Mayhem and Me Sunday, Jul 3 2011 

New Beginnings and Uncategorized , , , , , missumerica 1:13 pm


You know that guy from the Allstate commercials, Mayhem? Well I’m friends with him on Facebook. He’s with me in all my states of waking consciousness in life. I think one the best decisions I’ve made was finally accepting him as a friend and quit running away from him. He’ll chase you through the house, embarrass you in the carpool line and make your kids throw their chicken strips across The Olive Garden resulting in total mortification when the THUD hits the floor in front of the Cleavers at the next booth leaving you with the stabbing pains of guilt and humiliation. Just when I think I’m about to lose my ever-loving mind – which by the way I must say often enough that my boy has taken to repeating my tag line verbatim to Mario every time he crashes – Mayhem comes in and says something funny to break the tension.

Here’s the deal. Mayhem will let you embrace him. He just wants to be recognized. I pretended for a long time like he wasn’t there standing next to me pulling at my strings like a puppet master that caused me to look like some comedic poltergeist had taken over my body and those of my family for far too long. We hid him away like a crazy Aunt Edna that we kept in the closet so that we could all look perfect and proper. Well, guess what. Not anymore! Dude is coming along with me EVERYWHERE because he’s funny. He’s WAY funnier than his cousin Despair. I’ve made the mistake of actually INVITING that guy in and I’ll never do it again. It was my own fault really because I was the one the let that guy into our castle. The husband and the kids and even the dog had to pick up his mess. That’s the guy that you do NOT want around. He’s the one who makes you cry and sleep and cry again until you fall asleep. He’ll plop his tush on the couch and settle in with a bag of Cheetos and then have the nerve to ask you to bring him a beer and wipe his orange fingers on your lovely upholstery and there won’t be anything funny about it. (more…)

 

My Daily’s Post Saturday, Jul 2 2011 

Uncategorized , , , , , , , , , missumerica 8:09 pm


I just signed up for this challenge where I’ve committed to posting DAILY for the rest of the year. Sometimes I feel inspired and sometimes I don’t. You’d think that after witnessing the guy in the trailer park behind me ride his LAWNMOWER to his buddy’s pad that I’d have something to say. Not really. All that did was make me want to go to The WalMarts when he didn’t return thinking maybe the guy had rambled on over there. For SURE a trip to Wally World was gonna set something off in my brain then, right? It’s an aspiring writer’s PLAYGROUND with characters waddling about doing things the rest of us could never DREAM of doing and saying things the rest of us can’t even comprehend. Literally! Nah. There was nothing for me to ramble about. It wasn’t until I returned home with my Great Values and opened my freezer that it hit me. There it was! My Daily’s Inspiration!

Look, at this stage in my life I know a lot of women who keep little frozen bags of breast milk in their freezers. Not me! Nope. No more bottles for this baby unless they have wine in them. When I run out of things to say, I may rip the top off of one of these babies and see what flows from my brain as the sweet frozen goodness flows from its pouch. Since it’s summer and all, maybe these little pouches should be consumed Daily, you know, just to keep my own creative juices running and maintain my sanity. I think that’s what the name implies. Maybe they are like those anxiety medicines that actually need to build up in your system to maintain maximum effectiveness and proper dosage is required. They are only like a buck too. Not a buck FOR TWO, but The WalMarts is known for rolling back prices though so keep a look out. How ’bout that. A dollar a day could keep the writer’s block away.

My friend says they look like Caprisuns for adults and she’s TOTALLY right!! The kids can have their lemonade pouches while you enjoy your own. You can even enjoy them straight from the bag without looking trashy because it says so right on the back of the pouch. These don’t come with straws though because they’d probably have to charge an extra nickel at The WalMarts for that kind of luxury. I think I may have an old Burger King cup in my car though and be all GREEN, ya know. I mean, not like green MOLD or anything cause I’d be sure and wash it and all. I mean green like recycling because I’ll get extra uses from the BK sucker. I bet I could think of lots of OTHER uses for this little bag too: (more…)

 

Our Town Friday, Jul 1 2011 

Our Town and Uncategorized , , , , , , , , , , , , , , missumerica 2:21 pm


I woke up this morning to my very own custom-made publication. No, I have not been published YET, but it seems that my daughter has taken an interest in writing as well. In her version of the local crime blotter, the cub has taken to reporting the words and actions of her brother. I’m thinking this is NOT going to win her a Pulitzer, however a Pull-At-Her (hair) may be in store once little brother can read. The headline read, “Vampire In Town” so I’m not sure if this implied that he bit her or what, but she had been sure to clearly depict the villain in his superhero pajamas. There was a Style section, Sports section, and even an Entertainment section with movies and show times gathered from my little iPhone app. We seem to have created our own little city of sorts and every city needs a Town Crier. We have two, quite possibly three if I finally break by the end of Summer.

What got me going on this was my discovery a couple of days ago. A fight of sorts had broken out in the street, or hall, or whatever you want to call it. Sister was screaming that Brother had locked himself in his room with all of the checkers, and she could hear them clinking together as he counted his stash. That’s what I said – CHECKERS. This should NOT be cause for alarm on a normal day because she is usually TRYING to get him to stay out of her room and in his own. So WHAT was the problem? As best I could tell through the tears and high-pitched siren-like cries, Brother had stolen all of the “checkers” from the Connect Four game and was hoarding them in his room. She then explained to me that this meant she could no longer Do anything, BUY anything, or have FUN of any kind until she recovered her rightful portion of the loot. Slowly I began to understand. It seemed these two had reverted back to caveman days in more ways than one and devised a bartering system for goods and services here in Our Town. How civilized! Unexpected? Yes. Brilliant? Right on! I was so proud! This discovery meant there was hope for law and order in the Wild West after all. When one child wanted to borrow something from another, a price was set. If that price was mutually agreeable, then a deal was sealed, you checked out at the registers where checkers were exchanged and everyone was happy without calling in The Law, ME. “Now I get it! THAT’s what the little price tags posted in the bedrooms meant,” I thought. It was further explained to me that “reds” were worth $100 and “yellows” were a mere $1, and Sister had slowly accumulated ALL of the checkers. This was where I was going to have to mosey in and reclaim my town however.

I interrogated Brother for a few minutes after dismissing the complainant and found he had an understandable reason for stealing the checkers. The poor kid was literally poor. He had spent all of his checkers purchasing goodies from The Sister Store and had priced his own items in Brother’s Market unreasonably high. There was actually little demand for his supply of goods as the only thing he had become willing to sell or part with was broken pieces of toys and pictures of himself. It had become a buyer’s market and Sis wasn’t buying his wares. He also wasn’t willing to sell any of his alloted time on the Wii as he was in desperate pursuit of some special badge or title or trophy or something in his rat race with Mario. I had to feel sorry for the kid, but I couldn’t let The Village People run amuck. The was not the Y-M-C-A and boarders had to obey the law of the land. Once the situation had been explained to Sister, she took pity on the defendant and allowed him into her saloon with no hard time served. (Actually it’s really more of a Salon since she doesn’t serve the hard stuff – only Koolaid- and  Barbie Doll heads and nail polish are scattered about.) (more…)

 

Beauty & The Bee Thursday, Jun 30 2011 

Uncategorized , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , missumerica 3:31 pm


This summer my daughter attended a summer arts camp for budding young artists in the area, and an open house exhibit was held last night for all of the proud parents/paparazzi. I had been hearing all month about her creations, and her paint splattered clothes were evidence that she was truly and perhaps madly inspired. She is a fashionista and likes to design her own attire, so I am not going to lie. It crossed my mind a time or two that the clothes were splattered on purpose and when I arrived, I scoped out the exhibits and backdrops for very specific colors on the spectrum that I myself had scrubbed from her wardrobe. We just threw out the fabric SPRAY PAINT here since my walls have been shaded a nice Caribbean Blue by her talented apprentice/younger brother so this suspicion was not totally out of reach.

The big piece I had been dying to see was a large chess piece sculpture created from a glass jug, paper mache, plastic plates, styrofoam balls, and of course paint. Someone drank A LOT of wine to have emptied those jugs, yet I had not even been called. I would have volunteered my services for such a worthy cause if only I’d been asked. The day she came home and described to me her theme for this series was a proud one. She envisioned a series of chess pieces created around insects. Her first inspiration was “To be… a bee” and it was not a question. A queen bee represented her personality well and would not be too difficult or time-consuming to create in the amount of studio time she had alloted. Her second idea? A spider as a king piece. Why? Because it might easily freak out her brother should she sneak it into his bedroom in the middle of the night. Her third and final vision was my favorite though admittedly would have been difficult to construct. This masterpiece was conceived around the bishop figure for her class’s game board, and when she asked me to guess what insect would represent this piece, she folded her hands together and bowed her head. A PRAYING MANTIS was to serve as the bishop. That’s MY girl!! Take a bow, Honey! You have come a long way from the little thumbprint butterflies you made for me and have left a print on my soul that is as unique and individual as your creations.

She attended classes in 3-D sculpture, 2-D sculpture, and Cartoons & Comics this summer and had art on display from all of them last night in the gymnasium. She had constructed a board game with a heavenly theme and little angel game pieces where the object was to get into the gates of Heaven. Too bad the corner broke off as she was running away with it from Brother today. The poor little devil. She sculpted a giant Tetris game piece constructed of tin foil and blue water colors that we have discovered STAIN and may induce my own “Blue Period” if I discover it on my walls next to last week’s Caribbean Blue fabric paint. My little Picasso hand painted a set of dice and a hot pink and orange set of game tiles that were displayed with her cute little age and name for all the other parents and family members to see. We took pictures of her last night in all her glory standing in front of her maze she had designed, colored and hung. We were struck by her refusal to follow suit with her deck of cards picture in that she chose to draw a princess “like her” instead of a queen and decorated all fours corners with green shamrocks for luck instead of traditional black clubs. It was a proud night for all of us as this summer has been one of change, but our little family and the pride we show has remained a constant even though we may have joined a different club in the statistics. (more…)

 

My Morning Glory Wednesday, Jun 29 2011 

Uncategorized , , , , , , , , , , , , , missumerica 11:06 am


I took a break from writing yesterday because I have something going on with my hands. It was a FIRE going on yesterday and water and ice wasn’t going to help. Remember that 80’s Hair Band, The Cult? They sang that song Fire Woman. In my mind, I have a little cult following of my own that checks out what I have to say on the blog, so I’ll charge ahead while I hum that God-awful-yet-super-catchy-flashback song in my head. I may have already listened to it on Youtube this morning too. Call me FIRE WOMAN now, OK?

These wrist guards seem to be helping the pain but not my self-esteem. They are for old people I think, yet the cute girl on the front of the box looks happy. And young. And she has nice skin. So I’m going to ignore the mirror sitting next to me on my vanity/writing desk and pretend that I look like THAT girl without frizzy hair and reading glasses in all my morning glory.

I think it’s ironic that my “birthday flower” is supposed to be a Morning Glory. Check this out that I found on www.babiesonline.com when I Googled the flower:

As its name insinuates, the Morning Glory is a flower that blooms in the morning hours. However, by the time the sun has fallen, the flower has died. Each morning will give birth to a brand new flower on the plant. Because they bloom in the morning, they are often pollinated by hummingbirds, bees, butterflies and other daytime birds and insects.

Many species of Morning Glory have seeds that contain LSA which is a drug that is up to 10% as potent as LSD. To discourage the growing of Morning Glory specifically for drugs, some cultivators are treating the seeds before they sell them with a chemical that can not be washed off and will cause vomiting and sickness if ingested.

In Japan the Morning Glory is known as asagao, asa “morning” and kao “face”. In China it has been used for medicinal purposes as a powerful laxative. During the Edo Period it because a popular decorative flower. It is often used next to walls as it will grow as a vine, blocking out some of the heat and lowering air conditioning bills in the summer.

Fun and interesting fact: By soaking the flowers from the Morning Glory in water for a couple of weeks you can create a mildly alcoholic wine with a good flavor and mild psychedelic effect. You can add herbs or honey to this to enhance the flavor.

OK, look. That description there talks about this beautiful flower and its “morning face.” It dies at night and you can use it to make wine. Total OPPOSITE of me. I was born three weeks early, so I’m not alot like my zodiac sign either, but I in fact come to LIFE at night sometimes with the HELP of wine. I am flat ugly in the morning too, so my face is not beautiful when I rise with the sun/son. My kids have asked me when I’ve had to go to school for meetings and such to NOT look how I look in the morning for drop off. Whatever. I threatened once to walk them to class HAND IN HAND smiling if they didn’t get things into gear and get out the door in time. The seeds of that plant can be CULTivated to make some sort of LSD type drug though. Maybe I AM like that flower and my kids are like my seeds and that explains why people think WE are on drugs occasionally. And what about that “laxative” part?? People have indeed told me that they “lose their $!!+” sometimes when I get going on something. Hmmmm…

So I did a little more research and here’s what Wikipedia said:

Most morning glory flowers perk up and harden during the early morning and are often fully erect, thus their name. The flowers usually start to fade a couple of hours before the “petals” start showing visible curling. They prefer full exposure throughout the day and mesic soils. Some morning glories, such as Ipomoea muricata, are night blooming flowers.

Get past that “erect” stuff and quit giggling because looky there! There is ACTUALLY a type of morning glory that blooms and comes to life at night just like me! Not all of the pretty flowers are the same. There are different varieties and mine is just not as common. Of course it’s not! I wear a set of HOT little reading glasses when I read/write because they are tiger-striped and make me look younger than bifocals which I actually think I need now, but I may just bedazzle these little wrist guards to guard against the aging effects I’m facing now. Brace yourselves people at The WalMarts! I’m coming out in all my glory! (more…)

 

Guys and Their Trucks Monday, Jun 27 2011 

Uncategorized , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , missumerica 10:50 am


I woke up this morning with BURNING PAIN in my hands. I think I’m going to have to face the fact that I have arthritis. There. I said it. And my first thought was, “How am I going to write today? I’ve gotten on a roll here, and doubt I can even sit down at the computer much less type out my thoughts on my iPhone which is primarily where I take notes.” Are you FREAKING KIDDING ME?! I just got going here, found a gift that I want to share, and have now gotten to where it HURTS to share it. I think if I were in a self-conscious or insecure stage right now, I’d take it as a sign, and y’all KNOW how big I am on signs now. I’ve gotten to where I don’t really force things anymore. I don’t look for the signs, because when I actually look for them, I miss what’s right in front of me. I guess, just thinking out loud here, that PERHAPS my sisters may be a little right about me being obsessed with my blog? Nah! Not me. Not ever. I just need to quit typing everything on a teeny tiny keyboard because it’s screwing up my mojo. I am not getting older either. This hand cramping thing is just a sign that drugs are good and I’m gonna get some. That’s all it is. Because I’m writing a book here, and the blog is just a teeny tiny portion of what I write every day. I’m living a dream, literally, and I’m documenting it as I go. And I’ll SIGN my book of SIGNS for the sisters when it gets published.

Before our big New Kids On The Block concert, we passed a giant truck just a few BLOCKS from my sister’s house. It said “Viva la Waffle.” I was SOOO wanting to jump out and take a picture in front of this cool truck/bus parked in the middle of a residential neighborhood, but my sisters wouldn’t let me because they thought I’d put it on my blog. There were cars behind us anyway. It stuck in my mind though. The BIG waffle truck. And it rolled right back through my mind later when my sister actually googled it and found that it is a new business that some guy is starting. Very cool, Man! I dig it! Viva la Waffle and viva the dream. I am going to live my dream too, and when I have my big book release party, YOU GUYS are gonna cater it for sure! I don’t know these guys from Adam – never met them. But I like their site and I’m pretty sure I’d like their story, too. Check ’em out.

http://vivalawaffle.com/

Yesterday when I was leaving my sister’s house in my dad’s truck, I was contemplating guys. And their trucks. And why they like them so much. Around here, I would say most guys drive trucks. Some are flashy, big, and expensive, and they serve as a sort of status symbol. Others are simply workhorses that aren’t really pretty to look at and may have lots of miles on them, but they get the job done. The trucks are often like the guys who drive them, huh? I remember one time in college going to a bar and dancing with a REAL cowboy. Here was his line, “You know that big white truck outside with the pink and blue pinstripes? Well, That’s mine.” And he grinned. “Um. OK,” I said. “Have fun with that,” I thought. And went back to my girlfriends. I think the line was supposed to impress me when his line dancing didn’t, and perhaps for some girls, it might. Not this chick though. Dude was BRAGGING about a pink and blue striped truck which sounded to me like something a hillbilly stork would use to deliver babies in some animated country bumpkin movie. Thanks anyway. NO babies, and NO guys with pink & blue trucks for me.

As I was stopped at a stoplight, still pondering GUYS and TRUCKS, you would not EVEN believe what passed by. (Maybe you would after hearing my bunny and Miracle stories though.) I was idling next to a funeral home and a guy walked into the street to stop traffic and THIS is what passed: (more…)

 

Sisters Hangin’ Tough Sunday, Jun 26 2011 

Uncategorized , , , , , , , , , , , , , , missumerica 1:52 pm


This weekend was a fun one and a big one for my sisters and me. I am the oldest of three girls, and about seven months ago my middle sister sent me an URGENT email. She was living in California at the time and hoping for a transfer back home. She must receive Ticketmaster updates to her phone or something and when one caught her eye, she took it as a sign. The New Kids On The Block were joining the Backstreet Boys on a new tour and it was hitting this area. She insisted on buying tickets and that the three of us would go together. She was living clear across the country at the time, but this MONUMENTAL tour was a sign, I guess. She went on faith and purchased the tickets somehow KNOWING she’d make it here in time. Step By Step, things fell into place. Summertime came, she got the transfer, and moved less than a month before the concert date. I’ll bet the girl thinks Jordan is her KNIGHT in shining armor and got this ball rolling for her. Whatever.

So Friday afternoon, I hit the road in my dad’s old pick up truck to stay with my sisters for the night and have some much needed girl time. Here I was rolling down the road in Daddy’s truck which neither suits my style nor my driving capabilities. It’s BIG. Bigger than what I’m used to for sure, but driving his truck is kind of like trying to walk in his shoes. Both are a little big to fill but will get me to where I’m going until I can find my own perfect fit. The rearview mirror was there and talk about time to reflect! It’s been thirteen years and it’s still humming, but on this trip down memory lane it was humming a New Kids song. There are dents in that truck that I put there myself. It was new when he died, but we kept it and used it to move all his girls into new apartments over the years. When the New Kids were indeed ACTUAL new kids on the music scene, Daddy’s girls were screaming, neon wearing, side-ponytail-sporting little girls and pre-teens. Here we are now, all grown up and still screaming decades later. The screaming just comes from OUR kids now and not as often from us. The grandkids are just like Daddy’s kids, really. How could they NOT be. They are loud and fun and smart and maybe a little dramatic, but it’s all entertaining.

As I pull into town, my phone starts exploding with texts and calls. I’m not about to wreck this big ol truck to check my phone, so I leave them be and try to send them my mind vibes: “I’ll be there shortly. Hold your horses.” I think it worked too. My phone quit blowing up, and I was able to quit thinking that I was perhaps missing out on something BIG – like nutty friends and sisters sneaking onto the tour bus BIG. “Keep on truckin’,” I think to myself as I roll off the interstate and check my messages at a stop light. Huh, Whaddayaknow. One of those messages is from my apartment manager and it seems there is a complex issue at hand. The apartment below me has discovered some sort of leak. The ceiling is dripping and buckling and it seems to be coming from MY apartment. Great. Last thing I remember before we scooted out the door to drop off the kids was hearing, “Hey, Sis! Come see what I made!” The call came from the bathroom, so I assumed something gross and never bothered to listen for a flush. I hadn’t bothered to check and see if last night’s waterfall creation had been resurrected or anything. CRAP! Buckle up, get your BUTT in gear, and hit the GAS, Baby! Maybe it’s just a leaky pipe or something. They’ll discover the source and fix the problem without me. One can only hope.

I arrived at my youngest sister, Little’s house and barely made it in the Nick of time. Backstreet’s Back, alright! We had our tickets in hand – actually Middle wanted to print them herself from my Ticketmaster account. She was so nervous I would forget or suffer a last-minute printer malfunction that she didn’t trust me. We headed to dinner and began our photo diary of the evening. The restaurant was packed! It was the ultimate cougar den. Chicks were dressed in 80’s garb and homemade t-shirts. Now I was HACKED. Little should have made us some like I asked. “Look how freakin’ boring we look,” I thought. Oh, well. We’ll make up for it.

My brother-in-law and niece had to drop us off at the concert. We were responsible grown ups and knew that we’d be drinking therefore needed a chauffeur. My poor little Baby Boo wanted to go with us but serenaded us with Gaga songs the entire ride to compensate. We start them young here musically speaking, so her chance will come soon enough. We arrived at the venue and pulled into the drop-off lane. HA! Never in my life have I seen so many husbands driving min-vans filled with kids in car seats and moms decked out in their finest. I think the best were the Pregos though, and there were lots of ’em. Cute little bellies were decorated with all sorts of NKOTBSB sayings and lyrics. It was totally cute, but I was also TOTALLY glad I was not one of them. I’m irritable pregnant, and my view of the scene would’ve described annoying squealy voiced thirty-something fatties all gathered to relive their teenage dream crushes while singing at the top of their lungs completely off-key to a group of guys they’ll never have a chance with. See? I’m much more pleasant without a bump and raging hormones. (more…)

 

“One Shoe Can Change Your Life” – Cinderella Friday, Jun 24 2011 

Uncategorized , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , missumerica 1:36 pm


After yesterday’s post, a few friends from my Fame-like high school responded to me in one way or another. One former classmate, now current friend, said she could only vaguely remembers me dancing and must’ve blocked my smooth moves from her memory. Gee, you think she’s jealous much? I don’t think she actually remembers anything at all because she was a year behind me following in MY footsteps at this junior and senior level school, and I don’t think I danced that year. By then, I had tippy-toed onto other things. She got me going on something here though, and I thought about the little plaque that hangs by my closet. It says, “One shoe can change your life.” I had this back at the old house, but it carries new significance with all of the changes and little creature friends now at this castle.

I grew up dancing – ballet, tap, jazz, modern. My first teacher was an inspiration and that inspiration came from her panties. Hear me out here. She was a BEAUTIFUL woman and as eccentric as she was beautiful. She used to complain about the humidity here messing with her hair and how she would probably have been better suited for a drier climate. When she wasn’t wearing flowers in her hair or a turban of some sort, she was actually known to wear a pair of panties on her head for rehearsals. She claimed that the inspiration went in one hole and the perspiration went out the other. I have GREAT hair, but I think I picked up a thing or two from her. My panties are worn in the proper place however, thankyouverymuch!

My sisters grew up dancing as well, and my mom spent hours a week on the road between the dance studio and the house since we were there every day of the week and usually weekends as well. One year we TOTALLY dominated the Christmas Rudolph performance. It was a Sister Act because from beginning to end, at least one of us was in every scene and surely as entertaining as Whoopi herself. My most memorable performance however was Cinderella. I got to perform a pas de deux as one of the Autumn Fairies with my friend. As only I would do, I found myself chatting it up backstage with one of the cute stage hands and missed my cue. What made me realize that I had missed my grand entrance you ask? Well, it was the giant THUD that came with the landing of Cinderella’s pumpkin. My partner was performing and tossed the big orange ball into the air blindly behind her expecting me to be there to catch it as rehearsed. Guess what. I was not. MORTIFIED, I galloped onto the stage and attempted to save the show. Remember the big Saturday Night Live performance when Ashley Simpson got cold busted lip syncing and did that bizarre little thumbs-out-wiggle attempting to save face and then blamed her BAND? I guess my scene unfolded a little like that. I flew in from the wings and faced the BACKDROP. And CRIED. But I still SMILED through the tears at NOBODY and MADE UP a bizarre little ditty like some comedic poltergeist had taken over my body while my teacher stared in total HORROR. I couldn’t even look at her. Eventually her voice broke through my fog, and I finished the second half of the dance as choreographed. God! It was like watching an awkward Ben Stiller movie, I’m sure. Picture him now in pink tights and a tutu and pointe shoes pirouetting. Not a pretty sight, but back to my point. Not a soul could cushion the fall from grace in those pink soles. I call that vivid memory, The Great Pumpkin Dance. And the first sounds of my teachers instructions were garbled like the Teacher from Charlie Brown. God, what a nightmare. Boy, I bet she misses me now, huh? If I have you on overload with my wordsmithing here, then tough. My brain works like that Bing! commercial and this is MY blog so you can keep up or step away. (more…)

 

My Steel Magnolias Thursday, Jun 23 2011 

Uncategorized , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , missumerica 3:13 pm


It’s been raining for a few days straight here, and as I sat on the balcony drinking coffee this morning I got to thinking about friends. And the term “fair weather” friends. This morning’s coffee comes courtesy of a Frosty mug. (Not like it’s spiked or anything since people usually think of beer being served in frosty mugs. Totally sober here. For real.) I won this mug at a bunko game back when we actually PLAYED bunko. Looking at Frosty, as I have now named him since he is a snowman and I am  clever, gives me a toasty, warm and fuzzy feeling because he makes me think about My Girls. Now we just get together at a restaurant. And rest. And rant. Usually we talk about what’s going on with who and laugh over cocktails. Bunko has kind of become like the game Marco Polo because there isn’t really any rhyme or reason to when it gets called. Sometimes I call bunko when I can’t really “see” things right and want to reach out to my girls. Don’t look for a picture of the Bunko Girls yet. I doubt I’d get that many women to agree on one picture where everyone’s hair looks nice and nobody thinks they look fat. Check out Frosty below mugging for the camera though. He’s sitting there for me, with the dark clouds behind him and the communication tower of some kind just off in the distance. Don’t correct me if I’m wrong about that big thing either. Because then I’ll look stupid and the rest of this won’t make sense so just go with me here.

Even on rainy days when the sun isn’t so bright, I can send out a signal to some girlfriends and see who’s up for a game. I don’t always hear back from all of them, but that doesn’t mean I should assume they are fair weather friends. They just may not be able to communicate what they’re thinking when the clouds are blocking the signals. Some people may actually be those fair weather friends, I guess, and don’t want to get out in the storm lest their hair frizz. I get that too. I know I don’t always want to walk around with frizzy hair either. Occasionally, most of us do put on our hats and stylish rain boots though and just prepare for a bad hair day. Donning that rubbery soled footwear and choosing to brave the storms to help out a friend can be good for the soul. I’m speaking in metaphors here, but sometimes girlfriends can just appreciate a really great pair of shoes too, and it’s as simple as that!

“I promise that my personal tragedy will not interfere with my ability to do good hair.”

– Steel Magnolias

I could go on and on and onandonandonandon with the Steel Magnolia quotes since it’s one of my total faves, but Annelle says that to Truvy in the beauty shop when she’s trying to explain some of the gossip around town regarding her past. It’s really none of their business. The girl wants a job and wants to prove she can be professional. I love it!  I think I may be looking for a job myself with this writing gig, but I also see it as a shout out to my girls to let them know that I’ll be there for them even if I have other things going on myself.  And all of us will always have good hair! You know, I went to high school in the same town that Steel Magnolias was filmed. From what I’ve heard, that scene from the beauty shop was filmed at the home of a school employee. I went to a school for the “gifted and talented.” Some girls, that SOMEHOW I never managed to talk to at that high school, have become GREAT friends now and encouraged me to share my “gift” and “talent.” They’ve been a gift for ME for sure. Perhaps they saw my knack for writing and forecasted the rainy days to come in the present. We connected through Facebook, and I have gotten to know some of them really well. Lovely ladies – all of them gifted. You don’t have to attend a school like that however to discover your own gifts. We all have them. My writing didn’t start until one week ago. That gift sat in a box I guess, like moving boxes often do, and I just now dusted it off and unpacked it. Maybe I didn’t see it because this particular box wasn’t wrapped up in the sparkly kind of paper I love. There wasn’t even a ribbon. (more…)

 

Down With O.P.P.ossum Wednesday, Jun 22 2011 

Uncategorized , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , missumerica 3:12 pm


This morning you’ll never guess what I was doing. Sitting on the balcony drinking coffee!! (You saw that one coming, didn’t ya?) And you know what I saw?… An OPOSSUM!!! Now I KNOW you didn’t see that one coming! And you know what else I did? That’s RIGHT!!! I got a video, of course. And in it, you can see the beast moving around scavenging. (or whatever opossums do) While I was shooting, (NOT Ellie Mae Clampett-style mind you. I was shooting with my iPhone, OK?) I heard the sirens in the background from a police car and that got me going on the whole Law & Order thing from yesterday. (The show AND God’s natural law and order of things) Let me present my case here:

I guess if the video isn’t working here, you can check back if you’re DYING to see what this creature looks like walking around. Someone’s going to have to explain to me why this video thing takes so long to process :-/

Oh Dear God. That thing is U-G-L-Y.!!! And it ain’t got no alibi. I can tell this even though I was far away and two flights up. From my little castle balcony it didn’t bother me tremendously to focus on it, but I’m thinking that would not be the same up close and personal. You know how when you have to clean up vomit? (Someone elses. Not your own. Actually, I’ve never had to clean up my own so I guess I wouldn’t really know now would I? I’ve always just flushed it down. OK. FOCUS HERE!! Back to the story) Vomit. When you clean it up, you do so out of your peripheral vision so that the mere sight of it doesn’t induce vomiting yourself thereby setting off a chain reaction that would rival the big blueberry pie scene in Stand By Me. Imagine it! The smell alone could set things off, and I’m thinking that the varmint out in the grass stinks to high heaven too. Like barf. Well, nobody really likes to look their problems straight on either do they? Sometimes they are ugly, and we’re scared of what’s going to happen if we do. What kind of chain reaction could follow? So we sweep them up, and sometimes under the rug, quickly and without REALLY looking at them. (more…)

 

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