Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Ride Like The Wind

Time for Theme Thursday once again. Where does the time go? Does it fly out the window? Is it flushed down the drain? Does it go round in circles does it fly high like a bird up in the sky? Oops sorry I was channeling Billy Preston. Time does fly though and I find myself once again on the eve of the deadline wondering what the hell to write. It is 9:44 p.m. and my bedtime is somewhere around 9. I am sitting in front of my trusty Big Bertha with my hands on the keys and this story pops into my mind. So hang on while I pedal my way through this week’s theme of Bicycle.

It was the late as Gladys drug the big box marked Scwhinn from the garage. She removed the directions and the thousand and one pieces from the box. She sat in the floor with her trusty wrench and read through the directions. She took a big gulp of the Eggnog she had just spiked and said “I can do this. Trooper Bob taught me that all it takes it just getting in there and doing it.”

It was Christmas Eve and Tadpole wanted a bicycle for Christmas. Gladys was determined that her six year old would have her wish. Gladys, even though she was married, was a single parent. She had been a single parent from the day that Tadpole and finally decided to make her appearance. Gladys was married to a Marine back in those days and he was gone more than he was home. He was once again away on a mission, missing yet another Christmas with his family. Gladys didn’t mind because she knew what he was doing was important. She could do this. She was after all Nurse Meme’s daughter who knew how to wield a hammer and turn a screw. She was after all Trooper Bob’s helper. He taught her “righty tightie and lefty loosey”. So she sat down with those directions and began piecing together the purple and white Gremlin Schwinn.

She tightened the nuts on the pedals and slid the seat into place. She double checked the kickstand making sure the bike would lean to the side and rest without crashing to the ground. She turned and looked at the clock, 4:45 she had about an hour before her little daughter would wake her. She parked the bike in front of the blinking lights of the tree and crawled into bed.

It felt as if she had just slid between the sheets when she heard Tadpole hollering “Santa CAME! Mommy Santa came!” Gladys opened one eye and saw the first illumination of morning. She pulled herself up in the bed and shook the cobwebs from her head “what? Who? What?” Tadpole grabbed her hand and started pulling her “MAWWWM! Santa came! Come on!” Tadpole cried. Gladys slid her feet into her slippers, pulled on her robe and shuffled sleepily behind her excited daughter. “Oh, Mawme! Lookie. Santa brought me a bike! Can I ride it? Can I ride it right now? Look a Barbie! Look at all this stuff Mawme!” Gladys’ heart warmed watching her little girl running around the Christmas tree looking at all the stuff under the tree. “Oh Mawmee! Santa brought you sumin. Look how pretty!” Tadpole cried as she handed her mother a little white box with a sly smile.

The wrappers had been unwrapped, the boxes unboxed and the ribbons untied. “Mawme can I ride my bicycle? Can I take it outside and ride my bike? I’ll ride it in the alley and I’ll be really careful, please?” Gladys looked out at the grey cold Christmas day and said “bundle up. I’ll go out with you, just let me get a cup of coffee and my jacket.” That was all it took. Tadpole bolted out of the door, bike in hand. She had grabbed her purple snow jacket and put it over her flannel pajamas. She stuck her beanie on her head and pulled her brand new mittens on her hands. “Come on hurry!”

Gladys pulled on her sweat pants, stuffed her flannel nightgown in the top and pulled on her sweatshirt. Grabbing coffee and coat she followed her over excited daughter out the back door and watched as she walked the bike to the alley. Tadpole mounted the bike and waved to her mother. Gladys looked around the housing project and saw many other military wives doing the same as she. She saw her neighbor Edna pulling her little boy in a brand new red wagon. Down the alley was Lucy urging a toddler to try and pedal his tricycle instead of walking it and on the other end of the block was Della, with all five of her kids out running around like wild banshees.

Gladys turned just in time to catch her Tadpole make her first pass on her brand new bike. She watched as she pedaled fast to the far end of the alley turned her bike and headed at breakneck speed back toward home. Gladys watched with pride as her child rode without training wheels, something the other kids had not yet mastered. She beamed as her beautifully graceful child glided down the little lane with a big grin. Then just as she came even with the trash cans something went terribly amiss. Tadpole turned her handlebars to the right but her tire went to the left. She tried hard to correct and yanked up on the steering mechanism. That was when Gladys realized that Tadpole could not steer her bike. She could not steer because the handle bars where in Tadpoles hands and not attached to the bike. Gladys jumped and started running toward her child. She watched helpless as Tadpole turned confused and frightened holding the handlebars in her hands unattached from the rest of the bike. Then as if in slow motion Gladys watched as Tadpole took out the whole line of garbage receptacles. It was like watching Bowling for Dollars. Was it a strike or a 7-10 split? Would she make the shot or fault out?

Then it was over. Tadpole lie on the ground too confused to cry. Gladys’ neighbor, Fred, made it to the scene first and declared “Strike!” Gladys looked at the carnage of colorful foil paper and ribbons and then at her lovely little lady child. It was then and there that she understood; assemble toys first, eggnog second.

Monday, April 26, 2010

Raking The Carpet

Today is my mother’s birthday. She would have been seventy-something. You see we were never really sure how old she really was and for that matter neither was she. She didn’t possess a birth certificate until she was nearing retirement and they made her get one.  She had a hard life you can read about it here.  Her birth was never registered, in fact she never knew if her sister was her mother or her mother was really her grandmother or maybe she was her own grandma. Regardless she grew up knowing the day of her birth was April 27 but she just wasn’t sure of the year. I am not sure why I tell you this other than I am quantifying telling you about my mother and some of her odd quirks.

My mother was one of the cleaningest women I have ever seen. She cleaned non-stop. There were things you did in her house and there were things you didn’t. You always took your shoes off at the door, you never spit in the kitchen sink, you always wiped down the kitchen cabinets with bleach and you raked the carpet.

Again let me explain. When I was in junior high we got new wall to wall carpeting. It was called shag carpeting. You know it was kind of like hippie carpet. Long and fluffy and in order to keep it looking fluffy you had to rake it. So every night before I heard Nurse Meme’s T-bird pull into the drive I would be feverishly raking the shag carpet. I would do it right before she came in the door because the rest of the evening I would have been sitting in the big gold velvet chair with my feet draped over the side reading the latest “forbidden” book and watching television. I would look up realize it was 11:30 p.m. and would break world speed vacuuming records. I am here to tell you if they put that in the Olympics I would enter and win, well that is if Matilda didn’t enter.

Then I would grab the rake that looked exactly like a leaf rake only plastic and I would run through the house raking like a crazy gardener. Then I would stash rake and vacuum in the closet and throw myself into bed just as she walked through the back door. Yes she knew but she always pretended she didn’t. That was just how things worked.

Time went by styles changed and Nurse Meme remodeled her house and bought new wall to wall carpeting. She no longer had shag to rake. She installed the thickest plushest pile carpeting you have ever seen. Those of you who are a little OCD will understand when I say it is like being in hell trying to vacuum deep pile carpeting. Why? What do you mean why? It is like being in hell because there is no way to vacuum it without leaving streaks.

Have you ever watched the program Monk? Monk is a detective with the San Francisco P.D. but he loses his wife and suffers from OCD. This all makes for a very funny and interesting show. There is one episode where he is trying to vacuum the carpet without leaving streaks. This was just too close to home for me. It made my left eye twitch, my vacuum hand started shaking and my legs went numb. You see, I am the child of the female version of Monk. Nurse Meme would have an apoplexy if you left streaks in the carpet. She would literally pull your stripped butt out of bed and make you vacuum until there were no more streaks. I tell you it is impossible.

You pull the vacuum one way, then you push it the other. You go diagonally and then vertically. You step back only to see a big line in the middle of the floor which can only be pulled out by vacuuming back into the center of the room and vacuuming your way out. You step back and dang it now there is a big patch going the wrong way in the far corner. You keep after this futile project for hours. You stand looking at the floor with tears of frustration streaming down your cheeks and failure weighing your body down like a thousand pound anchor. You march your vacuum back to the corner and start all over again. This was a daily ritual for me for many, many years. Even when I would return home to visit, I would always run the vacuum daily for my mother making sure to not leave streaks. Okay, I always left streaks but I tried like hell not to leave them. Nurse Meme always saw them and always told me I was vacuuming wrong.

I tell you this story because the other day while working at the amazing Technicolor house I had to vacuum the pile carpeting. I vacuumed this way, then that. I pushed it this way and pulled it diagonally. I finally gave up. I put the vacuum away and packed up my tools and went home. That night I had a visitor. Yes it was Nurse Meme. She came to me in my dream. There I am sitting at a table drinking coffee out in the middle of the desert. Nurse Meme appears next to me at the table. She picks up a cup of coffee and says “Gladys, you need to vacuum. Do not leave streaks.”

 I look and sitting next to the table is my mother’s favorite vacuum, a Hoover Power Drive. I look at the sand dunes stretching as far as the eye can see and I think this is my punishment for leaving streaks.

Happy Birthday Nurse Meme, I miss you and love you and I will try not to leave streaks in the carpet of life.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

I Am A Golden Gawd

My hand was stuck in the paint bucket loading up the roller when my pocket started to vibrate. I juggled the roller and the bucket and reached into my pocket making sure to wipe off my paint covered hands. I slid my phone from its holder and looked at the email message illuminated on the screen. Someone named Anonymous was trying to leave me a comment on a post I wrote a couple of months ago. I scrolled down and noticed it was in Chinese.


I am not sure how my story translates into Chinese about Nurse Meme getting her hairs did but evidently they really enjoy it, the Chinese that is. It seems just about every day I get an odd comment in a bunch of characters that I can not read. I hit the reject button on my comment moderation figuring it’s just another person telling me that I need to grow my pianist longer. Well, you know what? The joke is on you! I don’t have a piano.

I slid my phone back into its little leather jacket, because it thinks it is Fonzi, and stuck it back in my pocket. The phone, not Author Fonzerelli.

I began to roll paint on the wall. Now painting is one of those physical tasks that leave your brain to wander into places it shouldn’t. There are many of these task which take no mental aerobics other than “stay between the lines” and that’s what my mind says when I’m driving and painting. So there I stand roller in hand with the mantra ‘stay between the lines’ singing in my brain when it starts to wander. My brain not the paint roller.

Someone in China is reading my blog. They are eating their Dim Sum and drinking their jasmine tea and reading Gladys. What must they think? How do they relate? “Oh Gladys, you’re so funny. I know exactly what you are talking about. My dad calls them winders too.” I look out the window into the bright sunny Southern California afternoon and think “I wonder if they get my humor?” Then I wonder “does anyone get my humor?” Then I snort and laugh at myself because, I GET my humor. So I have decided that this person who comments on my blog in Chinese is probably telling me how funny I am. They are extolling my hilariousness in their native tongue. They are telling me that they have had similar circumstances happen to them while waiting in line at their local Home of the Depot. They too remember their mother going to the beauty parlor and getting their hairs did. Yes, I decide this is definitely what they are telling me.

Well of course I am instantly flattered. I am in fact feeling very fulfilled and superior. I wonder if other bloggers, say Dooce or PDub, have their very own Chinese speaking/writing commenter. I wonder if they get adulations and solicitations from the provinces of Hubei 

or Chongqing. I know I only have 92 followers and they, Dooce and the P-Dub, have thousands each but hey who knows maybe I am something of a blogiberty in Wuhan.

 Stop laughing, it could happen.

I vow to learn more about China and its people. This means of course more trips to the Hot China take out for noodles. I make a mental note to look up China on Wikipedia to learn the particulars of climate and culture. I rack my brain trying to remember anything I might have gleaned about China from my elementary Social Studies class. The only thing I remember is most of my toys came from someplace called Taiwan, pronounced in my house Tie – Wand, and that was almost China. I also remember a friend of mine thought she spoke Chinese because she would put ting, gong, fong or wong on the end of words pig Latin style. She-gong was-ting crazy-fong.

Then I remembered something else about China. I remembered that Nurse Meme always wanted me to clean my plate because there were starving people in China. I never understood how me eating all the liver on my plate would make someone on the other side of the globe satiated. I thought maybe it was one of those hungry Chinese writing me and thanking me for eating for them when I was a child. Then again they may have been chewing me out for eating liver and Brussels sprouts.

Yes I was convinced that the people of China loved me. I was exalted in their eyes. I was a golden god! I daydreamed of arriving in Tiajin or Shanghai to throngs of paparazzi and adoring fans. I would of course be holding The Boz and waving looking just like Grace Kelly.

The Chinese people would fawn over me and bring me steaming bowls of herbal soups and rice wine. I was standing holding the roller when I heard Kahuna “what the hell are you doing? You’re waving that roller all over the place and splattering pant.”

I came back to reality. Cleaned up my mess and realized the bathroom had been painted while I was visiting Bejing. I washed my hands and decided that I would just see what my Chinese friend had to say. So I highlighted the text and hit translate.

people not good luck with women until recently but now popular with people with no sign of the future, to change lives with women who do not experience a checker at once more popular. No encounters at a well site that is linked to, get advice on caring results. It has changed my life in which people.

See I told you I had fans in China.

Friday, April 23, 2010

Gladys has Corny Random Thoughts

It is Friday again and time for Mrs. 4444 to present her Friday Fragments. Go on go over read her fragments, link yours and have a big old fragmented party. Then go on over to Ann Again and Again for your weekly Virtual Girls Night Out. Have a drink, even if it’s just water, read some stories and partake in her game. Also link your Friday to her Friday.
I have spent a lot of time in Home Depot this week. I in fact am now coffee buddies with the guy in the paint department. Yes me and Mr. IMPATHD had coffee together, sort of. Well he had a cup of coffee and I had a cup of coffee while he mixed paint and I waited at the counter.


I noticed something about the Home of the Depot. I noticed no matter how long I waited I never saw a train.


Dude is that a purse?  Oh sorry you aren't a dude.

I see the makings of a major wedgie!

I know there is this great website out there called People of Wal*mart. I wonder if anyone has thought of doing the Contractors of Home Depot?


You want to know why plumbers have big bellies? Because they tempt them at the check out counter at the Depot with these

I apologize for the fuzzy pictures but I took this right after I dropped my Crackberry in the paint department and spilled coffee all over my sweatshirt.


We have a boxer who as I have mentioned on here before has a touch of IBS. This week it became unbearable to be in the same vicinity as he. Come to find out he is allergic to corn. Do you know what is in almost ALL dog food? CORN!


Finally but not lastly it is also Happy Hour Friday over at the RX Bambi. She hosts Happy Hour Friday so go on over and tell us what makes you happy.

Here are some things that make me happy.My job of painting the Amazing Technicolor Room is almost over and I will be able to stage the rest of the house!

Yes I know the cans are still hanging.  I had to repaint the ceiling...again.

My fingernails have finally began to grow after not having acrylic nails for 5 years.
On the otherside I desperately need a manicure and some paint remover.

Put me in coach, I'm ready to play today...

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

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Get On The Bus

Here we are once again at Theme Thursday. This week’s theme is Draft. I have to be honest I have been so busy turning the Amazing Technicolor room into something that doesn’t look like dog barf that I just now found out that it was Draft. Now I sit in my cozy little R.V. feeling a draft from the wet cold night. My story is about a different kind of draft. When you have finished drafting off of my story go on over and read what others have drafted at Theme Thursday.

Gladys ran into Karen’s bedroom and handed over a bowl of M & M’s and a bottle of 7-Up. She grabbed the bottle opener from the pocket of her hip-hugger bell bottom jeans and popped the top from the bottle. She sat down next to her best friend and looked at the copy of Seventeen on the floor. “What do you want to do” she asked. Karen took a handful of M & M’s carefully picking out the green ones and said “I don’t know what you want to do?” Gladys turned the page and began reading an article on the Beatles, “um, how about we go to a movie?” Karen sighed and replied “nothing good is showing.” She got up and put a record on her brand new stereo record player. And it’s one two three what are we fighting for? Don’t ask me I don’t give a damn, next stop is Vietnam… “I wish I could have gone to Woodstock. That would have been so groovy.” Gladys lie in the cool air conditioning of her best friend’s bedroom listening to Country Joe and the Fish wondering what it would have been like. And it’s five, six, seven. Open up them pearly gates. Well there ain’t no time to wonder why. Whoopee we’re all gonna die.

Two thousand miles away in a small California town Kahuna and Biff caught the last wave in. “So did you get yours yet” Biff asked while toweling off. Kahuna reached into his V.W. Van and pulled out the envelope. “Yeah, I haven’t opened it yet, but man, just look at that envelope. You know it’s from the Man.” Biff looked over Kahuna’s shoulder “Dude, you are so totally screwed. That is just gnarly. You wanna get some tacos or something? I’m starving.” Kahuna knocked the sand from his board and slid it into the back of the van. He stood for a moment and watched the sun setting behind the waves and wondered what it will be like.

They pulled into the Shack and walked up to the window. Sitting on the table outside was a little transistor radio the news was just finishing as they gave their order to the blond haired, blue eyed girl behind the counter. Yeah, come on all of you, big strong men, Uncle Sam needs your help again. He's got himself in a terrible jam. Way down yonder in Vietnam. So put down your books and pick up a gun,

we’re gonna have a whole lotta fun. “Man, my old man hates that song. He said that it’s just a bunch of long haired hippies” Biff said between bites. Kahuna snorted and said “yeah, mine is an ex-gyrine. He thinks anybody who isn’t wearing khaki is a fascist.” They sat and ate their tacos in silence both lost in thoughts of the unrest of the day. Both of their father’s had served in the military, but that was a justified war. This was a fiasco, it wasn’t really a war. They wondered where Vietnam was and what it was really like. Mostly they wondered if it had good surf.

Kahuna dropped Biff off in front of his house promising to hit the waves at first light. His van putt-putted up the hill and through the orange and purple dusk. He pulled into the drive of his parent’s house and sat with the envelope in his hand. He turned it over and looked at the official markings. He felt the heaviness of it in his hand. Never before had he ever received a letter of such weight. He took a deep breath and slid his finger down the seam of the envelope “SHIT!” he spat as he eyed the paper cut on his finger. “Damn! Uncle Sam is already getting my blood.”

He unfolded the letter and read “Greetings…” His stomach turned over. His vision blurred. This was it. This was the real deal. This was the infamous letter from Uncle Sam. He read on “you are hereby ordered to appear at…” This was not good. This letter said he had to report to the induction center in two days. TWO DAYS! He took his letter and headed inside to call Biff.

There they stood huddled together in the Savings and Loan parking lot. There were guys he with who he went to school and church. There were a couple of guys he recognized from surfing and of course there was Biff. They stood huddled as if it were cold even though it was August. They were trying to act cool. They were trying to be tough. There was the big black guy with the oversized afro, next to him stood the local dealer and over by himself leaning up against the yellow Volkswagen Beatle was Sam, the hippie dude. They all nodded their guy nods and kicked at the ground. “Hey man I heard if you have a brother and your brother is already over there they can’t make you go” said the scrawny kid wearing black framed glasses. “Yeah, I heard that if you have four eyes and flat feet you get a free ticket out of there” piped up Sam. Biff snorted and said yea well I heard if you are kind of girlie you get sent home, so I wore a pair of my sister’s panties. They even say Thursday on them.” This caused all the guys to chuckle and try to one up the other. “Hey, my sister’s boyfriend’s brother just failed all his test. He said they didn’t want him because he couldn’t even pass the piss test.” This sent out another round of guffaws. They were starting to warm up and loosen up. “I heard they give you the option of joining the military or going to jail if you are a felon. Man I think I’d choose jail” said another.

They heard the bus before they saw it. It arrived in a cloud of exhaust a big grey school bus complete with the hard green seats. The crowd stood and stared as a man in a Smoky Bear hat got out of the bus. “You boys get on in here. All of you. Even you long haired guy next to the bug. Get in here.” The guys looked at one another and began to board the bus. This was it. This was the bus to Vietnam. As soon as Kahuna stepped foot on the bus he noticed it was eerily quiet. The guys who had been laughing and cutting up just a minute earlier wouldn’t even look at him. He made his way to the first empty seat and sat down. Biff squeezed in next to him “Dude, this bus is packed. Where the hell did all these guys come from?” Kahuna looked up and down the aisle and replied “maybe they thought they it was the Bookmobile.” Biff chuckled then stopped short when the boy across the aisle gave him the stink eye. The rest of the 80 mile bus ride was made in complete and utter silence.

Gladys walked into the living room where Walter Cronkite was once again talking about the number of casualties in some place called Duhnang. She stopped and watched as they showed boys on stretchers and smoke and bombs going off all over the place. A reporter was saying something about Charlie. Gladys wondered why everyone was so mad at this guy named Charlie. She went to the kitchen and pulled out a package of Fritos and started looking for the can of French’s bean dip she had begged Nurse Meme to get her. She opened all of the cabinets, slamming each one void of her favorite snack. She stomped into the laundry room “someone ate my bean dip!” Nurse Meme finished putting the creases in her white uniform “well, next time hide it better.” Gladys sat on the back porch sulking and turned on her transistor radio well, come on generals, let's move fast; your big chance has come at last. Got to go out and get those reds —The only good commie is the one who's dead And you know that peace can only be won when we've blown 'em all to kingdom come.

They were lined up in two rows of 50. They were solemn. They were respectful. They were scared. Kahuna leaned over and whispered to Biff “did you really wear your sister’s panties?” They were standing waiting to get their paperwork wondering where they would go next. “Awhight, what I want you to do next is file single file through that door right there” Sargent Carter was yelling and pointing, “you got a number, you will remember that number. Do not forget that number, because that number is now your name. Do you understand me? I can’t hear you!” There were answers of a few scattered yes’s and some yeah’s. “What did you say? Did you say yeah to me? DID YOU? Don’t you eyeball me boy.” Sargent Carter was now standing directly in front of Kahuna. He was spitting in Kahuna’s face as he asked his questions. Kahuna tried not to laugh. This all seemed like a bad episode of Gomer Pyle. “Now you will strip down to your scivvies. You will roll your clothes up and put them on the shelf. You will not take anything with you but your file. Now MOVE IT.”

Kahuna and his cohorts entered the cold empty room and did as they were told. They were then shuffled into another room and made to bend over and grab their ankles and cough. They were hooked up to ear phones and made to recite the letters on the eye chart. They were prodded along like cattle to the slaughterhouse. It was Kahuna’s turn to get blood drawn. He stood next to the medic and squeezed his hand into a fist. He watched as the needle stuck into his arm and watched as the vile filled. He looked up as saw, Ernie, the big black guy from the parking lot. He watched as the big guy saw the first inkling of blood. Then it happened like a giant redwood being felled in the forest, Ernie hit the ground. The medic jumped to try and catch Ernie. It all happened in slow motion, Ernie swooning, medic jumping and throwing files and viles. Ernie hit the ground as did paper, broken viles and medical equipment. That was all it took to lighten the mood. It started out as a titter, then a rustle and ended up a rumble of laughter.

Kahuna took test, he did sit-ups and pull-ups. He answered questions and filled out forms. He was sent to eat lunch in a cafeteria. He was told to line up and followed the line as brown mush and green slop were piled on his tray. He was sent back to the medics and made to twist his knee one way and turn his ankle another. “So how did you blow out your knee?” they asked. “Have you ever had pain while urinating?” another asked. He was given a test to see if he knew how to read and add numbers. Finally long after dark he and the others were loaded back on the battleship gray bus. Finally he no longer had people spitting in his face and yelling in his ear. Finally he was on his way home, he hoped.

The ride back to the parking lot was a quiet one. This time not out of fear or reverence but out of exhaustion. There were faint snores and some mumbling but mostly it was just the sound of the rumbling engine. Kahuna looked around and wondered who on the bus would be the next to go. He wondered whose number would be up next in the Draft. He wondered if it would be him. He got in his van and turned on the radio.

Well, come on mothers throughout the land,

Pack your boys off to Vietnam.

Come on fathers, don't hesitate,

Send 'em off before it's too late.

Be the first one on your block

To have your boy come home in a box.

And it's one, two, three

What are we fighting for ?

Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,

Next stop is Vietnam.

And it's five, six, seven,

Open up the pearly gates,

Well there ain't no time to wonder why,

Whoopee! we're all gonna die.

Two thousand miles away a girl wondered why we were fighting a war in Vietnam and why there were so many young men dying.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Hanging On By A Thread

I don’t know if I have mentioned this before, since I keep so much a secret, but I’m a wee bit accident prone. I know, I know it’s hard to believe what with me getting hit by a car just casually crossing the street to my high school and all. I am though, accident prone. My mom, Nurse Meme, always said it was because I was going where I was looking and not looking where I was going. Only, this time I wasn’t going anywhere.

Now I know you are sitting there scratching your head, I notice you do that a lot whilst reading my blog, and asking “Oh goodgawd Gladys! What in the heck did you do now?” Well I’ll tell you what. You didn’t really think I was just going to say I was accident prone then sign off with a fine howdoyoudo did you? Nope that just wouldn’t be fittin. Now what is suppose fit I’m not really sure; but that is something my Nanny would have said. She would have said “Now Gladys, that wouldn’t be fittin, to start a story then just leave me hanging.” So I’m not going to leave you hanging. I was almost hanging and that is where my story begins and coincidently ends.

You see Kahuna and I are involved in a project. This project involves painting over some really awful paint in a house. I perused numerous Traditional Home and Architectural Digest magazines. I consulted Martha Stewart’s web site. Heck I read and re-read Censational Girl’s blog before deciding the best and cheapest way to stage this house was to paint the walls taupe.

Have you ever been to the Home Depot and told the paint guy you want taupe? They look at you and scratch their heads and say “what color taupe do you want?” You stand there looking at Mr. I Mix Paint at The Home Depot and reply “taupe. You know not brown but not tan. Taupe!” Mr. IMPATHD sighs heavily pulls out a color chart with 47,000 colors of taupe and says “which taupe?” You then beleaguer over the charts. You fret over the sandy taupe as opposed to the winter taupe. You finally narrow down your choices to 52 of the 47,000 shades of taupe. You look up to realize that there are now 275 people in line waiting to get their already decided on color of taupe. You pull a number and wait your turn.

Finally Mr. IMPATHD calls your number and you scream “BINGO” because you have been waiting so long you are now in support hose and daydreaming you are at the Bingo parlor. You take your taupe color chart and show Mr. IMPATHD the ones you think might work. He again sighs heavily and asks “which one?” You smile sweetly and say “could I have a tester of each of these?” Now let me tell you those little tester jars are genius! GENIUS!

You gather up all 52 varying shades of taupe and march right up to the self serve check station. You happily slide each jar across the scanner and cough up the $274.57 for your test jars. You slide your credit card just as the elderly man behind you says “I remember back when Hank had the only hardware store in town. He saved all his Gerber baby food jars and would give you FREE samples.” You smile at the sweet man and say “isn’t that nice” but what you really mean is “screw you, you grumpy old fart! I was happy paying two bucks for my samples and now you’ve ruined it.” You then bag your $274.57 worth of jars that 40 years ago you could have gotten free for a few baby food jars and slink back to your car.

You arrive at the project jars and sponges in tow. You rush into the offensive room and break into all 52 jars. You slather paint here and you sponge it there trying to decide the perfect shade of taupe. You are now covered in paint. The floor is covered with various shades of taupe, which is actually helpful in deciding which shade is best with the carpet. You blow dry and wait until the paint is cured. Then you try and decide which of the 52 shades is the perfect shade. The only problem is you forgot to label which color was which and now you can’t remember from which jar what paint sallied forth. You move to another wall and start all over again only this time you mark your paint.

You finally decide on a shade and you rush back to The Home Depot and wait in line. Your number is called and you sidle up to the counter and look Mr. IMPATHD in the eye and you say “I would like 5 gallons of the 05GLNX vanilla latte double cappuccino taupe, please.” He sighs heavily (I am beginning to think that Mr. IMPATHD has a pulmonary dysfunction from sniffing too much paint) and says “flat, enamel, egg shell, semi-gloss, high gloss or super high semi gloss double latte?” You are now doubting yourself. What is the rule? No flat on enamel? No enamel on flat? Double latte has too much fat? What is it? You make a command decision and reply “semi-gloss eggshell please.” You make this statement with conviction. You stand firm even though Mr. IMPATHD raises one eyebrow in doubt and smirks. You wait while the paint machine shakes your paint. You wait while Mr. IMPATHD puts a dab on a card and whips his blow dryer from his holster like an old west gunslinger. He then brings you the card and says “are you sure this is what you want?” You swallow hard and squeak out “I think so.”

You wrestle the 4000 lbs of 05GLNX vanilla latte double cappuccino taupe into the back of your car and head back to the project house. You strain and pull and pull and strain until finally your loving husband easily lifts the almost weightless paint from the back of your car and carries it into the offensive room. He smiles lovingly at you and says “you do know you need to put primer on those baby shit green walls don’t you? Otherwise it will bleed through and you will have 05GLNX vanilla latte double cappuccino taupe walls seeping baby shit green.” He then goes with you back to face Mr. IMPATHD. The two speak some kind of man speak. They look over at you with pity then they talk some more about whites and covering colors and using rollers then they grunt a little and the deal is done. I am back at the project house painting coats of chalky white primer on baby shit green walls.

I am finally ready to put the beautiful 05GLNX vanilla latte double cappuccino color on my walls when Kahuna looks at me and says “we need to tape the ceilings so that we don’t bleed into the ceiling color.” Now it was my turn to look at him with pity because I know I have not cut myself and I’m not bleeding on anything. Kahuna knowing what I’m thinking, because he is psychic that way says “the paint running into the other paint and making a mess, type of bleeding.” I shrug and act like I knew that all a long. Kahuna then drags out this 40 foot ladder. Okay, it was really only a 5 foot ladder but for me that is equal to a 40 foot ladder. This brings me to another point. My nephew Lughead Larry couldn’t pronounce ladder when he was little. He called it a yadder. Well as things go I can not now call it by its real name and can only call it by its Lughead Larry name, yadder. Oh and no, he didn’t call himself Yughead Yarry. I digress.

Kahuna loves me. Kahuna adores me. Kahuna will not let me do dangerous things. Yet he put this ladder in the room and walked out. Now I’m sure Kahuna thought I knew better than to climb up on the yadder. I’m sure he thought I had enough sense to keep both of my feet flat on the ground. Kahuna forgot though, that I am head strong and am invincible in my own pea brain. I grabbed the roll of blue tape and I crawled up that yadder. I didn’t stop on the first step. I didn’t desist on the second step. Heck I didn’t even flinch at the fourth step. Nope I kept right on climbing until I reached the very tippy top of that yadder. Then you know what I did? Did I sit down and get my balance? Did I fasten myself into some type of a safety harness? Of course I did not. I climbed to the top of that yadder and I took a roll of blue tape and reached as far out as my arms would stretch. I reached out so far that the yadder started leaning the opposite way.

I felt the yadder sway but that didn’t stop me. Oh no. Oh contraire. I instead reached out further. I don’t know what I thought would happen. Perhaps I thought that the weight of the air would balance me out. It did not. Instead the yadder flew to the left, I lurched to the right. Then as if it were all in a Quinton Tarantino flick I felt myself falling in slow motion. I kicked out with my feet trying to right the wrongness of the situation. Then my head hit the closet shelf. The shelf where you store your shoes and bags. The shelf which needed a coat of GX247 Suisse coffee high gloss enamel. My head bounced not once but twice off the shelf and all I could think was don’t try and catch yourself with your hands. I mean at least I had enough sense to know this could break a wrist. So I tried to tuck my arm in front of me but this threw my body into a semi-spin. Again I could see this all happening as if I were having a Shirley McClain Out On a Limb moment. I clawed at the air. I tried to climb the nothingness. I tried to hang suspended like Wylie Coyote after going over the cliff to no avail. Instead I ended up landing hip first with my left wrist under me, then the rest of my weight on my tailbone. Then all went black.

I blinked my eyes to make sure I was still alive. I slowly tried to move my feet. I was relieved to feel pain. I tried to push into a sitting position when I realized my vision was a little fuzzy and my head was throbbing. I tried my wrist and hand, they both worked. I moved my neck, it worked. I tried standing and I could. I was okay. I would live. Another catastrophe survived. Kahuna rushed in and said “you didn’t climb that yadder did you?” I was extremely sore and embarrassed. I shook my head yes but this just made me dizzy. He looked into my eyes. He made me follow his finger from one side to the other with my eyes and then he commissioned me to bed rest for the rest of my day. Hum, maybe I have a way to get the room painted like Tom Sawyer had getting his fence whitewashed. I think I like Tom’s way better, I bet he didn’t wake up with a killer headache.

Friday, April 16, 2010

Gladys Has John C. Crapper Thoughts

It is Friday again and time for Mrs. 4444 to present her Friday Fragments. Go on go over read her fragments, link yours and have a big old fragmented party. Then go on over to Ann Again and Again for your weekly Virtual Girls Night Out. Have a drink, even if it’s just water, read some stories and partake in her game. Also link your Friday to her Friday.

This week has been a very busy week for me. What that means in layman terms is that I actually had to do something besides loll about and blog. So I am a little short on subject matter but as Mrs. 4’s would say I’m never short on words. If you don’t believe me go check out her Friday Fragments from last week. &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

This week for Theme Thursday was lunch which made me begin to reminisce. I used to get twenty-five cents for lunch. A piece of bubble gum was a penny.  A cup of ice cream was a nickel.  What the hell happened?


On that note remember when you actually bent down to pick up a penny? I actually watched a guy this week do everything to AVOID picking up a penny. I don’t know, call me Jack Benny;

but I still stop and pick them up. In fact I have a box in the back of the closet full of pennies. Oh wait maybe that’s panties.


I have been looking at a lot of houses the last couple of weeks. Many of the houses I have been in have been foreclosures and bank owned. There is one constant theme in these houses and that is that the people who left them were nine kinds of pissed off. I have seen houses missing appliances, cabinets, carpets and toilets. Now let me ask you WHO takes a toilet? Were you really THAT attached to your toilet?


Finally but not lastly it is also Happy Hour Friday over at the RX Bambi. She hosts Happy Hour Friday so go on over and tell us what makes you happy.

Here are some things that make me happy.

Dancing just to Dance

Traveling just to Travel

A day like this

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

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Mystery Meat Madness

Today is once again Thursday which of course means it's time for Theme Thursday.  This weeks theme is Lunch.  Since I am enternally out to lunch this was right up my ally.  So I will serve up my lunch order and then go and see what others have served up. 

“Go get my purse” she said as she kicked off her white duty shoes and started unloading the big pockets on her white uniform. Gladys ran into the laundry room grabbed her mother’s purse and headed back to the sofa. “Momma, why can’t I take my lunch” Gladys asked as she plopped down on the brown tweed sofa.

Nurse Meme crossed one leg over the other rubbed her toes and sighed “because your lunch sits in a locker all morning until it’s time to eat. Bacteria grows on food in dark moist places. You can get salmonella. Now here is twenty-five cents and I’ll give you an extra nickel so you can have ice cream. Do not buy ice cream unless you eat all of your food” Nurse Meme instructed as she placed the coins in Gladys little red plastic coin purse. She pinched it open slipped the coins inside “I will know if you didn’t eat your food and just ate ice cream so remember eat your food first then ice cream.”

Gladys put her little red coin purse in her big plaid book bag. She put on her white cardigan and adjusted her pig tails. “But Momma they are having mystery meat. I hate mystery meat. It tastes like barf. Can I just take my lunch on the days they serve mystery meat?” Nurse Meme slid her stocking feet into her gold lame house slippers and picked up her pocket book. “No, Gladys. You need to eat what those nice lunch ladies serve you. The food is perfectly good. That mystery meat is not a mystery, it is chicken fried steak.” Gladys screwed her face up into a pucker and said “but it doesn’t taste like chicken fried steak, it taste like dog barf.” Nurse Meme tired from working a double shift shook her head and sternly repeated “eat your food Gladys. Do you want me to take back that nickel? You know I don’t have to give you ice cream money. You can do without. Now do as I say and eat your lunch. There are starving children in China who would love to have your lunch.”

Gladys put her head down feeling a bit ashamed but mumbled “then let’s just send it to them.” Nurse Meme had enough. She was tired. Her feet ached and she hadn’t slept in over 36 hours. “Gladys, don’t make me spank you in front of God and everybody! You do as I say and I am done talking about this!” With that announcement Gladys was whisked off to school in the company of her older sister, Matilda, who sat smirking in the front seat. Gladys stuck her tongue out at her older sister and then went back to her job of sulking in the back seat.

It seemed to Gladys that the morning would never end. She would look at the clock, look at her Dick and Jane reader and then back at the clock. She tried not to fidget in her seat but it was impossible. Someone had put ants in her pants and she just wanted to get up and run around the room. She wanted to run to the cafeteria and break out her nickel and order up a cup of vanilla ice cream.

Mrs. Bell, her teacher, came over and whispered in Gladys’ ear “you need to calm yourself; otherwise you can miss lunch and wipe down the chalk boards.” Gladys took a deep breath and squeaked out in fear “yes, ma’am” and sat on her hands trying to make herself still. It was torture sitting still. Gladys didn’t like being quiet. Gladys wanted to run around the room and talk to everyone. She wanted to know what other people were doing and what they thought. She fought back all of her basic urges and waited for the bell to ring.

Brrirrriinnnggg, brrrirrriinnggg. Finally the lunch bell. Mrs. Bell motioned for the class to stand one row at a time. Oh gawd! This is going to take for ever Gladys told herself. One by one the rows of six year olds filed out into the hall and marched toward the lunch room. Gladys was mid march when she smelled it. The smell assaulted her first in the hallway and grew stronger the closer she drew.

She approached the counter and stared up at the lady in the hairnet with the huge mole on her nose. Gladys tried to smile but it came out more of a grimace as the lunch lady scooped a spoonful of gravy covered brown substance onto the divided plate. Next she watched as a pile of unidentifiable green mushy stuff was plopped into the space next to the brown magma. Oh my gawd they are touching each other! Gross! The juice from the green stuff is running into the juice from the brown stuff. It looks like vomit Gladys’ mind was screaming. She grabbed her tray tighter and waited for the lunch lady to put a roll on her tray. Gladys liked the rolls and knew that was the one thing on her plate that she could eat. Then the lunch lady did the unthinkable. She plopped the roll deep into the brown magma and green stuff juice. It was ruined. Gladys moved down the line and gave Principle Gray her quarter then she whispered “I have a nickel for ice cream.” Principle Gray leaned down and looked at Gladys “What did you say? Speak up child.” Gladys cleared her throat and said “I HAVE A NICKEL FOR ICE CREAM”. Principle Gray peered over his glasses at Gladys and said “you eat your food and then you can come back for ice cream. I’ll be watching you though. You eat it all or no ice cream.”

Gladys wanted to cry. She couldn’t eat this slop on her plate. It stunk. It looked exactly like what her dog Pepe’ had done after he ate a whole bag of Oreo cookies and that had come out of both ends of her beloved poodle. She sat at the table across from her friend Chris Robbins. He had a peanut butter and banana sandwich. He had a thermos full of iced tea. His mother loved him. She stared at the mess on her plate and began pushing it around with her fork. John sat next to her wolfing down the vomit scented mystery meat and Gladys gagged as she watched him. “How can you eat this stuff” she asked him. “It’s good! It tastes kind of like those new Swanson T.V. dinners” John replied. Chris looked at Gladys and said “how come you don’t bring your lunch if you don’t like what they have?” Gladys blushed and said “because my mom is afraid that Sam and Ella will make me sick.” John stopped mid-shovel and Chris bit off a big hunk of Wonder bread stuffed full of Jiffy peanut butter and banana. “Who is Sam and Ella” John asked. “I don’t know but my mom thinks they will make me sick. I told her we didn’t even have anyone in our class by that name.” John swallowed his bite then shoveled in another mouthful “wow, your mom is mean.”

Gladys sat looking at the now cooling brown glop on her plate and said “yeah, but she gave me a nickel for ice cream. I just have to eat all of this before I get it.” Chris looked at Gladys with true pity and said “aw, man, how is she gonna know if you didn’t eat?” Gladys smiled weakly “she and Principle Gray are in cahoots. She has spies everywhere.” The boys shook their heads and went back to eating. Gladys dug her fork into her plate held her nose and started eating the slimy brown substance. She scooped green stuff, brown stuff and roll all together and ate trying not to gag.

She was almost done. She only had a few bites left to go and then she heard the burrrrinnngggg of the bell that signaled the end of lunch. Wait! Gladys wanted to scream, I haven’t had my ice cream yet and I ate all this stuff on my plate! It was no use Mrs. Bell was urging each child on to dump their tray and get into line. “Mrs. Bell. I didn’t get my ice cream” Gladys pleaded as she was prodded toward the big silver trash can. Mrs. Bell ignored her plea and moved down the line touching each child on the shoulder moving them on.

Back in the classroom Gladys began feeling queasy. She looked at John sitting in the seat across from her. He looked a little green. Then it happened. Betty on the front row started making that glumping sound and then there was a plop of vomit on the floor. John saw Betty throw-up which of course caused him to begin heaving and puking which of invoked the domino effect. The whole class was heaving and horking. Mrs. Bell was running around with little brown paper towels “Oh my! Oh Goodness!” She was ushering a mass of children out into the courtyard. It was serial regurgitation. It was retching chaos.

“Mr. Gray? Yes this is Meme McGuillicutty, Glady’s mother. Yes, I was just calling to let you know that she will not be in school today. She has salmonella. Yes, I understand everyone who ate in the cafeteria contracted it. Yes she should be back in school Monday, thank you.” Gladys lay on the bed sipping Seven Up and smirking. Gladys knew she was vindicated but she still didn’t know who Ella or Sam was.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Just The Facts for the Week Ending 4/12/2010

There are a million stories in the city.


"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 4-12-2010

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

Thursday 4/1/2010

3:13 p.m. Deputies counseled the 8-year-old boy who allegedly bounced his 6-year-old brother’s head off the pavement outside their home. The child’s parents will continue to handle the situation.
Isn’t this what all siblings do? Bounce each other’s heads off the pavement? A couple of years ago Matilda and I took a Yoga class together. We were given the task of standing on our heads. Matilda told me she would hold my legs while I stood on my head, only she let go and I fell on my head. She said it reminded her of when I was younger.

5:37 p.m. An injured seagull was seen on the side of Highway 93. The report was passed on to Kalispell Police Department.
I see a couple of problems with this report. One is that the seagull is in MONTANA. Montana is not near the ocean. There is no sea, no beaches, no big waves. Second why was the police department notified? Did it commit a crime?

Tuesday 4/6/2010
9:15 a.m. A man on Harmony Road claims that his ex-wife took the riding lawn mower. The two will be resolving the civil issue on their own.
Here we go again. PEOPLE! YOU LIVE ON HARMONY ROAD! Try to get along!
Also and too, I have a vision of George Jones riding down the road on his lawn mower.

1:42 p.m. A yelling, screaming, intoxicated woman refused to leave a Hungry Horse residence. The disturbance was verbal only.
Was she sitting on a riding lawn mower?

Wednesday 4/7/2010

4:21 a.m. Someone on Mountain View Drive claims that his ex-girlfriend stole his puppy.
Man first she takes his John Deere then she takes his dog. This is sounding more and more like a Country and Western song.
11:46 a.m. Someone on Conn Road suspects a friend of stealing money from them.
Um, your first clue should have been you live on CONN road.

Thursday, 4/8/2010
9:27 a.m. A Whitefish resident called to report that someone might have tried to steal their hot tub.
If they stole it then it would be hot wouldn’t it? And didn’t they just make a movie about a hot tub?

5:41 p.m. Power lines fell into a hot tub in Whitefish.
Now that is a HOT tub!

Sunday, April 11, 2010

The Tehnicolor Living Room

I really don't know what to say.  Were these people color blind?  Maybe they were like the United States of Tara and had multiple personality disorder.  I'm not sure what to say.  This picture does not do this room credit.  The colors were bursting out all over. Oh and please do not think they picked on this room.  They carried the color scheme into the kitchen.  I know that nothing gives me an apetite like eating in the amazing technicolor kitchen.  Hey maybe Kramer will stop by.

Friday, April 9, 2010

Gladys Has Mentho-lyptus Thoughts

It is Friday again and time for Mrs. 4444 to present her Friday Fragments. Go on go over read her fragments, link yours and have a big old fragmented party. Then go on over to Ann Again and Again for your weekly Virtual Girls Night Out. Have a drink, even if it’s just water, read some stories and partake in her game. Also link your Friday to her Friday.
***********************************************************I have three dogs, okay I only have one but the other two are my granddogs so… We are living in our RV. These dogs have always lived on 10+ acres. This means that for the last 8 years they have pooped and we have never seen it, or very little of it. Now we are walking them 3 or 4 times a day. This means we pick up poop 12 or 16 times a day. I am now a poop reader.

“Oh, honey, we need to stop giving Kai extra vegetables in his meals, its a little green” or “ewww, I think they ate the red webbing off the lawn chairs.” Yes I am The Poop READER.


I have been taking some on-line classes. Yesterday I had a class with a man who, well, didn’t speak English very well. Not that he had bad grammar but he had a very thick accent. I think it may have been Russian or Arabic all I know was he coughed out his words. I kept wanting to give him a Hall’s Cough Drop, cherry of course.

I am one of those people who believe I need to be taking classes all the time. Things are not static they are dynamic and it is important to keep learning or you atrophy. So the next class I am taking is going to be The Joy of Garbage.


This week Tiger returned to the world of golf. Nike also debuted his new ad campaign. Is that commercial not the freakiest thing you have ever seen.

I don't know what's worse, his dead dad talking or the look on Tiger's face?  Is he getting some below the waist action or what?


Finally but not lastly it is also Happy Hour Friday over at the RX Bambi. She hosts Happy Hour Friday so go on over and tell us what makes you happy.

Here are some things that make me happy.

Planning a trip to the beach this week.

She calls me almost everyday and we girl chat.

It was my quirky cousins birthday this week.  She makes me happy!

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

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Boxing Gladys

This weeks theme for THEME THURSDAY is Box.  The first thing that came to mind was that horrible 1993 movie Boxing Helena.  Which is not about a prize fighter named Helena nor is it about boxing pieces of Helena, Montana.   Yes I actually watched it and was horrified.   Not only was I horrified but I had nightmares over it, the movie not Helena, Montana.

It was dark and smelled musty and dank. She adjusted to fit the confines a little better. She tried to slow down her breathing knowing she must conserve her oxygen. It won’t be long before they come for me she told herself. They will come, all I must do is stay quiet and remember to breath.

It seemed as if she had been confined, twisted and contorted to fit the small space for hours; but she had only been there for twenty minutes. She recalled the reassuring look she was given as the top was closed and she heard the words “be quiet or they’ll get you”. She waited and the folds were turned down and it went dark. She sang songs in her head and thought “they will be sorry they were ever mean to me!”

Then the unthinkable happened. She lay in the dark breathing slowly and evenly singing songs to herself until she was lulled to sleep. She curled a little tighter into her ball and dreamed of prancing ponies and tables full of chocolate cupcakes. She stirred very little and at one point she even dreamed of floating along a river just like the baby Noah.

Hours later she woke her legs aching from their contortions. Her bladder urging her to move but she couldn’t leave her confinement. She was trapped. She rolled to her knees and pressed on the top of the box but it didn’t budge. Once again she shifted and pushed with her feet trying to dislodge whatever had been placed upon her special hiding place. She pushed and pushed but nothing budged. It was then she realized she was truly trapped.

Nurse Meme had helped her hide from Buck and Matilda in their game of Hide and Seek but something had gone terribly wrong. She squirmed and tried not to panic. She took a deep breath and let out a piercing scream. Nothing. No voices. No footsteps. There was absolute silence. She thought about the horrible Vincent Price movie they had seen the Saturday before at the Queen Theater. It was about a man who was walled up inside a wall alive. Was this her fate too? Was she buried alive? She tried to concentrate on something else. She tried not to think of that poor man being walled to death. How horrible to be walled to death. Then she began to wonder how many people were inside the walls of her home. That would explain the strange creaking noises she heard at night.

She began to cry. The more she cried the more frightened she became. You would think that someone who was found under a rock would feel comfortable in confined spaces. They would in fact feel at home, cozy in their cubby. She did not. She cried until big snot bubble formed. She sobbed until her chest ached. She sucked in a big gulp of air and that’s when she heard it.

The sound was faint at first and then louder and more menacing. The box rocked and swayed and then they ripped open the top of the box and said “Your IT!”

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

What Would Oprah Do?

I was conversing with June Gardens over at Bye Bye Pie last night. Yes she actually emailed me back to my email then I emailed her and well then she got a restraining order. I know I am special that way. Not really but I like to pretend I am. June is very nice and responds to all of her faithful readers. Anyway, she and I were talking about her monthly e-book club.

Mince Words With June started several months ago and her faithful readers all get together at a certain time and discuss the preferred book. Only lots of people don’t read the book but comment anyway or they read the book and don’t comment. I told June that we just need to get her on Oprah and then everyone will read and comment. We all know if Oprah touches it then it’s golden. She is like Midas. She is like Willy Wonka. She is like Oprah, oh wait she IS Oprah.  What do you mean you don't know who Oprah is?  What have you been cryogenically frozen since 1969?  Have you been living in a cave on a remote desert island since World War II?  Have you been on a LSD trip since 1969?  Oh you have?  Sorry.

June told me that she watched a special on The Oprah Effect on CNBC. This made me of course go instantly to CNBC and dig up the clip and watch it. Hey look June it’s already working you say it, I do it. It was very interesting and makes me wonder what it is about Oprah that causes people to blindly follow her.

When I first started blogging I corresponded with Robyn Okrant who wrote Living Oprah.

She is the lady who did everything Oprah said to do for a solid year. Then she took her blog and turned it into a book. Then Oprah put it on her show and wham, bang, boom everyone bought her book. Well not everyone but bunches of people. I digress. I corresponded with her and she was very informative and explained how it was really costly living Oprah. She said she began saying things like “WWOD”? I recommend reading both her blog and her book. Interesting stuff. My point is that this woman actually did what Oprah said to do.

I have to believe there are glassy eyed women and men who wait impatiently in front of their television Tivo ready and worship at the alter of Oprah. Now if I could somehow figure out how to get on Oprah before her last show and have her endorse my writing maybe just maybe I could get the followers of Bye Bye Pie to read and participate in June’s book club. I of course would get a book deal out of it and be richer than Bill Gates and I would start my own school and buy two hundred dollar t-shirts. I would go on a cross country road trip with my best friend.

June would you like to be my new best friend? You could be my Gayle. Oh wait I started this to put June on Oprah. See how greed poisoning effects people. Here I was trying to help June and then I got greedy and walked all over June.

June if you get on Oprah, I’ll be your Gayle and if I get on Oprah you can be my Gayle. Deal? Now I recommend that you go read Bye Bye Pie and see what the book of the month is. Please be A Prayer for Owen Meany.