Cats are infinitely superior to mere humans as this interview illustrates: Me: Good afternoon, Fluffy. Fluffy: Are you addressing me? Me: Well, yes. It is after all just the two of us in the room. Fluffy: I hadn’t noticed. (yawn) Me: Listen Fluffy, I want to get to know you better. Fluffy: Whatever for? Me: Well, to strengthen our bond. Fluffy: (Sniff) Me: What would make you happier? What do you need? Fluffy: I need it all. Everything. Sunshine. Insects. Birds. Food. Treats. Naps. A new feather on a stick. Your pillow. The clothing you had planned on wearing today. Me: About that. I notice that you feel the impulse to lay on anything I place on the bed. Can you explain that? Fluffy: The bed is mine. Everything on the bed is mine. Just remember, it’s all mine. If you want something of your own, get a dog. Me: We had a dog. You terrorized him. Remember? Fluffy: You mean that sniveling excuse of an animal you called Barney? He smelled like dog. Me: Well, he was one. Fluffy: That was no excuse. And he tried to lick me. Ew. Me: He just wanted to show you some affection, and you repaid him by sticking a claw in his left nostril. Fluffy: That was amusing. Too bad he had to go on a nice long vacation. Me: Barney was a good dog. Listen do you have any feelings for me at all. Fluffy: Such as? Me: Maybe gratitude. I buy only the best canned food. You always have fresh water. You get treats three times each day. I made your cat bed from the softest sheepskin I could find. You could at least purr once in awhile. Fluffy: Purr. Purr. Me: That wasn’t a real purr. I can tell the difference you know. Fluffy: I think it’s time for my nap now. Me: Not so fast! Would it kill you to let me pet you occasionally? Fluffy: Have I been vaccinated for that? Me: Forget it. I’m going to the store. Fluffy: Meow!?! (Purrrrrrrr, purrrrrrrr) Me: Oh, sweet kitty! I’ll bring you a new feather on a stick, yes I will! Mama’s little bitty kitty! Fluffy: Sucker.
Tag: love
It’s the Little Things
Like…
Finding an episode of Criminal Minds that you’ve not seen before
Having fresh guacamole made to your taste right at your table
Opening up a fresh loaf of soft bread
Discovering a new author whose books speak to your soul
Listening to a song that lifts your spirits
Identifying with a character in a novel
Having that aha! moment when working on a project
Completing a less than fun task in a fun way (you should see my toilet cleaning technique)
Singing in the shower and sounding like a pop star
Clicking through the channels and finding “Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope,” already in progress
Getting an old-fashioned letter in the mail
Snuggling with a kitten
Kayaking with my Studly on the lake behind our home
Getting surprise calls from my youngest and oldest grandchildren on the same day (thank you D and Ninibelle)
Having a cup of coffee or a glass of wine on the patio with a good friend
Dancing
Finding peace within myself if only for a moment
Having a good dream about loved ones I’ve lost (Mom, thanks for your “visit” last night)
Hearing the words, “I love you, Nana!”
What are your little things?
Peace, People!
What’s a Gingy?
When our son was born, my mom decided that she wanted to be called Grandmother. Not Granny or Grandma, Nana or Mimi. Grandmother. Well, that was all well and good, but our son had other ideas. Jason didn’t talk early. We began to wonder if he’d ever talk at all, but by three he had a decent vocabulary. Try as he might, though, he could not say Grandmother or Grandaddy. What emerged was something that sounded a lot like Gingy, so my parents, for better or worse, became Gingymama and Gingydaddy. And, since he was the first of the grandchildren, it stuck.
Daddy’s 81st birthday would have been yesterday, and since yesterday’s post was on the sappy side I thought I’d have my children and nieces and nephews post their memories of their Gingydaddy.
Jason texted, “Him rescuing me from the side of a mountain…teaching me to pee without unbuttoning my pants aka the utility of the zipper…first set of golf clubs…how to flirt…taught me how to use a knife to slice an apple….”
Ignoring the pee remark, I asked him what Gingy had told him about flirting
“I just learned by example….”
Sounds like some valuable lessons Gingy was passing along. He was a hopeless flirt.
Ashley texted, “Genius,” was his email password, but he could never remember how to spell it! He had to cut Christopher’s seatbelt off when the Gingys took us three oldest grand kids to California. He called one of his nurses Donut Girl. He never fully stopped at a stoplight; he always inched forward until the light turned green. How he always had to show us off when we’d go visit him at whatever grocery store he worked at. Oh, and the seatbelt! He would never buckle the damn belt, just held it right above the clicker while he drove to fool the cops. He never met a stranger.”
My niece Claire, said, “Sitting in lawn chairs in the garage with the door open just talking about life and laughing about him getting numbers from the ladies from the piggly wiggly!”
Nephew Christopher added, “Easy! Eating Oreos with iced milk.” I think he made sure all the grand kids experienced the joy of Oreos in milk.
Hanna added this to the group text, “Fishing in the little pond in red river, nm 😊”
Their memories are all so different because Gingydaddy was easygoing. He was able to live in the moment and find ways to connect with each of his grandchildren.
Gingydaddy loved taking the kids on vacation. I think the saddest thing for him about his COPD was that he could no longer make those big memory-making trips. Daddy told me once that if he’d known he was going to live into his 70’s he’d have taken a lot better care of himself. Damned cigarettes. Damned habit.
Peace and Good Memories, People!
Not Just Any Man
He was my daddy, and I was his little girl. Not biologically, but in every way that mattered. I don’t remember when he came into my life, I just know that he was always there when it mattered. According to my mother, I had Daddy wrapped around my little finger from the moment we met. Again, I don’t remember that. I just remember enjoying every moment I spent with him.
One of my earliest memories is of a time that Daddy and I drove together to a football game in Amarillo. From the age of four, I was Daddy’s football watching buddy. He taught me about first downs and illegal blocks, quarterback sneaks and Hail Mary passes. Living in small town Texas we were avid fans of the the local high school team, the Floydada Whirlwinds. We seldom, if ever, missed a game. Usually, we attended as a family, but on this occasion Mom stayed home in protest, saying it was too cold.
I vividly remember the drive to the game. I was standing in the seat next to Daddy (we used the old “parental arm” method of child safety restraint back then). Snow was falling in huge flakes, covering the road and making it hard for us to see. To keep me occupied, Daddy taught me to watch the odometer so I could count off the miles to Amarillo. Pretty soon, I could pinpoint a mile with my eyes closed. It seemed like a really long distance! According to family legend when we got to the game everyone was amazed that he’d brought me with him, driving into one of the worst storms in memory. My Nanny and Grandaddy were there and I snuggled into the warmth of my family to watch the Whirlwinds win. I don’t remember the cold, just the love.
Daddy managed the Piggly Wiggly grocery store in Floydada for many years. As soon as I was old enough I’d walk to the store–we only lived a couple of blocks away–to see Daddy and spend my allowance money. I got the hefty sum of $1 a week, coincidentally one could buy a 45 rpm record at Piggly Wiggly for 99 cents at the time, so I had quite the collection. No matter what he was doing, Daddy would stop and give me a hug and a kiss. If he wasn’t terribly busy he’d ask me to tag along. I got to go behind the swinging doors to smell the fresh produce as it came in. I got to watch the butchers cut meat with the huge slicer. I got to be part of his world.
That world continued to turn. Daddy had his own store for awhile, but when that didn’t pan out we moved to Dumas. The Piggly Wiggly chain closed its stores in Texas and Mom and Dad moved to Canyon and then several years later, to Abilene. My brothers and I had all grown up, moved away, and started our own families. Life was as it should be.
Then we lost Mom to cancer. After Mom passed away Daddy’s life changed dramatically. He was still working, so he could take some memorable trips. He took one to California to spend time with his sisters. He traveled to our home in Kansas and to the homes of my brothers. He’d take off and head to the casinos on occasion.
Daddy and I went to Ruidoso, New Mexico, one weekend for the most fun I’ve ever had losing money. I’d driven from Kansas to see him, and I hadn’t been at his tiny apartment for longer than 15 minutes before he said, “Sis, you want to go to the casino?” So off we went. Daddy hit a hot streak at the blackjack table while I lost at slots. Every now and then I’d wander by his table and he’d hand me a stack of chips that I’d pocket. He decided I was the best gambling partner he’d ever had since he actually took home some money. He took me to the horse races and told me I bet just like my mom, code for, “you aren’t very good at this,” but again he won some money and said I could gamble with him any time. That was high praise, indeed.
Then the grocery store Daddy had been working for closed with no advance notice. Studly invited him to move in with us. Our kids were grown by then and we’d been transferred to Florida. We had plenty of room and sunshine year round. Yet he declined. He didn’t want to be in the way. Finally Studly insisted. Daddy was sick and really needed to be closer to family. So, we had Daddy with us.
Those were great years. Daddy and I got to know each other as adults. He told me stories about his Navy days that left me speechless. Stories I cannot repeat here. Great Stories. He and Studly played golf as long as Daddy was able, and even after his COPD no longer allowed him to play he’d hang out in the garage and create the perfect bag of clubs for a particular course.
Studly earned a nice promotion that prompted Daddy to call him The Director, from that point on, and was transferred to Illinois, so while Studly worked, Daddy and I explored our new state. I started doing some substitute teaching and Daddy hung out around the house. He had his daily routines and a nice little pickup truck, but he spent a lot of time sitting on our front porch and interacting with our neighbors. No matter where he went, he made friends. And we got to talk. We still enjoyed our football games and he’d still make an occasional run to the casino in Peoria, but his lung disease was getting the best of him.
His last days were spent in the hospital. We had made arrangements for hospice care, and on the day before we were to take him home, he perked up dramatically. He and my brother Kelly and I had the best day. We talked and made plans. We reminisced and laughed. When Kelly stepped out of the room to take a call, Daddy said to me, “Sis, in case I forget to tell you, I really had a great time with you and your brother today.”
That night he had a stroke and he passed away the next evening. Today would have been his birthday. My Daddy, my love. I miss him every day.
Peace and Love, People.
Praying for Eyebrowz: The Band
If you read my initial blog post, “Begin the Beguine” you know that the name of my blog stems from an encounter with an esthetician. She was a 60-something earth mother type with long frizzy red hair and clothes straight out of Woodstock. I don’t remember her name, so let’s call her Ditzy.
Ditzy accompanied me back to her treatment room and had me lie down on the table. She immediately got as close to my face as humanly possible without actually kissing me. My mind was thinking, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! I didn’t sign up for this!” Then just as abruptly she tsk tsk’d and pulled away.
Tsk, tsk? No one had ever tsk tsk’d at my face. Maybe I should have let her kiss me.
“What?” I asked.
“Well, I hate to tell you this,” she began, “Your skin looks really great, but your eyebrows.” Again, she tsk’d. “You see, your eyebrows are just too sparse.”
“Oh. Um, sorry. Is there anything I can do about that?”
“Let me ask you something of a serious nature,” Ditzy said.
“Sure, Ditzy,” I nodded cautiously, certain now that my esthetician might not be operating on all six cylinders. “Ask away.”
“Do you believe in a higher power?”
“Why yes, yes I do,” I said, wondering where this was headed.
“Well, then just pray. Pray for eyebrows.”
Alrighty then.
Now, I’m a big believer in the power of prayer. I pray nightly for peace, for an end to world hunger, for the health and well-being of my family and friends, but I’d never really thought about praying for thicker eyebrows.
So as Ditzy stopped tsk-ing and began giving me a lovely, relaxing facial, I contemplated asking God to bestow this favor on me. The thought made me giggle.
“Please relax those facial muscles,” said Ditzy.
“Mmhm” I mumbled, drifting away.
I knew I couldn’t ask our Heavenly Father for something like eyebrows. I liked the thought, though. Praying for Eyebrows. Change the spelling to make it edgy. Praying for Eyebrowz. Ooh, I liked that. That sounded like the name of an alt rock indie band. “Praying for Eyebrowz” featuring Nana Noyz on lead vocals. Our first single: “Ditzy Tsk.” It’ll be a hit for sure.
Peace, People.
Finding Love at the Piggly Wiggly
Studly and I met on the condiments aisle of the Piggly Wiggly store my dad managed in Dumas, Texas. The year was 1974, the summer preceding my senior year of high school. Studly had recently started working for my dad, and I was new to Dumas, having just moved from the metropolis of Floydada, TX. Yep, Floydada. Look it up; it’s a place.
A provocative question began our romance: “Excuse me sir,” I said. “Could you please show me where the ketchup is?”
I felt a little flustered when he stood up and pointed to the neatly lined bottles of Heinz and DelMonte arrayed right in front of me, and I’m sure my face turned a bright ketchupy red. He was cute, but I was a geek, so I put him out of my mind. The variable I hadn’t considered, though, was my double whammy status as the new girl AND the boss’s daughter.
According to Studly he followed me around town all that summer. I had no idea, and that was a good thing. I was so awkward around members of the opposite sex that had I known of his interest I’d have certainly screwed up any chance of our ever dating. So, I remained happily oblivious until school started.
Call it destiny, karma, or luck, our schedules coincided to put us in the same second hour class that first semester. Studly started walking me to class. He even carried my books, something that was sweet and touching and slightly embarrassing all at the same time. He was funny and easy to talk to and pretty soon I was smitten. I’m glad he was smitten, as well.
Peace, People.
Praying for Eyebrowz 