Tag: blog

Making the Case that My Mom Would be a Democrat

As far as I know my parents weren’t terribly politically active. They always voted, but I never heard them declare for one party or the other. They tended to vote for the person and ignore party affiliation.

Now I do recall their amusement when, as a fifth grader, I campaigned for Richard Nixon in the R.C. Andrews elementary school mock election. Texas was still primarily a Democrat leaning state back then, so my choice cast me as a bit of a rebel. Apparently, I was ahead of the pack in supporting the GOP candidate. I sure hope I’m not the reason that Texas is a red state nowadays. That’s a burden I’m not sure I could bear.

My mom died more than two decades ago, in late October just after I turned 39. She wasn’t old, but younger than I am now. She’d lived her entire life in Texas. Her peers are now in their late seventies and early eighties. Many have been brainwashed by FOX news and believe that Donald Trump was selected personally by God almighty to be president of the United States, while a few have maintained the dignity of independent thinking and have a healthy skepticism regarding 45.

It bothered me for a while to think that had mom lived into her 80’s she might have succumbed to the FOX News propaganda machine. However, I recall several pieces of evidence that indicate Mom would not be a Trump supporter:

1. She was never a Ronald Reagan fan, even when much of the country was mesmerized by the former actor. Early on she warned me that he was capable of exerting great harm on the country. She had never trusted Nixon either.

2. Mom worked for Planned Parenthood in the mid-70’s and firmly believed a woman should be the final decision maker in matters concerning her own body.

3. My mother was wary of organized religion. She had no use for the likes of televangelists, always scornful of their dramatic public prayer that was more about garnering dollars for their private coffers than about caring for the poor. Mom’s beliefs were private, and she didn’t need to attend a particular church to be a good Christian.

4. She taught me to think for myself, to weigh the good and the bad, and to make informed decisions. And trust me, she could smell a lie from miles away.

Who knows what the years might have wrought? But I’m fairly sure Freida Hall would’ve told Trump to kiss her ass. If she were still living, we would do it together.

That’s Mom holding baby me. Well, it might be me, but I’m certain that’s my mom.

Peace, people.

Isn’t it Romantic

(Note: For some reason my post formatted incorrectly. I tried fixing it, to no avail. My apologies and my thanks to those of you who persevere long enough to read the whole thing.)

In movie talk a “meet cute” describes an amusing or charming first encounter between two characters that leads to the development of a romantic relationship between them.

My own Studly Doright and I had something of a meet cute when we were teenagers. I was the new girl in town, he worked for my dad at a Piggly Wiggly grocery store. I asked him where the ketchup was, he pointed at the row right in front of us. I felt sheepish, he was intrigued (heaven only knows why) and pursued me all summer. Our paths crossed again when we had the same P.E. period at Dumas high school, and we’ve been nearly inseparable ever since. That was 42.5 years ago.

Now, what would one call an encounter that is charming, but goes no further than that first encounter? Technically it’s still cute, and it’s still a meeting, but if it doesn’t lead to anything more can it be deemed a “meet cute”? Or is it merely a flirtation?

Once, over a decade ago, Studly and I lived in Melbourne, Florida. I taught math and science to fifth graders at a small neighborhood school, and became good friends with the three other fifth grade teachers. One Friday evening the four of us went to the Mardi Gras celebration at Universal Studios in Orlando to see Hootie and the Blowfish in concert.

Prior to the concert there was a parade with all the fun of a New Orleans Mardi Gras celebration. There were marching jazz musicians and krewes manning floats. Beads were thrown willy nilly, but female recipients didn’t have to bare their knockers to earn the shiny baubles. In fact, seeing as Universal Studios is a family friendly venue, baring a breast probably would’ve gotten one evicted from the park. I certainly wasn’t going to be a test case.

My friends and I eagerly caught beads that came our way, and I made sure any children in our vicinity were the final recipients of any I snagged. So engrossed was I in this activity that I accidentally bumped into an attractive, well dressed man who was also watching the parade. I apologized and went on obliviously about my bead catching.

“Hey,” the man said. “Why aren’t you keeping any beads?”

I barely looked at him, saying, “Don’t you know the fun is in the catching?”

No more than a minute passed before I felt a tap on my shoulder. The man held up an ornately decorated set of beads, smiled, and handed them to me.

“You’re right,” he said, winking. “The fun is in the catching.”

I’m sure I blushed bright red, but I grinned and thanked him before quickly locating my friends and rejoining them. If I’d been single maybe that could’ve been a meet cute. As it was it was just an innocent flirtation.

Oh, in case you’re wondering, I gave those beads away, too, but not until later in the evening when Hootie and the Blowfish were singing, “Only Wanna be With You.” Studly Doright is my only meet cute.

Peace, people!

Let’s wrap this up with “Only Wanna Be With You,” by Hootie and the Blowfish.

https://youtu.be/pV7XND2YCdg

The Natural Order

A fat fluffy red fox jogged briskly across my backyard this morning, halfway between the house and the lake. Patches and I were sitting on the deck enjoying a cup of coffee, when the fox caught the two of us off guard.

We watched avidly as Mr. Fox scurried down into the forest, and continued watching long after he was out of sight. Patches’s tail whipped back and forth as she followed his every move; whereas, mine remained static. My tail doesn’t often whip these days, even when I’m agitated or excited. One of those unfortunate cases of “use it or lose it” I’m afraid.

Eventually I had to refill my coffee, so I left Patches on guard where she remains as I write this:

No fox is getting past her. Nosirree! Unless of course someone offers her a treat, then all guard duties will be abandoned for the sake of a catnip flavored nibble.

Now, to the point. This little essay began with the words, “A fat fluffy red fox….” The order of the words rolled off the tips of my fingers and onto the screen. Could I have also typed, “a red fat fluffy fox” or a “fluffy red fat fox?” Sure. But why did my initial word choice feel the most correct to me? We tend to say, “clear blue sky” instead of “blue clear sky,” and Patches would be a “cute black and white cat,” and not a “black and white cute cat”; although, she most definitely remains black and white and undeniably cute.

Apparently I’m not the only one who has pondered this ordering of adjectives. When I googled it I found this interesting article.

https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&source=web&cd=&ved=2ahUKEwj-2dXV_8LgAhVNhOAKHSqbB6sQzPwBegQIARAC&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.bbc.com%2Fnews%2Fblogs-trending-37285796&psig=AOvVaw0merRecZG_17DUM74VQjSX&ust=1550500785616506

Isn’t English wonderful? It’s also often confusing and in some ways, limiting, but it’s always interesting. And some folks can still get away with using adjectives in the wrong order. I’ll leave you with another fox, George Strait, and his rule bending song, “Blue Clear Sky.” How I’d love to see him in my backyard.

https://youtu.be/JLh5Y9PRFSc

Peace, people.

Snapshot #228

Patches once again finds herself in the spotlight:

This one shall be titled, “One of these Things is not Like the Others.”

https://nananoyz5forme.com/2019/02/16/snapshot-227/

In February’s Sun

I paused in the sun

Lifted my face to the sky

Offered a prayer

An invocation

For this day and those to come

Protect those I love

Comfort those in need

Cushion every wounding word

Heal winter’s hurts

Snapshot #227

My cat, Patches, sat in this position for a good five minutes trying to decide which litter box to use.

I call this one, “Decisions, Decisions.”

Bacon, Baby

Valentine’s Day was pretty low key here at Doright Manor. Poor Studly Doright has been swamped at work, so after he got home on Thursday evening I greeted him at the door with his gift and no expectations of an evening out.

His gift appeared to be a small Igloo cooler that I’d decorated with heart stickers. His reaction was underwhelming, until, that is, I told him that was just the gift wrapping. Inside was his actual gift:

A tube filled with Reese’s Cups and

two pounds of small batch, thick cut bacon!

For dinner we enjoyed pancakes and Studly’s Valentine’s Day bacon. Yum!

For his part Studly showered me with flowers, candy, and some oh-so-soft pajamas from PajamaGram. They’re lovely. I might’ve even worn them last night. Wink, wink. There’s a slight possibility that bacon is an aphrodisiac.

Peace, people.

A Rose is a Rose, Right?

Yesterday I arrived home from an appointment in Tallahassee to the sight of three boxes on the front porch. I’d been expecting two of them. One was a Valentine’s gift I’d ordered for Studly Doright, one was a legal document, and the third, unexpected box was from ProFlowers.

Of course I checked to make sure it was for me, (it was), and I opened it. I could smell the roses before I saw them, so I set them aside to prepare the enclosed vase. I took the clear glass receptacle from the box, filled it with room temperature water, and added the enclosed plant food before unwrapping the flowers. Within the wrapping paper there were only six blooming roses, but dozens of stems.

“Okay, I’m sure the rest are buds,” I thought. But they weren’t buds. Instead they were portions of wilted, dessicated petals that had never managed to reach their full potential, or had reached it, but in a stunted state. I went ahead and placed them in the vase even though they looked sad and sparse. Then I got a little ticked.

I was pretty certain my husband hadn’t placed an order saying, “Hey, I want the saddest bouquet of roses you all have in stock. Stems? Yeah, a bunch of stems are great. Even better if there’s a hint of petal remaining, you know, just to let her know they were ALMOST flowers.”

Should I call the company and make a formal complaint? Should I just accept the poorly fulfilled order? I hesitated for a minute or two, then decided to talk to someone at ProFlowers.

After going through the description of the roses with one customer service representative, who clearly wasn’t in a position to make things right, I was transferred to another woman who listened thoughtfully, looked up the order, and discovered that Studly’s initial order hadn’t even been correctly filled. According to this representative’s records, Studly had placed an order for chocolates and a premium vase to accompany the roses. So, I was right to contact the company.

They promised to expedite the correct order to arrive today, Valentine’s Day, and I’ll be watching and waiting to see if the product is what they promised. Surely it’ll be more robust than this one. And yes, I’m aware that there are some lovely roses in the bunch, but overall they weren’t up to snuff.

Peace, people!

Attack of the Killer Flag

Patriotism is a fine thing, but yesterday afternoon I was walking down the sidewalk in Blountstown, Florida, when out of the red, white, and blue, I was accosted by our Stars and Stripes. A strong gust of wind caught the darned thing just as I passed by, and whack! Old Glory slapped the top of my head, almost knocking me into a pickup parked by the curb.

Okay, so I wasn’t exactly paying attention to my surroundings, but still, shouldn’t a citizen be safe from killer flags? Betsy Ross surely didn’t intend to let loose this flapping monster on unsuspecting citizens.

Peace, people!

Another Day in Catland

Insistent cat paws

Tap tapping on my forehead

“Up human! Feed me!”

Inquiring meow

Catnip toy batted about

“Human! Play with me!

Sweet kitty kisses

Velvet nose, nuzzling cheeks

“Please human, pet me!”