Comfortably housed tonight in a "Marriott Fairfield Inn" (with indoor swimming pool !!!) I think back to the night my Corky and I had the "Foggy Night Motel" experience!
Many years ago, we were on a route in Northern New York State (I leave the route anonymous to avoid being sued!), on a night that began with the whisper of fog....
Within an hour we were hopelessly engulfed in a thick "pea soup fog" that made it difficult to see the hood of our car.... Although my dear Corky usually drives bravely through almost any conditions (being impervious to my screams), even he agreed that we should stop at a motel for the night.
"Watch for a motel..." he grunted, thinking I had special optical powers that could permeate the thick mist... hah...
In the night and mist I spotted a flashing neon sign.... so we pulled over. Oh, joy... we were between two buildings with signs.... One said "Beer" and one said "Motel".... (And though I had not had a drink since 1980, I actually considered the "Beer" sign for a moment...sorry)
We went into a room with decor from the period of "Bonnie and Clyde"... (I could picture a trio of Depression-Era bank robbers splitting the loot on that very "sway-backed" bed....hah..)
Trying to not touch anything with my bare skin, I laid on the bed, waiting for dawn. My Corky thought it was fine, compared with his time in a tent as a peace-time soldier in Germany, so he slept like an angel with a clear conscience. (Darn...I admired him!)
In the morning, after a brief sleep, I awoke to the sun streaming across my face.... Sun? I shut the drapes last night! What?
I then looked up and saw the source.... a row of bare windows were cut into the top of the door... Huh? Very decorative!
How far were the windows from the floor? About 5'6"... So any person 5'10" or over could easily look in the room through those "uncurtained" motel windows. It was the strangest motel amenity I have ever seen, and it made me grateful that Corky and I had been so tired the night before!
So as I sit tonight in the wonderful Marriott - Fairfield Hotel, writing my blog on their computer, I am thrilled at my good fortune! (The only "window" in our door is a peephole!...)
So goodnight from that Wild Old Lady... who must return to Florida... and I hope you all have good fortune too!
Monday, August 31, 2009
Riding The Rails With The Amtrak Auto Train...."Woosh-Bang!"
Or... "Don't Ever Ride Coach All Night When You're Old"!
Taking the Auto Train sounded like a good idea at the time... We opted not to go by sleeper car because our "friends" said the sleeper was uncomfortable and the coach seats go down to a "fully reclined position". (Oh yeah? Thanks, guys!)
We didn't know that riding the rails in 2009 could be the equivalent of riding a bucking bronco, with the difference being you couldn't get off for seventeen hours!
Backwards, to boot.... Yes, we rode backwards, so instead of ambient speed pinning you to the back of the seat during forward movement, you had to fight to relax back into your seat. Hah....
That mishap occurred because I originally asked for first level seats because my Corky is handicapped.... So they booked us on the second level.... (Want to carry a stiff 6'4" man up to the second level, Bunky?) The only seats left on the first level were backward seats....
So how comfortable are the "coach" seats? Well... there was no armrest in the center of each pair of seats... so... it's a good thing Corky and I know each other well... because we rode thigh pressed to thigh all the way from Sanford, Florida to Lorton, Virginia.... (Backwards)
So these backward seats were facing a door that led to three bathrooms... and that door opened with a large "woosh" then closed with a "bang".... So when someone left the compartment there was a "woosh - bang!" when they opened the door, and a "woosh - bang!" when the door closed.... There were six other couples in our compartment who toddled back and forth to the bathroom all night...
Now you have to understand that we all must have looked like thieves who were going to grab their belongings (and jump out of the window, maybe?), so every couple went to the bathrooms singly...
First the husband went.... "woosh - bang!" (door open), "woosh-bang!" (door closed)... then when hubbie returned to the car "woosh - bang! (door open), "woosh-bang!" (door closed) Oh, then went "wifie"..... My estimate is the door opened and closed at least 80 times all night.
The good news is it didn't keep us awake... The 12 degree "recline" of the lounge chairs did not accomodate sleep, especially in the "backward" travel position... However, due to poor circulation, and the constant shaking of the train which rushed our blood dowwards, we both had feet that looked like watermelons in the morning.
Thanks to two hydrocodine, a will strong enough to keep me from jumping off the train, and my own quiet hysteria which kept me amused, I made it through the night....
And, the last 10 minutes, before the train pulled into Lorton, VA, the tracks were as smooth as silk, taunting me!
Is this wild old lady ever taking the Auto Train again....? "Woosh - Bang...No!"
Hah... love from me, in Buffalo now!
Taking the Auto Train sounded like a good idea at the time... We opted not to go by sleeper car because our "friends" said the sleeper was uncomfortable and the coach seats go down to a "fully reclined position". (Oh yeah? Thanks, guys!)
We didn't know that riding the rails in 2009 could be the equivalent of riding a bucking bronco, with the difference being you couldn't get off for seventeen hours!
Backwards, to boot.... Yes, we rode backwards, so instead of ambient speed pinning you to the back of the seat during forward movement, you had to fight to relax back into your seat. Hah....
That mishap occurred because I originally asked for first level seats because my Corky is handicapped.... So they booked us on the second level.... (Want to carry a stiff 6'4" man up to the second level, Bunky?) The only seats left on the first level were backward seats....
So how comfortable are the "coach" seats? Well... there was no armrest in the center of each pair of seats... so... it's a good thing Corky and I know each other well... because we rode thigh pressed to thigh all the way from Sanford, Florida to Lorton, Virginia.... (Backwards)
So these backward seats were facing a door that led to three bathrooms... and that door opened with a large "woosh" then closed with a "bang".... So when someone left the compartment there was a "woosh - bang!" when they opened the door, and a "woosh - bang!" when the door closed.... There were six other couples in our compartment who toddled back and forth to the bathroom all night...
Now you have to understand that we all must have looked like thieves who were going to grab their belongings (and jump out of the window, maybe?), so every couple went to the bathrooms singly...
First the husband went.... "woosh - bang!" (door open), "woosh-bang!" (door closed)... then when hubbie returned to the car "woosh - bang! (door open), "woosh-bang!" (door closed) Oh, then went "wifie"..... My estimate is the door opened and closed at least 80 times all night.
The good news is it didn't keep us awake... The 12 degree "recline" of the lounge chairs did not accomodate sleep, especially in the "backward" travel position... However, due to poor circulation, and the constant shaking of the train which rushed our blood dowwards, we both had feet that looked like watermelons in the morning.
Thanks to two hydrocodine, a will strong enough to keep me from jumping off the train, and my own quiet hysteria which kept me amused, I made it through the night....
And, the last 10 minutes, before the train pulled into Lorton, VA, the tracks were as smooth as silk, taunting me!
Is this wild old lady ever taking the Auto Train again....? "Woosh - Bang...No!"
Hah... love from me, in Buffalo now!
Monday, August 24, 2009
Shuffling Off To Buffalo!
This blog will be bare for awhile as we will be on the road, and I don't know if I will have access to a computer. To the burglars... our house is being watched on all sides by three neighbors... known as "Annie Oakley" Lisa, "Shotgun" Gary, and "Crazy" George. Don't test them, the nicknames are accurate. We don't have anything, anyway...except for my "fat clothes", and I'm taking the good ones with me! hah...
"See" you when we get back! Love from that wild old lady who has temporarily "escaped" from Florida!
"See" you when we get back! Love from that wild old lady who has temporarily "escaped" from Florida!
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Forgetting About the Stupid Things I've Done - That I KNOW about!
I have decided it's time to erase all memories of the stupid things I have done in my life that did not "turn out well". I am certainly not aware of all my mistakes... but, oh well... if I can't remember, it didn't happen! Hah...!
Hopefully someone is reading this who will also realize that making a fool of one's self is a great part of life. Pity the people who haven't had these inglorious experiences!
Like the night that I discovered I could Yodel! Oh, what joy to sing every song, and then yodel all the choruses! It was fun, at least for me. I know that some of the people in that establishment were cheering me on... I don't think that bar in North Tonawanda had television, so I guess I was the "entertainment" for my 20 minutes of "yodeling"... (I am so glad this epiphany did not happen to me closer to home..!)
You might think I had too much to drink that night... hah.. no ... It was just a boring night, the right song played on the jukebox ... and from the depths of my part-German heritage, the ghost of a musical Frau came forth and "channeled" through me. Seriously, I think that's what really happened...
I was always known as someone you could count on when you wanted to have fun... Oh, not "fun" in the Playboy Playmate sense (yuk), but "fun" in the "Lucille Ball" sense.
There is always risk in "letting yourself go" to have fun! "Oh... what will people think of me?".. "Oh... will I look awful doing that?" "Oh, oh, oh..." Then the next thing you know is your life is over with and you haven't had any fun along the way!
Now here's a "Great Revelation"!... Not every stupid thing you do turns out to be stupid. I have had enough experience to tell you that 50% of all joyous, well-intentioned "faux pas" turn out to be a treasured memory that you and your friends will cherish forever!
Like that time I was a USO "Chaperone", and had the Air Force Boys each sit next to a girl on the bus to "protect" them.... The girls talked and giggled about that forever! (Yes, I was a "chaperone".... The local USO was "hard up" for volunteers!)
So there is it... today I have vowed that the stupid things I have done go in two categories.... The ones that "worked out" are "fond memories", and the rest no longer exist!
So have some fun tonight, and make sweet memories for someone....
Bye from that wild old lady in the swamps of Florida!
Hopefully someone is reading this who will also realize that making a fool of one's self is a great part of life. Pity the people who haven't had these inglorious experiences!
Like the night that I discovered I could Yodel! Oh, what joy to sing every song, and then yodel all the choruses! It was fun, at least for me. I know that some of the people in that establishment were cheering me on... I don't think that bar in North Tonawanda had television, so I guess I was the "entertainment" for my 20 minutes of "yodeling"... (I am so glad this epiphany did not happen to me closer to home..!)
You might think I had too much to drink that night... hah.. no ... It was just a boring night, the right song played on the jukebox ... and from the depths of my part-German heritage, the ghost of a musical Frau came forth and "channeled" through me. Seriously, I think that's what really happened...
I was always known as someone you could count on when you wanted to have fun... Oh, not "fun" in the Playboy Playmate sense (yuk), but "fun" in the "Lucille Ball" sense.
There is always risk in "letting yourself go" to have fun! "Oh... what will people think of me?".. "Oh... will I look awful doing that?" "Oh, oh, oh..." Then the next thing you know is your life is over with and you haven't had any fun along the way!
Now here's a "Great Revelation"!... Not every stupid thing you do turns out to be stupid. I have had enough experience to tell you that 50% of all joyous, well-intentioned "faux pas" turn out to be a treasured memory that you and your friends will cherish forever!
Like that time I was a USO "Chaperone", and had the Air Force Boys each sit next to a girl on the bus to "protect" them.... The girls talked and giggled about that forever! (Yes, I was a "chaperone".... The local USO was "hard up" for volunteers!)
So there is it... today I have vowed that the stupid things I have done go in two categories.... The ones that "worked out" are "fond memories", and the rest no longer exist!
So have some fun tonight, and make sweet memories for someone....
Bye from that wild old lady in the swamps of Florida!
Corky's Trepidatus Relationship With The Toilet Plunger
This "toilet talk" could not be avoided any more! This morning I again heard "My Corky" in the bathroom, fan running, plunging the toilet.... Not a problem in most households, but an onimous sign when done daily by the ever-stoic Corky.
When Corky has a physical problem, he considers it a "personal weakness" to share it with anyone. He also feels that if it doesn't stop him from breathing, it's not important... I think of him as my very own "Gomer-Pyle" styled survivalist. Amusing, but admirable... all at once.
He won't ask for help with an eye irritation until it turns into an infection that is so bad, blindness is possible.
A blood clot in the lung was only serious when he couldn't climb the stairs to watch his favorite sit-com.
My Corky is of hearty "stock", probably a genetic half-Neanderthal, half-Homo-Sapien "throw back".
Anyway, getting back to the plunger... I think Corky's bathroom problem stems from the 2 cups of Grape Nuts he eats every morning. I am used to listening to the sound of Corky "chewing gravel", and am starting to fantasize it's just the sound of waves crashing on a distant shore.
But I am worried about our house having to be ripped up off it's foundation to replace the bathroom sewer pipes because they have become "cemented shut" with processed Grape Nuts.
And this fear all comes down to Corky's Trepidation to Really Use the plunger as the aggressive tool it really is!
(Yes, I have seen Corky "plunge", and it's not a pretty sight!)
First, he holds the plunger gingerly, between his thumb and index finger, as though he was holding a baby's delicate hand. Then he places the rubber part of the plunger in the toilet bottom and performs quick little motions that generate less suction than a five-year old drinking out of a straw. It's maddening to watch.
Years ago I became so frustrated with his futile efforts, that... messy toilet and all... I took the plunger from him and said "Here's how it's done!" I proudly plunged that toilet like it had never been done before! The house almost rocked off it's foundation. I swear, we had to tighten the bolts holding the toilet to the floor afterwards! But...!!!! We never had a problem with that toilet again!
(Cheers, cheers! Picture a Superwoman outfit on the fat lady swinging the now-tattered plunger in the air!)
Well, despite my vigorous demonstration, Corky not only continued his wimpy plunging habits.... He now "plunges" the toilet with the bathroom door closed! He always emerges with a sly smile that says "See, I can do it myself!" Never mind that this bathroom is now on borrowed time and I see a bulldozer in it's future... hah.. But those are the situations that arise when two opposites marry, and in Florida, the old people will tell you ... "If you want to survive, don't fight it... laugh at it...because in the end, it doesn't matter!"
Well, fun is where you find it.... and with My Corky, fun is found every day!
I hope you all have love and laughs, from that wild old lady in Florida! :)
When Corky has a physical problem, he considers it a "personal weakness" to share it with anyone. He also feels that if it doesn't stop him from breathing, it's not important... I think of him as my very own "Gomer-Pyle" styled survivalist. Amusing, but admirable... all at once.
He won't ask for help with an eye irritation until it turns into an infection that is so bad, blindness is possible.
A blood clot in the lung was only serious when he couldn't climb the stairs to watch his favorite sit-com.
My Corky is of hearty "stock", probably a genetic half-Neanderthal, half-Homo-Sapien "throw back".
Anyway, getting back to the plunger... I think Corky's bathroom problem stems from the 2 cups of Grape Nuts he eats every morning. I am used to listening to the sound of Corky "chewing gravel", and am starting to fantasize it's just the sound of waves crashing on a distant shore.
But I am worried about our house having to be ripped up off it's foundation to replace the bathroom sewer pipes because they have become "cemented shut" with processed Grape Nuts.
And this fear all comes down to Corky's Trepidation to Really Use the plunger as the aggressive tool it really is!
(Yes, I have seen Corky "plunge", and it's not a pretty sight!)
First, he holds the plunger gingerly, between his thumb and index finger, as though he was holding a baby's delicate hand. Then he places the rubber part of the plunger in the toilet bottom and performs quick little motions that generate less suction than a five-year old drinking out of a straw. It's maddening to watch.
Years ago I became so frustrated with his futile efforts, that... messy toilet and all... I took the plunger from him and said "Here's how it's done!" I proudly plunged that toilet like it had never been done before! The house almost rocked off it's foundation. I swear, we had to tighten the bolts holding the toilet to the floor afterwards! But...!!!! We never had a problem with that toilet again!
(Cheers, cheers! Picture a Superwoman outfit on the fat lady swinging the now-tattered plunger in the air!)
Well, despite my vigorous demonstration, Corky not only continued his wimpy plunging habits.... He now "plunges" the toilet with the bathroom door closed! He always emerges with a sly smile that says "See, I can do it myself!" Never mind that this bathroom is now on borrowed time and I see a bulldozer in it's future... hah.. But those are the situations that arise when two opposites marry, and in Florida, the old people will tell you ... "If you want to survive, don't fight it... laugh at it...because in the end, it doesn't matter!"
Well, fun is where you find it.... and with My Corky, fun is found every day!
I hope you all have love and laughs, from that wild old lady in Florida! :)
Friday, August 21, 2009
PROJECT RUNWAY is back! Horay
Last night I was in "Reality TV Heaven"...! Project Runway has returned after one whole year in exile!
There was "my mentor", Tim Gunn ... walking the designers through their fears and tears... Oh, how I had missed his "fatherly" influence in my life! (You heard right, I am older, fatter and "straighter", but I feel like he is a father figure for me... yes! - Love him!)
Beautiful Heidi was still disarmingly intelligent, and tough ... "You're Out!".... it actually doesn't sound so bad coming from her...
The competition between the "star" designers from previous seasons was amazing to watch. It was satisfying to know that they have all been successful since their premier appearances....
I was cheering for "Sweet Pea", a favorite of mine... Besides talent, she seems to be the epitomy of sweetness... so refreshing! Gosh I wish she was designing her feminine clothes for larger women like me! Come on, "Sweet Pea".... take another yard off that bolt of cloth!
So today I am basking in joy, replaying parts of the program in my mind.... Yes, a little crazy... but that's me!
So bye for now and love from that wild old lady in Florida, who's extra happy today! :)
There was "my mentor", Tim Gunn ... walking the designers through their fears and tears... Oh, how I had missed his "fatherly" influence in my life! (You heard right, I am older, fatter and "straighter", but I feel like he is a father figure for me... yes! - Love him!)
Beautiful Heidi was still disarmingly intelligent, and tough ... "You're Out!".... it actually doesn't sound so bad coming from her...
The competition between the "star" designers from previous seasons was amazing to watch. It was satisfying to know that they have all been successful since their premier appearances....
I was cheering for "Sweet Pea", a favorite of mine... Besides talent, she seems to be the epitomy of sweetness... so refreshing! Gosh I wish she was designing her feminine clothes for larger women like me! Come on, "Sweet Pea".... take another yard off that bolt of cloth!
So today I am basking in joy, replaying parts of the program in my mind.... Yes, a little crazy... but that's me!
So bye for now and love from that wild old lady in Florida, who's extra happy today! :)
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Racism - What My Grandmother Taught Me In 1951
My Grandparents lived in the country next to a black woman, Mrs. Jackson and her children. (Back then, we said "colored.) Since I visited for a few weeks with my grandparents every summer, I had the chance to get to know Mrs. Jackson's daughter, Janet.
Janet Jackson was fun and pleasant... easy to get along with, and we enjoyed hours of play after her chores were done. Janet worked every day, either helping her mother with chores, or helping her brother in the field. I often watched, anxious for Janet to complete her work so we could play....
The summer of 1951, being ten ... I was allowed to venture further and I became acquainted with other little girls a few houses away. It was great fun, as I instigated the girls to clean out an unused chicken coop, set it up as a "club-house", and we even put on a "variety show" for the people in town. During this fun period I became "accepted"... and then the girls told me that I shouldn't play with Janet anymore because she was "colored".
To my mind this was probably something important that I just didn't "get", but I had better listen to these girls! So the next day, when I was sitting outside my grandparent's house, Janet came over with her big smile.
I could hardly make eye contact with her, and I said.. "I can't play with you any more." She asked, "Why?" ... and I said, "Because you're colored..." (and I thought this was an explanation she would understand, and that it made sense somewhere out of my little universe...)
Well, Mrs. Jackson called my Gramma, and my Gramma talked to me. I was thrilled to understand that I could play with Janet, but felt horrible about my mistake...
We went to the Jackson house, hand in hand, and I apologized to Janet and her mother. After that, Janet and I resumed our "play", but I always hoped she really understood how I got pulled into that inane act of stupidity.
Grampa died the following year, and I never saw Janet again. I hope she has had a good life.
Sorry for the serious note... but this wild old lady in Florida has her reflective side too!
Love to everyone, and don't hurt each other! It never makes sense! :)
Janet Jackson was fun and pleasant... easy to get along with, and we enjoyed hours of play after her chores were done. Janet worked every day, either helping her mother with chores, or helping her brother in the field. I often watched, anxious for Janet to complete her work so we could play....
The summer of 1951, being ten ... I was allowed to venture further and I became acquainted with other little girls a few houses away. It was great fun, as I instigated the girls to clean out an unused chicken coop, set it up as a "club-house", and we even put on a "variety show" for the people in town. During this fun period I became "accepted"... and then the girls told me that I shouldn't play with Janet anymore because she was "colored".
To my mind this was probably something important that I just didn't "get", but I had better listen to these girls! So the next day, when I was sitting outside my grandparent's house, Janet came over with her big smile.
I could hardly make eye contact with her, and I said.. "I can't play with you any more." She asked, "Why?" ... and I said, "Because you're colored..." (and I thought this was an explanation she would understand, and that it made sense somewhere out of my little universe...)
Well, Mrs. Jackson called my Gramma, and my Gramma talked to me. I was thrilled to understand that I could play with Janet, but felt horrible about my mistake...
We went to the Jackson house, hand in hand, and I apologized to Janet and her mother. After that, Janet and I resumed our "play", but I always hoped she really understood how I got pulled into that inane act of stupidity.
Grampa died the following year, and I never saw Janet again. I hope she has had a good life.
Sorry for the serious note... but this wild old lady in Florida has her reflective side too!
Love to everyone, and don't hurt each other! It never makes sense! :)
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Roberta's "Fire Drill Adventure" On Holland America's Zweiderdam Cruise Ship!
Last December my Corky and I had our first cruise on the "five star" Holland America "Zweiderdam" Ship... Wow!
Though traveling with almost 2,000 other "cruisers",... I alone experienced a "fire drill adventure" in the middle of the night! This is because I memorized the "Fire Drill" instructions and stored them in that small section of my brain that I keep uncluttered.
During the middle of our first night, the fire alarm was sounded! Oh my God, don't wake up the sharks, they like to feed at night! There was NO follow-up announcement to say "This is just a drill."
So I got out of bed, put on my giant plaid bathrobe, because the Holland America robes don't come in 2X, grabbed my life jacket, then tried to rouse my Corky.
Ever wise and non-plussed on oxycodone for his chronic back pain, he said, "It's just a drill!"... and rolled over.
Well, I stood there for two seconds, trying to decide if I wanted to sacrifice my life because of his bad judgement and I "won"....
I walked through deserted corridors, then struggled down seven flights of stairs with a bad knee! But I did arrive at the appropriate life boat station! (The croud roars!)
Since there was nobody there to lower the lifeboats into the water, I stood there trying to figure out how to do it myself. Was everyone deaf?!
Finally, thank God, a handsome blonde officer in a highly decorated white uniform came around the corner, and I thought "I'm Saved!" (I also thought... "How Casablanca this moment is!"...)
I smiled at him and said "I heard the alarm!"
This was the first time in years that I had been alone with a handsome young man and there I was with "bed-head", my dental plates soaking in foamy cleaner in my "stateroom", with perspiration "pits" evident on my plaid bathrobe, and halitosis was beginning to bloom in my half-empty mouth. Not a pretty picture.
Just then, the Public Address System squealed and the Captain's voice announced "This is just a drill." The hunky officer and I looked at each other for an awkward moment.
I said.... "What? I just climbed down seven flights of stairs!"
He then patted me on the top of the head and said "You're a good girl...." (I think he knew how to handle dogs, and put me in that category! hah.)
Anyway, I resisted the urge to jump up on him and lick his face, and went to the elevator for my lone trip back to the stateroom.
Corky was asleep, so I put my life-jacket in the closet and joined him... anticipating what the next day would bring!
So, if you are planning to go on a cruise and are "size-challenged" ... bring your own attractive bathrobe along. You never know when it might come in handy!
So "Ship Ahoy, Maties", from that wild old lady who wonders how she ended up in Florida! :)
Though traveling with almost 2,000 other "cruisers",... I alone experienced a "fire drill adventure" in the middle of the night! This is because I memorized the "Fire Drill" instructions and stored them in that small section of my brain that I keep uncluttered.
During the middle of our first night, the fire alarm was sounded! Oh my God, don't wake up the sharks, they like to feed at night! There was NO follow-up announcement to say "This is just a drill."
So I got out of bed, put on my giant plaid bathrobe, because the Holland America robes don't come in 2X, grabbed my life jacket, then tried to rouse my Corky.
Ever wise and non-plussed on oxycodone for his chronic back pain, he said, "It's just a drill!"... and rolled over.
Well, I stood there for two seconds, trying to decide if I wanted to sacrifice my life because of his bad judgement and I "won"....
I walked through deserted corridors, then struggled down seven flights of stairs with a bad knee! But I did arrive at the appropriate life boat station! (The croud roars!)
Since there was nobody there to lower the lifeboats into the water, I stood there trying to figure out how to do it myself. Was everyone deaf?!
Finally, thank God, a handsome blonde officer in a highly decorated white uniform came around the corner, and I thought "I'm Saved!" (I also thought... "How Casablanca this moment is!"...)
I smiled at him and said "I heard the alarm!"
This was the first time in years that I had been alone with a handsome young man and there I was with "bed-head", my dental plates soaking in foamy cleaner in my "stateroom", with perspiration "pits" evident on my plaid bathrobe, and halitosis was beginning to bloom in my half-empty mouth. Not a pretty picture.
Just then, the Public Address System squealed and the Captain's voice announced "This is just a drill." The hunky officer and I looked at each other for an awkward moment.
I said.... "What? I just climbed down seven flights of stairs!"
He then patted me on the top of the head and said "You're a good girl...." (I think he knew how to handle dogs, and put me in that category! hah.)
Anyway, I resisted the urge to jump up on him and lick his face, and went to the elevator for my lone trip back to the stateroom.
Corky was asleep, so I put my life-jacket in the closet and joined him... anticipating what the next day would bring!
So, if you are planning to go on a cruise and are "size-challenged" ... bring your own attractive bathrobe along. You never know when it might come in handy!
So "Ship Ahoy, Maties", from that wild old lady who wonders how she ended up in Florida! :)
Monday, August 17, 2009
Meet "My Corky"
You've heard about "My Corky", well, here he is... sitting on the veranda outside our cruise "state-room"... Notice that this is a man prepared for anything... The eyeglass case clipped to his shirt pocket, and the pen, of course! He refuses to wear a shirt that doesn't have what I call a "Nerd Pocket"!
Ask if you can "borrow" his pen, and his eyes get a look of panic in them. Hah... Sometimes I ask him if I can borrow his pen just for the entertainment value of it! (Bad girl, bad girl!...)
Last, but not least, here is my Corky's favorite activity (Watching T.V. while sleeping.) performed in a motel room... hah... His 6'4" frame doesn't fit too well on average chairs, but here is a man who knows how to "make do".... Yes, I know... he married me.. ha, ha... but he always says that is the "smartest" thing he has ever done. Now pretend that you did not read my blogs about him, i.e. "The Pineapple Caper", "Corky's Big Fat Can of Tuna Fish", and "The Heimlich Maneuver"!
Well, you have met the love and "Living Amusement Park" of my life... My Corky...
So, it's time to buzz the head of my adjustable bed up so I can watch our bedroom t.v. without seeing at my toes protrude into Jon Stewart's chin. Hah!...
"Nighty-Night" and "heads up" from that wild old lady in Florida! :)
Sunday, August 16, 2009
From Niagara Falls, New York - The "Story-Keepers" Of My Life
We who are fortunate still have the "story keepers" of our life! They are friends and relatives who were "there" in our youth, and they remember who we really were.
It's a comfort to talk to an old friend or relative who remembers the Thanksgiving when Uncle Fred did the Charleston wearing a lampshade and Aunt Wilma was so mad that she threw fistfuls of mashed potatoes at him!
"Oh!" we think, (Relieved that we didn't imagine it...) "Yes, that did happen!" Now you know why you have an adversion to mashed potatoes! (Another piece of the puzzle that is "you" is solved!)
Recently, an old friend from Niagara Falls called me because I mailed to her an old letter that I found while cleaning my "archives". This 40+ year old letter was written by her at a crucial and low point in both of our lives.
She said, "I had forgotten how poor I was!"... No coffee or cigarettes for five days... etc.. We went on to have a nice recollection of the "good and bad" old days, feeling fortunate and snug sitting in our "paid up" homes, with social security checks coming in, and little nest-eggs for discretionary spending.
I remember well when Nancy and I were young and poor .... her parents had passed away, and mine were disinterested/crazy, so we were on our own at 18 years old! We got our first apartment together, and made a good odd couple... my creative zanniness and her calm common sense made life fun.
Back in the fifties, Niagara Falls, New York was the place to be for single girls. Nearby, we had an Air Force Base, Army Base and then along came the giagantic "Power Project", which imported even more men! (We won't talk about the sixties when the men left!)
Even if a girl had the face of Charles Laughton, the figure of "Mr. Ed", and the personality of "The Pilsbury Dough-Boy" (Hooh-hooh!), she could still find a husband! Therefore, I dated in a manner that I refer to as "heavily".... (Who wouldn't!??)
Nancy was more restrained, but I do recall her receiving a phone call from a man who was home "on military leave", who said... "Oh, Nancy, you remember me! I'm in the service!" Nancy, ever practical, deadpanned seriously - "Which branch?" and for some reason he hung up!
Somehow we survived our stupidity, and the fact that we are still alive is proof that there is a God!
Now can't any of you identify with an 18 year old experiencing freedom for the first time?
I am grateful I had a good friend with me who had more common sense in her little finger than I have even now.... It's inevitable that today we are each other's " "Story-Keepers" for that fragile period in our lives!
Here in Florida I have entertained people with stories about my "past life". The not-so discreet side-glances and whispered comments of disbelief which greet my "historical gems" dissappoint me. (Do these people think I am stupid, blind, and deaf?) These people don't know me and never will now.
I finally "got it" that a lot of people "re-invent" themselves down here, so no-one believes what anyone else says unless they can provide proof. (Frauds! ...hah)
So be sure to thank God for all the "Story Keepers" in your life... They help you when you are "down" by reminding you what an interesting life you led, and "No, it was not just a "dream"!
Life is good!
Bye for now from this wild old lady who was "displaced" to Florida, but still has her memories of fun and laughs about them!
Love and Hugs to you!.... :)
It's a comfort to talk to an old friend or relative who remembers the Thanksgiving when Uncle Fred did the Charleston wearing a lampshade and Aunt Wilma was so mad that she threw fistfuls of mashed potatoes at him!
"Oh!" we think, (Relieved that we didn't imagine it...) "Yes, that did happen!" Now you know why you have an adversion to mashed potatoes! (Another piece of the puzzle that is "you" is solved!)
Recently, an old friend from Niagara Falls called me because I mailed to her an old letter that I found while cleaning my "archives". This 40+ year old letter was written by her at a crucial and low point in both of our lives.
She said, "I had forgotten how poor I was!"... No coffee or cigarettes for five days... etc.. We went on to have a nice recollection of the "good and bad" old days, feeling fortunate and snug sitting in our "paid up" homes, with social security checks coming in, and little nest-eggs for discretionary spending.
I remember well when Nancy and I were young and poor .... her parents had passed away, and mine were disinterested/crazy, so we were on our own at 18 years old! We got our first apartment together, and made a good odd couple... my creative zanniness and her calm common sense made life fun.
Back in the fifties, Niagara Falls, New York was the place to be for single girls. Nearby, we had an Air Force Base, Army Base and then along came the giagantic "Power Project", which imported even more men! (We won't talk about the sixties when the men left!)
Even if a girl had the face of Charles Laughton, the figure of "Mr. Ed", and the personality of "The Pilsbury Dough-Boy" (Hooh-hooh!), she could still find a husband! Therefore, I dated in a manner that I refer to as "heavily".... (Who wouldn't!??)
Nancy was more restrained, but I do recall her receiving a phone call from a man who was home "on military leave", who said... "Oh, Nancy, you remember me! I'm in the service!" Nancy, ever practical, deadpanned seriously - "Which branch?" and for some reason he hung up!
Somehow we survived our stupidity, and the fact that we are still alive is proof that there is a God!
Now can't any of you identify with an 18 year old experiencing freedom for the first time?
I am grateful I had a good friend with me who had more common sense in her little finger than I have even now.... It's inevitable that today we are each other's " "Story-Keepers" for that fragile period in our lives!
Here in Florida I have entertained people with stories about my "past life". The not-so discreet side-glances and whispered comments of disbelief which greet my "historical gems" dissappoint me. (Do these people think I am stupid, blind, and deaf?) These people don't know me and never will now.
I finally "got it" that a lot of people "re-invent" themselves down here, so no-one believes what anyone else says unless they can provide proof. (Frauds! ...hah)
So be sure to thank God for all the "Story Keepers" in your life... They help you when you are "down" by reminding you what an interesting life you led, and "No, it was not just a "dream"!
Life is good!
Bye for now from this wild old lady who was "displaced" to Florida, but still has her memories of fun and laughs about them!
Love and Hugs to you!.... :)
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Why Lawyers Think We Are Idiots
Lawyers think we are idiots because we let them get away with so much. The truth is they have sooo much power that what can we do if we feel they have not taken care of us properly? Sue them?
They have three goals during their relationship with you:
#1- To get your business,
#2- To take care of your business, with as little effort on their part as possible,
#3- Then to wrap up your business in a manner that leaves you thinking you won:
I call their methods:
"The Hook" -
"The Wait" - and
"The Fake Victory Celebration"
"The Hook".... You go to a lawyers office with a grievance and potential lawsuit. You want to assess his knowledge and skill, but you won't have a clue until it's all over.... (Nah, nah nah, nah, naaa!)
...Disclaimer: I opt to use the male gender for this example.... but, Yes, I know that women are also lawyers! We had one who failed us miserably! If she had reeked of urine in her office like she did in court, we wouldn't have hired her! Maybe she peed her pants because she knew how incompetant (Incontinent?) she was... but I thought everyone knew about "Depends".
Well, you sit there in your "Sunday Best", across from the legal "whiz", trying not to look like a guppie fish with it's mouth wide open, ready to gulp down the bait. While you describe your problem at this "free consultation", the lawyer makes notes on his yellow "legal pad".... (Hah! They even have a name for their tablet!)
Though he appears to be concentrating on our problem, I am aware at that moment that he is assessing my Corky and me.
I am acutely aware that we come across like a couple of "easy marks"... Between Corky's hardening of the arteries and my dyslexic/moron complex, we appear to be similar to, but not as intelligent as Frank and Marie Barrone in "Everyone Loves Raymond" ...
Participating in these consultations is like you know you are drowning, but hope the lifeguard #1 - Cares about you and #2 - is Competent.
But, even being aware of this, we always fall for the "Hook". The "Hook" is when the lawyer, this bastion of rightousness, leaps to his feet and begins loudly expounding on the merits of your complaint. His voice is strong and sure, and your feeling that you are in the "right" solidifies. Your confidence soars! Yes, you were wronged...! You deserve restitution! You need this avenger to lead the way!
You are "Hooked"!!!!
So your complaint turns into a case... pay the retainer and now comes the dreaded "Wait"....
"The Wait"
This part of the legal "process" is comparable to letting meat marinate. A piece of meat is selected after it was killed and butchered, ... mmmm Then spices and some nasty liquids are added, and it's sealed up and left to ferment until it's "ready".
Yes, that's what the lawyers do.... They marinate you, then let you just ferment! They tell you that you have to wait for this and that... blah, blah... but in reality they are probably just taking their wives to dinner, and practicing their golf putt with the set kept in their office closet. (It takes a few minutes to put it away... Ever wonder why you don't get into their office on time?)
I have never seen a lawyer with red eyes, from reading documents all night. I have never seen a lawyer wear a cheap suit, or express the confidence during "The Wait" that he expressed during "The Hook"....
But... during "The Wait" the lawyer will begin to express doubts about your case... Key phrases to worry about are "It's not a Slam-Dunk", "We aren't out of the woods yet", and "You can't hit a home run every time!"
Translation.... You're probably screwed, and in the most common athletic terms!
So during "The Wait" your confidence is shaken, and you keep on paying for paperwork and "research"...
Regarding "Research"... You hired them because they convinced you that they knew the law by heart and you had a "case". Now they have to do "research"? But what can you do at this point? Drop them and start over? Oh, you know you have to "wait"... The Wheels of Justice grind slowly (over your dead body).... Oh sure! Who makes the laws that makes this "slow grind" possible? .... Why, the "law-makers"! Doesn't that just make you feel giddy?
Ok, you've been "Marinated" during "The Wait", now on to "The Fake Victory Celebration"....
At the end of three years of stress, Corky and I had the dreaded "Fake Victory Celebration" in our lawyers office where we were talked into a settlement that equalled what we had spent on this lawyer.... I think Corky actually thought he "won", but I knew better. The lawyer easily put a good face on it... why not? The lawyer was the one who actually "won"....
We were hooked, marinated, barbequed, then actually partook in the celebration for it to end!
It happens every day, my friend, so pick your lawyer with care! There are some intelligent, honest ones with ethics out there!
But here's where I win! I enjoy every day without malice or cunning thoughts towards anyone.... Also, if I have an axe to "grind", I can write about it! hah ... It's such a light and easy load to carry.
So just know there is a wild old lady in Florida who laughs about "whatever" and has fun writing and creating art!
What a wonderful life, my friend!.... hah... :)
They have three goals during their relationship with you:
#1- To get your business,
#2- To take care of your business, with as little effort on their part as possible,
#3- Then to wrap up your business in a manner that leaves you thinking you won:
I call their methods:
"The Hook" -
"The Wait" - and
"The Fake Victory Celebration"
"The Hook".... You go to a lawyers office with a grievance and potential lawsuit. You want to assess his knowledge and skill, but you won't have a clue until it's all over.... (Nah, nah nah, nah, naaa!)
...Disclaimer: I opt to use the male gender for this example.... but, Yes, I know that women are also lawyers! We had one who failed us miserably! If she had reeked of urine in her office like she did in court, we wouldn't have hired her! Maybe she peed her pants because she knew how incompetant (Incontinent?) she was... but I thought everyone knew about "Depends".
Well, you sit there in your "Sunday Best", across from the legal "whiz", trying not to look like a guppie fish with it's mouth wide open, ready to gulp down the bait. While you describe your problem at this "free consultation", the lawyer makes notes on his yellow "legal pad".... (Hah! They even have a name for their tablet!)
Though he appears to be concentrating on our problem, I am aware at that moment that he is assessing my Corky and me.
I am acutely aware that we come across like a couple of "easy marks"... Between Corky's hardening of the arteries and my dyslexic/moron complex, we appear to be similar to, but not as intelligent as Frank and Marie Barrone in "Everyone Loves Raymond" ...
Participating in these consultations is like you know you are drowning, but hope the lifeguard #1 - Cares about you and #2 - is Competent.
But, even being aware of this, we always fall for the "Hook". The "Hook" is when the lawyer, this bastion of rightousness, leaps to his feet and begins loudly expounding on the merits of your complaint. His voice is strong and sure, and your feeling that you are in the "right" solidifies. Your confidence soars! Yes, you were wronged...! You deserve restitution! You need this avenger to lead the way!
You are "Hooked"!!!!
So your complaint turns into a case... pay the retainer and now comes the dreaded "Wait"....
"The Wait"
This part of the legal "process" is comparable to letting meat marinate. A piece of meat is selected after it was killed and butchered, ... mmmm Then spices and some nasty liquids are added, and it's sealed up and left to ferment until it's "ready".
Yes, that's what the lawyers do.... They marinate you, then let you just ferment! They tell you that you have to wait for this and that... blah, blah... but in reality they are probably just taking their wives to dinner, and practicing their golf putt with the set kept in their office closet. (It takes a few minutes to put it away... Ever wonder why you don't get into their office on time?)
I have never seen a lawyer with red eyes, from reading documents all night. I have never seen a lawyer wear a cheap suit, or express the confidence during "The Wait" that he expressed during "The Hook"....
But... during "The Wait" the lawyer will begin to express doubts about your case... Key phrases to worry about are "It's not a Slam-Dunk", "We aren't out of the woods yet", and "You can't hit a home run every time!"
Translation.... You're probably screwed, and in the most common athletic terms!
So during "The Wait" your confidence is shaken, and you keep on paying for paperwork and "research"...
Regarding "Research"... You hired them because they convinced you that they knew the law by heart and you had a "case". Now they have to do "research"? But what can you do at this point? Drop them and start over? Oh, you know you have to "wait"... The Wheels of Justice grind slowly (over your dead body).... Oh sure! Who makes the laws that makes this "slow grind" possible? .... Why, the "law-makers"! Doesn't that just make you feel giddy?
Ok, you've been "Marinated" during "The Wait", now on to "The Fake Victory Celebration"....
At the end of three years of stress, Corky and I had the dreaded "Fake Victory Celebration" in our lawyers office where we were talked into a settlement that equalled what we had spent on this lawyer.... I think Corky actually thought he "won", but I knew better. The lawyer easily put a good face on it... why not? The lawyer was the one who actually "won"....
We were hooked, marinated, barbequed, then actually partook in the celebration for it to end!
It happens every day, my friend, so pick your lawyer with care! There are some intelligent, honest ones with ethics out there!
But here's where I win! I enjoy every day without malice or cunning thoughts towards anyone.... Also, if I have an axe to "grind", I can write about it! hah ... It's such a light and easy load to carry.
So just know there is a wild old lady in Florida who laughs about "whatever" and has fun writing and creating art!
What a wonderful life, my friend!.... hah... :)
Friday, August 14, 2009
At The Hairdressers.. How To Make a Fool Out of Yourself... and it gets worse!
Every day I find new conversational subjects that are better avoided... and I add them to my "list"....
At my hairdresser's I found yet another one... namely what bodily function is triggered at the moment of death...! (Details to follow...)
So that subject has now been added to the "delete" section of my conversational repertoire, along with...
The story of my husband's "viagra experience";
Any "political" opinions that don't agree with Glen Beck;
My agreement with 98% of the World's Scientists about global warming (a real "no-no" in Florida!);
And I never hint that any of us is going to die... Ever!
So in this land of eternal life, perfection, and denial, I just had to tread on the taboo subject of unwanted bodily functions... and by combining it with death, I really "asked for" the Tampa Bay Indian Voodo Curse to crash down upon my empty head!
How did this happen? Hah... A "take-over" by the idiot part of me, that irrepressable "Extrovert" who wants to be "part of the gang" and "participate" in group conversations!...
Add to that the moron part of my psyche that wants to impress strangers with the "font" of knowledge that is crammed in my cerebrum... (Why, what a shame to not share my rare intelligence with common folk!)
So there I sat at my hairdressers with a group of five 80 year old ladies who were having their hair done. While I sat, waiting for my "wash", they jovially talked about making/not making their bed in the morning, and their personal grooming habits. (I almost nodded off, and now regret not doing so.)
A nice group, they smiled at me, making me feel as though I were "included".... (A Mistake!... And as far as I am concerned, part of my disaster is their fault!)
RULE #1: Don't ever make an idiot feel welcome!
Then one of them began the fiasco by stating; "My mother always told me to be sure when leaving the house that I have clean underwear on, because you never know if you might get in an auto accident."
(Sweet, knowing smiles all around...)
There was a small gap in the conversation! Aha... I could jump in with a "pearl of wisdom"....
So I said, "Oh, it doesn't matter if your underpants are clean or not, because everyone _____'s their underpants when they die!"
I smiled my idiot smile but was stunned to see my hairdresser stop in "mid-tease" of white hair... the comb poised in mid-air as though she was considering throwing it at me....
Though my sharply honed intuition grasped that I might have said something wrong, and my "Repressed Personality" was struggling to stuff a rag in my mouth, and force me to crawl into a corner, my "Over-Inflated Ego" clung to control, determined to do damage control.... (Oh, I could "save" this situation... hah)
Into the silence I continued re-assuringly, trying to sound like a calm, reasonable, mentally well-balanced person (Sometimes this works!...)
"I was actually told this by the wife of a well-known funeral director in New York State." (There, everyone knows how smart people are in New York State!)
Well, whoops...!!! A lot of people in the south think the people from New York State are obnoxious "know-it-alls!" Go Figure! (Make a mental note... no more references to New York State...)
More Silence and Astonished Looks.... the comb was alarmingly still poised in the air and began to look like a cudgel.....
"Although this lady was very well-to-do," ... I continued to my audience of ladies who eked out a living on Social Security and part-time Walmart greeter jobs.... "she said that when she met someone who thought they were better than her, she pictured them in her husband's morturary, laying on a slab, with their pants messed!"
Still Silence, and the threatening appearance of narrowed eyelids.... (The looks in their eyes told me they were all imagining me laid out on a morturary slab, in New York State, with my stupid underpants messed.)
"And that image always made her feel better...." I finished, realizing that the hole I dug for myself extended all the way to New York State and I was teetering on the edge, big mouth open....
Luckily nobody was packing a gun, so my hairdresser grabbed me and vigorously washed my hair... the heretofore animated ladies lost interest in further conversation, and on my way out, I upped my tip from $5.00 to $10.00.... insuring I would be able to return to get my hair done again....
Oh, and Now my hairdresser always gives me a really great magazine to read as soon as I get in the door!
So.... making a fool out of myself wasn't a total loss! I now am privvy to the best magazines in Florida!
Keep smiling my love, and don't quit talking.... However bad you think you are.... someone else is worse! Happy Day!
Love from that wild old lady in Florida :)
At my hairdresser's I found yet another one... namely what bodily function is triggered at the moment of death...! (Details to follow...)
So that subject has now been added to the "delete" section of my conversational repertoire, along with...
The story of my husband's "viagra experience";
Any "political" opinions that don't agree with Glen Beck;
My agreement with 98% of the World's Scientists about global warming (a real "no-no" in Florida!);
And I never hint that any of us is going to die... Ever!
So in this land of eternal life, perfection, and denial, I just had to tread on the taboo subject of unwanted bodily functions... and by combining it with death, I really "asked for" the Tampa Bay Indian Voodo Curse to crash down upon my empty head!
How did this happen? Hah... A "take-over" by the idiot part of me, that irrepressable "Extrovert" who wants to be "part of the gang" and "participate" in group conversations!...
Add to that the moron part of my psyche that wants to impress strangers with the "font" of knowledge that is crammed in my cerebrum... (Why, what a shame to not share my rare intelligence with common folk!)
So there I sat at my hairdressers with a group of five 80 year old ladies who were having their hair done. While I sat, waiting for my "wash", they jovially talked about making/not making their bed in the morning, and their personal grooming habits. (I almost nodded off, and now regret not doing so.)
A nice group, they smiled at me, making me feel as though I were "included".... (A Mistake!... And as far as I am concerned, part of my disaster is their fault!)
RULE #1: Don't ever make an idiot feel welcome!
Then one of them began the fiasco by stating; "My mother always told me to be sure when leaving the house that I have clean underwear on, because you never know if you might get in an auto accident."
(Sweet, knowing smiles all around...)
There was a small gap in the conversation! Aha... I could jump in with a "pearl of wisdom"....
So I said, "Oh, it doesn't matter if your underpants are clean or not, because everyone _____'s their underpants when they die!"
I smiled my idiot smile but was stunned to see my hairdresser stop in "mid-tease" of white hair... the comb poised in mid-air as though she was considering throwing it at me....
Though my sharply honed intuition grasped that I might have said something wrong, and my "Repressed Personality" was struggling to stuff a rag in my mouth, and force me to crawl into a corner, my "Over-Inflated Ego" clung to control, determined to do damage control.... (Oh, I could "save" this situation... hah)
Into the silence I continued re-assuringly, trying to sound like a calm, reasonable, mentally well-balanced person (Sometimes this works!...)
"I was actually told this by the wife of a well-known funeral director in New York State." (There, everyone knows how smart people are in New York State!)
Well, whoops...!!! A lot of people in the south think the people from New York State are obnoxious "know-it-alls!" Go Figure! (Make a mental note... no more references to New York State...)
More Silence and Astonished Looks.... the comb was alarmingly still poised in the air and began to look like a cudgel.....
"Although this lady was very well-to-do," ... I continued to my audience of ladies who eked out a living on Social Security and part-time Walmart greeter jobs.... "she said that when she met someone who thought they were better than her, she pictured them in her husband's morturary, laying on a slab, with their pants messed!"
Still Silence, and the threatening appearance of narrowed eyelids.... (The looks in their eyes told me they were all imagining me laid out on a morturary slab, in New York State, with my stupid underpants messed.)
"And that image always made her feel better...." I finished, realizing that the hole I dug for myself extended all the way to New York State and I was teetering on the edge, big mouth open....
Luckily nobody was packing a gun, so my hairdresser grabbed me and vigorously washed my hair... the heretofore animated ladies lost interest in further conversation, and on my way out, I upped my tip from $5.00 to $10.00.... insuring I would be able to return to get my hair done again....
Oh, and Now my hairdresser always gives me a really great magazine to read as soon as I get in the door!
So.... making a fool out of myself wasn't a total loss! I now am privvy to the best magazines in Florida!
Keep smiling my love, and don't quit talking.... However bad you think you are.... someone else is worse! Happy Day!
Love from that wild old lady in Florida :)
Monday, August 10, 2009
Melissa d'Arabian Wins "The Next Food Network Star" Horay!
I "cheered" for Melissa to win from the very beginning! Her sparkling "personality", bouncy "energy", and ability to "think on her feet" reminded me of myself when I was her age.
Except for the sparkling "personality", bouncy "energy", and the ability to "think on her feet", we could have been twins! Oh, and she has blonde hair (to my chestnut), doesn't look like she has an eating disorder, and actually is making a marriage work while raising children. - (It's sooo much easier to just do either one or the other!) I can only concentrate on so many things at once.... Ever hear of a "human implosion" ? Just watch me trying to please a child and a man at the same time.... hah! (Ironic that you have to have a man before you can have a child... eh?)
Anyway, I just love watching my "alter ego", Melissa - at "work". Seeing her hug her friends and cook economical meals reminds me of the economical meals I used to improvise with my friend Nancy.
Did you know that split pea soup can be enhanced by adding pepperoni slices? So classy and innovative! Of course, if you were broke like Nancy and I, you had to invite a male friend over the night before and ask that he bring a "double pepperoni" pizza with him. Then you would stage a "James Dean" seance... with candles, incense, moving tables and mumbo jumbo... and then during the "show" you would spirit a couple of pizza pieces into the fridge....
Viola! "Split Pea Soup - Ala'Italia" the next day!
Soooo I am sure you can see why I identify with Melissa!
My Corky looked this over and deadpanned ... "How do you think of these things..." I looked at him and decided not to tell him I write about things I actually did.... I replied (truthfully) "I have a good imagination"...
Well, I know you are in a rush to try my new recipe! Do you think I should "try out" to be the next "Food Network Star"? Maybe viewers could identify with a more mature, larger version of Melissa next season...!
It really is entertaining to watch me try to cook something that involves more than two ingredients. ("Where am I?") Between my arms bumping into my front while trying to "wisk" egg whites, and my whole body then going into a convulsive, unwanted "shimmy" I think viewers would learn something! It's time that Food Network Star injected some Physical Comedy into their shows!
So, please tell them about that wild old lady in Florida, who could "round out" their shows! Hah.... Keep smiling and "whipping" :)
Except for the sparkling "personality", bouncy "energy", and the ability to "think on her feet", we could have been twins! Oh, and she has blonde hair (to my chestnut), doesn't look like she has an eating disorder, and actually is making a marriage work while raising children. - (It's sooo much easier to just do either one or the other!) I can only concentrate on so many things at once.... Ever hear of a "human implosion" ? Just watch me trying to please a child and a man at the same time.... hah! (Ironic that you have to have a man before you can have a child... eh?)
Anyway, I just love watching my "alter ego", Melissa - at "work". Seeing her hug her friends and cook economical meals reminds me of the economical meals I used to improvise with my friend Nancy.
Did you know that split pea soup can be enhanced by adding pepperoni slices? So classy and innovative! Of course, if you were broke like Nancy and I, you had to invite a male friend over the night before and ask that he bring a "double pepperoni" pizza with him. Then you would stage a "James Dean" seance... with candles, incense, moving tables and mumbo jumbo... and then during the "show" you would spirit a couple of pizza pieces into the fridge....
Viola! "Split Pea Soup - Ala'Italia" the next day!
Soooo I am sure you can see why I identify with Melissa!
My Corky looked this over and deadpanned ... "How do you think of these things..." I looked at him and decided not to tell him I write about things I actually did.... I replied (truthfully) "I have a good imagination"...
Well, I know you are in a rush to try my new recipe! Do you think I should "try out" to be the next "Food Network Star"? Maybe viewers could identify with a more mature, larger version of Melissa next season...!
It really is entertaining to watch me try to cook something that involves more than two ingredients. ("Where am I?") Between my arms bumping into my front while trying to "wisk" egg whites, and my whole body then going into a convulsive, unwanted "shimmy" I think viewers would learn something! It's time that Food Network Star injected some Physical Comedy into their shows!
So, please tell them about that wild old lady in Florida, who could "round out" their shows! Hah.... Keep smiling and "whipping" :)
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Burger King Shoots Baby...
Can you imagine my shock when I read that horrifying headline???
Well, the headline was really "Burger King Boots Baby" and the "story" was that a family was told to leave Burger King because their 6 month old baby was not wearing shoes... Ahhhh... What a relief...
But that little jolt is one I experience frequently because my mind often mixes up letters as I read them.
For some unknown reason, when my mind substitutes words or letters it almost always changes the meaning to an obscene one. Therefore I am often seen walking around with a shocked look on my face. My saving grace is that since I am old and fat, few people are looking at me!
In one recent case, it was not my mind scrambling letters. A sign near our home was advertising a type of lawnmower.... called the "Grasshopper". Well, I thought it said something obscene, but not wanting to plant evil or titilating thoughts in my husband's mind, I always ignored it when we passed by.
One day, as we approached the sign, my Corky (breaking his code of "silence") said, "There must have been some wind. That sign's bent!"....
So I really looked at the sign, and noticed that it was bent.... so that the "Gr" was not visible! I was elated! It wasn't me.... that sign actually did say "ASSHOPPER"!
Oh happy day! .... And for the rest of you who think it's all in your head... my story should give you hope!
Bye for now from that wild old lady in Florida... :)
Well, the headline was really "Burger King Boots Baby" and the "story" was that a family was told to leave Burger King because their 6 month old baby was not wearing shoes... Ahhhh... What a relief...
But that little jolt is one I experience frequently because my mind often mixes up letters as I read them.
For some unknown reason, when my mind substitutes words or letters it almost always changes the meaning to an obscene one. Therefore I am often seen walking around with a shocked look on my face. My saving grace is that since I am old and fat, few people are looking at me!
In one recent case, it was not my mind scrambling letters. A sign near our home was advertising a type of lawnmower.... called the "Grasshopper". Well, I thought it said something obscene, but not wanting to plant evil or titilating thoughts in my husband's mind, I always ignored it when we passed by.
One day, as we approached the sign, my Corky (breaking his code of "silence") said, "There must have been some wind. That sign's bent!"....
So I really looked at the sign, and noticed that it was bent.... so that the "Gr" was not visible! I was elated! It wasn't me.... that sign actually did say "ASSHOPPER"!
Oh happy day! .... And for the rest of you who think it's all in your head... my story should give you hope!
Bye for now from that wild old lady in Florida... :)
Friday, August 7, 2009
Corky's Big Fat Can of Tuna Fish!
I consider myself a connoisseur of tuna fish, and buy only the water-packed cans of white solid Albacore. (Oh, how classy and patrician can you get!)
One day, after listening to my preaching about the benefits of Omega 3, my Corky began to eat cans of tuna from of our cupboard while I was out at my art lessons.
Oh, how proud I was of him! I was also puffed up with myself that I had finally become a good influence on him! I had done the impossible! I had changed Corky one iota!!!
You see, my husband Corky is the most inflexible human on earth.... For Example: If you have an appointment with the Dr. tomorrow and are having a heart attack today, well you just don't go into the Dr. until tomorrow because that was your committment.... hah...
Oh, I was smug, in ecstasy (yes, my idea of "ecstasy"), and "riding high", but don't they say "Pride goeth before the Fall"?
Wanting to bask in my success, I went to his "Man Cave", sat in the "guest seat", smiled and asked, "How do you like the tuna?" (Oh, I just couldn't leave well-enough alone!)
Hardly looking up from his crossword, Corky commented, "There is a lot of tuna in those cans... I could hardly finish it...."
Puzzled, I left his room and tried to imagine what he meant. Those cans of tuna I buy only hold 5 oz. of tuna. I mean, we are talking about a man who used to eat 1/2 bag of Oreo "Double Stuff" cookies at one sitting.... consuming each cookie as one bite. Watching Corky eat cookies is like watching a frog eat flies.... the tongue shoots out, cookie gets stuck to it and "wooshhhh" there it goes, all in one piece, never to be seen again!
Eventually I looked in the garbage, the place where I solve most of the mysteries connected with my husband, who is a man of few words.
Aha! There I found it! .... An empty 13 oz. can of "Premium - Chicken Breast"! .... The idiot had been opening the cans of Chicken Breast I had in the cupboard, thinking they were Tuna Fish!
That was almost a pound of chicken for a snack on... no wonder he thought it was "a lot" to eat. Hah...!!!!!
Well, Corky had his One Big Fat Can of Tuna Fish, but it was of such high quality, it tasted like "Chicken"! Hah....!
I still feel smug... I think you can figure out why... So when you have a tuna sandwich, think of me, that wild old lady in Florida for whom every day is a lotta laughs!
Smile! It won't "get" better, it already "is" better.... you just have to see it!
One day, after listening to my preaching about the benefits of Omega 3, my Corky began to eat cans of tuna from of our cupboard while I was out at my art lessons.
Oh, how proud I was of him! I was also puffed up with myself that I had finally become a good influence on him! I had done the impossible! I had changed Corky one iota!!!
You see, my husband Corky is the most inflexible human on earth.... For Example: If you have an appointment with the Dr. tomorrow and are having a heart attack today, well you just don't go into the Dr. until tomorrow because that was your committment.... hah...
Oh, I was smug, in ecstasy (yes, my idea of "ecstasy"), and "riding high", but don't they say "Pride goeth before the Fall"?
Wanting to bask in my success, I went to his "Man Cave", sat in the "guest seat", smiled and asked, "How do you like the tuna?" (Oh, I just couldn't leave well-enough alone!)
Hardly looking up from his crossword, Corky commented, "There is a lot of tuna in those cans... I could hardly finish it...."
Puzzled, I left his room and tried to imagine what he meant. Those cans of tuna I buy only hold 5 oz. of tuna. I mean, we are talking about a man who used to eat 1/2 bag of Oreo "Double Stuff" cookies at one sitting.... consuming each cookie as one bite. Watching Corky eat cookies is like watching a frog eat flies.... the tongue shoots out, cookie gets stuck to it and "wooshhhh" there it goes, all in one piece, never to be seen again!
Eventually I looked in the garbage, the place where I solve most of the mysteries connected with my husband, who is a man of few words.
Aha! There I found it! .... An empty 13 oz. can of "Premium - Chicken Breast"! .... The idiot had been opening the cans of Chicken Breast I had in the cupboard, thinking they were Tuna Fish!
That was almost a pound of chicken for a snack on... no wonder he thought it was "a lot" to eat. Hah...!!!!!
Well, Corky had his One Big Fat Can of Tuna Fish, but it was of such high quality, it tasted like "Chicken"! Hah....!
I still feel smug... I think you can figure out why... So when you have a tuna sandwich, think of me, that wild old lady in Florida for whom every day is a lotta laughs!
Smile! It won't "get" better, it already "is" better.... you just have to see it!
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