Parties and Fun

The School Girls

Wednesday, September 12th, 2012

“Venus and Chips…A Long Time Ago!”

Manuel likes to eat the enormous crayons in the wooden box. First he bites off a chunk of the yellow one, swallows it, grins and reaches for the red one.

I’m 6 years old, in Miss Allison’s first grade class and I like to observe my world.

Between bites of crayon, Manuel spoons thick, white paste from the jar that sits on our little table. The paste smells nice I think, like parakeet feathers. Manuel eats the paste. He only eats paste and crayons when I am at his table.

My friend Lancey is in my class and she and I are in love with our friend Darice’s cousin, Little Frankie. (It’s a small town.)

At recess and lunch my girlfriends and I turn into big horses. We slap our legs and race wildly across the vast, hard dirt playground. We are shiny brown horses who whinny and chase the boys who scatter before us.

I hate being a horse. I hate chasing boys. I can’t see the point to this mad galloping and racing and boy chasing.

But, I am 6 years old and this is what my country girl friends love to do. I want to be with my friends.

This is how it starts: (more…)

Where The Men Are

Wednesday, September 5th, 2012

 

“They’re Not Where Carole And I Went”

My friend Carole and I go to brunch at a classy, rich golf resort down the mountain.

We sit on the up scale patio next to the golf course. There’s a vast green view filled with grass, oak trees, designer clouds in the sky and old men trying to put balls into little holes.

The table beside us has grandparents and four tiny children. The kids keep shrieking and knocking on the back of my chair and sometimes they step on my toes as they race around the tables. One little girl says to me, “Why do you have gray hair?”

“It’s platinum,” I say. “I have it because I’m lucky.”

Carole and I are pretty much OK with the childish revelry because we have grandkids and we know how they are.

However….Carole has been single for centuries and so have I. We think it would be fun to talk to a nice, eligible man once in awhile.

I had suggested we go where all the men go on a Sunday morning; to a fancy restaurant on an expensive golf course.

That idea isn’t working out too well. Especially since I have a stomach ache and can’t eat very much.

Carole and I are disappointed today but we ┬áhave been for years. We often go to luxury places and the men we have managed to meet have been disappointments. Like, they wear little tassels on their shoes and don’t exhibit any animal magnetism. Or, they are looking at these same places for rich women to take care of them, or to take advantage of women in some other ways.

A week or so later I stop at my brother Jim’s new place. He has moved his mobile kitchen, The 3rd St Grill, next to an old ┬ácountry convenience store right up the street from me. (more…)

Screaming Venus And The Race Car

Tuesday, April 24th, 2012

Venus With A Classic Old Jaguar

Today, I will be driving a new souped up Jaguar car, and will do 0-62 MPH in 5.4 seconds.

But first, we have to find the track.

My friend Carol is my navigator, but it turns out she and I are on par with our navigational skills. This means, “not good at all.”

We get utterly lost at our meet up point in San Diego and we get utterly lost when we finally get to Irvine, California. We cannot find the amphitheater.

We go around and around on the freeways. We stop at a golf course and ask golfers, “Where are we ?” and “Where is the amphitheater?”

The golfers look at us, then they look at the sky. Each one says different things and point their fingers in different directions.

We slide my car to the side of roads, pause, and ask workers in orange vests and hard hats for directions. They shrug their shoulders.

My iPhone, in a strident voice, insists that I go backwards but at least I know that’s not right.

Wringing wet with sweat and amped up, we finally swing into the correct, vast parking lot. We’re late. (more…)


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