I called Mom one morning and asked how she was doing?
Mom Well honey, I didn't sleep too good last night.
Me Why do think that is, Mom?
Mom Well honey, your father has to have gravy every Sunday morning for breakfast. He knows he isn't suppose to eat it but he does anyway. I think he is just a plain old Looney Tick.
A few days later I was on the phone with Dad.
Me Dad, Mom says you are a Looney Tick.
Dad #$%^$ I may be a tick, but I sure hain't no %$^#%$ Looney!
Posted by Jeff
I know I should have posted something about our Thanksgiving gathering at Road Creek before now but it has taken me a while to recover. No, I didn't eat too much, or eat too fast, or drink to excess. Well, maybe a little, but that's not what got my blood to boiling and fired up my ulcers again. No, it was the sight of the display atop Mom's china cabinet.
There, overlooking the whole Thanksgiving celebration, meticulously arranged and angled so all could see, someone had erected a ME-chelle Shrine. I don't know what else to call it. It was almost more than I could bear.
As everyone arrived, carrying what they brought for the feast, they entered, went over to the kitchen table and lay their dishes down there in front of the ME-chelle Shrine. It looked like they were making an offering to the great and powerful ME-chelle. I had to go out on the front porch for a while.
Time to eat came and someone suggested we all gather in a circle and hold hands, there in front of the ME-chelle Shrine. To a stranger it would have looked like some weird pagan ritual. Mom began to say the blessing and darned if everyone else didn't bow their heads and close their eyes, right there with that infernal ME-chelle Shrine looking down at all of them. I couldn't do it, I bowed my head but I kept one eye open. I think I heard ME-chelle giggling in the kitchen.
Thank goodness it takes a lot to spoil my appetite (it must 'cause nothing ever has.) I was able to turn my back on that ME-chelle Shrine long enough to eat a generous helping of most everything on the alter, I mean table. Just as I was finishing second dessert however, someone spoke, I turned and caught a glimpse of that shrine again. What I noticed this time froze me in my tracks. There at the right hand end of the shrine sat Mom's little brown glass container with the baby deer on top!
At various times in my life I have seen that container filled with bobbie pins or stick pins, buttons and thimbles, earrings or nickles and dimes. But it has always been there! When I was a little fellow, pointing up at Mom's dresser and saying, "I'm-a-Doo, I'm-a-Doo," setting there on the top shelf beside my Choo-Choo train was that little brown deer. Seeing it where it sat now, all I could think was, "Blasphemy, Blasphemy, I say!" I had to go to the Meaner Mart to cool off before heading home.
That night a frightful image kept popping into my head, I could see the little brown deer and there beside him was Davy Crockett. They were both stashed away in some dark recess in London, KY. I had to eat some more dessert to calm my worried mind.
Christmas will be here soon and it will be time to make another pilgrimage to Road Creek. I don't think that ME-chelle Shrine will be a problem this trip though. You see, I borrowed Dad's sledge hammer and pole axe a while back and I need to return them. No, I don't think that shrine will bother me at all this trip.
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After thirty years of marriage, Randy and I have figured out a few things about each other. I have figured out that if I have something upsetting to tell him, I must prepare him for it. | |
| Me: | Randy Honey, I have something to tell you, and I don't want you to get upset about it. Getting upset won't help the problem, so it's best to try and not let yourself get so worked up about it. |
| Jokingly Randy pretends to huff and puff as though he is getting it all out before I tell him the upsetting news. His cheeks go in and out and his face gets red. He stomps around the room and makes fists with his hands. This lasts about five minutes. | |
| Randy: | I'm ready now. Go ahead and tell me the bad news. |
| Me: | Are you sure you are ready? |
| Randy: | I'm sure. No, just one more minute. |
| I wait while he does some more pretending. | |
| Randy: | Okay! I'm ready. |
| I tell him the news. He stands quietly. He doesn't seem to let it faze him in the least. I am thinking this might really work. I will let him vent ahead of time. NOT! Thirty minutes later, after he has really had time to simmer over what I have told him, the kettle begins to spitting and sputtering the steam it has had bottled up. I try to catch a moment when the steam is at it's lowest pressure to interject what I think will be some calming advice. | |
| Me: | Now Randy, we just have to pray about these things. Getting all worked up and spending the day upset will not help things at all. |
| He stops and looks at me. I think I am going to hear something like, "Yes Honey you are right. We just need to pray about this." NOT ! | |
| Randy: | After thirty years of being married to you, I finally have you figured out. When you tell me to pray about something, what you are really saying is, 'Randy, will you shut up!' |
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I started to deny his claim, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized he was right. I really did want him to shut up and PRAY. He finally has me figured out. | |
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Posted by Jeff | |
Last Sunday was Lauren's baby shower. We were to all go to Newberry for the event. Crystal and Amber decided it would be nice to go early and have lunch with Aunt Nancy and Lauren before the shower stared. They went to one of Nancy's favorite restaurants, a place called Floyd's in High Springs. They were dressed really nice and ready for the shower later in the day.
They sat down in a booth. Crystal sat next to Nancy and Amber and Lauren sat across from them. They were having a great time telling stories. I do believe, if memory serves me, I was told that Amber told most of the tales. (I was told afterward by Aunt Nancy, "Oh the things I heard about you. I will never be able to look at you the same again!") Thanks Amber! You are on restrictions. AGAIN!
As the stories were really getting good and the laughter was really on a roll, Amber said she heard a crash and all of a sudden, in slow motion, she saw a large glob of something coming at her. She tried to duck to miss it but was unable to move fast enough. The large glob landed on her pretty top. The only one she had to wear to the shower. Oh, she was so upset!
Now while Amber was busy trying to get the glob off her shirt, Aunt Nancy, Crystal and Lauren were rolling in their seats, tears streaming from their eyes, all fingers pointing toward Amber. They all thought this was hysterical, especially Aunt Nancy. She kept saying, "HA! HA! HA!"
Then, all of a sudden, she realized that whatever happened, happened behind her and she turned to see what it could have been. She quickly turned her head. As she did the back of her head met Crystal's eyes. Crystal's eyes widened and she stopped breathing. The finger she had been pointing at Amber was now busy moving back and forth at the back of Aunt Nancy's head. Her head was covered with specks of tarter sauce. Suddenly, Aunt Nancy turned to see Crystal's finger pointing at her and she said in a frantic voice, "What? What? Is there something in my hair? Somebody tell me! What is in my hair?"
The girls were laughing so hard, they could not tell her!
Again she pleaded, "What is in my hair? DID SOME KID THROW UP IN MY HAIR?" Somebody tell me, do I have throw up in my hair?"
The other three were still unable to speak. The picture of their Aunt Nancy will globs of tarter sauce in her hair was just too much.
The waitress come over and apologized for the tarter sauce and asked if she could help.
Aunt Nancy told her in no uncertain terms, "NO! You can't help me! I HAVE SOMEPLACE TO BE!"
Now you would think that this one bad experience at one of your favorite restaurants would be enough, but no, not for Nancy. She had been unable to eat her sandwich, so she asked for a takeout box.
| Waitress: | Well, we really don't have regular take out boxes anymore. We have Chinese boxes. |
| Nancy: | What is the difference? |
| Waitress: | One is a regular box and the other is Chinese. |
| Nancy: | What? |
| Waitress: | We don't use Styrofoam any more. |
| Nancy: | Well OK. Just bring me a box. |
The waitress comes back with a small Chinese take out box, the kind you get Chinese takeout in. Nancy looks at this small box and looks at her sandwich. How was she going to make this work. Amber said she pushed and tugged at that sandwich and box for ten minutes trying to get it in that box. (If she had just thought to wipe a little of that tarter sauce off her hair and put it on the side of that sandwich, it would have just slid right in.)
Now for the rest of the day Nancy was to be haunted my the smell of her hair treatment. All afternoon if you listened closely you could hear a small voice whimpering in a crowd of women at the shower,
I made the mistake of asking her if she gave the waitress a tip? (A little Michelle came out in me?) Such language! So the best I can translate is, "NO TIP FOR YOU MISSY! I HAVE SOME PLACE TO BE!"
email from Jeff
A few Shower Photos...
