Step-Grandmothers... Is there such a thing?

The only grandmother I ever knew was not related to me by blood. I was aware of that because she was talked about in front of me in a disparaging way... She was never forgiven for having been grampa's housekeeper before they married.

I grew up hearing "Lil... this", and "Lil that...", all petty picking at everything Lil did that even a small child recognizes as unfair critizism.

However, despite the disharmony, my grandmother took a real interest in me, and many of the moral lessons I learned during my childhood were learned from her. She was a strong woman who, in her 70's, still cooked wonderful meals every day that make me marvel, now that I am almost that age. I don't know how she did it! Her house was immaculate, all of their clothes were starched and ironed daily, and most important... she listened to me!

She forgave me for peeing on her shoes one day when I was riding with her and grampa, and I just "had" to "go". "Going" on the side of a deserted country road, with her standing close to shield my 5 year old modesty turned out to be a bad decision. I still remember her immaculatly polished white shoes with the pretty "cutouts" in the leather, that showed her stockinged feet in their lacy design. I was horrified when I inadvertantly sprayed on those feet, but my grandmother found a way to make it all right.

She and Grampa moved from Niagara Falls, New York to Fowlerville, New York when I was about five. I remember all the resentfull remarks made about this move, but even then I understood my grandparents wanting to get away from family problems and live in peace.

(The Home in Fowlerville)

Luckily, in addition to family visits, I was allowed to go there for a couple of weeks alone each summer. They lived in the country and there was the "hardship" of using a "chamber pot" at night, and the smelly outhouse during the day. Balance that with getting away from the chaos I was raised in, I will choose to use an outhouse every time!

Instead of listening to my parents and siblings argue at night, I got to sit peacefully on a country porch with my grandparents before bed. Cleaned up by grandma and in pajamas and bathrobe, we listened to the crickets. There was little conversation... they sat and rocked, and I enjoyed looking at the stars and being happy. It was a secure time!

Grampa had a garden he tended, and "manly" chores that he performed. Of German heritage, he performed his duties with thoroughness, and without fanfare. There were fresh vegetables on the table every day, prepared by my grandmother.... usually in serving bowls with cream on them.

Grandma also had a reputation for having a "green thumb". Everyone in that little village of Fowlerville who had a plant they were giving up on brought it to my grandmother. She usually managed to bring the plant back to life for them.

Sometimes she could only save one leaf....but that was all she seemed to need. She didn't have access to modern, fancy fertilizers... but she knew where the "good" soil in the garden was. First, she would "root" the leaf in water, then she planted it in a pot with her special mix of soil.

The inside of her kitchen window with it's stands filled with plants looked like a botanical garden... She told me that this was where the "right" sun came in to nourish the plants.

She also canned for the winter in her "summer kitchen" on a huge, old fashioned wood-fired stove. There was always home-preserved jelly on the breakfast table. Oh my gosh... it was there every day!

My favorite jelly was her currant jelly, and I had a part in it. She said "If you want more, all you have to do is pick the currants for me." So I would go way out back to the currant bush and pick the currants... and viola! The next morning there would be a fresh batch of currant jelly made. She made everything look easy.

I never saw her lose her temper and I never heard her complain. She was a wonderful woman and grampa was lucky to have her.

When grampa died, grandma just went away and I never saw her again. I asked my mother about her, and could never get her address to even write to her. I will never know if she wrote to me.... now I suspect she did...

Flashing from 1952 to 2009, I was sitting with an Aunt in Niagara Falls, who was kind enough to give me some old family photos. She casually mentioned that some photos of me had been in "Lil's things".... I knew my Aunts and Uncles went to Florida when Lil passed away, and took care of her estate... but I didn't think of it until I saw the old photos.

I suddenly realized that grandma didn't forget about me! I had gone all those years thinking that maybe I said or did the wrong thing and had offended her and that's why I didn't hear from her.... Now here was proof that she did care, and did think about me, because she kept those photos of me until the day she died.

I said, "Oh she didn't forget about me. I always felt bad that I never heard from her after grampa died and she moved to Florida."

My Aunt looked at me with surprise and said, "Oh, that wouldn't be proper, a relationship between and old lady, and a young girl..."

I looked at her in shock and said, "But she was my grandmother!"

Then my Aunt looked at me, all of a sudden understanding.... that the woman who was just my "grampa's wife Lil", and someone the family only tolerated because they had to, had connected with someone in the family in a meaningful way. "Lil" may have been looked down upon by all of them, but she was looked up to by me.

She had a lot of beauty, value and depth as a person and I am glad I had her in my life. My only regret is that I did not talk to anyone in my family about grandma until now. I know my Aunt would have given me my grandma's address, and I would have loved for grandma to know that I did care about her, after all she did for me.

So all of you people out there who have parents who are remarried, and you don't like who they are married to, tough! .... Your children just might benefit by learning to respect a grandparent, despite blood ties.

Don't give your children a "grandma" or "grampa" and then think you can erase them from their hearts when it's convenient for you. When a grandparent takes an interest in your children, it's a gift. Treat that gift and that family member with respect.

Is there such a thing as a "step-grandmother"? Only if she doesn't want to give the gift of her time and love...

Goodbye for now from that Wild Old Lady in Florida who still loves her "Step-Grandmother" and calls her "grandma"! hah...

Obama Gets Nobel Peace Prize .... For Giving the World Hope

All the moaning, groaning, and rants by "commentators" about this great news is exactly why I don't watch the "News" any more!

You would think a disaster had happened... like a nuclear holocaust, or (worse yet) all the grandmothers in the world had been forced to run a marathon naked! Give me a break!

First of all, please know that wagging tongues, as well as idle hands, are the devil's workshop...

We have hundreds of TV channels all competing for attention, so even the fart of a New Jersey back-woods cow can merit a ten minute rant by Glen Beck - or other similar "Holy Rightousness" advocates. Good God, how dare the Nobel Peace Prize be awarded to a sitting President of the United States. The nerve!

Without manufacturing "news" or voraciously inventing "opinions", based on "skewed" facts, 95 percent of these "gassbags" would be earning an honest living, or standing in an unemployment line.

But any empty-headed idiot sitting in front of a TV camera is suddenly an intellectual giant, completely qualified to assess if the Nobel Prize was "earned" by Pres. Obama. (What constructive thing have you tried to do for the world, Bucky?)

It would be a joke if it weren't for the millions of people who tune these programs in so they can fill the vacuum in their minds with something.

I admit that years ago I used to listen to Rush Limbaugh.... I even thought he was talking for me, fighting for me.... Hah... As time passed by, I caught "skewed facts" here and there.

After checking the facts supporting the content of Rush's tirades, I began to listen to the tone of his delivery. I heard arrogance in his tone, and wondered why I ever fed my mind with such toxic content. I found his program to be a carefully scripted delivery of divisive rhetoric.

Opinions can stated reasonably and with respect, but that just doesn't "make for good T.V". Sadly, the style which brought him success is now imitated widely by other "news commentators".

The tearing apart of Americans that is done by "commentators" will only stop when we start tuning them out.

So get smart, America.... stop feeding into the frenzy of the "commentators", and turn them off!

Back to Pres. Obama getting the Nobel Peace Prize.... I think anyone who can give the world a little hope with intellectual calm in this climate of fools, certainly deserves it!

I decided a long time ago I would not interject political opinions into my light-hearted, funny blog. This is not a political opinion, it's just a cry of "OK, enough already!"

Remember this one thing about your brain.... "garbage in - garbage out"....

"Hate In = Hate Out" also applies!

Please stop listening to hate and foolishness.

So lots of love to you, whatever your political leanings are, I can respect and listen to you.

This Wild Old Lady is now going to paint a picture!

The Biggest Loser... Last Chance Workout!

Have you ever watched the workouts the trainers on "The Biggest Loser" put old, unhealthy, obese people through? It almost puts me in a state of cardiac arrest when I see people who weigh 100 pounds more than me... being forced to run on a treadmill at 8 mph.

When I'm in good shape, I can do 2 mph on a treadmill, and my sweatband glistens on my forehead in a most attractive way (I think). I have determined that 2mph is the perfect speed because it does not cause my breasts to jiggle up and down at a rate which will cause them to hang any lower when I am done with the "workout".

I also don't like my bottom to rotate too quickly, as that causes the material from my shorts to be "swallowed up" by my "back" crack. It doesn't take too much time for my shorts to develop the death grip of a python during such an obscenely vigorous workout. Not for me....

I have watched women running on the treadmill on "The Biggest Loser" at such an unreasonable rate that even my 52" TV had a problem containing all the fat flying in different directions.

And then there's the "throwup".... oh yuk... The only reasonable scenario for vomiting is when a person is sick. You never, never exercise to the point of vomit, then go back to the treadmill for more. Jillian loves it when the fatsos vomit. (She has the temperament of the Marquis De Sade, you know.) It's terrible and fascinating to watch.... and I do watch it.

So back to my comfortable little nest here, where nobody pushes me. ("Just try, Buck-o!") I have been reading Dr. Phil's book on "The Seven Steps To Weight Loss", and am doing very well, thank you.... Hah....

My biggest problem has been eating 1200 calories a day, because the infusion of 2 fruits and 3 veggies daily makes me feel full. (My goal is 1200 to 1600) Dr. Phil is right... if you follow his instructions, you won't feel hungry.

The only problem is that the book is not a "quick read"... You have to really study it until you "get it". (Maybe it's just me.)

So as I sit in the comfort of my Florida home, with my Dr. Phil book, I am thankful I don't have to be at the mercy of trainers Jillian and Bob!

So if you are overweight, and want to scare yourself "thin", watch "The Biggest Loser" some night....

You can be sure that Wild Old Lady in Florida is watching too, and enjoying a bowl of strawberries!

Love to you all, thin or fat, from me....!

Did I Just Tell My Friend She's Going To Die Before Me?

Oh no,... Not again! Me and my big, helpful mouth....

By now you know that when I make a mistake, it's a big one. Then, instead of finding a graceful way to exit the situation, I keep opening my mouth and make it worse.

Imagine rushing to your grandmother's house, which is on fire, and accidentally throwing kerosine on it... Yes, that's me..



Picture me in Niagara Falls visiting with two of my oldest, dearest friends, who I will call "Janet" and "Nancy"..... Well, Janet has decided to get rid of the things that have accumulated in her house, garage, cellar, and attic for years. Janet is a very healthy and active person, mentally sharp and as neat as a pin, whereas I am quite overweight and ditto for the rest.

Someone mentioned what would happen to all of Janet's excess stuff if she died before having a chance to get rid of it...

Well, obese me, 68 years old and with a "real age" score of about 102, volunteered happily... "Oh, you could leave everything to me, and I could put it all on Ebay, and we could give the money to an animal shelter..."

As I was talking, I noticed a pall fall over Janet's face... I know what she was thinking... ("You think I'm going to die before you, Fat Cheeks?")

Now, Janet has known me for many years, after a moment she realized that I was having one of my famous "brain farts", and she began to smile, enjoying the moment.

Of course I rambled on, but it was nice to be with people who didn't put my dumb comments down to "old age" like my kids do. At times I come up with brilliant ideas, (Yes, I do!) so my "odd moments" make even me think I am some sort of undiagnosed Savant..

The good outcome was that I also told Janet that all of the charities now sell items on the internet, so if she left her estate to her favorite one, it would be their problem to sort it all out, plus they would be grateful for the donation. I think this took some of the worry out of the process for Janet. Hey, that's what friends are for!

So, in case you are an only child with no heirs, don't waste your time worrying about your accumulations. Make sure you have a will in place, and someone else can have all the fun of "sorting" your stuff when you're gone! Go on a cruise instead and learn how to Rock Climb!

Hah! Love to all from this Wild Old Lady stuck in Florida, who still misses her old friends!

McGrath - McGraw - A few notes

Instead of my usual blog attempting to be humorous... here is a little trivia for all the McGrath/McGraw's out there. First, I am told by people from Ireland that McGrath is pronounced "McGraw" in Ireland....

So, Dr. Phil must be my cousin... hah... Yes, I have always told people "how it is", so even without the "name", therefore I claim "cousinship".... (I am sure worse things have happened to Dr. Phil than this Wild Old Lady dangling from his family tree!)

Genealogists have traced all McGrath/McGraw's back to five tribes in Ireland and have confirmed that four of the five are genetically related.... hah..

The clan/tribe was founded by a man named "Raith", and the sons of "Raith" were names "McRaith" which "Darwinized" over the years to "McGrath". The McGraths were defenders of the O'Brien clan, and also were artists and poets....

When I think about this "Raith" ancestor, I also think about the root of the word "wrath".... (Did "wrath" come from "Raith"?)

This is why I think that might be true.... Most of the McGrath's I know are slow to anger.... but if terribly mistreated, a trait I call "The Wrath of McGrath" comes to the forefront... hah... The object of this wrath is then usually subjected to a dressing down that is usually more effective than any physical smite is. (Sound a little "Dr. Phill-ish"?)

So for you of the McGrath/McGraw Clan... I would be interested in your comments/feedback. You can send me a private e-mail through the e-mail link on my profile, or post on this blog.

Love to you all, as we all are related anyway... from that Wild Old Lady, who will return to Florida soon!

Corky's Ambidextrous Snore.... Kkkkksssshhhhh!

I know you've heard stories about people who snore.... Big deal, right? .. hah!

But, My Corky is a true "legend" in the Snoring Department....

You don't have to be in the same room to be kept awake, you only have to be in the same house!

And if you rent a double-wide trailer for the winter, being in the double wide next to my snoring Corky will give you insomnia... hah!

We have worked out a plan, though....

1. I go to bed 30 minutes ahead of Corky, and take a 10 mg Ambien.

2. Corky faces away from me...
(We apply this logic....If you are in front of a person blowing a trumpet, it's much worse than being behind them.... Nose... Trumpet... See?)

3. Since Corky can only lie on one side, when we get a motel room, we make sure his face (with "horn" attached), faces away from me.

This formula works for us, and we have travelled together successfully for 24 years.... Until today...

After visiting friends, we returned to the Fairfield for our "Senior Citizen Nap Time". Corky reminded me to get into the right bed, so he would face away, and not keep me awake with his snoring.... (What a Guy!)

But something strange happened! I woke up during "Buy Me" to the full-force honking sound of a snore! I looked over and saw Corky sleeping on his "wrong" side... facing me, and snoring at "full tilt"!

I felt proud like a mother... ("Corky can sleep on his left side! Looky, looky!) yet horrified like a new bride.... ("Oh, oh, what am I going to do with this newly discovered monster!")

When Corky woke, I told him... "You can sleep on your left side, after all!" He smiled proudly, unaware of the problem this new "Ambidextrious Snoring" might cause.... hah...

Well, we have worked out worse problems, and I am kind of proud of the old coot for having discovered his left side as a "landing pad".... How many other 72 year old men develop a new skill? hah...

So "happy sleeping" to everyone from that Wild Old Lady, who signs off "Sleepless In Buffalo"...!

Finding A Motel On A Foggy Night! ..."Almost Psycho!"

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!

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!

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!

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!

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! :)

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! :)

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! :)

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! :)

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! :)

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!.... :)

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... :)