gladys was worried about Flygirl but she was more worried about Nurse Meme beating her home from work. Flygirl might get grounded for a week, but Nurse Meme was known for grounding you for life! They skidded to a stop in front of Flygirl’s house as she launched herself from the vehicle and ran up the sidewalk; Gladys didn’t wait for her to get in the house. She hit the intersection at break-neck speed as her tires spun around the corner. She slowed and turned off her lights and coasted into her driveway. She shucked her coat and gloves and deposited them in the passenger seat. She looked in the garage for signs of Nurse Meme’s car and was relieved to see it empty. She ran in the house and headed straight for the bathroom. She changed into her pajamas and ran and jumped into bed just as she heard the backdoor open then close and the smell of White Shoulders, Aqua-net and Virginia Slims wafted into her room. She had beat Nurse Meme home and had once again avoided prosecution.

“GLADYS! GLADYS! What in the hell have you been doing all evening? The floors haven’t been vacuumed and there are dirty dishes in the dishwasher” Nurse Meme exclaimed as she stood silhouetted in the doorway. Gladys innocently sat up and sleepily said “sorry Momma, we got to playing games and I forgot.” That is when it hit her. She was still playing the game. They had not checked out or been found. She was still being hunted. She was still the target.

To this day, Gladys is still part of the game. She has not been found. Well at least not by the C.B. Hide and Seek Club.

Give Me Land Lots of Land

2010-09-30T19:20:00.000-07:00

This weeks Theme for Theme Thursday is Fence. As in “give me land lots of land under sunny skies above, don’t fence me in…” Now that I have given you that nice little ear worm that is what got me thinking about today’s story. I know you think I’ve had an interesting life but honestly it doesn’t hold a candle to Trooper Bob. He is a quintessential story teller and 99% of them might be true but all of them are interesting. He shared this story with me some time ago and honestly I don’t remember the names but I remember the jist of the tale and I’m sharing my version with you. So in order to get off the fence and get this thing done, read here then go on over to Theme Thursday and find what my cohorts have offered.

This happened long before Trooper Bob became Trooper Bob. It was back when he was just plain Bob. He had aspirations of being a lawman. He could picture himself a real life Pat Garret or Bat Masterson. He imagined himself riding the range wrangling cattle rustlers and bringing in the train robbers. He was a Texan through and through. He proudly wore his handmade Luchasse boots and sported his Stetson hat. He was always mindful of someday being a real life Texas Ranger.

It was a pretty fall afternoon and Bob and his buddies were trying to make it through Coach Blackburn’s math class. Their eyes kept shifting to the golden hue of the autumn day and what they could be doing if they didn’t have to solve for X. The bell rang and there was a great cacophony of desk banging and feet shuffling as Bob and his buddies ran down the steps and out to the parking lot. Sonny and Ted had already made it to the Dodge pick-up as the rest of the boys piled in the back. They dug in the cooler and pulled out some iced down Nehi grape sodas and few stray Pearl beers. They hooped and hollered as they bounced over the railroad tracks and headed down Mockingbird and out of town. They had their shotguns ready, it was Quail season, and they were going to go shoot something.

Ted shifted the truck and stepped on the gas as the boys in the back told stories and felt the rush of the crisp air on their faces. “Hey Mack, whatcha gonna do with that rope? Lasso a Bob White?” Bob yelled making himself heard over the roar of the engine. Mack sat on the side of the truck bed and spit out a thin dark stream of tobacco juice “nope, I figured I’d get in some ropin practice.” The truck left the asphalt and skidded onto the caliche road. The boys held on as they fishtailed left then right. Freddie pounded on the top of the cab “hey watcha tryin to do? Dump us out?” Sonny turned and laughed with a thumbs up then grabbed the wheel and pulled hard to the left and then to the right causing the boys to almost topple out. It was a great day and everyone was having a fine time.

Mack gathered up his rope, made his noose and began to toss in the direction of the cedar fence post which held the strands of barbed wire along side the road. The boys got into the rhythm of it calling “wait, wait, NOW!” each time Mack would toss the rope towards the cedar post and each time he would miss. “Well you ain’t much of a goatie-roper are you?” they would taunt. Mack would spit a stream of tobacco juice and wind up his rope again. S

Sonny watching in the rear view mirror poked Ted “look at that dumb-ass. Let’s slow down a bit and make it easier for him.” Sonny left off the accelerator and watched in the mirror as once again Mack wound up his lariat and made a pass.

Low and behold this one took hold. Mack watched in elation as the noosed flew from his hand and made a perfect circle around the cedar post. He watched with fascination as the rope unwound and became taut. Then they all watched as that cedar post held fast into the ground and Mack went flying from the back of the truck. They all hooted and hollered for Sonny to stop.

The truck came to a sliding stop with dust and gravel billowing upward. Bob and Fred jumped from the bed of the truck and started running toward Mack as Sonny got the truck turned around. Bob reached Mack first and found him picking gravel from his bloody face. “Mack, you aheight? You look messed up!” Mack shook his head side to side belched “I think a swallered my tobacky.” Bob dusted off Mack's hat and put it on his head “Mack, I think you better stick to ropin steers, them fence post are a little too honery for you.” Mack dusted off his ripped and dirty dungerees “Yep, they don’t give like a steer do.”

Wednesday Rant or Gladys Has Her Panties in a Wad

2010-09-28T16:53:00.000-07:00

It’s been awhile since I went off on a tangent and well honestly, I’m over due. Just like that library book you found under your sofa that was due in 1987 I am that past due. I’ve been sitting over here in my corner quietly and calmly observing all the doings and goings on and I’m about to pop. I’m about to explode like a candy stuffed piñata at Mark McGuire’s birthday party. Oh shut up I know Mark drank from the steroid fountain that is why I said exploding piñata. See I’m already diverting from my original rant.

This brings me to my first and foremost rant. The country is broke right? We are WAY over budget, right? If you were overdrawn at the bank 7 trillion dollars wouldn’t they cut you off? I’m telling you right now if my checking account is a hundred bucks from being empty and I try to pull out another $20 the ATM yells at me then spits out a nasty note that says “you can not have any more of your own money.” Now this is a good thing because it keeps me from thinking “hey I still have checks…that means I still have money!” or in todays terms “II still have my debit card…” You sitting there nodding your head yes but you are wondering “Gladys, that’s all true, but what is your point?” My point is the country is upside down, inside out and sideways budget-wise, which means we don’t have enough money to pay attention. Which makes me wonder then why in the hell are we paying over a million dollars a day for the president to get on an airplane fly to Timbuktu to campaign for the democratic candidate for dog catcher? Really Mr. Obama, you want to help balance the budget? Sit your ass at home and let them campaign for themselves.

What the hell is the deal with Lindsey Lohan? She is in jail, she is out of jail. She is in rehab she is out of rehab. She is sober she is wasted. Can’t the judge see she doesn’t get it? The girl needs a real mother. She needs a court appointed momma. Someone to tell her “Lindz, what the hell are you thinking? You got like a bazillion dollars! Get off the crap, stop drinking and enjoy your life.” All the while flushing her Oxycontin and pouring out her Chablis. So my advice to Lindsey is if you are dying to spend all that money you are wasting on booze, drugs and attorneys buy President Obama a coach class ticket to Timbuktu and put him up in the Econo-lodge so he can campaign for the dog catcher. Or better yet get off your overly privileged drugged-out ass and go work in an animal shelter. Let me be her mother, I’ll give her the Nurse Meme treatment.

Next rant is Paris Hilton, see above.

Finally, not that this is my final rant, it’s just the last one I’m going to subject you to; Real Housewives of D.C.? What’s next? Real Housewives of Chunky, Mississippi? I think it would be more interesting watching Lurlene and Becky Jo duke it out in the local Food 4 Less over the last package of pork chops than to watch a bunch of over-made, botoxed, silicone and acrylic-ed up rich women whine about how they aren’t being respected. So BRAVO listen up, we want REAL housewives not these Lindsey Lohan want-a-be’s.

Rant over.

The Jewel in the Family Crown

2010-09-24T19:03:00.000-07:00

Beautiful Addie Jewel on her 90th

The phone rang and I reached to answer it. The voice on the other end of the line was that of my daddy. Yes I am a grown woman who calls my father Daddy. He will forever be my Daddy and you can’t make me call him anything else. We chatted for a few minutes then he said “I wanted to let you know that Aunt Jewel passed away.” I would like to share a little about my memory of Aunt Jewel.

My grandfather had 5 sisters and two brothers. Yes FIVE sisters, each with their own personalities and idiosyncrasies. The other thing is these sisters were old when I was a child and now that I am old, well, they are still old. My grandfather went to that large cabinet shop in the sky some years ago where he may or may not have had some explaining to do to my grandmother, but that is a story for another day. These sisters out lasted their brothers by decades. Sadly now each of them is going out like lights on a pre-lit Christmas tree. One moment it’s there flashing brightly then it’s forever dark.

Aunt Jewel was one of the sisters. She was the “flashy” one. Not that each didn’t have their own style; hers was just a bit more flamboyant. I think that Matilda takes after her just a bit, but then again that is a story for another day. What I remember most about Aunt Jewel and the “sisters” was that no matter what, no matter when they would show up for family functions.

This another of the "Sisters". Gorgeous isn't she?

This in of itself is a miracle, since our family is more dysfunctional than functional. When one of the clan died, out of the woodwork the “sisters” would appear with trays of steaming fried chicken and casserole dishes full of macaroni and cheese. They would regal us children with stories of loading up in a Tin Lizzie and heading to California to work in the fields. They would share adventures of growing up poor in the country and using grain sacks tied to their feet for shoes.

Once when I was a wee child my Daddy loaded us up in the family station wagon and took us to Six Flags Over Texas where Matilda promptly came down with smeales or mops or weasels or some childhood disease and they stuck her in the infirmary. When we finished our fun day at the amusement park we made our way back to my Great Grandmother’s house. There on her front porch was a myriad of people. There were old folks and young folks and skinny folks and well in my family there were always plenty of fat folks all sitting on the front porch eating snow cones and laughing and kidding one another. This was a conglomeration of my Daddy’s kin folk doing what they did best, eat and talk. Now poor Matilda was ailing and I’m sure I was whining but they didn’t pay us no mind at all. Those people went on eating and laughing and talking like there was nothing wrong with us. Aunt Jewel sat on the porch drinking ice tea from a Ball jar smoking one cigarette after another while I sat there and inhaled the deep laughter and spark of life she was.

Years went by and I grew a little older. I was working as a surgery aide at the hospital when one night I was dispatched to a patient’s room to prepare them for surgery. I walked in the room and in the corner sat a woman with a gigantic bee-hive hair-do and a cigarette in her mouth. I thought she looked familiar but I was a teenager and thought all old people looked alike. The woman came toward me took me in her arms and squeezed me until I thought I was going to suffocate. My first thought was that this was a very friendly person then she held me at arms length and declared “GLADYS! Look at you all growed up!” Still dazed and a bit confused I mumbled “um yeah and look at you all um old and stuff.” She slapped me on the back and said “honey, I’m your Aunt Jewel.” Then it hit me. This bee-hived, rouged over cigarette smoking woman was related to me. Her husband, I’m not sure which husband she had several, was having surgery. I got to spend every evening with her for the next several weeks. She again filled me full of images of her and her sisters in their teens traveling eighteen hundred miles from home to pick vegetables and make enough money to survive and escape the dust filled skies of the mid-west. I had my very own John Steinbeck right there in my grasp and I did nothing about it.

As the sands sifted through the hour glass of years I ran into Aunt Jewel here and there. She and her sisters would appear at funerals and weddings. It was if they were tucked into hat boxes on the closet shelf and someone would dust them off and send them casseroles in hand to whatever event was taking place. They would be dressed to the nines but none would be more blinged and ringed than Aunt Jewel. Her hair was always perfectly coiffed; her jewelry was always heavily layered. She would come telling stories and spreading her spark and laughter through the crowd.

I look at pictures of her in her youth and wonder what it was like to be her. What stories did she have that I didn’t hear? What secrets would she have shared if I would have just taken the time to prod? Did she write them down somewhere? Are they buried forever with her? All I know for sure is she was always a firecracker and now her spark is out.

What Was Behind Curtain # 2

2010-09-20T21:56:00.000-07:00

Wow did that birthday flu ever really knock me for a loop. I mean here it is Monday night again and I haven’t even posted my Theme Thursday. They are doing it a little different this week. They, again who the heck is ‘they’, gave us a theme ON Thursday and sent us out into the world to reveal the theme. I wallered and wrestled and tried to think of how to reveal the theme. Then it hit me square in the face they wanted me to WRITE about reveal. I thought long and hard and tried to think of something to reveal then it hit me. So I am here to REVEAL my story for Theme Thursday on Monday. Go on over to THEME THURSDAY and see what everyone else revealed.

Gladys fluffed her hair and applied another layer of mascara then smiled to make sure her luscious pink lipstick hadn’t stuck to her teeth. She smiled in the mirror and turned to Alice “I am so excited! Bobby Lee and I are going to dance in the tango hustle contest. You know first prize is a trip for two to the Bahamas.” Alice swept another brush full of bronze beauty blush on her cheekbone and raised her eyebrows “you really like Bobby Lee don’t you?” Gladys giggled a little “he is soooo good looking and dances really good. Don’t you think he’s handsome?” Alice turned put her hand on her hip and replied “yeah, he’s good lookin alright but somin just ain’t right about him. I mean he’s big and tough but I’m tellin ya there is somein weird about him.” Gladys waved her hand and headed out the door.

Gladys walked out to the big GMC Jimmy and let Bobby Lee open her door “Gladys you sure do look sweet tonight. I am so glad you wore that blue leotard it matches your eyes. I love those shoes. Are they new? The ankle strap looks very retro.” Bobby Lee looked Gladys up and down one more time before he helped her into the truck. Gladys smiled at the thought that Bobby Lee always noticed every thing she was wearing. He always commented on her clothes and her jewelry, heck sometimes he made suggestions about which earrings or shoes she should wear with certain outfits. Most of her boyfriends thought that a mule was something that pulled a wagon and a pump was what brought oil out of the ground, not Bobby Lee. He knew mules were shoes with no backs and pumps went with everything from blue jeans to evening gowns. Yep he was a man’s man who knew what looked good on women.

They arrived at the disco and made their way through the waiting crowd. Everybody knew Bobby Lee. He was friendly and amiable and just a fun guy to be around. They greeted him with hoots and hollers as he adjusted his Angel Flight polyester pants and pulled the collar up on his polyester shirt. John Travolta had nothing on Bobby Lee. Gladys beamed with pride to be on Bobby Lee’s arm as they sashayed to the dance floor and began to hustle. They sashayed left and boogie right. They dipped and turned and began it all again. Dancers separated and circled the floor as the couple danced across the floor. They were the Fred and Ginger of the Hustle.

The disc jockey announced that the dance off was about to begin. Gladys and Bobby Lee checked their appearance each adjusting each others outfits and then hugged. The music began and they moved in perfect rhythm. He gripped her tight and they moved across the floor as he twirled and whirled and dipped her. They were perfection both moving as one Bobby Lee offering little whispers of encouragement. Their turn was almost over when Bobby Lee dipped Gladys into a deep back bend and leaned over and whispered in her ear.

Instead of releasing and being pulled back into his waiting arms Gladys turned the wrong way and landed on her back. He reached to pull her in as if it were all part of the choreography but Gladys was in such shock from what he had just revealed she couldn’t move. The crowd gasped and there she lie on the floor in a strange contortion. Bobby Lee quickly grabbed her up into his arms and did a couple of spins but his revelation had spoiled the synchronicity of their dance. The song ended and so did their chance of winning the big trip. Gladys walked off the dance floor in shock and embarrassment.

Alice ran after Gladys as she made her way to the ladies room. “Honey! What happened out there? You guys were winning it. You were perfect. What the hell happened?” Gladys turned her glazed stare towards her friend and said “it was what he revealed to me.” Alice hugged Gladys trying to reassure her “oh, honey it can’t have been THAT bad.” Gladys sniffled a big sniff and began to cry. Then she revealed what Bobby Lee had said. “Alice, he said if we won he wanted to take his boyfriend with him. He is GAY!” Alice sat down on the floor with a whomp and said “well that explains a lot!”

Birthday Salutations

2010-09-14T09:41:00.000-07:00

I just had another birthday which caused me to wonder, why exactly do we celebrate birthdays? Is it because we are amazed we have made it through another year? Is it because it is the one day of the year that we are allowed to be a total attention hound? We can parade around with a silly grin on our faces throw ourselves a big party and declare I AM IMPORTANT? Or is it just another excuse to get rotten stinking drunk, eat cake and throw up? What ever the reason it really fascinates me how different people celebrate the day. Are you the get drunk type? Are you the eat a whole cake all by yourself type? Or are you the understated lay low and tell no-one type? Oh come on think about it.

I have to tell you I have gone through different stages of birthday celebrations. When I was little I always shared my birthday with Matilda. Her birthday is a couple of weeks before mine and so I always stood in her shadow and celebrated with her. I think she was sixteen before she was allowed her own birthday. Okay, you have to bear with me here because I’m using the term “birthday” loosely here. It is just too hard to say “found under the rock day”. When I was thirteen my found under the rock day was on Friday the 13^th. Now being superstitious and fearful I awoke that morning in pure panic. I was afraid that the boogeyman, which later became known as Jason or Freddie or Leatherface or Al Gore, okay maybe not Leatherface, would come and spirit me away to the lower bowels of hell and I would be stuck there for eternity.

Instead I had a wonderful thirteenth birthday complete with surprise cake and a brand new bicycle.

I thought I would share with you how I spent my birthday this year. First let me tell you this was one of those landmark Birthdays. This was one of the BIG ones and by BIG I mean the number is BIG. No, I’m not going to tell you what the number is but I will tell you when they lit the candles the fire department showed up and Johnny Cash descended from heaven and began singing “Ring of Fire”.

I am enclosing a copy of an email I sent to my family and friends.

Dear Family and Friends,

Thank you so much for all the wonderful birthday wishes. I’m sorry I was out of pocket yesterday. I had 3 on-line classes that I had to get in before they were no longer available. Ah yes sweet procrastination. Anyway the other problem I had and still have is I have no voice with which to speak on the telephone. I know it was my birthday gift to the world. Gladys quiet it’s like the Christmas miracle. Maybe it is because I talked so much the first 50 years it’s a sign from GAWD to be quiet the next 50. NAAW that will NEVER happen.

I did want to let you know I had a wonderful birthday. Kahuna took me to the Early Bird Special at Denny’s and we had the Senior Citizen grilled chicken with extra Flax Seed breading, stewed prunes and a big glass of Geritol. Then he took me to the Senior Citizen Center for a rousing game of Checkers and Rocking Chair races. I would have won but I fell asleep before the end of the first heat. Then he took me to Rite Aide and had them fit me with a walker and some Depends. We had such a late night I was completely wore out and went home and went to bed, at 8 p.m.

Love you all

Gladys

So how do you celebrate your birthday?

I Love You For Sentimental Reasons....

2010-09-09T17:40:00.000-07:00

I’m checking in for Theme Thursday. I’m in between classes and decided to sit down and write my post. I flipped over to the Theme Thursday page to see what today’s theme would be. There on the front page everyone had signed up already. I am late to the party again. I clicked on Brian and read a nice bit of poetry. I toggled over to West Valley Photo and up popped the picture of REASON. Yes this week’s theme is REASON and Nonamedufus gave me a REASON to Believe. Now there has to be a reason for that, right? I mean it would seem to reason that the powers that be, just who are those powers anyway and are they SUPER powers, would choose it for a reason. I took a personality test this week and found that I am one who likes to have stability and a reason for doing things. Here is my take on reason or at least my reason for something. I’m reasonable like that. Once you read my little ditty go on other and check out what other people reason is reasonable for a REASON THEME THURSDAY.

Gladys sat at her computer trying to compose the letter. It became increasingly evident that she just couldn’t find the words. This was a first for Gladys. She never ran out of words. She had more words than she had breath. She leaned back and closed her eyes and tried to come to reason with herself.

She drew in a deep breath and the exhaled sat up and placed her fingers on the keys. She waited for inspiration. She waited for the muse to inspire her with words that spoke her heart. Nothing. Nothing at all came to mind. She knew she wanted to express her feelings but she just couldn’t find the words. She waited fingers poised. Then they began to move. Her fingers flew over the keys, fingernails clicking out a steady beat. Gladys looked up at the screen and read “the quick grey fox jumped over the fence”. She sighed and hit the delete button.

She reached over and took a bite of the cookie and began once again.

Dear Keebler Elves,

The reason for my correspondence is I have forever loved your creations and my particular favorite is your Danish Wedding Cookies. I have not been able to find them here in Southern California and am saddened that I can not partake in that magical goodness.

I know it would be too much to ask for an Elf to come live with me and stay in my kitchen cranking out copious quantities of these delightful little cookies. Would you consider instead giving me the recipe? I am convinced that there is some magic dust or some kind of special something (crack cocaine?) that you may need to send me so that mine will be as wonderful. I promise I will not share this recipe with anyone; it will just be our little secret. I mean it’s a win, win situation right? I would be more popular than a super-delegate at the democratic convention and your secret is safe. I promise I will share the finished product with those less fortunate who have never had the pleasure of eating a whole box in one sitting, then licking the wax paper lining to get the last speck of that white powdered goodness.

Again, I will gladly give an elf a warm bed and a kitchen instead of a tree in which to bake. Should you choose to send me the recipe and some of your elfin goodness to go in them I will be forever grateful.

Yours forever addicted,

Gladys

PS Could you send me the Pecan Sandie recipe too? Maybe you should just send me the elves.

Be Careful How You Flap Your Wings

2010-09-07T09:44:00.000-07:00

A couple of years ago someone sent me an email labeled “THE DASH” from the Simple Truth’s website. I clicked on it and it took me on a journey that touched my heart and my soul. Mac Anderson the originator of Simple Truths has recently sent out another touching video called “The Butterfly Effect”. I am a student of the human condition. I believe that what we do individually effects us collectively. Then I received an invitation from Thomas Nelson to review Andy Andres in his new book “The Butterfly Effect”.

While this is a little book of 58 pages it speaks volumes. Mr. Andrews takes the theory of Edward Lorenz’s

“the Butterfly Effect”, a butterfly could flap its wings and set molecules of air in motion, which would move other molecules of air, in turn moving more molecules of air-eventually capable of starting a hurricane on the other side of the planet, and shows us that we are the butterfly flapping our wings. He reiterates over and over that YOU DO MATTER. What you do, say, think and feel affects each and every person.

Kind of takes your breath away doesn’t? Just think, you may have touched someone’s life and not even realized it. Heck you may have not even been anywhere near them. That bad mood you were in last week when you snapped at the barista resonated throughout the universe and may have even come back full circle to the snide clerk at Costco. YOU CAUSED THAT. Or the dollar you gave the man with the "What if You Were Hungry?" sign might be on his way to curing cancer and you just made it possible for him to go back to school and find that cure. Makes you feel mighty powerful doesn’t it? Now how are you going to use that power?

I highly recommend this book. It is a quick read. It is a great “gift” book and it is one to keep with you just to remind yourself that what you do matters.

Now then go out there and be good to one another and remember thoughts become things, think good ones.

The Dating Game

2010-09-06T18:22:00.000-07:00

I wanted to repost this story from my old blog because I don't think some of you have read it. Now I know you are saying "WAIT! You had another blog before me?" Yes, dear hearts I did and some of it didn't get brought over. I will try to finish bringing them over for your criticism, I mean enjoyment.

I wasn’t allowed to date until I was sixteen. I was a junior in high school when I finally turned sixteen and really didn’t embark on the dating scene until late in my junior year. I was introduced to a boy from our rival high school across town at a party one night. He seemed nice and my friend who introduced us vouched for him. He seemed to be interested in me and me in him. When he asked me out for the following Friday I was thrilled, elated, heck I all but floated out of the party. I mean this guy was cool. He dressed differently than the cowboys I was used to dating. He didn’t have a dip of snuff under his lip and he quoted poetry! Be still my beating heart.

My parents were still quite strict even though they had been through this dating thing twice before. They had gone through this with my rebellious sister and the other with my elusive brother. I am sure that is why my mother set my curfews so early and my daddy insisted each boy come up to the house and meet one of my family before I could leave. I had rules. Rule number one, no boys in the house when my parents weren’t home which meant never since my parents were rarely home. Rule number two, home before 9:00 pm on school nights and 10:30 pm on weekends, because we all know that you won’t get into any trouble or have s-e-x before 10:30. Rule number three, no drive-in movies, because that was where kids had s-e-x. Rule number four, the boys had to come to the house and meet someone from my family before they could cart their daughter out on a date.

I spoke to let’s call him Craig, because that was his name, on the phone several times during the week before our date. Each time getting a more of a sense of the Rebel Without a Cause vibe from him. He was funny and intense and sort of moody. He was everything a teenage girl finds attractive; thank God we finally out grow that. He agreed to pick me up Friday evening at six because the movie started around seven that would give us time to grab a burger before the show. He got directions to my house and I told him my “house rules”. He just chuckled and said “we’ll see”.

Friday finally arrived and I couldn’t wait for school to let out so I could go and primp and prune and polish. I tamed my frizzy hair as much as I could trying to look like Farah Fawcett but instead looked more like Rosanna Danna Danna. I put on my high waisted Faded Glory Wide legged bell bottoms, my cutest tallest platform shoes lifting me up from 4’10” to 5’1” and my cutest hippest Hang Ten tee shirt. I was a vision of 1970’s loveliness. I was dressed and ready to go by five o’clock and sat in the den with my dad waiting for Craig (le sigh) to show up. My dad was entranced by something Walter Cronkite was saying on the six o’clock news when I heard a honk from the front of the house. I got up and ran to the front door. At the end of our side walk sat the coolest, hottest trans-am. It was black and gold with the big eagle on the front, t-tops and loud pipes. My heart leapt in my chest. Craig is just the coolest! I thought. My daddy on the other hand was not impressed. He yelled from his recliner. “Young Lady, YOU are NOT going out there! You can yell at him and tell him to come in and meet me or you can just sit your little butt back down on the couch and stay home.”

I did as I was told and opened the door and asked Craig to come inside. I was mortified, but I would have been more so if I hadn’t. He got out of his car very much put out to be made to come inside but he did. My daddy gave him the third degree and asked him all but what his blood type was. Then he said “Okay, then Greg, you have my little girl back home by 10:30. You got me boy?” To which Craig replied “My name is Craig and I got you.” Daddy narrowed his eyes and looked at Craig and said “Alright then Greg we’ll see you later and you drive careful.” I literally wanted to crawl under the couch and have a tea party with the dust bunnies, well if my mother would have had dust bunnies.

Craig and I walk out to the car with me chattering on about some nonsense and I walk around to the passenger door and wait. I notice Craig has already gotten in the car. Now I was raised that it was only polite and the gentlemanly thing to do for the man to open the woman’s car door as a sign of respect. I stood there dumbly looking at the door when he said “What’s the matter don’t you know how to open a door?” Well of course now I felt stupid so I opened the door and slid into his purring machine. My teenage hormones were at full tilt and I just knew he was going to be “the one”. I would have to work on his manners but hey that was just a minor set back.

I sat back ready to enjoy the evening. Craig put his foot on the accelerator and laid rubber half way down the block in front of my house. I could feel my daddy’s eyes rolling from the end of the street. Craig took the first corner on two wheels only instead of being frightened I felt exhilarated. Like I said I lived in a very strict household. We stopped briefly at the little drive-in diner and wolfed down a hamburger and some fries and then we were speeding across town again. The next thing I know we pull into the drive-in movie theater. I looked at Craig and said “I’m not allowed to go to the drive-in.” He just smirked and replied “What your parents don’t know won’t hurt you.”

We pulled into our stall and he rolled down his window, took the speaker off the stand and hooked it on the door. The movie had not started yet and they were playing some rock and roll tune that we both sat and sang the lyrics and kept the beat to. I was trying to feign comfort but the situation just felt all wrong. I kept hearing my daddy’s words in my head and I just knew my mother with her voodoo who doo or extra sensory perception would know. I had images of an errant meteor hurdling towards earth and unfortunately striking right in the center of the theater parking lot. There I’d be on the news being interviewed about a meteor hitting the front of the car and my parents would know. I was petrified!

Nighttime snuck in and the movie trailers started. Craig put his arm over the back of my seat and leaned across the console and in a very husky almost whisper said “So would you like to get comfortable in the back seat?” I was taken aback. I was shocked. I was aghast. I looked at him with my big eyes and squeaked out a “No thank you; I’ll just stay up here with you.” His mouth snapped shut, his eyes turned black and he threw the speaker out of the window revved the engine on his car and peeled out of the theater lot. He sped 100 miles per hour across town weaving in and out of cars running red lights and sliding around corners. He skidded to a stop in front of my house reached across the car and opened my door. He then spoke the only words he had spoken since he had asked me the confusing question “GET OUT!” he said.

I begged, I pleaded, and I groveled. What had I said? What had I done to invoke his ire, his wrath, his hate? He said nothing just sat there looking at me like I was covered in rat shit. I slowly crawled out of his super cool car. The next thing I knew the door was slammed and all I could see were his red cat eye tail-lights speeding away. I was crushed and confused. I didn’t understand why he was so angry. I didn’t understand why he would turn on me. My inferiority complex just tripled in size as I drug my feet to the door and let myself in.

Daddy was still in his recliner now watching a western or Nova or something. He looked up when I entered the room and asked what I was doing home so soon. I was crushed and began to tell him what happened. The slightest curl went to my father’s lips. He suppressed a chuckle or two and very calmly said “You did good kid.”

Resurrection in May or Maybe August

2010-08-30T19:56:00.000-07:00

I’ve been all out of sorts lately what with all the doings and comings and goings. No I don't need Flomax. Isn't that just for men? You know men who keep going and going and going? Maybe that is a different drug like Seealice or viagrow or something. I digress.

I have been so busy I haven't had time to read and for me that is like not having time to breath. Resurrection in May, by Lisa Samson published by Thomas Nelson has been sitting on my reading shelf for some time. I would walk past it and gently caress it as I walked by on my way to another seminar or mindless chore. Finally I had a few spare moments. I stole away into a nook with all intentions of reading just a few pages to get started. The next thing I knew I was reading the words “the end”.

May Seymour graduated from college misguided and misdirected. She has spent her youth worrying way too much about what’s on the outside instead of what’s on the inside. She meets an older gentleman, Claudius Borne, who takes her in and gives her a new outlook.

She didn’t know what else to do with her life, no job prospects and not sure about the world she decides on a mission trip to Rwanda. May ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time and suffered through the losses and tragedies of Rwanda. She lost everything including her faith in the genocide.
She returns back to Claudius’ farm where she heals outwardly. The story takes us through her struggles with her faith, herself and the outside world. We learn with her to trust and love again.

This was such a sweet tale to envelope myself in for an afternoon of reading. If you are looking for a sweet tale of reconnection then I recommend “Resurrection in May.”
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from Thomas Nelson Publishers as part of their BookSneeze.com <http://BookSneeze.com> book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 <http://www.access.gpo.gov/nara/cfr/waisidx_03/16cfr255_03.html> : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”