A Surprising Saturday

That first Saturday after John abandoned me and Goliath didn’t find me feeling terribly lucky. He left me with all the chores. Mine and his.

To be fair, he’d left us to head north and start a new job in Connecticut. I was to remain in Virginia, keep working, sell the house, take care of the psycho dog (and keep him from killing anybody with the temerity to consider buying it) clean, cook, take care of the yard, and a hundred other things that hadn’t yet registered.

John was not high on my list, and his spot on it was getting lower as the morning passed.

Until a car pulled up in front of the house just before noon, that is. Then John’s parents took the top spot on the shit list.

We were still newly married, John and I. I had to admit that Helen and Johnny were the most undemanding or in-laws, even as they started to get out of the car. They never surprised us by stopping in. Why now?

I quickly ran through my list of chores, trying to figure out which I could cut. But an Open House was scheduled for the next day. I sighed and pasted a welcome look on my face as I grabbed Goliath and opened the door, knowing I would be up all night finishing the list.

“We brought lunch!” Helen said, cheerfully, holding up a large paper bag.

“You like Chinese, don’t you?” Johnny asked.

“It’s my favorite!”

Helen pulled paper plates out of the bag, and Johnny pulled out the food that smelled delicious.

“We knew you had a lot to do, but you need to eat!”

So we did.

Then Johnny headed outside and mowed the lawn. Helen vacuumed the whole house, leaving me to the rest of my list.

Then they left.

Today I want to say Happy Mother’s Day to the best mother-in-law ever. Thoughtful, kind, funny, smart, and non-judgmental. Loving. I am one lucky woman to have her in my life all these years.

The best mother-in-law,
Helen

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Earth Day/ Birthday

Today, April 22, is Earth Day!  It’s the 49th Anniversary of the very first Earth Day.  Here is Walter Cronkite’s report on the first Earth Day, 1970:

It would also be my late sister Judy’s 67th birthday.

Whoever made the decision to turn Judy’s birthday into Earth Day chose wisely.  Judy was a born environmentalist and recycler.

On the first Earth Day, Judy was a new, very young mother who believed in saving the planet.  She was the first “environmentalist” I ever knew personally, and well, I thought she was nuts.  There was a recycling bin in her kitchen for as long as I can remember.  And this was back when recycling took effort.  She believed in gardens, not garbage, and she made life bloom wherever she was.

I’ve got kids,” she’d say.  “It’s their planet too!”  

But years later, Judy took recycling to a whole different level when she helped people recycle themselves.  In the 1990s, Jude, who was then living in Florida, began working with the Homeless, assisting at shelters.   Then she actively began trying to help homeless vets find food, shelter and work — to enable them to jump-start their lives.

When she died in early 2000, the American Legion awarded her honorary membership for her services to homeless vets.  A homeless shelter was named in her  honor.  So she’s still doing good works, my sister is.  That would make her wildly happy.

Jude also gave me the Beatles.  So it is very appropriate that they wrote a song for her.

You see, the night the Beatles were on Ed Sullivan, it was MY turn to choose what we were going to watch.  And we were going to watch the second part of The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh starring Patrick McGoohan on the Wonderful Wide World of Disney.  My four (all older and MUCH cooler) siblings were furious with me.  But I was quite insistent.  You might even say that I threw a Class I temper tantrum over it, but I wouldn’t admit to that.  But hey, I was seven.  And it was my turn to choose.  Fair is fair, especially in a big family with only one TV.

Somehow, Judy talked me out of my turn.  She was always very persuasive.  Thanks Jude.

Hey Jude, Happy Earth Day-Birthday.

*     *     *

If this looks/sounds familiar, it’s because I recycle this post every year. Because you should never use fresh when you can reuse something already written.  And you can never get enough of “Hey Jude.”

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The Untouchables

In the grocery store, everything I want is on the top shelf. Every single thing. I’m 5’2″. It’s annoying. I usually manage, or I find a tall person to help me.

So one Saturday a month or so ago, I was struggling to reach a box of Triscuits. I love Triscuits. I could touch the box, but it slipped away as I touched it. Out of my reach.

“Damn!” I thought, when a voice came from behind me.

“You need a tall person to help you there, missy.”

“Missy?” I thought. Nobody’s called me that since I was about 12.

So I turned, and saw Mark standing there, smirking at me. From an enormous height.

Immediately, within a second, I gave him a hug. In a second-and-a-half, I realized how inappropriate that was. Oops.

You see, Mark was a client. A tall client, but still a client. One isn’t supposed to hug clients. Even if he DID get me that box off the shelf.

I gave myself a pass, though. I’m a hugger. I don’t think about it. When I see someone I know, I hug. Besides, I figured it didn’t really matter since I am currently unemployed, having been laid off last year. Mark is no longer a client. And I don’t know the etiquette for hugging former clients. I did work with him for 15 years; maybe after 10 years, hugging becomes acceptable.

When the news broke about Vice President Joe Biden affectionately — but not sexually — touching Lucy Flores and Amy Lappos, I immediately thought of Mark. And my hug. Would it keep me from running for higher office. Errrr, for ANY office?

Nope.

Had he hugged me, though, might it have squelched his plan to run for office as a Democrat?

Democrats are currently eating their own. I still haven’t gotten over the railroading of Al Franken. And now, folks are going after Uncle Joe – not even for sexual touching but for space invading. While the Pussy Grabber sits in the Oval Office.

Lord, I need a Triscuit. And I’ll take a hug from Joe Biden too.

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REJECT HATE — Vote Blue 🌊

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

Reject Hate

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

 

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My winnings

Nope.  Not the lottery, alas.  Although I really should have won that $1.6 billion MegaMillions.  Or even the $750 million Powerball. I had plans for that money.  What will I do when the bills for the things I bought expecting to be dripping in riches come in?

Still, I will be able to pay a few of them.  Because I am about to collect a reward.

Yup. Me.

ONE. THOUSAND. SMACKERS!

The American Society of Gastroenterology donated the money.  Already that pegs me as the recipient.  I have been keeping gastroenterologists in the money for decades.

But this reward is for the return of a giant, inflatable, orange colon.  Of course I know where it is.  If you think about it, you do too.

Inflatable colon

Photo credit

It isn’t hard to figure out — where do you think you can find something orange, inflated, and full of shit?  It’s at the White House, of course.  1700 Pennsylvania Avenue, NW, Washington, DC.

Resist - USA Today

Photo credit:  USA Today.

That money is MINE!

 

***

You didn’t think I would let you go without reminding you to get your tuckuss to the polls on or before November 6 (depending on your state’s laws, natch).  Election 2018 is vital. We need a check on the occupant of the White House, now more than ever.  It’s not going to come from the Supreme Court.  It can only come from the House of Representatives.

So vote like your life, your healthcare, and the honor of your country depends on it.

Because it does.

 

 

 

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