Wierd Stuff

How Embarrassing

Wednesday, September 4th, 2013

The Watermelon In The Compost Pile

Yippee! There’s a volunteer watermelon growing in the compost pile! The fruit is round, it’s big and green and gorgeous.

There’s a family party at my house today on Labor Day and Bill and I can’t wait to show the melon to our large family. We’ve been talking to each other about this lucky melon for days. Won’t people be surprised and envious?!

The family includes my Great Aunt Ruby and three of my 3rd cousins who I don’t know well. We’ll show them how great country living can be! Melons growing like gold in the garbage dump out back!

In fact, everyone will be impressed when we drag all 30 people out to see our prize. And then…and then, we will pick it... and bring it around to the front of the house. Then, with Ceremony we will cut it up and all of us will eat watermelon for Labor Day!

Here’s what really happens:

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The Underpants

Wednesday, August 28th, 2013

We’ll Talk About This Photo In A Minute…But First, The UnderPants.

A woman friend comes to my house for tea and company.

She bakes and brings fresh scones with strawberry jam and clobbered cream. The scones are flat when they should be fluffy. They look like flat, pale cookies.

My friend complains her scones are a failure, but in fact they are delicious. In my mind I call them ‘Sccookies’. The word Scone with Cookies. Very cleaver of me.

Maybe we can bake and build a Twinkies kind of mega-corporation off my friend’s Sccookies? Maybe we can become rich and pudgy off our own brilliance?

No, we are not drinking.

My friend wants to swim in my pool in her underpants and tee shirt.

“Good idea,” I say, about the swimming in panties.

I want to swim, too so I run in the house, put on a hot pink sports bra and pull on a pair of neon green nylon shorts. Pulling those shorts up and on is hard work. I have gained weight since last summer.

Finally, the shorts are up, but eeeh gads, they are inside out! They look even worse than they might if they were on proper.

However, they are too much trouble to peel down and re-do as they are so tight I will never get them off. I will have to wear them inside out.

I usually swim naked. I know you know that.

I am always getting into unexpected trouble while naked in the pool. There was that time I heard my old, deaf pool man coming through my iron gate and I banged out of the water so fast that I had to go and see a chiropractor for a twisted back.¬† (more…)

Grandma’s Bad Bath Behavior

Wednesday, August 21st, 2013

My Mother’s Old Chinese Doctor..I Don’t Think Dr. Ron Would Like His Picture Here!

“Oh, you girls, bathing Grandma can’t be all that difficult.”

This is my brother in law, Dr. Ron speaking. My mother and my 3 sisters and I are sitting at my mother’s kitchen table, discussing how it’s time to Bathe Grandma, Again.

This is a long time ago. My mother’s mother is in her late 80’s and has had dementia for as long as I have known her. She and my grandfather live in a cottage on my parent’s property.

My grandmother is the funniest woman I know. People tell me she had a terrific sense of humor before her strokes, but stroking hasn’t seemed to have taken away her zany and outspoken world view.

Hot weather or cold, Grandma always wears her heavy, hairy red coat that hangs below her knees with a lop-sided drag. She has long white hair that sweeps to her waist, hair that she brushes, puts into 2 two fat braids and loops over her head and pins.

She’s got the black grandma shoes and the nylons rolled right above her ankles. She wears gold wire-rimmed glasses over her nose, glasses that accent her heavily wrinkled face.

She’s healthy and strong and sinewy and likes to take a boxing stance. When she walks she lists to the right like a ship ready to roll over and go down in the roiling sea.

She doesn’t like to bathe and we don’t like to bathe her, but it becomes an absolute ¬†necessity when we can smell her as she rocks her way towards us or sits at our conference table for dinner with all 10 of us every night. The 10 of us are my father, mother, 6 kids, Lancaster (our grandfather) and Grandma.

Then, of course, in this room we need to count the big, smelly dogs, the cats, a few chickens that like to come in the house and visit and sometimes my brother’s mean, wild raccoon that rummages through all the pots and pans in the drawers and cupboards in the kitchen, while we eat.

But, that’s another story for another day.

We’re talking about my grandmother and once again it’s Bath Day. We girls all hate this day because it takes all 5 of us to get her in the tub and hold her in the tub and get her washed. She screams at us, yells and slaps us soundly with wet wash rags. By the time the wash is over, the small bathroom in her cottage is wet, floor, walls and ceiling, soaked with water and we are all drenched with our clothes stuck to us and our hair in runny clumps with knots of soap and water.

Dr. Ron is sitting in Grandma’s small living room which is actually part of the kitchen, as we girls and Mom at the kitchen table discuss The Bath, which we are gathered to here to accomplish. We’re having green tea, getting fortified. Grandma is sitting with us, nodding and smiling sweetly, not having a care or trouble in what is left of her former mind.

Ron repeats himself, “You girls are all making too big a deal of this. There’s a right way and a wrong way to do these things. You’re obviously not approaching Grandma in the right manner.”

We all turn our heads to look at him and somebody says mildly, “Well gee…why don’t you show us how to do it,then?”

Maybe it was me?

Dr. Ron says, “Ok. I will.” (more…)


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