My father planned to do the yard work at our new home as a hobby. However his heart attack and triple by-pass put an end to that idea. So he hired the previous owner's lawn crew, an older married couple called, "Gabe & Gin."
They made an incongruous pair in more ways than one. Gabe was lanky. Gin was short and round. He had an aura of arrogance. Gabe was sort of a poor man's philosopher and pundit. A know-it-all type. She was warm and compassionate, also more down-to-earth. She came across as the more intelligent of the two.
Gin told me that Gabe once held an impressive job, but lost it due to his drinking. Now he was a reformed alcoholic.
About a year before we put our Stuart house up for sale, Dad purchased an expensive lawn tractor. We barely knew Gabe & Gin. But he gave it to them as a gift. Of course they were overwhelmed! Even if they didn't use it, they could have sold the thing for a pretty penny. Which is exactly what my father should have done!
Our home needed painting and repairs which were ignored. My father didn't want to spend any more money on the house. When our refrigerator conked out, he bought a used one. -- It lasted only a short while!
I felt his generous gift had more to do with his ego than anything else. Thus they would bow down and become beholden to him. I'd seen him do this kind of thing before.
And they became very solicitous after his stroke. So his ploy worked.
A few months after the stroke, we were into another hurricane season. Previously we had been struck unprepared by a category 1 storm. This time, Dad told me not to worry. Because Gabe offered to board-up the house. Fortunately, there was no hurricane that year.
After my father's death, I mentioned the boarding to Gabe & Gin. -- I was informed that I needed to find someone else! Because they would be too busy with their own property.
My father was not a liar, nor did he suffer from auditory hallucinations. It was obvious to me that Gabe wanted to look like a stand-up guy to Dad, knowing full well that my father would likely be dead before he was called to task. I think he was reprehensible!
But I had a growing friendship with Gin, and tried get past it.
I hired Gabe to do some handy work around the house. Chores such as hanging a bathroom mirror and changing a light bulb at the top of my cathedral ceiling. In both cases, there were problems. He gave me attitude, and I ended up having to hire other people to finish the work.
Then one day as I left to catch a matinee, I noticed how crappy my yard looked. The grass was uneven and filled with weeds. I told myself not to obsess about it. It was their day, Gabe & Gin would take care of it.
Later when I returned home, my yard looked exactly the same! I assumed they had an emergency and didn't come.
Fast forward a week. Gin knocked on my door. "We sure missed seeing you last week," she exclaimed with a big smile.
"You mean you were actually here!" I said. "Did you do my lawn, my entire lawn?"
She nodded. I was incredulous.
I decided to watch them closely. They mowed, but my lawn appeared unchanged. I actually wondered if they were having problems with their vision! My patience ended.
Having a closer relationship with Gin, I approached her. Without raising my voice, I pointed to my neighbor's yard. His lawn crew had been there the day before. Yet his property looked neater, far better than mine. It was quite a contrast!
Gin said she'd take care of it.
Less than 5 minutes later, Gabe was knocking on my door. Calmly, he asked if he could come inside.
"Sure!" I chirped.
Big mistake!!! Once that door closed behind him, he let me have it!
He threw a fit! His eyes went wild! He got right down in my face and spat profanities! His spit was flying into my open mouth and my hair! -- I actually thought he might strike me!
"You have any problems with us," he shrieked, "You come to me! Gin is too tender-hearted. She can't handle problems!"
I told him I had spoken politely to Gin. He had no right to be this rude to me!
"That's just sugar-coated bitching! And I'm sick of it!" he replied.
So in other words, if I'm dissatisfied, I'm not allowed to say anything!!!
"And you have a white trash yard!" he snarled.
"Hey, you're my lawn man! What does that say about you!" I said.
"If you want you're property looking like John's Island (exclusive community) then you're going to have to pay John's Island prices!" he told me.
"My neighbor's have better kept yards! And I know they do not pay John's Island prices!" I pointed. "Just look next door!"
"That crew has kids and they don't know how to cut grass!" he hollered. "I'm a professional! I enjoy my job! And your ignorant, sugar-coated bitching is preventing me from doing that!" Again, he snarled down in my face with his scary, wild eyes!
We were alone! I truly felt threatened. I told him I had to leave right away! I had an appointment. I was shaken after he left.
Immediately I ran upstairs and wrote a check for the rest of the month, marked: FINAL PAYMENT. I enclosed a note informing him that I intended to hire someone who behaved more professionally.
Gin was my 1st friend after moving to Vero Beach. We had become quite close. I miss her friendship to this day. However, I couldn't allow either of them in my life again, after that day.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
MORPHING INTO A CELT
After my father's passing, I noticed an organization in the newspaper called, "The Celtic Society". They held luncheons with live entertainment. And these events were open to the public.
It sounded intriguing, so I began attending these meetings. I enjoy Celtic music and dance. Plus the history was interesting. Always I looked forward to attending.
In the beginning the luncheons were held at the Dodger Pines Country Club. Every civic organization in town seemed to meet there. The food was tasty and reasonably priced.
This was 2002 and for $8.50 we were served a generous 3 course lunch. Later Dodger Pines closed and we meet at various restaurants. The luncheons went up to $12.50. -- Still a bargain!
For the 1st year I was a perpetual guest. Frequently, members asked why I didn't join. I told them it wasn't my heritage. I'm a Teuton, not a Celt. I was informed that was irrelevant. Because most of the spouses there fell into the same category... So I finally joined!
Now a redhead, I appeared more Celtic than anyone else in the room!
Besides the luncheons, there were many varied special events throughout the year. There were parties, balls, teas, and special dinners. It was an active, exciting, and wonderful period. Never had I experienced anything such as this in my life before!
Often I related my adventures to my friends Pat and Margaret on the phone. Pat had lost her husband shortly after my father passed. Like me, she was now in an unfamiliar city. However she was more isolated.
"It's ironic," she lamented. "You've finally got a life now, and I don't!"
That was true! Until my father's death, I had largely been a shut-in.
Always I will remember the formal ball at the country club. I never attended a High School prom. So the ball became the prom I never had! I found an elegant periwinkle gown at a thrift store. Dry-cleaning it cost more than the dress itself. It was perfect for the occasion!
Also I looked forward to their Spring Teas! Like most of the other ladies, I wore broad-brimmed hats and long flowing dresses. I could really dress-up there and I loved it!
"What are you doing with those people!" my friend Margaret used to expostulate. "I think that's so funny! You are of German stock, just like me!"
"If you lived in Vero, you'd be a member, too!" I replied.
I was planning a trip to the British Isles with the group the following year.
Then in 2004 Vero Beach was battered by double hurricanes. In 2005 another struck! My house had expensive damage the Insurance Co. didn't cover. Right around the same time I lost a staggering amount of money through investments. And the price of everything seemed to shoot up because of the storms. My spending became tighter. It seemed that way for everyone else, too. The Celtic Society cancelled the trip. Everything changed after the hurricanes.
I attended fewer and fewer of their special events. The monthly luncheons no longer featured live entertainment. Instead, they now had what our president referred to as, "Our engrossing speaker of the month." If some of those speakers were any more engrossing, I'd be comatose! I'll never forget the slide show of churches throughout Ireland, Scotland, and Wales. -- I didn't renew my membership.
Fast forward 5 yrs, I ran into a lady I knew from the Society on an excursion into town. I inquired about the group. "Oh I left shortly after you did," she told me. "It just didn't feel the same anymore." I agreed.
I no longer saw their meetings advertised in the newspaper. I wondered if the group had been disbanded.
Later, I heard through the grapevine that the Celtic Society had lost members in droves. They were now meeting only for their special events. No more monthly luncheons. Another casualty in the aftermath of the hurricanes.
It sounded intriguing, so I began attending these meetings. I enjoy Celtic music and dance. Plus the history was interesting. Always I looked forward to attending.
In the beginning the luncheons were held at the Dodger Pines Country Club. Every civic organization in town seemed to meet there. The food was tasty and reasonably priced.
This was 2002 and for $8.50 we were served a generous 3 course lunch. Later Dodger Pines closed and we meet at various restaurants. The luncheons went up to $12.50. -- Still a bargain!
For the 1st year I was a perpetual guest. Frequently, members asked why I didn't join. I told them it wasn't my heritage. I'm a Teuton, not a Celt. I was informed that was irrelevant. Because most of the spouses there fell into the same category... So I finally joined!
Now a redhead, I appeared more Celtic than anyone else in the room!
Besides the luncheons, there were many varied special events throughout the year. There were parties, balls, teas, and special dinners. It was an active, exciting, and wonderful period. Never had I experienced anything such as this in my life before!
Often I related my adventures to my friends Pat and Margaret on the phone. Pat had lost her husband shortly after my father passed. Like me, she was now in an unfamiliar city. However she was more isolated.
"It's ironic," she lamented. "You've finally got a life now, and I don't!"
That was true! Until my father's death, I had largely been a shut-in.
Always I will remember the formal ball at the country club. I never attended a High School prom. So the ball became the prom I never had! I found an elegant periwinkle gown at a thrift store. Dry-cleaning it cost more than the dress itself. It was perfect for the occasion!
Also I looked forward to their Spring Teas! Like most of the other ladies, I wore broad-brimmed hats and long flowing dresses. I could really dress-up there and I loved it!
"What are you doing with those people!" my friend Margaret used to expostulate. "I think that's so funny! You are of German stock, just like me!"
"If you lived in Vero, you'd be a member, too!" I replied.
I was planning a trip to the British Isles with the group the following year.
Then in 2004 Vero Beach was battered by double hurricanes. In 2005 another struck! My house had expensive damage the Insurance Co. didn't cover. Right around the same time I lost a staggering amount of money through investments. And the price of everything seemed to shoot up because of the storms. My spending became tighter. It seemed that way for everyone else, too. The Celtic Society cancelled the trip. Everything changed after the hurricanes.
I attended fewer and fewer of their special events. The monthly luncheons no longer featured live entertainment. Instead, they now had what our president referred to as, "Our engrossing speaker of the month." If some of those speakers were any more engrossing, I'd be comatose! I'll never forget the slide show of churches throughout Ireland, Scotland, and Wales. -- I didn't renew my membership.
Fast forward 5 yrs, I ran into a lady I knew from the Society on an excursion into town. I inquired about the group. "Oh I left shortly after you did," she told me. "It just didn't feel the same anymore." I agreed.
I no longer saw their meetings advertised in the newspaper. I wondered if the group had been disbanded.
Later, I heard through the grapevine that the Celtic Society had lost members in droves. They were now meeting only for their special events. No more monthly luncheons. Another casualty in the aftermath of the hurricanes.
Friday, January 20, 2012
HOLLYWOOD'S LOSS
My friend Margaret (now a light blonde) took to wearing a long, matching synthetic ponytail. I referred to it as, "My Old Hair." Since my tresses used to be long and blonde. By now, I was a redhead.
One day while we were out and she was sans ponytail, we ran into an acquaintance. "You cut your hair!" she exclaimed to Margaret.
"No I didn't. Here it is!" Margaret replied, pulling the ponytail from her over-sized handbag. We all laughed uproariously.
Afterward Margaret and I purchased some glittery, exotic-looking hair buffs from the Dollar Store. When we tried them on at home, we were disappointed to find they were too small.
"I think they're for little kids," Margaret said.
"They're kind of flashy for children," I replied. "But I suppose there's lots of little hooker kids in the country where they were made."
Not wanting to waste a dollar, I showed Margaret a way we could wear them as scarves under a collar. "Wouldn't it be wonderful to wear glitter, spangles, sparkles, fringe, and tassels all the time," I thought aloud.
Margaret smiled exultantly.
"Do you ever wonder what your life would have been, had you signed with that Hollywood agent back when you were a professional dancer?" I asked. "You passed up an amazing opportunity. Most would have murdered for it!"
"Of course I wonder," she replied. "How could I not. But I made the right decision. My life was wonderful beyond measure when I was married to Jim."
"Whose Jim?" I was curious to know. I already knew way too much about Fred. Also she'd mentioned a controlling German man to whom she was briefly married. This guy was somebody new!
"Jim would have been my husband for life had he not died suddenly from a heart attack," she replied. "We enjoyed a wonderful lifestyle together. He was a builder and we had a huge home. Our kids had lots of pets. We even had a monkey once!"
"Oh I always wanted a monkey as a child!" I enthused.
"That critter was nothing but problems! A monkey can get into all manner of mischief," she explained. "It would unlock doors, open drawers, and climb our chandelier. And it would get into the pantry and open jars of peanut butter and bottles of maple syrup."
"My mother would have shot it," I said.
"A few years after Jim died, I married Fred." Margaret continued. "Fred the doctor. He owned property in Key West and we'd fly down in the winter. We became friendly with another couple, there. The wife Louise, used to lament that in her youth, she was positive she would end up in Hollywood. Often she showed us old photos of herself. She was quite breathtaking once! It was sad."
"That's a common fantasy," I said. "Back in my 20's when I had my long, bleached hair and had mastered the art of make-up, I thought the same. I was sure any day Hollywood was going to discover me. I could leave that miserable flower shop forever. And my real life would begin!!!"
"Yes, you and millions of others shared an illusion," Margaret replied. "Hollywood is not a very nice place from what I've heard."
"Still, it would have been better than what I had," I retorted. "And it was nice to dream."
I would never want to return to my youth, it was too grim.
After our florist shop was sold, my life slid slowly and further downward. A decades long dark and depressing period began. I may as well have been shackled in a locked cage inside a cave. That's how it felt.
When I found myself alone at age 50, suddenly I discovered the cage unlocked. The shackles fell away! I stepped out from the cave and into an alien world. It seemed as mysterious and scary as an enchanted forest. My real life, at long last was unfolding.
One day while we were out and she was sans ponytail, we ran into an acquaintance. "You cut your hair!" she exclaimed to Margaret.
"No I didn't. Here it is!" Margaret replied, pulling the ponytail from her over-sized handbag. We all laughed uproariously.
Afterward Margaret and I purchased some glittery, exotic-looking hair buffs from the Dollar Store. When we tried them on at home, we were disappointed to find they were too small.
"I think they're for little kids," Margaret said.
"They're kind of flashy for children," I replied. "But I suppose there's lots of little hooker kids in the country where they were made."
Not wanting to waste a dollar, I showed Margaret a way we could wear them as scarves under a collar. "Wouldn't it be wonderful to wear glitter, spangles, sparkles, fringe, and tassels all the time," I thought aloud.
Margaret smiled exultantly.
"Do you ever wonder what your life would have been, had you signed with that Hollywood agent back when you were a professional dancer?" I asked. "You passed up an amazing opportunity. Most would have murdered for it!"
"Of course I wonder," she replied. "How could I not. But I made the right decision. My life was wonderful beyond measure when I was married to Jim."
"Whose Jim?" I was curious to know. I already knew way too much about Fred. Also she'd mentioned a controlling German man to whom she was briefly married. This guy was somebody new!
"Jim would have been my husband for life had he not died suddenly from a heart attack," she replied. "We enjoyed a wonderful lifestyle together. He was a builder and we had a huge home. Our kids had lots of pets. We even had a monkey once!"
"Oh I always wanted a monkey as a child!" I enthused.
"That critter was nothing but problems! A monkey can get into all manner of mischief," she explained. "It would unlock doors, open drawers, and climb our chandelier. And it would get into the pantry and open jars of peanut butter and bottles of maple syrup."
"My mother would have shot it," I said.
"A few years after Jim died, I married Fred." Margaret continued. "Fred the doctor. He owned property in Key West and we'd fly down in the winter. We became friendly with another couple, there. The wife Louise, used to lament that in her youth, she was positive she would end up in Hollywood. Often she showed us old photos of herself. She was quite breathtaking once! It was sad."
"That's a common fantasy," I said. "Back in my 20's when I had my long, bleached hair and had mastered the art of make-up, I thought the same. I was sure any day Hollywood was going to discover me. I could leave that miserable flower shop forever. And my real life would begin!!!"
"Yes, you and millions of others shared an illusion," Margaret replied. "Hollywood is not a very nice place from what I've heard."
"Still, it would have been better than what I had," I retorted. "And it was nice to dream."
I would never want to return to my youth, it was too grim.
After our florist shop was sold, my life slid slowly and further downward. A decades long dark and depressing period began. I may as well have been shackled in a locked cage inside a cave. That's how it felt.
When I found myself alone at age 50, suddenly I discovered the cage unlocked. The shackles fell away! I stepped out from the cave and into an alien world. It seemed as mysterious and scary as an enchanted forest. My real life, at long last was unfolding.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
NEPHEW OF THE STARS
Shortly after my father's death I was invited to an Annuity Luncheon over on the beach by his financial firm. Eager to get out of the house, I attended.
As I sat looking over paperwork, I turned and noticed a man staring at me. He smiled, then asked if the chair beside me was taken.
He introduced himself as "Les". We had not conversed more than 10 minutes when he informed me that he was the nephew of a famous celebrity couple of the late 1950's. A glamour queen and a playwright who later divorced. Both now deceased.
During the luncheon, I learned that Les had lost a fortune through investments. At that period in time, I had met several people in this predicament. All of whom were forced to make serious life style adjustments. Little did I know that in a few years I would be joining their ranks!
Afterward, Les insisted on walking me to my car. He asked for a date. Les was close to my age. Not 100 yrs old like my previous suitor.
I informed him that I wasn't looking for a husband or lover. All I wanted was a strictly platonic acquaintance. If he wanted anything more, I'd just as soon we not see each other.
"I've been born-again!" he declared. " I'm now a Christian. I believe a relationship has to evolve at it's own pace."
It was the right thing to say.
Les was beginning a new high-paying job and it would be another week before we could go out.
But the guy phoned me every frigging day! (This is a major pet peeve of mine.) There is no one in this world, or the next that I want to speak to every single day. It's suffocating!
When he came to my home, Les stared fixedly at my huge stone fireplace. "That would look better if they had built shelves into the top of it," he stated matter-of-factly.
"That would ruin it!" I exclaimed. -- No one had ever found fault with my awesome fireplace before!
It was around 1:00 P.M.. Our afternoon was going to be spent making the rounds of Thrift Shops. We both confessed to enjoying this. I've purchased some treasured items in those places!
I told him we had to be back in no more than 4 hours because my dog was elderly and she couldn't hold her bladder any longer.
"You should have her put to sleep," he declared. " Look at the way she's walking! She has a slipped disk in her back. She's in pain! You really should put her out of her misery!" he said with a tone of authority.
I informed him my dog was almost 18 yrs old and had arthritis. "One day I might be walking funny for the same reason. And nobody had better dare try putting me out of my misery!" I asked if he had any pets.
"Oh I had a beautiful purebred cat until just last week," he gushed. "But my new furniture arrived and I had to take her to the shelter. I'm sure they'll find her a good home, soon."
I stared at him, mouth agape. Geez, in my world an animal ranks higher than furniture! It was clear beyond doubt he wasn't my kind of person.
As we began to converse, the born-again Christian seemed to have a problem speaking a simple sentence without lacing it full of profanity. Had he spoken that way at the luncheon, (or on the phone) I never would have agreed to see him. In my circle, we don't use that language. I'd be embarrassed to introduce him.
Later as we were seated at a restaurant, he pointed at my hair. "You should have more brown and less red," he advised. "It would look better."
I informed him my hair was previously auburn, and I the deeper red is more flattering with my skin tone. -- I should have shot back that he'd look better with a different nose!
He noticed I was annoyed.
"I was attracted to you because you look like you take care of yourself," he told me. "Most women just let themselves go after a certain age."
"Is that why you divorced your wife?" I inquired.
"No, she was beautiful and youthful-looking. But she just didn't have the rest to go with it."
Geez, that's exactly what my parents said about me my entire life! What exactly is the rest? A lot of women don't even have that much. If there is a woman that extraordinary, he sure didn't deserve to have her!
"And you've certainly kept your figure." He grinned.
"You can thank my father for that," I told him. "He held a low opinion of over-weight people. And he had a particular disdain for fat women!"
"Your dad and I have something in common," he said.
"Yeah, more than you think. Now that he's gone, I think I'll let myself go and get fat just because I can," I lied.
Les was horrified! "You wouldn't really do that, would you?"
I just smiled, teasingly.
The date was over as far as I was concerned when he brought me home. I scooped up the dog and took her outside. Les slipped in behind me and seated himself on the sofa. I gnashed my teeth. I just wanted him gone! I had been looking forward to a hot bath and reading the newspaper.
I retire early in the evening because I get up early. Also I have my routine beforehand. I told him this.
"I don't want to change your life. I just want to be a part of it." He smiled with contentment.
I turned on the TV and sat down. Every time he spoke to me, I just glared at him. As it began to get dark, I yawned a lot. Eventually he got the hint!
The following day he phoned to inform me he found a cheap trip to Las Vegas online, and would be leaving soon. "Next time you can come," he told me.
"Forget about me!" I exclaimed. "If you meet someone interesting, just go for it!" I urged.
For the next few days, it felt peaceful knowing he would not be calling. I hoped I'd heard the last from him. But no, he was on the phone shortly after his return.
"Did you meet anyone special?" I asked hopefully.
"No, did you, while I was away?" he inquired back.
"Look," I said, "I really think we're an incompatible couple."
"Then how can we become compatible?" he was eager to know.
I wanted to scream, "Get a personality transplant!" But I just sighed, and told him I was still grieving my father's death. "I need time alone," I explained. "Perhaps it's best..."
"Maybe we shouldn't see each other again!" he snapped, interrupting me.
Damn, I wanted to be the one to say that!
As I sat looking over paperwork, I turned and noticed a man staring at me. He smiled, then asked if the chair beside me was taken.
He introduced himself as "Les". We had not conversed more than 10 minutes when he informed me that he was the nephew of a famous celebrity couple of the late 1950's. A glamour queen and a playwright who later divorced. Both now deceased.
During the luncheon, I learned that Les had lost a fortune through investments. At that period in time, I had met several people in this predicament. All of whom were forced to make serious life style adjustments. Little did I know that in a few years I would be joining their ranks!
Afterward, Les insisted on walking me to my car. He asked for a date. Les was close to my age. Not 100 yrs old like my previous suitor.
I informed him that I wasn't looking for a husband or lover. All I wanted was a strictly platonic acquaintance. If he wanted anything more, I'd just as soon we not see each other.
"I've been born-again!" he declared. " I'm now a Christian. I believe a relationship has to evolve at it's own pace."
It was the right thing to say.
Les was beginning a new high-paying job and it would be another week before we could go out.
But the guy phoned me every frigging day! (This is a major pet peeve of mine.) There is no one in this world, or the next that I want to speak to every single day. It's suffocating!
When he came to my home, Les stared fixedly at my huge stone fireplace. "That would look better if they had built shelves into the top of it," he stated matter-of-factly.
"That would ruin it!" I exclaimed. -- No one had ever found fault with my awesome fireplace before!
It was around 1:00 P.M.. Our afternoon was going to be spent making the rounds of Thrift Shops. We both confessed to enjoying this. I've purchased some treasured items in those places!
I told him we had to be back in no more than 4 hours because my dog was elderly and she couldn't hold her bladder any longer.
"You should have her put to sleep," he declared. " Look at the way she's walking! She has a slipped disk in her back. She's in pain! You really should put her out of her misery!" he said with a tone of authority.
I informed him my dog was almost 18 yrs old and had arthritis. "One day I might be walking funny for the same reason. And nobody had better dare try putting me out of my misery!" I asked if he had any pets.
"Oh I had a beautiful purebred cat until just last week," he gushed. "But my new furniture arrived and I had to take her to the shelter. I'm sure they'll find her a good home, soon."
I stared at him, mouth agape. Geez, in my world an animal ranks higher than furniture! It was clear beyond doubt he wasn't my kind of person.
As we began to converse, the born-again Christian seemed to have a problem speaking a simple sentence without lacing it full of profanity. Had he spoken that way at the luncheon, (or on the phone) I never would have agreed to see him. In my circle, we don't use that language. I'd be embarrassed to introduce him.
Later as we were seated at a restaurant, he pointed at my hair. "You should have more brown and less red," he advised. "It would look better."
I informed him my hair was previously auburn, and I the deeper red is more flattering with my skin tone. -- I should have shot back that he'd look better with a different nose!
He noticed I was annoyed.
"I was attracted to you because you look like you take care of yourself," he told me. "Most women just let themselves go after a certain age."
"Is that why you divorced your wife?" I inquired.
"No, she was beautiful and youthful-looking. But she just didn't have the rest to go with it."
Geez, that's exactly what my parents said about me my entire life! What exactly is the rest? A lot of women don't even have that much. If there is a woman that extraordinary, he sure didn't deserve to have her!
"And you've certainly kept your figure." He grinned.
"You can thank my father for that," I told him. "He held a low opinion of over-weight people. And he had a particular disdain for fat women!"
"Your dad and I have something in common," he said.
"Yeah, more than you think. Now that he's gone, I think I'll let myself go and get fat just because I can," I lied.
Les was horrified! "You wouldn't really do that, would you?"
I just smiled, teasingly.
The date was over as far as I was concerned when he brought me home. I scooped up the dog and took her outside. Les slipped in behind me and seated himself on the sofa. I gnashed my teeth. I just wanted him gone! I had been looking forward to a hot bath and reading the newspaper.
I retire early in the evening because I get up early. Also I have my routine beforehand. I told him this.
"I don't want to change your life. I just want to be a part of it." He smiled with contentment.
I turned on the TV and sat down. Every time he spoke to me, I just glared at him. As it began to get dark, I yawned a lot. Eventually he got the hint!
The following day he phoned to inform me he found a cheap trip to Las Vegas online, and would be leaving soon. "Next time you can come," he told me.
"Forget about me!" I exclaimed. "If you meet someone interesting, just go for it!" I urged.
For the next few days, it felt peaceful knowing he would not be calling. I hoped I'd heard the last from him. But no, he was on the phone shortly after his return.
"Did you meet anyone special?" I asked hopefully.
"No, did you, while I was away?" he inquired back.
"Look," I said, "I really think we're an incompatible couple."
"Then how can we become compatible?" he was eager to know.
I wanted to scream, "Get a personality transplant!" But I just sighed, and told him I was still grieving my father's death. "I need time alone," I explained. "Perhaps it's best..."
"Maybe we shouldn't see each other again!" he snapped, interrupting me.
Damn, I wanted to be the one to say that!
Friday, December 30, 2011
CROAKING A SONG FOR 2012
I have a singing voice like a Dutch Nightingale. For the edification of all non-history buffs, that's actually a FROG! -- Centuries back, the British and the Dutch were rivals. So anything inferior, or just plain crappy was labeled "Dutch". Think Dutch Treat or Dutch Courage and you get the idea.
As a small child, holiday songs sounded spooky and weird to me. Remember the ancient troll who tied up Carol? Woo hoo! And lets not forget Don and his gay apparel!
But then came New Year's and the scariest song of all, OLD MAN TIME! Which is exactly what I heard whenever AULD LANG SYNE was sung. And that old man was downright creepy, too! With the long blade over his shoulder, he looked just like the Grim Reaper's younger brother.
Here we are on the verge of 2012. Arguably the most frightening year in history. According to the Mayan Calendar (the most accurate ever created) this is the year the world ends on Dec. 21. I believe that's on a Friday.
For the record, I never bought into the Y2K scare.
I would not find this prophecy disturbing except that way back in 1987 a psychic couple gave me a prediction. They claimed that early in the next century the earth would shift on it's axis and the entire map would change. Also most of the planet's population would perish. And the few survivors would find themselves existing in a new stone age.
These were personal friends who never charged a cent. The lady (a former school teacher) also made predictions about my own life which came true .-- Things I never would have imagined! And they predicted more turbulence and extremes in the weather before the new earth emerged. This is happening, folks. The weather all over the planet seems to be going crazy!
Even my father was impressed by some of their revelations. Because they told us significant facts upon our 1st meeting. Personal information they could never have guessed! However, we both still had our doubts. Mostly because they had a friend (another psychic in town) who claimed the Empress of Atlantis was buried in his back yard.
I know if she was in our back yard I would have dug her up, taken her on tour, and sold tickets! Imagine the historical significance of such a discovery! Why hide this, display her to the world!
Still, it looks as if I've got one stressful year ahead. If this is my last year alive, I want to really enjoy it! At the same time, I don't want to squander my money in case this disturbing prediction proves incorrect. I can't afford any lavish high times. But I did buy myself the expensive basket of dark chocolate gophers for Christmas.
I could never adjust to life in a stone age. Especially now that I've entered my later years. I know I couldn't exist in a world without electricity! Just those few weeks without it after the hurricanes was intolerable enough. Besides, I now consider myself married to the DVR, which came between my menage a' trois with the microwave and the refrigerator.
I live in Florida and near the coast. So I'll probably end up buried under sand on the bottom of the ocean.
Since the Mayans existed several thousands years ago, I wonder if their calendar is really all that accurate? Or could it possibly be off by a few days, even months, or hopefully years. My psychics did say it would be an inexact date. Just in case, I plan to be home on that particular Friday. If the colossal tsunami strikes, I want to be inside this house as my last memory. The place I found my freedom and discovered happiness.
As a small child, holiday songs sounded spooky and weird to me. Remember the ancient troll who tied up Carol? Woo hoo! And lets not forget Don and his gay apparel!
But then came New Year's and the scariest song of all, OLD MAN TIME! Which is exactly what I heard whenever AULD LANG SYNE was sung. And that old man was downright creepy, too! With the long blade over his shoulder, he looked just like the Grim Reaper's younger brother.
Here we are on the verge of 2012. Arguably the most frightening year in history. According to the Mayan Calendar (the most accurate ever created) this is the year the world ends on Dec. 21. I believe that's on a Friday.
For the record, I never bought into the Y2K scare.
I would not find this prophecy disturbing except that way back in 1987 a psychic couple gave me a prediction. They claimed that early in the next century the earth would shift on it's axis and the entire map would change. Also most of the planet's population would perish. And the few survivors would find themselves existing in a new stone age.
These were personal friends who never charged a cent. The lady (a former school teacher) also made predictions about my own life which came true .-- Things I never would have imagined! And they predicted more turbulence and extremes in the weather before the new earth emerged. This is happening, folks. The weather all over the planet seems to be going crazy!
Even my father was impressed by some of their revelations. Because they told us significant facts upon our 1st meeting. Personal information they could never have guessed! However, we both still had our doubts. Mostly because they had a friend (another psychic in town) who claimed the Empress of Atlantis was buried in his back yard.
I know if she was in our back yard I would have dug her up, taken her on tour, and sold tickets! Imagine the historical significance of such a discovery! Why hide this, display her to the world!
Still, it looks as if I've got one stressful year ahead. If this is my last year alive, I want to really enjoy it! At the same time, I don't want to squander my money in case this disturbing prediction proves incorrect. I can't afford any lavish high times. But I did buy myself the expensive basket of dark chocolate gophers for Christmas.
I could never adjust to life in a stone age. Especially now that I've entered my later years. I know I couldn't exist in a world without electricity! Just those few weeks without it after the hurricanes was intolerable enough. Besides, I now consider myself married to the DVR, which came between my menage a' trois with the microwave and the refrigerator.
I live in Florida and near the coast. So I'll probably end up buried under sand on the bottom of the ocean.
Since the Mayans existed several thousands years ago, I wonder if their calendar is really all that accurate? Or could it possibly be off by a few days, even months, or hopefully years. My psychics did say it would be an inexact date. Just in case, I plan to be home on that particular Friday. If the colossal tsunami strikes, I want to be inside this house as my last memory. The place I found my freedom and discovered happiness.
Monday, December 26, 2011
ME & OLE HOPPIN' JOHN
Ewww yuck! That's my reaction upon 1st tasting a dish called Hoppin' John. Yet I eat the stuff every New Year's Eve & New Year's Day. But I do it for altruistic reasons. And everyone in my zip code and surrounding areas owes me an enormous debt of gratitude.
After getting struck by a 4th hurricane, after living in Vero Beach for only 6 yrs, I was starting to become unglued to the extent of being downright psychotic. The hurricane ordeal in itself is hair-raising enough. But the aftermath is another tribulation, usually prolonged; not to mention expensive!
There is an old superstition that eating a serving of Hoppin' John will ward off misfortune in the coming year. My anxiety was reaching the point of hysteria, plus I was desperate, and ready to try anything! But I couldn't remember if you were supposed to eat it on New Year's Eve or New Year's Day. I decided to eat it for both, so I'd be covered either way.
Frankly, most old southern dishes make me gag! And this one was no exception. Hoppin' John is mostly black-eyed peas with tomatoes and spices. Some versions of it have sausage. -- There is no way I would ever put sausage in my mouth. And that includes any type of sausage! (If you get my drift.) It's disgusting! Another has jalapino. --With my acid reflux, I'd end up in the hospital!
I found a version without those 2 ingredients. Instead it has onions and is more tolerable, but still awful-tasting. The nasty stuff comes in a can. Since I've already bought into the superstition, I feel that throwing any away would be unlucky. So I finish the can in small doses the rest of New Year's week. If I ate any larger portions, there would be hoppin' vomit.
Ever since I began this tradition on New Year's Eve 2005, Vero Beach and the surrounding areas have not been hit by any hurricanes! Of course we are now on the brink of the infamous 2012. I wonder if even ole Hoppin' John has magic powerful enough to tame that year if the Mayan prediction proves correct.
If a hurricane strikes, or the world ends in 2012; I could perish shrieking in dire agony from a horrendous demise. But at least I'll never stomach that $#!% &@^) Hoppn' Crud ever again! Until then, I'm gagging it down.
After getting struck by a 4th hurricane, after living in Vero Beach for only 6 yrs, I was starting to become unglued to the extent of being downright psychotic. The hurricane ordeal in itself is hair-raising enough. But the aftermath is another tribulation, usually prolonged; not to mention expensive!
There is an old superstition that eating a serving of Hoppin' John will ward off misfortune in the coming year. My anxiety was reaching the point of hysteria, plus I was desperate, and ready to try anything! But I couldn't remember if you were supposed to eat it on New Year's Eve or New Year's Day. I decided to eat it for both, so I'd be covered either way.
Frankly, most old southern dishes make me gag! And this one was no exception. Hoppin' John is mostly black-eyed peas with tomatoes and spices. Some versions of it have sausage. -- There is no way I would ever put sausage in my mouth. And that includes any type of sausage! (If you get my drift.) It's disgusting! Another has jalapino. --With my acid reflux, I'd end up in the hospital!
I found a version without those 2 ingredients. Instead it has onions and is more tolerable, but still awful-tasting. The nasty stuff comes in a can. Since I've already bought into the superstition, I feel that throwing any away would be unlucky. So I finish the can in small doses the rest of New Year's week. If I ate any larger portions, there would be hoppin' vomit.
Ever since I began this tradition on New Year's Eve 2005, Vero Beach and the surrounding areas have not been hit by any hurricanes! Of course we are now on the brink of the infamous 2012. I wonder if even ole Hoppin' John has magic powerful enough to tame that year if the Mayan prediction proves correct.
If a hurricane strikes, or the world ends in 2012; I could perish shrieking in dire agony from a horrendous demise. But at least I'll never stomach that $#!% &@^) Hoppn' Crud ever again! Until then, I'm gagging it down.
Friday, December 16, 2011
BURN DOWN THE CHRISTMAS TREE
My father and I celebrated only 2 Christmas holidays together in our new house. Yet they are memorable for mostly negative reasons. The first, Dad was recovering well from his heart attack and triple by-pass.
I wanted a Christmas tree, and a big one, the minute we stepped inside this house. There was a 30 ft cathedral ceiling, and our little one just wouldn't cut it here.
Since we are people who always take the easy route, we got a plastic tree. It was an 8 ft high one we purchased 2nd hand. Then we placed it atop a heavy 2 ft marble table in front of our high double-picture window. Soon we discovered we didn't have enough ornaments.
We bought a small bagful of decent ones at a thrift shop before heading to Walmart. Immediately a rack full of half-price clothes caught my eye! I raced toward it before disappearing in the dressing room. When I emerged, my father looked so angry you could almost see steam emanating from his body.
It's amazing he was never a case of spontaneous human combustion! I would not have been surprised to come down the stairs one day and find a charred and smouldering skeleton in his recliner. He certainly fit the profile!
"You look pissed," I said. "What's wrong?"
"We came here to buy ornaments and nothing else!" he snapped.
"But we have all afternoon," I reminded him.
"Well I don't want to be here all afternoon." My father fumed. He was angry for the remainder of the day.
On the way home we stopped at a Drug Store. I ran inside to pick-up his medication, plus a few other items. The place was crowded due to the holiday season. As usual, my father was sitting in the station wagon timing me with his watch. The minute I touched the car handle, I could hear him yelling because I took so long! This happened frequently.
Fast forward to the day after Christmas. We were getting ready to take the tree down. My friend Pat called long-distance with personal news. We talked for about 45 minutes. When I came downstairs, my father was just sitting there waiting. I thought he would have at least removed the ornaments.
We dismantled the tree, and put everything else in boxes. I wanted to store the Xmas stuff in our big garage. There was a huge cabinet that was nearly empty. It was the perfect spot.
"I don't want it there!" Dad snarled. He ordered me to put it in the crawlspace under the stairs. -- That spot is deep, narrow, dark, and filled with spiders! It has what I call an elf door. I have to get down on my hands and knees to maneuver in there. Plus I'm claustrophobic!
To make a long story short, that's where the tree ended up!
Six months later, my father suffered his stroke. The following Christmas was our final one together. Dad was dying of cancer, already on borrowed time.
After Christmas, when I dismantled the tree and boxed the ornaments, I told Dad I was putting the Xmas stuff in the garage. At this point, it was obvious even to him he would not be around for another holiday. So I didn't think he would object. -- Wrong!
"I told you I didn't want it there!" he hollered. "It's not up for argument!"
I informed him I wasn't crawling through that portal to Hell again! We'd have to find another place for the tree.
"Burn it, then!" He was furiously brandishing his arm in the air! "Burn it! Burn it!"
Arguing with him was useless. He got his way again. Because I knew that soon I could do anything I wanted with the tree. Including having it cremated with his cadaver!
I wanted a Christmas tree, and a big one, the minute we stepped inside this house. There was a 30 ft cathedral ceiling, and our little one just wouldn't cut it here.
Since we are people who always take the easy route, we got a plastic tree. It was an 8 ft high one we purchased 2nd hand. Then we placed it atop a heavy 2 ft marble table in front of our high double-picture window. Soon we discovered we didn't have enough ornaments.
We bought a small bagful of decent ones at a thrift shop before heading to Walmart. Immediately a rack full of half-price clothes caught my eye! I raced toward it before disappearing in the dressing room. When I emerged, my father looked so angry you could almost see steam emanating from his body.
It's amazing he was never a case of spontaneous human combustion! I would not have been surprised to come down the stairs one day and find a charred and smouldering skeleton in his recliner. He certainly fit the profile!
"You look pissed," I said. "What's wrong?"
"We came here to buy ornaments and nothing else!" he snapped.
"But we have all afternoon," I reminded him.
"Well I don't want to be here all afternoon." My father fumed. He was angry for the remainder of the day.
On the way home we stopped at a Drug Store. I ran inside to pick-up his medication, plus a few other items. The place was crowded due to the holiday season. As usual, my father was sitting in the station wagon timing me with his watch. The minute I touched the car handle, I could hear him yelling because I took so long! This happened frequently.
Fast forward to the day after Christmas. We were getting ready to take the tree down. My friend Pat called long-distance with personal news. We talked for about 45 minutes. When I came downstairs, my father was just sitting there waiting. I thought he would have at least removed the ornaments.
We dismantled the tree, and put everything else in boxes. I wanted to store the Xmas stuff in our big garage. There was a huge cabinet that was nearly empty. It was the perfect spot.
"I don't want it there!" Dad snarled. He ordered me to put it in the crawlspace under the stairs. -- That spot is deep, narrow, dark, and filled with spiders! It has what I call an elf door. I have to get down on my hands and knees to maneuver in there. Plus I'm claustrophobic!
To make a long story short, that's where the tree ended up!
Six months later, my father suffered his stroke. The following Christmas was our final one together. Dad was dying of cancer, already on borrowed time.
After Christmas, when I dismantled the tree and boxed the ornaments, I told Dad I was putting the Xmas stuff in the garage. At this point, it was obvious even to him he would not be around for another holiday. So I didn't think he would object. -- Wrong!
"I told you I didn't want it there!" he hollered. "It's not up for argument!"
I informed him I wasn't crawling through that portal to Hell again! We'd have to find another place for the tree.
"Burn it, then!" He was furiously brandishing his arm in the air! "Burn it! Burn it!"
Arguing with him was useless. He got his way again. Because I knew that soon I could do anything I wanted with the tree. Including having it cremated with his cadaver!
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