Posts Tagged ‘ carnival ’

Children Disappear Into UFO

Wednesday, July 31st, 2013

 

The UFO That Whisked The Kids Away!

Here is the UFO that swallowed my grandkids.

Lexi, 10, has assured Loch, 7, that he will love being slammed and flattened against the wall, defying gravity as the UFO spins rapidly in the air.

I’m not so sure that we won’t have to stop the ride and go into the UFO and save Loch from his folly.

We’re at the local Fair. What I’ve noticed  about this Fair is that most people here, (the public and the carnival workers,) need to wash their hair.  Also, most folks are a bit more than just fat; they’re pretty much dragging loose flesh around as they slap through the dust.

I feel my own hair and pinch the skin muffin around my own waist.

We’ve been here for several hours. I’m tired and hot and I want to go home and wash my  hair and lose weight.

Here is the joke Loch tells Bill and me as we drive to the fair:

” What do you get when you cross the road with a dog and a rose?” The answer: “A cauliflower!”

We think he means, ‘What do you get when you cross a dog and a rose?’

We find his joke hysterical and he is much pleased. Then Bill tries to explain that you don’t cross a road with a dog and a rose to get a cauliflower, you cross a dog with a rose.

Loch doesn’t get it. Neither does Lexi and they are outraged when we laugh even more.

They keep shouting, ‘Why are you laughing so much! Explain it!’ We do, again and again in various ways and get no where. Maybe because there are a lot of holes in their understanding of the birds and the bees. In Loch’s case, he knows nothing, and Lexi has had only had a bit of ‘The Talk’ which sent her into outraged hysterics, at the time.

At the fair, it’s getting late. The kids want to eat dinner and then come back and do more Rides.

Lexi chooses chips with melted fake Velveeta cheese as her meal and Loch gets a hot dog. For dessert, they can’t decide. Caramel corn, waffle cake or poison dyed snow cones.

I’m glad when they choose the evil snow cones. Do you know why? Because the kids are anxious to get back to the Carnival for more Rides. It’s getting cold and dark and I want to go home.

My approval of the snow cones works perfectly. After the kids are halfway into them, because they are wearing shorts and tiny tops, they get chilled and want to leave!

And so we do.

Once on our way, the kids start badgering us about that darn dog crossing the road again, but I tell Bill, ‘Let’s leave this one to their folks!’

And so we do.

(And, now that I have finished this Blog, I am going  to the kitchen and make another peach cobbler. The one I made last week with an oat topping, didn’t turn out so well. I had to eat it as a breakfast cereal!)

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Postal Rage Is Back

Tuesday, January 31st, 2012

It ain't a great day, folks. www.artmojos.com

My art friend Judy  tells me they can’t have any more chili cook offs at the Historical Society in town  because of the New County Rules.”You know” she says, “you all at the Guild can’t legally have that spagetti dinner you’re having at the Art meeting, tonight, right? It’s against the rules. You have to have a commercial sanitary kitchen with paper work and permission from the county.”

I say “Yeah. Fock ’em.”

I’m mad.

“We couldn’t,” I say bitterly, “even have real food at our recent big art show down the mountain in that really nice place. Last year we had a huge spread of home made food there and everyone came for the food. Not the art. The food!

“This year, every last bite we laid out had to be commercially bought and sealed in plastic. Crackers in plastic, peanuts in little plastic packets, bottled colas. No more homemade lemon aide with fresh lemon slices and real ice tea…no more home made main dishes or desserts. It was a disaster. People hated it. I never want to go to another plastic art show.”

Judy agrees.

“It’s totally awful,” she says, “pretty soon we’ll have to ask permission to use toilet paper on our butts.”

I’m thinking, “Geez. I need to go up town and see the sights. Just get away from being so mad about all the increasingly intrusive rules we are all expected to live by.”

Walking into the post office I get in the long line that’s waiting to be served. I love the post office but here they are, having to fire lots of workers and maybe not being able to survive.

I think the post office is the very best for moving mail quickly and with the least expense. But, who cares what I think, right?

I’m just hanging, waiting for my turn to (eventually) come up to the counter when suddenly I realize there is a huge big man in line causing a commotion. He’s yelling at the man next to him and at the whole post office. (more…)

Mother and the Plumber

Friday, September 11th, 2009

I’m sitting outside on the patio under a leafy tree at my favorite coffee shop, talking with Alan.

Alan is an architect who has been helping my brother Jim with his restaurant project. Alan has long gray/blonde hair that hangs in a messy horse’s tail down his back. He flicks the hot ash from his Camel cigarette and says, “When Jim was at my house one day, the water in the kitchen faucet turned on by itself and I said, ‘What the heck?’

“Then,” he continues, “awhile later another faucet downstairs turns on and starts a flood and again I said, ‘What the heck? Are there spirits around here trying to tell us something?'”

Alan pauses and sucks his white Camel like a doobie.

“I thought, ‘Does this mean this whole project with Jim’s new restaurant is big money down the drain?'”

“Hmmm,” I say.

Jim and Alan, after a year of trying to get a loan and borrowing money from friends and family to build a new restaurant, have been denied. The banks tease but they just won’t loan. Jim is caught up in the collapse of the economy. He’s now at home with the cotton blankets pulled over his head, in the musky dark and in despair.

Alan breathes some smoke and I breathe some smokey air.

We are both silent. Because of his illness and the economy, my brother Art may lose his jewelry shop which is right next door to the coffee shop and the coffee shop itself is teetering on the edge of extinction.

When I go home, I tell my ex, Bill, about Jim.

Bill says, “Sometimes I wake up in the night and I wonder who I am. I wonder where I am. Am I back in my childhood or am I forward in time somewhere? Am I on another planet? It takes me awhile to remember who I am and what part of my life I’m in. It’s hard to get re-oriented, but once I do, I’m OK.” (more…)


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