My Furniture Friends

Earlier this morning....oops...it is after 12:00....another successful morning of putting the BIG stuff off....I wondered why Mrs. Richardson was in such a huff!

As I was saying, earlier today, I was writing about what kind of furniture I would be. After I posted it, I took the dogs out for a quick sniff'n'pee. We came back in the house, did a few chores.

As I performed the odd and ends of daily living I was thinking about some friends and what type of furniture they might be. It was vital to take the visualizations into the darker corners of my mind. BabaMara is extremely magical and has a new wand. She hasn't placed anyone in a jar lately or even threatened to have them toad! I'm afraid she might be tempted to try to turn a friend or two into a whimsical table or sideboard if I thought too loud!

I picked several of those I love and tried to imagine what they might think of themselves, erased those images...(too intrusive?)...and thought of how I might draw them if we were to magically transport to a fantasy story of animated accoutrements!

One, dear to me, would be a high queen-worthy bed. The headboard would be constructed out of time-worn wood boards, bleached by the sun, sanded smooth by the wind and the sea.  The top-edge, fashioned into a series of crashing waves.  The wood, dressed in a thin wash of white, would expose it's beautiful knots and wavy grain.  A fluffy down cover would rest on the pillow-top mattress.

The barely-there baby-blue luster of her thousand-count linens would lure you in, inviting you to rest your head on the soft pillows for a restful nap. Extra pillows, tapestries of scenes of the sea, stripes of white and blue and silk in beach colors, top the bed, in case you are more tempted to read a good novel with pillows plumped behind you.  A magical quilt of sage and sand, all the colors of the sea covers the bed; you can almost hear the waves gently rolling onto shore as you behold the exquisite comforter.  A velvety blanket in a deep, deep sage lies folded at the foot of the bed.

Did I mention, that mixed in with the mountain of pillows is a round cushion with a picture of the Supremes in long, sparkly gowns and gloves, hands held out? "Stop In The Name Of Love!" printed in bright red under the women. The back side of the pillow displays Rosanna Anna Danna and the words, "NEVERMIND!"

p.s. There might be a couple of crumbs from this morning's bagel on the left side of the bed and that is definitely a ring from a coffee mug on the bedside table, next to the stack of books and Coastal Living magazines.

I have another friend who could be the most amazing and exquisite antique oak credenza and hutch. Hand-carved details on the drawers, the trim and along the hutch opening. Her mid-west roots are visible in the bead-board backing of the hutch, painted a soft pastel sage. A collection of hat boxes sit atop the hutch, in various patterns and colors; each tied with a matching ribbon, holding memories and secrets, bits and pieces of life and love. The shelves of the hutch hold photos of loved ones, pretty vases and bright porcelain birds.

On the left side of the hutch is a small copper cup hook with a ring of keys hanging from it. Some are skeleton keys with the patina of age. There are also keys so bright and shiny that they hint of unlocking doors and drawers to come.

The middle drawer of the credenza is lined with red velvet; oh the things it holds dear!  The drawer on the right holds a bright light that shines when the drawer is pulled from its berth; the drawer on the left is her articulation drawer which is opened and shared freely with company.  The cabinets hold books and knowledge and wisdom.

Unlike typical aged brass or bronze hardware, this knobs and pulls are bright colored glass with specks of gems embedded in the glass.

While the credenza and hutch are antique and splendid they are also magical. Each time a person goes away and comes back to them, they appear younger, they never have to be dusted or polished. The richness of the wood grain and patina remain but the sense of youth and newness exudes from it.

Sleek Red Sofa

Have you ever asked yourself....and my guess is that you haven't....have you ever asked yourself, if you were a piece of furniture, what item would you be?

Yesterday, on HGTV, in one of the property hunting programs, a sleek, red sofa was in one of the rooms. The couple doing the hunting were looking for a place for a woman who couldn't do the search herself.

When their eyes spotted the sleek red sofa, they both "oohed" and said, "Whoa, she'll love that couch. If she were a piece of furniture, that's what she would be!"

It was pretty impressive! One the "searchers" was the woman's husband and, frankly, the sofa was pretty damn sexy. The design was contemporary with a low tufted red leather back, sleek edges and wide chaise off one side. Can you imagine someone comparing you to a sleek sexy item?

Made me think about what kind of furniture would I be.

The first picture to pop into my head was a window seat built into a bay window on the south side of a house. Warm sun streaming in, bookshelf built into sides; the seat able to be lifted up to hide and discover whimsical and magical items and books. Cushioned seat, lots of pillows, well-padded, comfy.

The troupes advised me I was visualizing a design element of a building rather than an item of furniture.

"Think "Home Goods" or "Stickley"!"

I promptly flipped them off, followed with "Think This!"

Was that me or was that Bea? Is it possible that the two of us are enmeshing?

Back on-track.

I would be a comfy over-stuffed chair with winged back and high, rounded arms for snuggling into. I know in my heart that I would not be a single color nor would I be a buffalo plaid.

The deep seat cushion would be a bright purple, turquoise and sea green in swirls and capricious geometric shapes. The edges of the cushions would be verticle stripes in the same colors. The overstuffed wings would be covered in purple polka dot on a turquoise background, the arms in a reverse pattern with the turquoise dots of different sizes. There would be 3 pillows; one a bright orange, one a deep purple and one with stars and moons in a dark purple night sky.

I'm thinking there should be a skirt on the chair (to hide dust bunnies and books that don't fit on the two side tables. The skirt should probably be the same vertical stripes as the cushion edges; there should be some control, right?

I would need to be an puffy square ottoman, tufted top matching chair cushion and the full skirting in vertical stripes though I should have piping in the polka dot purple and turquoise.

There is a little debate going on with the crew between fabric types; cotton vs microfiber!  Cotton is a natural fiber, it is soft and durable (sound like me) but it is not fade resistant, will wrinkle and is actually flammable (again, me!) I am already imaging some wrinkles in the cushion and a little natural wear on the arms.

Microfiber on the other hand is comfortable, forgiving, long-lasting and easy to clean (me!) Down-side of microfiber; it is a synthetic!


We're going with cotton!

What piece of furniture are you? Are you a seven piece sectional with several layout options? Could you be a stately four-poster bed with a pillow top and silk canopy?  Maybe you are stained-glass lamp with guilded base and a pull chain with a peacock knob on the end?

Choices

There are times that I question whether Free Will is a gift or a curse!

A dear friend once told me that a dilemma is having to make a decision between two objectionable choices.

The crew and I are right smack in the middle of a dilemma. Mrs. Richardson knows what she thinks is best for us and Bea, of course, has her preference. The rest of the troops are kneeling next to the pool with their heads under water. They are refusing to come up for air until I leap off the fence, committing myself to action, one way or the other.

I'm going to miss them!

Usually, when a decision is to be made, I take a sheet of paper, draw a line down the middle. The left column gets the word:

    Options

At the top of the right column, I write: (yes, I actually use a pen and paper like in the "olde days")

Advantages / Disadvantages

Under options, in this case, are two simple lines:

Make A Big Change.

Make a couple of little changes within the status quo.

Though I have considered a third option:

Don't make any change.

The third line is a cop-out, so I'm hesitant to give it any energy and Bea stomps her foot every time I attempt to write it down.

Act III is not a time to be weak or scared or indecisive but, I have to be honest with you; I don't think Act III is a good time to make any grand booboos either!

So, I ponder the lists in the right column:

Sense of self-worth/

Living in my own integrity/

Pride/

Peace/

Self-Respect/

/Scarey (yes, I am a bit of a coward)

/ Some other stuff

/ and some other stuff

Being a woman who believes in a higher spirit, I could place it all in God's hands but I find that God often expects more from me than I have.  We will definitely have a conversation about expectations on Judgement Day...and timeliness, definitely timeliness!

I could take the spinner out of the box of the Life game in the family room cabinet, make my own little boxes with possible options and give it a spin! I'm not sure that spinner and I ever had much of a relationship, so maybe that's a no.

Maybe a pair of dice! Odds, I Make A Big Change; Even, I make little changes within status quo!  Bill just pulled his head out of the pool long enough to yell out "3 out of 5"!  He's right, I would keep raising the odds to keep myself from making a decision.

A puddle grows around her feet as BabaMara wrings pool water from her skirt. Her face is a little pruney! The crew has been under water way too long!  "You cannot make this decision alone, my love. There needs to be communication, discussion, boundaries set!"

I love BabaMara but she obviously inhaled way too much in the 60's. It seems to have affected her memory. There has been communication, discussion and boundaries!  Yet, her comment does inspire a new column: 

Moving Options to the middle of the page:

Options

New left column:

Needs

Being heard

Being acknowledged

Being respected

Pull your heads out of the water, Peeps! We're jumping off the fence! Looks like Make A Big Change wins!

Get that spinner out and lets see where we're going!

We Don't Get It!

Usual suspects gathered around the pool this morning, waiting for the sun to rise with a blanket wrapped around our shoulders. Our three dogs racing around the yard chasing the sleep away.

We are confused.

While waiting for our tea to brew, we made the mistake of turning the television on to catch up on what's happening in the world.  As I picked up the remote, I heard Bea and BabaMara whispering to each other. Both believed it was a mistake; both were right.

Never start your week off with Domestic Violence vs NFL sanctions....it's ain't right!

Every channel was showing the video of Baltimore Raven Running Back Ray Rice punching the lights out of his then fiance, Janay Palmer. He knocked her unconscious in an elevator and then, instead of getting down on the floor to make sure she was okay, he drags her out of the elevator.

I'm not sure if the average public is aware that all NFL players except Kickers and Quarterbacks are required to lift 225 pounds but the average Running Back lifts between 340 and 360. Can you imagine the kind of wallop those arms can deliver? Ms. Palmer is probably, tops, 150. She is unconscious and the man engaged to "love and honor" her for the rest of her life drags her out of the elevator instead of lifting her and carrying her out to get help.

The Ravens and NFL suspend the poor guy for two games....boy, that'll teach him! That makes a statement to the world, doesn't it? 

This morning the Ravens are saying they didn't see the whole video! They only saw the part of Ms. Palmer laying on the ground, unconscious, with her feet in the elevator door way, while RB Rice paces around. (Do you wonder what was going through his head as his fiance lay unconscious, "Someone call a doctor"? or "Honey, I am so sorry, please be okay"? or "OMG, I've really lost her this time"? or maybe, "Get up, Bitch, before someone sees you and Coach slaps my wrist for being a bad boy"?

Apparently, the world that says it's okay for the good ol' boys in Congress to grab a Congresswoman's belly who has just had a baby and tell her she's getting fat or he likes his women with a little meat on them; the world where female Senators and Congresswomen know which of their workmates to avoid getting on an elevator with; the world that puts rape victims of "asking for it" by the clothes they wear, is up in arms because Roger Goddell, NFL Comissioner only suspended Rice for two games.

By the way, the suspension was only for two "season games". Rice participated in pre-season games and training camp. Goddell is ashamed of the "slap on the wrist" penalty and promises to do better. Any player commtting acts of Domestic Violence in the future will receive at the very least a 6 game suspension to a lifetime ban in the NFL!  Six games to a lifetime ban. Now that's what I call a spread!
I wonder if the "or lifetime ban" was some PR person's last minute, "Hey, add this, it'll sound like we mean business!"

So, Rice sat out a game this week, still worked out with the team, still gets paid (just not for game day) and the poor fellow will sit out next week, too.

We saw the pictures of Ray Rice looking "remorseful" albeit a little smile bespeaks more of his entitlement than remorse.  It appears that Rice's record of DV will be expunged once he finishes a diversion program, so, most likely, the only fine he will have to pay is the two game suspension and a $500,000 NFL fine.

By the way, Rice received $15,000,000 sign on bonus and his average annual salary is $7,000,000. I bet that $500,000 really hurts.


Tom Sims, a comedian out of Arizona once commented, "I heard that women are attracted to bad boys, so every once in a while, I throw a recyclable item into the regular garbage."

That's my kind of bad boy.

The part of this whole thing that we are confused about this morning is the pictures on the reports. It makes us want to cry. The violence of the attack in the elevator, the dragging of an unconscious woman and, mostly, the picture of Ray Rice sitting at a table afterwards, with a little-boy smile on his face, a huge diamond in his ear, in his high end suit, sitting next to his wife. Her head is down, staring at the table, looking lost, Mrs. Janay Rice, the former Ms. Janay Palmer.

That's the part we just don't get. 

"Another Saturday Night....."

"Another Saturday night and I ain't got nobody I've got some money 'cause I just got paid Now, how I wish I had someone to talk to I'm in an awful way"

Okay, maybe this isn't 100 percent true but that tune has been cycling through my mind over and over and actually both versions of it...Sam Cooke and Cat Stevens? 

If I had to have one of these versions stuck in my head for eternity, which one would I choose?....Okay, gotta be Sam Cooke cuz heeeeee sends me, I know that heeeeee sends me......

So, which version do you prefer?

Let's play a game. Do you remember the following songs and who recorded them? Who do your think did the best job?

A Groovy Kind of Love? Diane and Annita(who?) or Phil Collins, hands down Phil Collins, who else could make those lyrics sound so cool and sophisticated. Patti LaBelle and Sonny and Cher also recorded it, though not memorably (is that a word?)

You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling? Righteous Brothers, Elvis Presley, Hall and Oates, Kenny Rogers (I know, he doesn't rate the list but he did record it) and don't forget The Boom Boom Band.

Dionne Warwick recorded it too. Close race between Righteous Brothers and Elvis but I've got to go with the Righteous Brothers...got goose bumps just thinking about it.

Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da? The Beatles, Herb Alpert or Arthur Fiedler and the Boston Pops? I know, No contest. And I don't even like the Beatles!

You Send Me? Back to my dream partner Sam Cooke. Who would be so foolish to try and follow up the best slow-hold-me-tight-honey-and sneak-a-kiss song in the entire galaxy? The Supremes, nice try girls, Steve Miller Band, Richie Havens, Percy Sledge, Michael Bolton, uh, no, and Rod Stewart, which was nice but not Sam, and didn't Chaka Kahn sing it too? Sam where are you?

Crazy? Now Patsy Cline wins this one hands down and Norah Jones comes in a close second but the list of people who didn't record it would be shorter than the list of everyone who did.

Patsy Cline gets my vote for Walkin' After Midnight too.

Am I Blue? Great song, best when alone with a half pint of Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia, flannel jammies, box of tissue and big fluffy pillows. Okay, everyone at the same time....Ethel Waters! But it was also recorded by Fats Domino, Charlie Rich, Linda Ronstadt (was that pre or post Jerry Brown) Bette Midler and when I was a little girl, Gloria Lynne.

Have I lost all you readers under 40 years of age?  Do you even know any of the songs above? 

Try this for a battle of the ages!

Michael Buble or Frank Sinatra? Come Fly With Me

Queen, Diana Krall or Michael Buble? Crazy Thing Called Love

Michael Buble or Paul Anka? Put Your Head On My Shoulder! Paul Anka, because I remember my head on Mike Gardner's shoulder when I was 16 and it felt good...he never could understand why I broke up with him...it might have had something to do with the fact that he wanted to be a priest when he grew up!!!!

Let's Fall In Love? Now tell me that song isn't great no matter who is singing it? Diana Krall, Tony Bennett and, uh, what's his name, oh yeah, Rod Stewart. Its delicious anytime.

Against All Odds (Take a Look at Me Now) Phil Collins, he's the man, Scott Savol, I love his voice; and, eventually, Mariah Carey...get a job, honey!

Cruisin' Now this is a contest and I love Smokey Robinson but I gotta tell ya Gwyneth Paltrow and Huey Lewis harmonized themselves into my heart, any of my kids readin' this, I want the Duets sound track for Christmas.

Speaking of Huey Lewis, what about Little Bitty Pretty One? Doesn't that song just make you want to put a poodle skirt and jitter-buggin' shoes on and cut a rug! Let me see, Bobby Day and the Satellites, Frankie Avalon, The Dave Clark Five (oh yes they did!!!), the Alley Cats, The Dovells (was over quickly), the Jackson 5, yeah, them too! Actually, the Doobie Brothers recorded it, too. I think they tied with Huey! Just a good song to dance to (or mop a floor).

Love Huey Lewis but Frankie Avalon didn't suck....at least that's what my mommy told me (wink wink knudge knudge)

Riding in a Stolen Car (might just be Stolen Car), Patty Griffin, Bruce Springsteen or the Rocking Chairs (?). Sorry you rockers, gotta go with my girl, Patty.

Break On Thru To The Other Side: Doors or Stone Temple Pilots? Doors, baby!!!

Speaking of the Doors, how could I have forgotten L.A. Woman. Billy Idol, The King, Days of the New. THE DOORS! geez' doesn't anybody have a clue?

Takin' It To The Streets, Doobie Brothers, shame on Take 6 for even trying.

Remember Captain and Tenille and Love Will Keep Us Together. So who do like in this one, Neil Sedaka, The Captain and Tenille, The Tubes or Nickleback or DelBo?

Nickleback also did Saturday Night's Alright. The Who, Elton John, Flotsam and Jetsam or Nickleback. Can't answer that one, haven't heard Nickleback sing it but Elton and The Who are pretty close....alright, Elton, no The Who, no Elton...uh, let me think about it.

Tiny Dancer? Elton or Red Hot Chili Peppers. Elton John and he really did do Saturday Night's Alright the best, yeah, yeah, that's my answer and I'm stickin' to it.

Good Day Sunshine? Lampshade or Beatles..Lampshade, what were you thinkin'?

Monday, Monday? Matthew Sweet and Susanna Hoffs or Mamas and Papas. Who can beat Mama Cass's harmonies?

Well, that was a nice little walk down memory lane and I'm still alone but now I truly feel really old and I'm back to humming: "Another Saturday night and I ain't got nobody I've got some money 'cause I just got paid Now, how I wish I had someone to talk to, I'm in an awful way"

Look It Up

Irreverence.

IRREVERENCE

I-R-R-E-V-E-R-N-C-E

My vice of choice, well, not really by choice,  more like vice by birth. I inherited it.

I can't seem to shake it. It's like fly paper. The harder I try to shake it off the more stuck I get and stickiness is a gateway drug to Irreverence.

Okay, to be honest, I really haven't tried to shake it. Not even on the day I got married, been married 4 times but only two husbands. Married the first guy twice..what was I thinking! Married the second guy twice, too, but our last ceremony was a recommittal (OMG..re-committal...boy, could I run with that one!)  At the ring part of the ceremony, with husband #two, when the pastor asks, "What tokens do you have to show?" My husband and I look up at each other with love in our eyes and whisper to each other, "Tokens? Tokens? We don't got to show you no stinkin' tokens!"

(I just love him. For a good catholic boy he is pretty irreverent himself at times!  My husband, not the pastor! Side note: The above # is not a hashtag, I really meant number, though I have hashtagged other adjectives about and to him!)

My sister got a tattoo this year. She and my grandson are Tatt-Buddies and got matching Mustang tattoos. (Fords, WTF! Mustang Sally and Mustang Sal! "Leave the gun, take the cannoli!")

I want a tat, too! (oops, slipped out!) I want a tattoo buddy like my sister but I'm having a hard time deciding on a meaningful tat. No Body (get it? BODY?) wants to get a tat that doesn't mean something, at least, it seems pretty stupid to suffer the pain, scabbing and parting ways with big bucks for a tatoo that has no significance to it, don't you think?

I want it on my lower back, I believe the kids call that a tramp-stamp, but what do they know? They don't even talk to each other without using their thumbs and then it's all LOL, ROVLMAO, IDK, CYBL, TY,  etc. In a hundred years we will have lost our vocal chords but will be able to lift Dodge Rams with our thumbs!

So, back to my tat woes. I can't decide between the word PEACE in subtle rainbow shades or a menacing Glock with the words "Lock and Load" in a curly, frilly font. None of my friends want to be tat-buddies with me and that makes me sad. Of course, I am completely relieved because I don't like pain and I'll throw up if I drink enough to make it not hurt and I'm not fond of throwing up either.

Ah, that's another problem I have, I digress! I'm post menopausal, digressing is a symptom, it snuck up on me. Back to the elephant in the room: irreverence.

I get in trouble because a person can be telling me something really serious, irreverence gene shifts into gear and my face betrays me! Unbeknownst to me, it breaks out in a smile. Honestly, the compassion is there but the irreverence factor kicks in and takes over facial expression and body language.

For instance, a friend of mine had their car stolen from the Quizno's parking lot on Little Eureka Way. They locked it, but it was a really hot day, so they left the windows open!  Seventeen irreverent (but classic) thoughts jump into my mind, you know, the "two cans short of a case" kinds of thoughts. I mean, no one leaves a car parked on Little Eureka Way, let alone with windows down. I know it's Redding and the temperature was a 3-digit-high, but still, hit a drive thru and keep your car! Luckily, he knows my mind cuts checks that my face will cash without proper I.D. He's okay with that!

My mother-in-law has diverticulitis but every time she tells me about her symptoms the irreverence gene whispers things like, "Wow, that's pretty shitty!"

I call the irreverent part of me "Bill", I imagine him in worn levi's, white t-shirt and a pack of cigarettes rolled up in one sleeve of the t-shirt. He doesn't smoke because I would have to kill him and that probably wouldn't be good.  Who would take out the trash or clean the bathrooms? None of the rest of us in here want to be responsible for that shit....oops, see, smile....and I'm dead serious.

Is there a rehab for irreverent people?  Irreverence Annonymous?  "Hi, my name is Toni and I'm irreverent!"

I'm afraid of life without irreverence, to be quite frank. Without irreverence, I might get a case of relevance! Pertinence without impertinence, what kind of world would that be? If I lost my irreverence, people might take me serious and that's not a good creek to be up, with or without a paddle!

Besides, I don't really have a problem. I can stop being irrelevant any time I want!

Really don't have time for rehab anyway, I'm packing for a trip up De Nile river; need to take crocodile wrestling lessons, buy a pith helmet and some straw sandles so I can "walk like an egyptian".  I better get them cheap, too, because I don't want to be e-gypt!

Dragging Beatrice In For A Make Over!

Beatrice marched around the pool this morning, barking at the rest of us about what fools we are.

I have to be honest here. We almost never listen to Beatrice because she is kind of nasty. She yells, she jumps up and down (Richter Scale 4.2) while she rants and raves. She's the one who blasts the car horn when some idiot on their cell phone cuts us off. She's the one steps forward during bad customer service moments and firmly states, "Excuse me, but I believe your humanity batteries up the wrong channel, may I speak to someone with manners!"

We don't experience these outbursts very often; we try to keep her blocked from rising to the surface unless we are alone. Sinthya is the only one who encourages Beatrice to tell it like it is, "Sin tabues, mamacita!"

The crew sat around the pool in a haze of despondent fog as Beatrice went off on us.

"Lower our expectations? Lower our expectations, you can't get any further under a slug, you spineless idiots! Shove those asses of yours into some big-girl panties and start speaking up. You're letting stuff fester and then you blow up at dumb-shit. Look at all of you! You've got dumb-shit all over yourselves!"

Wrinkling her nose and curling her lip, she bellowed at Bill, "Go get us a dead skunk to cover up the stench of this bunch of losers!"

Bill tossed the cigarette he'd been attempting to roll all morning and headed for the gate.

"Where are you going?" Geeze, was that a bark or a bellow?

"To get a dead skunk!"

"Sit down, Bill! Sit!"

Between the insults, the barking and the bellowing, she really did expose some of our "shit" as she calls it.  Slowly, each of us began to witness the truth in what had, at first, seemed to be empty babble.

"Machado! How many times are you going to ask, ever so politely, to be kept in the loop? There is no loop! Get it....NO LOOP!  Go to Walmart and get a hula hoop and loop that!  Make some rules about how you will and will not be treated! Stand your ground! Make your own loop if you want one! "

"Carly-Anne, go create something beautiful! Don't let these whiners stop you from doing what you do best just because they've got their knickers on backwards! Let them take care of themselves!"

"Richardson!  RICHARDSON!....That's right, Mrs. Tension, You, of all people, could have said, "unacceptable" and continued to do your thing, whatever the hell that is, with your uptight suits and spiked pencils? "

Ownership of your faults and short comings is a hard drink to get down. It takes two tablespoons of honey for every teaspoon of acid, but we drank the concoction.  We looked ourselves in the mirror and saw it all....kind of hard not to with Beatrice shoving your nose in it, but, I guess if it works.

After going to our own corners and distilling the "aha's" we came back for a good Coach-Lombardo team meeting. We made some promises and proclamations. We signed some contracts with each other and ourselves. We practiced a couple of  "remedial back-bone" exercises and received a bit of "speak-your-truth" therapy.

Without Beatrice's intervention, we could possibly still be wallowing in CryMeARiverville at the Whiners Bar and Grill.  We owe her.

We're taking her in for a make-over! Yup, we're tossing out the brown pleathor walking shoes and burning the Viking bra. Her little blue dress with the tired pink buttons is history.


Sinthya is demanding that the first items on the list:
1. Eyebrow and upper lip waxing.
2. Toss out the rubber band and bobby pins and give Beatrice's face muscles some relief!
3. Visit to Victoria Secrets

We realize all the icky stuff has been constantly dumped on Beatrice. She's the one who always has to stand the ground; fire at the target; crack the whip; change the tires and check the oil! We've just been along for the ride....she even pushes the car when it's out of gas while we sit inside and bitch about how slow we're going!

Wow! Who knew her hair was so beautiful, down and flowing? BabaMara and Sinthya are teaching her how to french braid. She vetoed make-up and we all agreed, she's beautiful without it.

What do you buy for a skinny woman with DD's, huevos of steel and a lifetime of wisdom?

Dark denim skinny jeans, a kimchi blue tunic top with just the perfect amount of cleavage peeking through the cut lace, sunset-lenses mirrored sun glasses and turquoise Lucchese Kokopelli cowgirl boots just right for kicking butts!

Anarchy At Poolside

The crew is not happy this morning! A whole range of emotions is poolside, anger, frustration, hurt, disgust, even a bit of self-righteous I-told-you-so but Happy is missing!

Mrs. Richardson is indignant! She is not one who likes surprises. She has requested, repeatedly, that she be informed of events that may or may not interrupt our plans.

Ms. Machado's feeling are hurt. She thinks she deserves more respect. She, too, has requested to be kept in the loop and would like an occasional invite to attend at times. Not always, but an occassional, "Hey, would you like to come with me, it would be fun!"

We all agree that a monotone, "You are certainly welcome to attend if you want!" after we have verbalized our dismay is unacceptable.

Hard to read Bill, he just keeps rolling the same cigarette and occassionaly quoting Olivia Goldsmith, "The secret to true happiness is a combination of low expectations and insensitivity!" 

I'm wondering if our expectations can get any lower! Believe me, we are working on the insensitivity!

Carly-Anne is curled up on a lawn chair. Purple and turquoise smears on her cheeks from wiping tears away. One should always wash the paint off your hands before crying! I'll have to talk to her about that, but not right now. I'm wondering if the tears are because of the event or our reaction to the event. 

Speaking of paint, Sinthya is painting her toe nails a bright royal blue and muttering something about "corazon curo" and"pedo desconsiderado" under her breath. When she isn't muttering she is ordering the rest of us to get our shit together because we are going out tonight to "termine de beber toda la bebida!" (my spanish is mucho rusty but I think that last line means "get hammered!")

Beatrice has her "bitch on"!  She is rocking out the I-told-you-so's! I'm  not sure that I've ever described Beatrice to you. She sports a perpetual frown which has welded a deep V in the space between her eyes. She is, maybe 5'2", her hair is grey, but not the beautiful silver-white and wild of BabaMara's but more a dreary salt and pepper, heavy on the salt pulled so tightly into a stingy little bun. A hairstyle one could only describe as stern! She always wears the same grey-blue housedress with sad, tiny pink flowers and tinier pink buttons up the front. The dress would probably fit well if it wasn't for her (as Bill has nicknamed them) "large-tracts-of-land" which she keeps imprisoned in a bra that could only have been designed and built for Viking warfare.  Hence the phrase we use when she is in full combat mode: Beatrice-got-her-knockers-up! The fabric is stretched to the maximum capacity across her bosom and the little pink buttons keep repeating, "I'm giving her all she's got, Captain!"  She has no butt to speak of, her legs are barely more than sticks and, honestly, I've seen more stylish shoes on the nuns at catechism in the 60's. She is a cross between Olive Oyl and Pamela Anderson with Maleficent's charm.

BabaMara is embroidering stars on a small velvet bag, while she sits under the plum tree with her back to us. My impression is that she is a little disgusted that we are all reacting with such depth of emotion. The only thing she said this morning was "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and over again with the expectation of different results!" She also commented that the juice should have less fruit and a little bit more green vegetables and ginger.

She's right, you know!

We do keep observing the same behavior, even participating in it in a very co-dependent, enabler-ish way; then being hurt and angry when the same thing happens again. Funny, "surprise" is never part of the equation, so why should hurt and anger be part of it? AAaaand, there should have been more endive and less pears in the juice!

We DO need to get our shit together!

Miracle Near East Street

The newspaper rustled from behind us.  The Record Searchlight newspaper in hand, Bill read the article outloud.  "Six City of Redding police officers who shot, close range, at a troubled young man, missing him 66 times. A 67th bullet grazed the man's upper arm. He was taken to the hospital, treated and released!"

BabaMara and Sinthya floated in the pool; I sat at the edge, feet immersed in the cool water, sipping a glass of chilled Riesling.  Carly-Anne she sat on the diving board sketching the crew. She wore an x-large, wet Seahawks t-shirt and bikini bottoms. (Someone remind me to ask her where she got her hands on Seattle-wear!).

It is 111 degrees today, yet Mrs. Richardson is wearing a navy blue suit with ivory blouse, reading  Edward Brown's The Time Management Solution. Her legs are crossed and one foot is wagging back and forth a mile a minute...and we didn't even have any coffee today.

Beatrice and Ms. Machado are sitting at the picnic table, under the umbrella. Ms. Machado is flipping through our Etymology Dictionary; Beatrice is intently listening to Bill read the article.

"Those cops shot up the doors, windows, siding of the building and nearby cars! Only one bullet
barely nicked him!"  Bill editorializes as he reads...always!  He continues reading, "the officers involved have all been placed on administrative leave pending further investigation!"

Bill throws his head back and laughs from the belly! I have to admit, his laugh is incredibly contagious. "Administrative Leave, hell, they've probably been condemned to permanent assignment to the nearest shooting range until further notice!"

Barely moving as she floats in the pool, BabaMara's soft but distinctive voice is for the benefit of all so us though she directs it to Bill. "My dear boy, could it be possible that you believe that six trained police officers, firing their semi-automatic guns at a stationary man with a shotgun and missing 66, almost 67 times was due to their lack of talent?"

"Well....yeah! I mean, how could you miss? We can stand on the upper deck at the ranch and hit the water's edge on the spillway dead on, every time, and the spillway is 300 yards from us!'

"Yes, we can! But remember, we are also leaning on the railing, using a rifle and firing at an unarmed water line!"

"BabaMara, those cops shot up everything but the guy and he had a shotgun pointed at them."

At this point in the conversation, Mrs. Richardson slams her book shut and retreats into the house; Ms. Machado quickly flips through the pages of the etymology dictionary, towards the end of the book. (my intuition says she was looking up the roots of  the word "weaponry"...though I'm of the belief that BabaMara would have her looking up "miracle")

"That is exactly what I am talking about, Bill.  The young man, standing on his porch, brandishing a shotgun; correction; unloaded shotgun; was a very decent, gentle, loving man. He had just lost his job and his girlfriend.  His mother came to visit and she was, as Beatrice would describe her, "a real-piece-of-work! His plan was suicide-by-cop. Do you not see that there was some divine intervention during that shoot-out?"

Carly straightens so quickly pencils roll off the diving board, into the pool. "Do you mean it was a miracle, BabaMara?"

Sinthya, who was in the middle of a turn as she swam laps, dove down to retrieve the pencils.

Carly's eyes seem to be popping out of her head as she chews on a pencil in her hand. My head nods up and down. Bill and Beatrice shake their heads back and forth.

"Old Woman,"  (Careful, Beatrice, don't tread on BabMara.)  "Are you telling us that God reached down and blocked those bullets, "faster than a speeding bullet," like Superman?"

Sinthya rises from the depths of the pool, hands Carly the two dripping pencils and finishes the turn to continue her laps. "No, not Dios! He sent Santo Miguel to, to, how do you say desvio? Yes, to detour the balas, uh, bullets! El Arcangel Miguel is our protector and he is also the patron of the policia!"

And with that, BabaMara closed her eyes to float, Sinthya continued her laps, Carly looked up at the sky. Bill and Beatrice moved close together to read another page of the paper and I made the sign of the cross. Thank you, Santo Miguel, for your intervention.

Michael by Wen-M