MANDINGO

Dear Diary,

I had a teacher in high school that was really exceptional. That is what teachers strive to be - I am learning this in school! I don't know that I knew at the time she was exceptional or even if she knew she was exceptional but looking back - she was exceptional. I'm trying to picture her in my mind- close knit perm, cat eye glasses, momma clothes.....but I'm getting side tracked. She taught me 10th grade English and Journalism when I was a junior or senior. She was the sponsor for the school Newspaper. I hung out with the newspaper staff so I was sort of a honorary staffer that never wrote anything but posed for pictures when they needed someone in a pinch. Another perk was getting to go to their parties! She had a ranch off the Highway between Columbus and Starkville and raised Brahma Bulls of all things. Passing by in the car at sixty miles an hour you wouldn't get to look twice if you thought you saw a Brahma bull instead of a Holstein or a Jersey. But she had them. The ranch had a lake, and those big hay bales that are round and tall and fun to climb on when you aren't overweight and arthritic.

I really liked my teacher and we got along just fine so I guess it was no surprise when we remained friends after I graduated from high school. I still called her by her adult name, Mrs. Pittman. I never thought of calling her Jane. She was older than my Momma and that just wasn't done!

After high school, I went to an all girls University which was in our home town. They let boys attend now but that's a different story. I could tolerate most of my classes that first year but had an awful time in freshman English. The professor was an old sour woman who wore dark clothes and was virtually unapproachable. Actually the memory of that class is vague. I'm sure I tried my best in class but I had a very busy social life and there was free beer for ladies every Thursday Night at the Welding Works. Every paper I got back graded looked like the drop cloth for a sacrificial lamb (or some similar analogy). That old biddy used a red pen and would just mark all over my paper. I knew I was an A or B student so what was this with the Cs and Ds? I decided to try a little experiment. I asked my exceptional former teacher if she would help me with a paper for my college class. She said she would be happy to and that her husband was working all night at the local small motor factory (Which coincidentally I got a job there after college graduation and worked there too for a year, then got laid off) so why didn't I spend the night Friday?

That Friday I went to her house and she said, "Lisa, there is this movie I want to go see at the Varsity. Do you want to go? I said sure!" So after she wrote my paper for me we went. She said the movie was called Mandingo and it was set in the deep south before "the conflict". We got popcorn and drinks and settled into our seats. I had no idea what I was about to see and I don't think she did either. Through out the movie she would whisper to me I need to go smoke a cigarette. I was glad I didn't smoke because I didn't want to miss any of it! I got my eyes full and quite an education. After a particularly moving scene, I got worried about my exceptional teacher because she had been smoking longer normal. I hated to miss any of the action but...I walked backwards up the popcorn grease stained red carpet to the lobby, pushed the door open and quickly glanced out, there she was pacing and smoking. No need to interrupt her. She spent the majority of the movie in the lobby, smoking.

About eight or nine years ago when I was visiting my parents, I went by to see Mrs. Pittman. We immediately took up again where we left off. We didn't go to the movies, and she didn't write papers for me (She got a C too!) but we did correspond by email. She loved receiving and sending funny emails. I visited her every time I went home and one of my visits I took the kids and my husband with me. Frank took a picture of us. I need to find it. She died of cancer a few years after we reconnected. I sure do miss her.

Monkey Money and Rappin Rodent

Dear Diary,

Whoa! I have been studying, working, and making monkeys! John had to go on Cobra and some friends wanted some monkeys after Gooch did the photo shoot so I have been making monkeys. I decided that instead of giving the monkeys away I would sell them then I could donate the money to the Cystic Fibrosis foundation. Then I thought Hey! I've got my little 25 year old cyst(That used to drive mama and me crazy when the nurses at the Birmingham Children's Hospital would call him "The Little Cyst" but now it is kind of funny!) right here that could use the money. Hell I could even use the money for my college tuition but, It will be fun to see if I can make his Cobra payment with Monkey Money! No more giving away monkeys. Over! Done! I'm selling those suckers. So far - $65.00 and it is only the 18th. I'm optimistic but don't think it will get paid by monkey money this month. Of course he balked when I told him my plan.

I found a stuffed Rat called the Rappin Rat that Raps that "It's your Birthday". Mini Me used to sing it in that commercial. You might not know this but that is my mamas special talent. She does a Mini Me routine with the hand motions and everything. It is really something to see. She was a hit at the last family talent show. I'm afraid that sista Janice will win hands down if she does her imitation of Little Edie performing the flag dance. Her costume and moves are so like Little Edie's that it will take your breath away. But back to my story..... I thought this rappin Rat would make a great Christmas present for my Mama. I saw him at CVS drugstore, my creative juices started churning and the idea of a rappin sock monkey came to mind. The perfect Christmas gift for my Mom. I bought it , brought it home and told Ian and his friend my idea. They loved it. That night after a few cocktails I carefully cut off his costume and beheaded him. Then I proceeded to make a sock monkey to fit over the shell. I got the arms on and was figuring out how to add the head/body when it started going off and repeating the rap over and over and over. I had accidentally cut through some wires so only one arm was moving to the rhythm and where the head had been a white plastic nub was rotating. Every time I tried to maneuver the sock, the damn thing would start playing again. My husband was starting to complain. Then it came to me that I could just remove the batteries but when I checked the battery holder the cover was screwed in. But, not with a hex head or slot screw, a new kind of screw. I guess I'll need a tool to get it open.

I need to go to Lowe's tomorrow anyway. The Poinsettias are 1/2 price.

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?

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.

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!

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.

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.