Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Solana Beach Shopping Trip



Dear Diary,

My sister is coming for Thanksgiving. Her boys and husband are coming too. That will be fun. I've been studying alot so I haven't blogged. It is hard to do both. I've been doing all I can to Avoid house cleaning. I've painted a toy highchair and been making monkeys like I have jungle fever! I am addicted to making monkeys. It's like I am possessed by Charles Darwin or something similar. But I digress.....

My baby sista, Sarah Ann (Who we lovingly refer to as Precious) and I went shopping in Solana Beach, California, a couple of years ago. That town is pretty as a picture ( I can't spell picturesk). It was a beautiful day and we had money in our pocket books. A perfect time to spend. The first shop we entered was full of bric a brac and other wonderful accessories just begging to be picked up and fondled. We virtually had the run of the store because the employees /best friends/owners were oblivious to us - they were off to the side dressed in chic black outfits with blond flowing hair and perfect makeup. The "help" were chatting and laughing and so enthralled with each other that it would have been a shame to interrupt them. We left that store empty handed and headed to another.

The next shop looked like a magical snowy fairy land. Everything in the store was a shade of white. It was all crisp and cool looking. Nothing practical for a family with dogs, children, husbands or us. In my fantasy life, my cottage by the sea would be furnished like this store. George Clooney and I would be so happy, often looking into each others eyes and sighing a content sigh....... This shop, like the last had beautiful, blond, black clad proprietors. I'm being critical but thought they should have dressed in something paler and gauzy. But, they didn't ask me. In fact they didn't address us at all. Like in the other store, these ladies had so much to tell each other. They talked in hushed tones and were pouring over what looked to be a catalog. Never looking up. I don't think they even heard the bell that rang when we opened the door. Since we were raised right, we kept our voices at a respectful low and tried not to disturb them as we browsed.

We entered a boutique - same scenario, an art gallery, ditto. We were beginning to suspect that we were invisible. I reached out and touched my sister, she felt real, we stared at our reflections in the store front windows, we could see ourselves. What in the hell was going on?

Over lunch we discussed this strange phenomena. We came to the decision that these ladies must not have to sell anything to keep their stores open. Hence, the poor customer service. Maybe they had trust funds, alimony, made it rich on the stock market, or wealthy husbands that just wanted them to be happy. Maybe the stores were their hobbies, something to do to get them out of the house. Keep them from getting in the maid's way. The more we talked about it the more jealous we got. Baby sista and I were down right indignant when we left Solana Beach that afternoon. Why wasn't that our beautiful life?

Some times Precious and I fantasize about owning a shop together and how we are going to giggle and teehee and fix each others hair, stare at our painted finger and toenails, pose, flip through magazines, and ignore our customers . Wouldn't that be the life?

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Stuart - and one of many lost chances at Fame and Fortune


Dear Diary,

A dear friend passed away in May. Even though I had not seen him for years he is always in my heart. I met him at Lee High School. I was a Sophomore and he was a year older than me. Stuart was tall, thin and had great hair. I loved that he liked to hang out with me. He always had fabulous ideas. He was fun, fun, fun! I thought of him as my personal Cat in the Hat. He got me in lots of scraps but somehow he would make things right before Mom got home.

Once he talked me into taking our RED 1973 Honda 50 on a joy ride. It was a beautiful fall afternoon. Stuart was driving and I was on the back hanging on for dear life. We rode it to his house (off Highway 12) while he serenaded me - singing "Teenage Runaways"! We were not wearing helmets and that highway is so narrow and winding that it is a wonder we didn't get killed. We girls (the sistas) were only allowed to ride our motorcycle in the back yard.

Stuart was very witty. One time in High School a "hood" from the Air Force Base slammed Stuarts locker closed and asked him if he was a Basie (from the Air Force Base) or a Townie (from Town). Stuart replied, "I'm a County" (He lived outside the city limits). That Basie was later convicted of murdering a local Lawyer! Stuart always claimed that his mom and dad loved his little brother the most because he had blond hair and blue eyes and Stuart had brown hair and red eyes. Once at a bar he fashioned his straw into a triangle and stuck it on his nose. He proclaimed to all in an alien type voice, "I am from the Golden Triangle Region!" (That is what the area we are from is called because the three small cities in close proximity are like the points of a triangle.)

Stuart talked me into having a "wild" party at my parents house while they were out of town. We had a fabulous time and were the perfect host and hostess and would have gotten away with it too if a genuinely good hearted classmate had not told my Mother in the Sunflower Grocery Store parking lot what a beautiful new home we had and what a lovely time he had at the party! Stuart had fun parties at his house too. He and his brother shared a Toyota named Turkey Red. One night while leaving a party, I backed into Turkey Red! I was a wreck! Stuart said, "no worries, we have insurance". A few years later I let it slip to Stuart's Dad that it was me that maimed the Turkey. He had been told an unanimous driver had hit it in the parking lot at Leigh Mall.


He was my date to Senior Prom but had to leave early because he worked the night shift at Beneke Corp. They are called Magnolia now. They make toilet seats. I got him a gorgeous boutineer. He loved it and later that evening took a bite of it. He said he read some where that some flowers were edible! He wasn't the least bit embarrassed that he forgot to get me a corsage and later that evening he presented me with a beautiful one. I asked him where he got it. He said he got it off an empty table. I don't know whose it was, but I wore it proudly that evening and still have the dead thing in a scrap book in the attic. I regret that I didn't tell him to put it back. I know it was some heart broken classmate's.

On most Saturday Nights a group of us would go to the Country Club Golf Course. Stuart had worked there and said he knew the night watchman's schedule. It was a great place to drink beer and look at the stars. There is something special about rolling around on the golf greens at night. After a few beers we would usually take a golf cart ride. I'll never forget the night I learned to fly. I remember saying, "Stuart! you are going too fast!" then I was airborne. Stuart got confused and hit the gas instead of the break. I got a nasty bruise and a temporary limp from landing on the decorative bricks that lined the drive.

I guess our most exciting adventure was a road trip to Nashville. One summer we got this harebrained idea to get jobs at Opryland. He planned to get hired as an entertainer and I had experience in retail and could count back change so I'd have no trouble getting a job in one of the gift shops. (I still can't believe my parents were okay with the idea.) I was in charge of transportation and Stuart was in charge of reservations. I picked him up at his house Friday morning in my baby blue 1972 Pinto and off we went! We made lots of detours but finally arrived in Nashville around 7:00 p.m. We had about $20.00 left between us. We stopped to get gas, call our friend we were staying with and when we couldn't reach him, cleaned up a little in the nasty gas station bathroom before we went to dinner. We decided to celebrate our new beginning by dining at a what was to us a "nice restaurant". Stuart got a little agitated when they seated us in the back by the kitchen (which had a swinging door). I asked him again about our accommodations. All day he assured me he had them taken care of, nothing to worry about. At the restaurant I asked him to please call and get directions. I was starting to get tired and we had found out at the gas station that there was a major prostitute war going on in Nashville. Prostitutes were killing each other! Frankly, I was nervous. I knew what a prostitute was but had never seen one. I was scared that I might be mistaken for one. That may sound ridiculous but at that time in my life I was naive and scared most of the time about things that could never possibly happen, happening.

Stuart made the long walk back to our table with no smile. He said, "Lisa, I can't get a hold of David." I said, "He knows we are coming, right?" I'll never forget what Stuart said next. "I thought we'd surprise him!" We had just spent the last of our money on our celebratory dinner and had just a few dollars between us. We needed a new plan. One of our friends lived in Memphis! She and her husband would probably love to see us! I called Elizabeth. She and her husband were thrilled to let us stay the night but, they were going to Mississippi Saturday morning so we'd have to leave then too. We made it to Memphis but I did fall asleep at the wheel and woke up on a bridge but luckily in the right lane. I've often thought about that and wondered how far I drove while sleeping and also about the great schematics of life.

What if David Stampley had been home and expecting us that night? What if we actually did get summer jobs at Opryland? What if we were discovered by a famous Hollywood agent and the rest of our lives were magical like Sandra Bullock's or Nathan Lane's? and What if we had not spent all our money on the way to Tennessee and had been able to get a hotel room that night? What if some prostitute saw me entering the seedy affordable motel room with Stuart and shot me thinking I was an encroaching prostitute? What if I had not woken up while driving on that bridge.

Monday, October 19, 2009

What a Trip!



Alice wasn't sure if it was her Birthday or Un-Birthday


Dear Diary,

There is never enough time when you visit. You always want one more day!

Sista Sarah Ann and I decided when we bought our plane tickets to GTR to leave Tuesday. That would give us an extra day with Momma and Daddy after all the party hoopla was over. After sista Janice and sista Lucy left Sunday things got a little quieter,( I had more time to move around my parents' house without some nosy sista looking over my shoulder) sticking duct tape with my name on it under various treasures I hope to eventually inherit. Sista Lucy always accuses me of doing this. (I do have my name under a few sentimental things like the front tire of the Lincoln and Momma's big ole diamond ring.)

We got ready to leave Tuesday and I discovered that I had bought so much stuff at the garage sales that I had to borrow a suitcase to haul some of it back. It was an avocado green hard case. Like the one I got for high school graduation back in 1975 - a Samsonite. I had trouble getting it to close. It didn't shut real well. Sista Sarah Ann tried sitting on it. That didn't work because she only weighs about 98 pounds. I laid on top of it, no go, then tried laying across it using all my upper body strength to get it closed and finally, before my arms got too weak and trembly it snapped shut. Nothing broke in it thanks to the heavy duty Samsonite siding.

We got to the airport and I told my Mom and Dad and Sista that if they needed some one to stay behind because they over booked the flight, I was going to volunteer. I needed to stay one more day. I wasn't satisfied with my visit length. There were still too many left overs in the fridge and not enough time had been spent sitting, visiting, and watching the prime time TV show lineup. When we checked our bags, we found out the plane was late. So we waited. The four of us were sitting in a line, people watching and chatting when over the loud speaker they announced that the plane was unbalanced and they needed volunteers to stay.

I hopped on that one! I said, "Sarah Ann, why don't you go check it out and see what they are offering." (She is a better listener than I am.) She said, "I've got to go to work tomorrow." I said, "I don't I'm an independent contractor!" Sarah Ann came back after about 5 minutes and said, "They are offering us money or a voucher and a taxi ride to Birmingham, Alabama to catch the next plane if we give up our seats." I followed her back to the counter, there was a man there talking to the ticket agent that was taking the deal and would be traveling with us. I looked at sista Sarah Ann, This man wasn't the type you would want to share a cab with for a short trip much less two and a half hours. It was not just because he was smelly and unkept. I am not a snob but I can't tolerate a bore. We could tell right away he was boring and he was quite a talker too. I was hesitant to take the deal now. I asked if we could still have the deal if we left tomorrow and stayed another day. The Ticket Agent said yes. I said - "Well then I'm staying another day!" Sista Sarah Ann looked at me with wild eyes! She said again, "But I have to work tomorrow!" I reminded her,again, that I was an independent contractor. The boring man turned and started eyeing his future seat companion. Sista Sarah Ann blurted out, "If you can fly me first class from Atlanta to San Diego, I'll stay another day too!" Miraculously, they were able to accommodate her!

You know, your family can bring the best or the worst out in you. When sista Janice found out about our good fortune she was livid because she had missed her flight into GTR for the birthday and had to rent a car and drive from Memphis. She said all she got was an "I'm having a shitty day discount" on her car. Here we were with all these wonderful lovely parting gifts for delaying our flight that we didn't want to go on in the first place. Like I said, when Sista Janice found out about our reprieve she got spitting mad. She was venting at us but, in her heart, I know she was just upset because she had not been treated as well by the same airline after her misfortune. Sista Lucy called that night too. She had read sista Janice's rants on face book and wanted to hear about our big Bonanza!

We enjoyed our extra day with family. But when we got to the Airport Wednesday we had to leave. One good thing did happened - I had been upgraded to first class too! Sista Sarah Ann and I found out that the warm towel is no myth. Personally, I thought it was so classy the way the stewardess picked up our trash and placed it on a tray instead of dropping it in a big white plastic bag. I never want to fly coach again!

Friday, October 9, 2009

Great Day in the Morning!



Dear Diary,

What a wonderful day I have had! I went to see Jenny this morning and I had only gained 1.6 pounds! Can you believe it? While I was in Mississippi, I ate a whole bag of fried peanuts (that may account for 8 ounces). Aunt Mary made pecan brittle and I partook of a large portion of that. Then there was the fish fry and the ribs and Mexican Kitchen. It seemed like everything I ate was greasy or covered in chocolate icing and supersized. Jennie also quizzed me about my trip. I wasn't sure how to answer some of the questions. For instance, Did you stay on plan while you were in Mississippi? Did you watch your portion size? I do believe that it is important to be truthful so I just flippantly retorted "Are you kidding?" (An improvement from the usual "Hell No!") I felt like I was in therapy when she asked me how I felt after seeing sista Janice. (Sista Janice has been sending me the fat clothes she no longer needs.) I could answer that one perfectly honest - She looked great! Way to go Sista!

Next, I went to the antique mall. Big sale this weekend. I bought some figurines from Japan. I love little figurines from Japan (see above). Judy's booth looked great!

Then, I went to Mystic Paper. I needed some new Tim Holtz scissors. Something happened to mine. They were either left behind in Mississippi or whoever searched my checked bag took them. I feel a little like Scarlet when I say this but, "As God is my witness, I will never go without Tim Holt scissors again!" They are self sharpening! How does he do that? I would say they are a modern marvel. But I digress....

While I was there who should I meet but The Quinn McDonald! (Ya'll are just going to have to google her because I have tried and tried to link her site and can't get it to work.) I was so glad to be able to put a name with the face. I mean Face with the Name. She was talking about writing secret code messages. Very Interesting. I immediately thought about writing my friend notes using lemon juice and getting notes back from her written with lemon juice. I still have a note she wrote that I carefully toasted over a lit bare light bulb back in the 70's. Quinn showed us this little code book. It was interesting to think about writing secret messages. What would I want to write about but also keep secret? The first thing that popped in my head was - old lovers hmmmmm or maybe recipes? What? I'm on Facebook and blogging - I tell all my secrets. Those I manage to keep will probably come babbling out of my mouth at my future nursing home.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

I'm going to Mississippi and I am going to take a .....


Dear Diary,

I leave Thursday morning for Mississippi! Momma says it will be in the low 80's. Sista Lucy says it will be in the low 70's. They both say bring a sweater. I bought a really cool mink sweater pin at the antique mall but I don't believe I'll pack it or a sweater. I'll be a rebel and buck authority. I haven't felt chilly in I don't remember when. It is still over 100 degrees here! A day hasn't gone by that I haven't sweated down my butt crack! It's not bad enough that I'm still going through menopause and have teenagers. We have record high temps too. Well enough of that.

Sista Lucy called me tonight. We are all getting excited about seeing each other. Sista Janice arrives Wednesday. I arrive Thursday and sista Sarah Ann is flying to Nashville and driving down with sista Lucy Thursday.

Sista Lucy asked me a question tonight that made me pause - "What are we going to do for entertainment?" Well, Thursday night we are having a catfish fry - that's always entertaining. Friday is the Big Birthday party for Daddy - He will be 82. We can play some party games. One sista suggested pin the hemorrhoid on the Daddy. I searched Martha Stewart's site and didn't see anything that looked more fun than that. We considered a talent contest. My cousin Lynne will be there from Birmingham, Alabama and she sings like a lark. She will have no serious competition so that will not be fun. Sista Janice usually plays "Don't tell Aunt Rhody" on the tonette, sista Sarah Ann can still fit in her tap costume she wore as a child (but that's not her talent, tapping is) and I would perform Elizabeth Taylor's dramatic monologue from Suddenly last Summer. Although sista Lucy is multi-talented she usually sits on the sidelines and makes fun of us all. I used to consider my talent - twirling the baton - but a couple of years ago when I participated in the 5th grade talent show my act was recorded. I no longer twirl in public.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Beeswax Silouette

Dear Diary,

I have been studying and substituting so have not felt like blogging about my hopes and dreams. Since it has been over a week - I thought I would post an essay my son John wrote when he was in college at ASU. The teacher gave him an A - best in class so I hope you enjoy it. Some of ya'll have seen this before.

Here goes - it is kind of long.

Anyone who owns a cat has, at one point, come home to find the mangled remains of a bird that kitty managed to have for lunch. One day I did too, and imagine that this bird had been creamed on the freeway by a speeding tour bus: the end result would be similar, but not quite as messy as the number my sister's cat had done on this one. Getting home from school I happened upon the little creation Flower left for us on the front porch. Within a ritualistic circle of feathers and guts she had decapitated the bird, left the head looking straight up at whomever would find it, and to the side had stretched out the wings and legs in a grotesque degree, as if to say she "loved us 'this' much."

Normally one might be shocked, but the sad fact is that so many animals have met equally horrendous deaths involving my family that, like the horse whisperer on a tour of the glue factory, I came out with a pretty upset worldview.

In this case though, I attributed it to Darwinism. If Flower had managed to kill it, then that was one stupid bird and it deserved to die. Why? Because this cat can be best described as a big black poof wearing a bell. It bares repeating: a bell. Whenever I step into the yard, she flattens herself in the grass, so all that I can see is a big black ball of fur, and eyes looking at me through blades of grass. Think camouflage! Then she darts to the next bit of cover, "ring, bling, ring, swish!" And then she darts to the next bit of cover, "ring, bling, ring, swish!" and then she pounces, "jingle, bling, ring, rawr! Ah! They see me, run away! Blingy, ring, jingle."

Now usually people say that when cats leave dead things for you to step in, it means they love you, or are giving you a present...but at the point where the cat goes Hannibal Lector on it's food, and rips off the head...that's not a present, that's a threat. Instead of "Ilove you" it's more like "this could be you, I know where you sleep." My best guess is she is tired of my little brother stepping on her tail, or still bitter that we stole her kittens and gave them away. Especially when she still doesn't know who her babies' daddy is.

That's another thing about Flower, not only is she apparently evil, but she's also a whore. Before we had time to spay her, she was out wandering the neighborhood and got knocked up. She was a teen mother of a broken home. Of course I got in trouble when, talking to my dad, I referred to her as "the skank". My ten year old sister overheard and wanted to know what it meant...and it means bad kitty if she should ask. Flower didn't take it hard though, and in fact for some reason I became the surrogate father to the little bastards. She so thoughtfully chose the dirty clothes underneath my bed as a nest to keep the kittens....Kittens that like to meow as loud as they can in the middle of the night. She put them there because that was the only place she could keep them out of the hands of my brother and sister who spent hours trying to squeeze under the bed, faces pressed against the side, reaching as far as they could to get one of the meowing fuzzy bundles of fun. And whenever she would get hungry, or go out and search for her babies' daddy, she would carry them one by one to the top of my bed so that I could babysit while she was gone....Thanks kitty, let me put down my calculus so I can keep kittens from tumbling off my bed to their death while I beat my siblings away from them with a stick.

It turns out though, that it was my dad who actually killed the bird. That makes more sense too, because he wasn't wearing a bell AND has a BB gun. Lucky for me, I can go to college because in his midlife crisis, instead of buying a corvette, he chose a more economical instrument of death, the BB gun. The logic behind this purpose was "the damn pigeons" keep nesting over the porch and installing chicken wire just isn't fun enough. What apparently was fun was buying about one hundred forked spikes to glue down on top of the pillars holding up the roof of the porch which was where the pigeons lived. Apparently, the idea was for the pigeons to fly into them at full speed and skewer themselves. Instead, the pigeons merely flew over the spikes and enjoyed a new fortified nest. Birds, one. Dad, zero.

Aside from the pigeons, there are also large black birds called grackles that steal the dog's food, and apparently carry mystery bird diseases that can kill us all. Therefore the best solution is to pump those bastards full of lead! So far, the pigeons are gone but since Dad has taken to baiting the grackles by putting the food in plain sight, there are actually more birds than there were originally. So it stands to reason that we are all therefore much closer to dieing of exotic bird diseases. Birds, two. Dad, zero.

Not only does dad enjoy mercilessly killing the bird menace, he's discovered an even greater joy in the telling of his killings.

"There was this huge one, right? And it was sitting on the fence, and I thought, maybe there are houses behind it in the line of fire, or maybe not...but I'm taking this shot! And I shot it and you could tell it was like 'What the hell?!' and it starts to fly off, but then it's like 'uhoh...not feeling so good...' and then it took a nose dive into your mother's ferns...and I think I saw the cat run off with it a little while later." So dad fearlessly maintains his post when he's outside; reading the newspaper, drinking beer, he always has his faithful Red Rider within arm's reach. In fact, after he's done with the newspaper, and a substantial amount of beer, he's still clinging tightly to it while passed out and snoring...which I think is a bit unhealthy...but we've learned not to discuss these things.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Beeswax Collage Class



Dear Diary,

These are two pieces I made Saturday in Mike and Leslie's Beeswax Silhouette Class. It was a lot of fun! I was excited to finally meet Leslie. Mike talks about her all the time so it was great to get to meet her. She has a precious personality and laughs allot so it made class fun.

I especially enjoyed this class because:

#1 It was at Mystic Paper
#2 Mike showed us some new techniques
#3 He brought so many wonderful silhouettes for us to chose from
#4 We completed 3 projects
#5 There was a good mix of people there
#6 I won the $65.00 gift card drawing!

I had planned to give these as Christmas presents but I don't think I can part with them!