Thursday, June 13, 2013
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Fear No Weasel
Don has been creative as a weasel in winning me over to his likes. e.g, Accidentally getting hot sauce on my lasagna, the wrong cut with the pizza cutter equals a tad of anchovies, The fan logically became acceptable white noise as it drowned out the TV when I went to bed first and then the latest, the crickets... They came in stealthily one night after I went to bed. I heard them several times through my dream fog and thought that a chirper was sitting on the window sill. When I woke the next morning I realized the chirping and was dronefully repetitive and coming from an app on Don’s Iphone and not the windowsill.
So after 25 years, Don has yet to convert me on beans with ketchup and scary movies. He picks out the movies, mostly because I will scroll through the movie list for an hour, A to Z to find one. He does a good job most of the time. 9 out of 10 choices get a Siskell and Ebert-less thumbs up. But, I believe it is his mission to find the end all movie that will turn me into zombie loving, blood sucking, fear seeking adrenaline junkie that occasionally and accidentally shouts the F bomb at the TV. So, every now and then a blacklisted movie will slip into the house in the guise of a misrepresented presentation that would go something like this.
Me: "What kind of movie did you rent Don?
Don: "It's a mystery"
Me: "Not scary?"
Don: "No, just eerie."
If I don't trust his shifty pose or non-committal gaze, I will further ask what the review says. To which his reply would be "Oh the usual, some violence, 13 or older with adult supervision." A few have left him on the couch alone with a whole bowl of popcorn for himself, while I entertained myself in another room.
He seems to have realized he has used the same terminology for 25 years and needs to be more creative. Christmas was a good example. When I asked him what we were going to watch this year, He answered simply "A western." Well, he didn't actually lie. But Christmas Day...Django?????
Me a grown woman, sat with my fingers laced over my eyes and fingers in ears. I looked around the theater at the wide eyes of other women, duped as well. When we got home, I didn't know whether I had seen the worst or best movie ever. I wasn't sure whether to take a shower, read the Bible or take a drink. I had to watch I Love Lucy re-runs to go to sleep.
Well, obviously enough time had passed since Christmas and it was time for the bandit to strike again. But, he stooped to new lows.
While getting drinks and a snack together I asked the usual. "What kind of movie did you find?"
He replied. "You will like this one. It's a romance, girlie movie." I plop on the couch as the movie begins. The screen rolled the movie title "Warm Bodies" as a blue skinned, bloody mouthed zombie lumbered through an apocalyptic airport.
I give Don the eye, he throws popcorn into his mouth and says "Watch it, you'll see"
I just shake my head in disbelief. Girlie movie. I believe I have as healthy an affection as the next person for dead people. But, when I open my eyes, I want them gone. If not, I want a cache of silver bullets, garlic and wooden crosses. I just can't grasp the moaning and stumbling incessantly throughout the eternity and there is nothing sexy about pointy teeth and blue skin.
Saying that, somewhere after the young, possibly once good looking zombie ate the heart of the alive girls boyfriend and started having feelings for her, I busted out laughing.
I enjoyed the movie more than I thought, but mostly because of Don's tenacity to sneak one in. After all these years it's nice to know there are a few surprises left. I might even put a dot of ketchup on my beans this week.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Sixteen Candles
Would she still want to hang out with me when she was 16?
- When she was 3, she put her shoes on when I pulled into the yard with a confident cock eyed stare at her mama that said "I'm going with grandma, just sayin."
- When she was 5, we took a stroll one evening, Abby saw the dark cascading line of the mountains at sunset on the horizon. She wanted to walk to them. I explained that we couldn't make it that far. To which she replied "You sit down and rest Grandma, I will pick you up on the way back."
- When she was 7, On a drop in visit. "Grandma can I stay the night tonight?" she asked. "Sweetheart you didn't bring any clothes" I replied. "That's OK, I can wear a towel."
- When she was 10, "Grandma I want you to be my roommate when I go to college."
- When she was 11, "I don't want to go trick or treating. I want to stay with Grandma and Paw Paw." She just never grasped the whole trick or treating thing. She's the only trick or treater I know that rang a doorbell and asked to use their bathroom, much to our chagrin.
- When she was 12, I was bringing the girls home for a Slip & Slide party/cookout when a quick thunderstorm came up. Abby was frightened by the thunder. The conversation between the girls and their friends went like this. "Abby, it's ok it's natural, God makes storms." her younger sister Alana chided. "I don't like natural." Abby replied, sinking down into the seat when as a clap of thunder rolled. "Abby don't you want to see God?" her sister asked. "Yes, but not today." Abby replied.
- When she was 14, she would text me, Grandma, u awake? I miss u. luv u
- When she was 16.......My daughter called from NC and told me Abby wanted to spend her sixteenth with us. She brought two friends. During the fun teen time of the weekend, I realized we hadn't really been alone. I had a brief moment of sadness, quickly broken by peals of laughter from teen girls. On the last night of their visit, we were driving away from Towne Centre when they saw a shop they wanted to go into. I pulled into the lot and begged out of going in. I rolled the window down and settled in for a good little wait. Minutes after going into the store, Abby came back out by herself and climbed into the truck with me. She said she had a little stomach ache. Or did she? We sat and talked about life's dilemmas, I offered a little sage advice and we shared some giggles. When the friends walked out of the store. We glanced at them laughing and coming to us. We looked back at each other. Time froze briefly, I knew our bond was deepened in those few moments. I thought to myself later.. My life isn't a measurement of years or months or even days. It is a collection of moments and what we choose to do with each.
I can still see her clomping down the hall with my heels on, her mouth garishly painted outside of the lines with my L’Oreal #502. Although she has physically grown into those big girl shoes, she has a few little girl hoorahs left. As I pondered whether she was too mature for her age, I walked in on them emptying her huge ~Sweet Sixteen~ balloon that Paw Paw proudly wrestled through the store to purchase, they squealed "Hey Grandma" like hobbits and the worry is gone.
Abby, there are shut boxes beckoning to be opened, closed doors as well. Keyholes are portals. Mistakes are imminent and risk's are recommended. Never let money or lack of it determine your happiness. Look for life's magic in the moments, the bubbles, the raindrops, the fallen feathers, equip yourself with the ability to see what's real and the audacity to imagine what's not.
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Flat Tires For Stress
Karma, when am I going to learn. As I was walking out of house last week, I noticed a flat tire on the truck. There is no such thing as -just a flat- on the this truck, I cringed. The tires on the big truck are costly. Visions of a month's worth of ramen noodle dinners floated through my head.
Don is out of town, so what should I do? Memories of my last tire escapade came back. One morning years ago, I thought my front tire on the mommy wagon looked a little low. I pulled into a gas station and fed the air pump machine. How hard could it be? I figured you filled them until they were round and didn't have a crease on the ground. I got to work and offered to take a large delivery to a company in the back of the wagon.
When I pulled out highway, I thought I had been bombed. Two tires exploded and left me sitting on the road. Someone from work came and offed the important delivery and I was towed to a gas station for two new tires. The other tires luckily didn't detonate before the workers released air.
Nope, I won't be fixing this big boy. I bought a can of fix-a-flat and emptied it into the tire. It didn't inflate enough to get it to a tire shop. I flagged down a community maintenance worker on a golf cart. He sent over another guy with an air tank to pump it enough to get to shop.
I pulled into Gerald's Tire shop and walked up to counter. They greeted me much like the cheesy commercials. I am thinking big bucks and having to cut back on chocolate consumption, so I am not so cheerful right now. Actually, downright cynical, I think to myself yeah you get paid to talk like that, no one is that cheerful at work.
The counter clerk tells me that it will take about an hour or a little more. Well, it's not like I can go anywhere. I have a flat tire. So, I plop into a chair. I was determined not to sit on the bench outside and become the subject of pity of the passerby's.
I spied a magazine rack and went and scarfed up my faves. Charleston Magazine, Garden and Gun and Towne and Country. That should do me.
Listening to the banter between the counter clerks and other workers that walked back and forth through the shop, I realized they really don't hate their jobs and they were actually having fun. They interacted a lot with the customers waiting.
I leafed through the magazine and felt my shoulders falling down a bit and just kind of settled in. I slid my feet out of my shoes and rested them on top, took a few swigs of water and started reading. I picked up the Charleston Magazine, surprised to find one that I didn't remember the cover. I was half way through when I saw Chef Brett McGee on a full page spread for the Oak Restaurant. Well, when did he go back to the Oak? Then an article on favorite ice cream flavors of Charleston's chefs. Mike Lata, you sure are looking good, I pulled the magazine up to my face to inspect closer. Dang, I think he's had work done.
Then it dawned on me. I flipped the magazine back to the cover. Spring 2009! I laughed out loud. About 15 minutes into the wait, a lady walked in with an overnight bag. They told her that the work will take quite a little while, she smiled undaunted and replied "That's fine." She sat on the outside bench and started pulling out yarn and needles, a bottle of water and commenced to work on her craft.
I looked around the shop. No one seemed harried, checked their watches or paced impatiently. I had memories of the men that used to sit on benches outside the gas stations, burning barrels and shade trees. They may be on to something.
After three magazines, one bottle of water and a half hour of Food Network and 5 M&M's out of the vending machine for a quarter.... they called my name.
"Ma'am we patched your tire, there's no charge." I thanked him sincerely grateful and left feeling better than I did after morning coffee, who knew.
By the way, ladies. I did figure out why all of the ladies sat outside. 2 hours in a tire shop does not a sweet cologne make.
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