1) Link to the person who tagged you.
2) Post the rules on your blog (copy and paste 1-6).
3) Write 6 random things about yourself (see below).
4) Tag 6 people at the end of your post and link to them.
5) Let each person know they have been tagged and leave a comment on their blog.
6) Let the tagger know when your entry is up.
I got this from Coffee Bean over at http://righteousbuzz.blogspot.com/2008/11/six-random-facts-meme.html
Let's see.
1. Since it's close to the Holidays, I am drinking coffee with eggnog in it. I like eggnog by itself, with a little bit of rum or whiskey. One Christmas when our kids were little, my siblings and I were all at my mom's. We were up very late putting toys together and drinking egg nog. My brother who does not drink drank two glasses of rum spiked egg nog before my mother told him there was alcohol in it. He just looked at her and said "No wonder I put the Barbie House together upside down".
2. I'm allergic to all pork products. Gives me a ferocious migraine. I can eat something that was cooked on the same grill as pork and will have a headache. It is very inconvenient when I go out to eat. I have to ask "Was that cooked with pork? Did it touch pork? Did you even open bacon around it?" When I was in Europe I had to keep making piggy sounds and shaking my head No. I'm sure the Germans and French thought I was out of my mind. "Hey don't give the crazy pig lady any more wine."
3. I was sang Happy Birthday by Reba McIntyre. I was 25 years old and she was in concert in my home town. A friend of mine was working security for her. He invited me backstage before her concert and introduced me to her. She was so cute and nice. Then she broke out in song and sang to me. I was thrilled, she even wished me happy birthday during her concert.
4. I'm not cooking Thanksgiving dinner this year. The first in many, many years. I am however cooking bbq after Thanksgiving. Kahuna and I will be alone for Thanksgiving this year up in the frozen tundra. We will be going back home for a couple of days after Thanksgiving so we will get most of our offspring together and have a dinner then. I'm making BBQ brisket, ribs, tater salad, grapefruit salad, corn and wild rice casserole, a big mixed salad and Falulah and Lulu, my two younger girls are making one of their scrumptious cheesecakes.
5. I recently had an epiphany. I decided that I didn't have to always be right. That sometimes it was ok to just not know the answer to something. I spent most of my life struggling to be right even when I was wrong. It was exhausting. This is much easier. I can look at the person who is trying to convince me of something or is asking me something and I can just shrug my shoulders and say "Beats me. I really don't know."
6. I used to love all types of horror movies, books and shows. Now, not so much. I would rather watch a suspense movie or read a mystery. I will however make an exception for well written or well filmed horror type movies. I also was a huge Sci Fi geek. I watched Star Trek religiously and waited in line for hours upon hours to see Star Wars.
Now then you know me so who do I tag? I tag YOU. Those of you with a blog leave me a comment with you blog site on it and link back here. I will go read yours. This is what Coffee Bean did and I thought it was a great idea. Those with no blog, leave yours here on the comment page. I'll be waiting for you. Now go write. I'll leave the light on for you.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Monday, November 24, 2008
The Quirky Cuzin Rodeo
I think I mentioned before my quirky country cousins. They were and still are great. They had/have these huge imaginations. Yeah I have one too but mine is all about the really weird horrible outlandish things that could happen. They have these great artistic and useful imaginations. PLUS they are really great people and a heck of a lot of fun to be around.
They had the type of imagination that was fun. Like one time when I was about six years old they got the great idea to dress me up like Marylyn Monroe. No it wasn’t Halloween; they just thought it would be funny. So they put false eyelashes on me and dug an old peignoir out of the rag bag and fluffed it up and made adjustments then they drew a mole on my face and put a load of jewels on me. They thought this was great fun and honestly so did I. I loved being their doll to dress up and made to go out and put on a show for the grown-ups.
When I was a little girl it was always our big treat to go stay at our cousin’s ranch for a couple of weeks every summer. Now what I didn’t know was they really would have rather come to the city but they put up with us coming to the country. They had so many great things to do in the country and the city was just well, boring. Now there was an upside to this for my aunt and uncle instead of having 3 ranch hands they got to have 4 ½ ranch hands. You see I was too little and my brother had asthma so we weren’t of much use. My uncle didn’t let us get off that light I mean my brother still had to go ride fence with them and well I got to sit around and look cute. See I got an early start on being a slackass.
One summer my cousins decided we needed to have our own rodeo. Without a second thought there was an all out production in motion. First it was mine and my Cousin Wendy’s job to make the ribbons. You know the ribbons that you win for competing. Next Yob and “B” put together pens and animals for the different competition. My brother and sister were also enlisted in getting the “arena” ready. It was all of our jobs to set up the grandstand and talk my Uncle J.C. into officiating for us.
Finally after much preparation and promotion it was time for the rodeo. There was the goat riding contest. That was where my sister and I because we were the two youngest had to ride goats like you would a bull and see who could stay on the longest. There was the calf race where they tied a ribbon on the calf’s tail and we had to chase it all over the arena until you grabbed the ribbon off the tail and run it back to the judge’s box. Then there was the team barrel race where the older cousin actually steered the horse and it was our job to sit behind hang on and not fall off. Then there was the rescue race, this entailed one of us balancing on the barrel, the horse and rider would come out of the gate as fast as possible round the barrel slowing down long enough for us to jump off the barrel onto the back of the already hyped up horse and then race back to the gate as quickly as possible. All the while we, the rescue-ee, had to hang on for dear life while the rescurer spurred the horse as hard and as fast as they could. Needless to say we often had to be rescued from the rescuer.
Oh the rodeo wasn’t my cousin’s only production. Oh no! Remember the old Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland movies where something would come up and they would look at each other and say “Let’s put on a show!” and the next thing you know there would be a full blown Busby Berkley musical show? Yeah that is what it was like around my cousins. Only one of them constantly engaged in some sort of art project, the other some type of agricultural project and another in some type of sewing project. We had our own little production company.
They also had something called the “Mountain” which in reality was a hill but to us it was huge. On top of the “Mountain” was a tank. No not the military type, the type from which livestock drink. On really hot days my oldest cousin would fire up the old Willis Jeep load all of us in it and tear off for the tank. We would have our swimsuits, our towels and our floaties and off we would go. The road up the “Mountain” was not a gradual climb nor was it full of switchbacks it was pretty much straight up and in order for the old Willy to make it up the hill “B” would get going as fast as she could coming across the field and as soon as she hit the incline would double clutch it downshift and give it all it had. There were a couple of times we didn’t make it and would roll back down the hill but usually she would maneuver the “mountain”. I swear I don’t think there is a machine in this world that “B” couldn’t operate. Once we reached the top and made it to the tank we would pile out literally jump from the jeep into the water. Now that I’m older I think about the ook factor of that. What’s the ook factor? The fact that the tank was full of snakes, snapping turtles and cow patties today would ook me out. We were kids and it was an adventure snakes, turtles and poo be damned.
Now you see why I’m a little warped and why I have the sense of humor I have. I was raised that way. It is a shame we didn’t have digital cameras and digital movies way back then because I’m sure it would be a hoot to watch them. I do however have some pretty awesome memories.
Oh and my quirky cousins are still quirky and I love each and every one of them. They all grew up to be artist and philosophers in their own rights. They are truly “good” people.
I love you guys! Thank you for all the great memories.
They had the type of imagination that was fun. Like one time when I was about six years old they got the great idea to dress me up like Marylyn Monroe. No it wasn’t Halloween; they just thought it would be funny. So they put false eyelashes on me and dug an old peignoir out of the rag bag and fluffed it up and made adjustments then they drew a mole on my face and put a load of jewels on me. They thought this was great fun and honestly so did I. I loved being their doll to dress up and made to go out and put on a show for the grown-ups.
When I was a little girl it was always our big treat to go stay at our cousin’s ranch for a couple of weeks every summer. Now what I didn’t know was they really would have rather come to the city but they put up with us coming to the country. They had so many great things to do in the country and the city was just well, boring. Now there was an upside to this for my aunt and uncle instead of having 3 ranch hands they got to have 4 ½ ranch hands. You see I was too little and my brother had asthma so we weren’t of much use. My uncle didn’t let us get off that light I mean my brother still had to go ride fence with them and well I got to sit around and look cute. See I got an early start on being a slackass.
One summer my cousins decided we needed to have our own rodeo. Without a second thought there was an all out production in motion. First it was mine and my Cousin Wendy’s job to make the ribbons. You know the ribbons that you win for competing. Next Yob and “B” put together pens and animals for the different competition. My brother and sister were also enlisted in getting the “arena” ready. It was all of our jobs to set up the grandstand and talk my Uncle J.C. into officiating for us.
Finally after much preparation and promotion it was time for the rodeo. There was the goat riding contest. That was where my sister and I because we were the two youngest had to ride goats like you would a bull and see who could stay on the longest. There was the calf race where they tied a ribbon on the calf’s tail and we had to chase it all over the arena until you grabbed the ribbon off the tail and run it back to the judge’s box. Then there was the team barrel race where the older cousin actually steered the horse and it was our job to sit behind hang on and not fall off. Then there was the rescue race, this entailed one of us balancing on the barrel, the horse and rider would come out of the gate as fast as possible round the barrel slowing down long enough for us to jump off the barrel onto the back of the already hyped up horse and then race back to the gate as quickly as possible. All the while we, the rescue-ee, had to hang on for dear life while the rescurer spurred the horse as hard and as fast as they could. Needless to say we often had to be rescued from the rescuer.
Oh the rodeo wasn’t my cousin’s only production. Oh no! Remember the old Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland movies where something would come up and they would look at each other and say “Let’s put on a show!” and the next thing you know there would be a full blown Busby Berkley musical show? Yeah that is what it was like around my cousins. Only one of them constantly engaged in some sort of art project, the other some type of agricultural project and another in some type of sewing project. We had our own little production company.
They also had something called the “Mountain” which in reality was a hill but to us it was huge. On top of the “Mountain” was a tank. No not the military type, the type from which livestock drink. On really hot days my oldest cousin would fire up the old Willis Jeep load all of us in it and tear off for the tank. We would have our swimsuits, our towels and our floaties and off we would go. The road up the “Mountain” was not a gradual climb nor was it full of switchbacks it was pretty much straight up and in order for the old Willy to make it up the hill “B” would get going as fast as she could coming across the field and as soon as she hit the incline would double clutch it downshift and give it all it had. There were a couple of times we didn’t make it and would roll back down the hill but usually she would maneuver the “mountain”. I swear I don’t think there is a machine in this world that “B” couldn’t operate. Once we reached the top and made it to the tank we would pile out literally jump from the jeep into the water. Now that I’m older I think about the ook factor of that. What’s the ook factor? The fact that the tank was full of snakes, snapping turtles and cow patties today would ook me out. We were kids and it was an adventure snakes, turtles and poo be damned.
Now you see why I’m a little warped and why I have the sense of humor I have. I was raised that way. It is a shame we didn’t have digital cameras and digital movies way back then because I’m sure it would be a hoot to watch them. I do however have some pretty awesome memories.
Oh and my quirky cousins are still quirky and I love each and every one of them. They all grew up to be artist and philosophers in their own rights. They are truly “good” people.
I love you guys! Thank you for all the great memories.
Thong Song
Thong Song
A long time ago when I was very thin, stop laughing I was thin. I was so thin people used to tease me about being thin and I would actually be offended. Can you imagine being offended because someone called you Skinny-Minnie or Toothpick Tillie? Honestly I have tried to pay people to call me skinny for old time’s sake and they just laugh and walk away. Again, I digress.
I was thin, we’ve established that and thin people can wear clothing that fluffier people like me now can not or better said should not. I was in need of some new undergarments. I was still young in doggy years so I went to the local Victoria Secret Store and began my quest for new unmentionables. There was all the normal styles high rise, boy cut, bikini cut, string bikini and a new style called a thong. Now growing up a thong was something you wore on your foot and it made a thong, thong, thong noise when you walked. You bought them at the 5 and Dime two pair for a dollar and invariably when you least expected it you would have a blow out in them. The middle strap between your toes would come out of its place, the little button holding it together would either wear off or pop out and there was no way to keep the shoe on past that point. My mother would save the good one in hopes that the next one to blow-out would be the opposite foot and you would again have a complete set. It never worked out that way.
Now they call them flip-flops.
I was intrigued by this thong and the sales girl heralded their virtues. She explained that they were all the rage in the big cities and with the hip younger women. Just think, she gushed, no panty lines under your slacks. Look she continued pointing to her own bum and saying “I have one on and you can’t tell can you?” I looked and then she said “No really feel my butt there is nothing between me and the slacks” I thanked her but no thanked her and told her I would take her word for it. I thought what the heck I’ll try a pair. (Why do they call it a pair of panties when technically it is only one piece of clothing?) I made my purchase feeling very continental and fashion hip.
The following Monday I got up early, three o’clock in the morning, for my usual 60 mile commute to work. I got dressed wearing of course my new purchase, the thong. It was a bit uncomfortable and really didn’t give very much coverage in the necessary places but I thought it was something to which I would adjust. The most obvious difference in the thong and regular panties was that this one was supposed to go between your butt cheeks where regular panties usually just worked their way there. I spent the next hour and a half in my car fidgeting this way and that way trying to get used to the new garment. I arrived at work in some discomfort but continued through out my morning walking around as if I had a self-inflicted wedgies.
About halfway through the day I was in misery. What type of torture device was that Victoria selling I wondered? Why would a woman with such a prim and proper name want to torture her fellow gender so? Who, other than me, would subject themselves to the constant state of discomfort? Not wanting my fellow female co-workers to suffer the agony that was the thong panty I started a campaign. I told them “Do not let that evil Victoria impel her secrets upon your bum.” They looked at me quizzically and wanted more information. I told them about this new torture device and explained how it was worn. They all commiserated with me.
When the day was over I drove the 90 minutes home again in agony. It seemed when I sat it was worse than when I walked. I could not for the life of me figure out why or how anyone would wear these evil devices of torture. I mean I am a woman and I am not above wearing painfully high-heels to lift my bum in the air in an attempt at beauty. I will and have worn torturous garments that stuffed and lifted and tucked and pulled all in the name of fashion. This was just a little too much, panty lines or not, I could not understand these little strings of harrowing elastic and satin. It was just too uncomfortable even for the fashion diva I thought I was.
I literally raced to the door and to my bedroom where I ripped my clothing off in order to get rid of the menacing piece of material that had been my bane all day. As I removed the offending item of clothing I realized something. I went to my dresser and took out the sister thong to the one I was wearing and started to really examine it. I noted the tag was not where I thought it should be. Then the light bulb went on over my head and I realized what was wrong. Yes, you guessed it. I had been wearing them not backwards but sideways all day. Yes, I said Sideways! Is there any other piece of clothing that you can wear sideways? I don’t think so. No, hats don’t count.
A long time ago when I was very thin, stop laughing I was thin. I was so thin people used to tease me about being thin and I would actually be offended. Can you imagine being offended because someone called you Skinny-Minnie or Toothpick Tillie? Honestly I have tried to pay people to call me skinny for old time’s sake and they just laugh and walk away. Again, I digress.
I was thin, we’ve established that and thin people can wear clothing that fluffier people like me now can not or better said should not. I was in need of some new undergarments. I was still young in doggy years so I went to the local Victoria Secret Store and began my quest for new unmentionables. There was all the normal styles high rise, boy cut, bikini cut, string bikini and a new style called a thong. Now growing up a thong was something you wore on your foot and it made a thong, thong, thong noise when you walked. You bought them at the 5 and Dime two pair for a dollar and invariably when you least expected it you would have a blow out in them. The middle strap between your toes would come out of its place, the little button holding it together would either wear off or pop out and there was no way to keep the shoe on past that point. My mother would save the good one in hopes that the next one to blow-out would be the opposite foot and you would again have a complete set. It never worked out that way.
Now they call them flip-flops.
I was intrigued by this thong and the sales girl heralded their virtues. She explained that they were all the rage in the big cities and with the hip younger women. Just think, she gushed, no panty lines under your slacks. Look she continued pointing to her own bum and saying “I have one on and you can’t tell can you?” I looked and then she said “No really feel my butt there is nothing between me and the slacks” I thanked her but no thanked her and told her I would take her word for it. I thought what the heck I’ll try a pair. (Why do they call it a pair of panties when technically it is only one piece of clothing?) I made my purchase feeling very continental and fashion hip.
The following Monday I got up early, three o’clock in the morning, for my usual 60 mile commute to work. I got dressed wearing of course my new purchase, the thong. It was a bit uncomfortable and really didn’t give very much coverage in the necessary places but I thought it was something to which I would adjust. The most obvious difference in the thong and regular panties was that this one was supposed to go between your butt cheeks where regular panties usually just worked their way there. I spent the next hour and a half in my car fidgeting this way and that way trying to get used to the new garment. I arrived at work in some discomfort but continued through out my morning walking around as if I had a self-inflicted wedgies.
About halfway through the day I was in misery. What type of torture device was that Victoria selling I wondered? Why would a woman with such a prim and proper name want to torture her fellow gender so? Who, other than me, would subject themselves to the constant state of discomfort? Not wanting my fellow female co-workers to suffer the agony that was the thong panty I started a campaign. I told them “Do not let that evil Victoria impel her secrets upon your bum.” They looked at me quizzically and wanted more information. I told them about this new torture device and explained how it was worn. They all commiserated with me.
When the day was over I drove the 90 minutes home again in agony. It seemed when I sat it was worse than when I walked. I could not for the life of me figure out why or how anyone would wear these evil devices of torture. I mean I am a woman and I am not above wearing painfully high-heels to lift my bum in the air in an attempt at beauty. I will and have worn torturous garments that stuffed and lifted and tucked and pulled all in the name of fashion. This was just a little too much, panty lines or not, I could not understand these little strings of harrowing elastic and satin. It was just too uncomfortable even for the fashion diva I thought I was.
I literally raced to the door and to my bedroom where I ripped my clothing off in order to get rid of the menacing piece of material that had been my bane all day. As I removed the offending item of clothing I realized something. I went to my dresser and took out the sister thong to the one I was wearing and started to really examine it. I noted the tag was not where I thought it should be. Then the light bulb went on over my head and I realized what was wrong. Yes, you guessed it. I had been wearing them not backwards but sideways all day. Yes, I said Sideways! Is there any other piece of clothing that you can wear sideways? I don’t think so. No, hats don’t count.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
The Perfect Excuse
Have you ever had a meeting, appointment or an engagement you just don’t have to time to attend? Have you ever had something you would rather do than something else so you make up a lame excuse to one so you can do the other? Well I promise I have the best, most original, undisputable excuse for you. Now before I tell you what it is I will tell you how it came to be.
I have mentioned on here before that a long time ago I was the owner in residence of a 100 year old house.
(You can read about it here: http://accidentalhousewife.spaces.live.com/blog/cns!83D9B59407F3C62F!897.entry
With that dubious honor also came the dubious pitfalls of owning and maintaining the money pit. I have come to believe in the years since I left the haunted mansion that it was also bequeathed with a curse. A curse that was much more frightening than the ghost who haunted it. The curse though is fodder for another story. The money pit is where and how I learned of the most perfect excuse.
When I first decided to purchase the money pit, I eyed the ragged but salvageable golden oak wood floors and decided that before I moved in those would be refinished. I called all the flooring contractors I could find before I settled on one who came highly recommended by my painter. My painter was a great guy and stuck with me through some pretty incredible episodes and events in both his life and mine. Remember Eldon from the old “Murphy Brown” shows? He came to paint for Murphy and ended up practically living there? Yeah that is what my Eldon did. He came and stayed for years. Anyway Eldon recommended this floor guy, Leon, and told me he did excellent work. He was reasonable in his price in fact he was quite a bit cheaper than everyone else. I would find out why later.
Leon came early one morning got out his strippers and sanders and got to work. He completely stripped all the old wax, stain and polyurethane off of my floors. He pulled up thresholds and trim. It looked like he was going to do a thorough job. I was thrilled. I mean how often do you find a contractor who was so precise and he cleaned up after himself too. It was great. While Leon was getting busy on the floors, Eldon and his crew were busy on the outside of the house. My mother and I had cut and pulled down the English ivy that threatened to break the bricks and the house with them so that Eldon and his crew could get busy. I was getting to know my new house by having furniture and personal items moved into rooms where mass destruction was not taking place. The crew of guys I had hired to help move the heavier furniture pieces had just finished moving the items into the garden room and to do so had to pass through the living room. This made Leon very upset and he decided he would pack up for the day.
Leon loaded up his green trailer and left. The movers finished trekking across the newly sanded living room floor and Eldon and his crew continued working. I had to go back to my real job before my boss fired me. I had been at my desk for less than thirty minutes when my cell phone rang. It was Eldon and he was just a bit shaken up. He informed me I needed to come to the house right away. He would not tell me why and he would not tell me what was going on.
I of course panicked and immediately thought an errant meteor had come hurtling to earth in an attempt to squish me into radio active mush only I, thank goodness, had left too early. I arrived at my house with all of Eldon’s crew running to greet me. They all were wide eyed and frantic. Eldon walked over to me and said “I want you to take a deep breath, count to ten, and the exhale.” Oh NO! I thought this isn’t going to be good! I did as I was told, inhaled counted to ten then blew out every ounce of breath I had. Eldon then told me what had happened. He said “Ms. Gladys, me and da boys were up chere on dis here scawfoldin when we hurd an awful thunderin. Then there was a wush and big ole bang and lots of smoke and dust. We all jumped off of da scawfoldin and ran around the house then we seen it. Look right there in the leevin room.”
I again did as I was told, because well like I’ve said before I always do as I’m told. I peered through the French doors that lead to the living room. At first I didn’t understand what I saw. What I should have seen was my sanded living room floor; instead what I saw was dirt and concrete. I was both intrigued and horrified. I ran around to the front door with Eldon on my heels chattering away. I stopped short of the entrance into the living room. I turned to Eldon and said “Where is Leon?” Eldon scuffed his foot and said “Ms. Gladys, Leon done left for de day. I don’t spect he’ll be back til tomorrow.” I sighed a huge sigh of relief and said “Well, Thank God for that!” Then Eldon and I entered the damaged room. There on the newly stripped, sanded and prepped golden oak wood floor sat in shattered hunks the opposing ceiling. My entire living room one hundred year old plaster and lathe ceiling had fallen, corner to corner into my floor. It had come crashing down in one huge pile of rubble on my prepped unfinished floor. I wanted to cry but Eldon wouldn’t let me. Eldon grabbed my hand pulled me down on my knees and started praying. He prayed his thanks to God for no one being harmed, he prayed for a quick and easy repair to my living room and he prayed that whatever had caused the ceiling to fall would be the only problem I had in my house. All but one of his prayers was fulfilled.
I went outside to catch my breath, call my insurance agent and let Leon know not to come the next day. I did all those things and then my cell phone rang. It was my secretary’s husband informing me that my nineteen year old assistant was dead. She had died of an overdose. That was it. I was done. I wanted to curl into a ball and suck my thumb. I wanted my mommy. I was overwhelmed. Eldon had been sitting next to me when the call had come in and he again took my hand and started praying. I was grateful that Eldon was there. Once again it proved that my problems were small compared to others.
The clean up took several weeks. I was given the green light and I instructed Leon that the floors would be accessible to him the upcoming Monday. Monday came and went and no Leon. Five Mondays came and went and still no Leon. I called and he did not answer. I left messages that went ignored. I wrote him a letter that was returned. I was livid. I was rabid. I had the red ass so bad it had ran down my leg and given me the red foot. One of the things that upset me so was that I was at a loss as to how to proceed. I went to Eldon with my problem. Eldon picked up his cell phone and dialed Leon's number. He looked pensive as he was listened to Leon’s voice mail instructions. Eldon said “Ms. Gladys donchew worry bout a thang. I’ll go and find that sapsucker and have him chere tomorrow.” I had complete faith in Eldon. Unfortunately, even he was unable to track down the elusive Leon.
Then one day as I was driving up “McMansion Row” I spotted the familiar green trailer parked in front of one of the stately old mansion houses. I made a u-turn and sped back to the spot under a huge Magnolia tree I had seen the distinctive green trailer. AHA! I had found the evasive floor finisher. I jumped out of my vehicle and stomped up the walk. Just as I reached the front door and the bell that would bring my unfinished floor finisher back to my house the door opened. Leon bolted out of the door and grabbed my arm as if to walk me back to my car. I was having none of it. I wanted him to finish my floors, I wanted an explanation as to where he had been and I wanted it now.
I turned on Leon and spat out my questions and accusations of job abandonment. I stopped and looked at him waiting for some type of an explanation or excuse. That is when I heard the very best excuse ever. Are you ready? Leon looked at me as sincere as any politician and said “Ms. Gladys, I am shur sorry I didn come back to your howse. You see I done got sick and then I ranned a real high fever. Then my brain done swole up and I jest flat out forgot about chur howse.” My jaw dropped to the ground, my eyes rolled in the back of my head and I all but shouted “Do WHAT? Your brain swelled and you suffered temporary amnesia? You expect me to believe this cock and bull story? Do you think I’m stupid?” Leon looked at me with these big old hound dog eyes and said “Eets da truf. I may drank, and I may gamble, but I don’t lie.”
Now you have your perfect excuse to get you out of whatever may come your way. Forgot to do your homework? Just answer “My brain done swole up.” Didn’t make it to the parent teacher conference? Just answer “My brain done swole up.” Hey it works for either side. What you didn’t go to work or call in sick? Just say it. You see it works for any occasion.
I have mentioned on here before that a long time ago I was the owner in residence of a 100 year old house.
(You can read about it here: http://accidentalhousewife.spaces.live.com/blog/cns!83D9B59407F3C62F!897.entry
With that dubious honor also came the dubious pitfalls of owning and maintaining the money pit. I have come to believe in the years since I left the haunted mansion that it was also bequeathed with a curse. A curse that was much more frightening than the ghost who haunted it. The curse though is fodder for another story. The money pit is where and how I learned of the most perfect excuse.
When I first decided to purchase the money pit, I eyed the ragged but salvageable golden oak wood floors and decided that before I moved in those would be refinished. I called all the flooring contractors I could find before I settled on one who came highly recommended by my painter. My painter was a great guy and stuck with me through some pretty incredible episodes and events in both his life and mine. Remember Eldon from the old “Murphy Brown” shows? He came to paint for Murphy and ended up practically living there? Yeah that is what my Eldon did. He came and stayed for years. Anyway Eldon recommended this floor guy, Leon, and told me he did excellent work. He was reasonable in his price in fact he was quite a bit cheaper than everyone else. I would find out why later.
Leon came early one morning got out his strippers and sanders and got to work. He completely stripped all the old wax, stain and polyurethane off of my floors. He pulled up thresholds and trim. It looked like he was going to do a thorough job. I was thrilled. I mean how often do you find a contractor who was so precise and he cleaned up after himself too. It was great. While Leon was getting busy on the floors, Eldon and his crew were busy on the outside of the house. My mother and I had cut and pulled down the English ivy that threatened to break the bricks and the house with them so that Eldon and his crew could get busy. I was getting to know my new house by having furniture and personal items moved into rooms where mass destruction was not taking place. The crew of guys I had hired to help move the heavier furniture pieces had just finished moving the items into the garden room and to do so had to pass through the living room. This made Leon very upset and he decided he would pack up for the day.
Leon loaded up his green trailer and left. The movers finished trekking across the newly sanded living room floor and Eldon and his crew continued working. I had to go back to my real job before my boss fired me. I had been at my desk for less than thirty minutes when my cell phone rang. It was Eldon and he was just a bit shaken up. He informed me I needed to come to the house right away. He would not tell me why and he would not tell me what was going on.
I of course panicked and immediately thought an errant meteor had come hurtling to earth in an attempt to squish me into radio active mush only I, thank goodness, had left too early. I arrived at my house with all of Eldon’s crew running to greet me. They all were wide eyed and frantic. Eldon walked over to me and said “I want you to take a deep breath, count to ten, and the exhale.” Oh NO! I thought this isn’t going to be good! I did as I was told, inhaled counted to ten then blew out every ounce of breath I had. Eldon then told me what had happened. He said “Ms. Gladys, me and da boys were up chere on dis here scawfoldin when we hurd an awful thunderin. Then there was a wush and big ole bang and lots of smoke and dust. We all jumped off of da scawfoldin and ran around the house then we seen it. Look right there in the leevin room.”
I again did as I was told, because well like I’ve said before I always do as I’m told. I peered through the French doors that lead to the living room. At first I didn’t understand what I saw. What I should have seen was my sanded living room floor; instead what I saw was dirt and concrete. I was both intrigued and horrified. I ran around to the front door with Eldon on my heels chattering away. I stopped short of the entrance into the living room. I turned to Eldon and said “Where is Leon?” Eldon scuffed his foot and said “Ms. Gladys, Leon done left for de day. I don’t spect he’ll be back til tomorrow.” I sighed a huge sigh of relief and said “Well, Thank God for that!” Then Eldon and I entered the damaged room. There on the newly stripped, sanded and prepped golden oak wood floor sat in shattered hunks the opposing ceiling. My entire living room one hundred year old plaster and lathe ceiling had fallen, corner to corner into my floor. It had come crashing down in one huge pile of rubble on my prepped unfinished floor. I wanted to cry but Eldon wouldn’t let me. Eldon grabbed my hand pulled me down on my knees and started praying. He prayed his thanks to God for no one being harmed, he prayed for a quick and easy repair to my living room and he prayed that whatever had caused the ceiling to fall would be the only problem I had in my house. All but one of his prayers was fulfilled.
I went outside to catch my breath, call my insurance agent and let Leon know not to come the next day. I did all those things and then my cell phone rang. It was my secretary’s husband informing me that my nineteen year old assistant was dead. She had died of an overdose. That was it. I was done. I wanted to curl into a ball and suck my thumb. I wanted my mommy. I was overwhelmed. Eldon had been sitting next to me when the call had come in and he again took my hand and started praying. I was grateful that Eldon was there. Once again it proved that my problems were small compared to others.
The clean up took several weeks. I was given the green light and I instructed Leon that the floors would be accessible to him the upcoming Monday. Monday came and went and no Leon. Five Mondays came and went and still no Leon. I called and he did not answer. I left messages that went ignored. I wrote him a letter that was returned. I was livid. I was rabid. I had the red ass so bad it had ran down my leg and given me the red foot. One of the things that upset me so was that I was at a loss as to how to proceed. I went to Eldon with my problem. Eldon picked up his cell phone and dialed Leon's number. He looked pensive as he was listened to Leon’s voice mail instructions. Eldon said “Ms. Gladys donchew worry bout a thang. I’ll go and find that sapsucker and have him chere tomorrow.” I had complete faith in Eldon. Unfortunately, even he was unable to track down the elusive Leon.
Then one day as I was driving up “McMansion Row” I spotted the familiar green trailer parked in front of one of the stately old mansion houses. I made a u-turn and sped back to the spot under a huge Magnolia tree I had seen the distinctive green trailer. AHA! I had found the evasive floor finisher. I jumped out of my vehicle and stomped up the walk. Just as I reached the front door and the bell that would bring my unfinished floor finisher back to my house the door opened. Leon bolted out of the door and grabbed my arm as if to walk me back to my car. I was having none of it. I wanted him to finish my floors, I wanted an explanation as to where he had been and I wanted it now.
I turned on Leon and spat out my questions and accusations of job abandonment. I stopped and looked at him waiting for some type of an explanation or excuse. That is when I heard the very best excuse ever. Are you ready? Leon looked at me as sincere as any politician and said “Ms. Gladys, I am shur sorry I didn come back to your howse. You see I done got sick and then I ranned a real high fever. Then my brain done swole up and I jest flat out forgot about chur howse.” My jaw dropped to the ground, my eyes rolled in the back of my head and I all but shouted “Do WHAT? Your brain swelled and you suffered temporary amnesia? You expect me to believe this cock and bull story? Do you think I’m stupid?” Leon looked at me with these big old hound dog eyes and said “Eets da truf. I may drank, and I may gamble, but I don’t lie.”
Now you have your perfect excuse to get you out of whatever may come your way. Forgot to do your homework? Just answer “My brain done swole up.” Didn’t make it to the parent teacher conference? Just answer “My brain done swole up.” Hey it works for either side. What you didn’t go to work or call in sick? Just say it. You see it works for any occasion.
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