LOOKIN' GOOOOOOOOOOD

It’s tough being a woman in a woman’s world.
Why is it that a woman, girl, babe, can walk in front of a mirror and see F.L.A.W.S.--yet a man with a beer belly, not enough hair on the head, too much in the nose, double chin, aging hands, and/or any stage of varying degrees of imperfection look into the same mirror and say “loookin’ goooooooood!”…and quite mean it?
To all my sistas who:
Have a bit of gray at the templeA little bit of cellulite on the thighsA laugh line or twoA butt that fell, or a A bust that went from 36 C to 32 long….
UNITE! Let’s don’t look in the mirror…let’s look at each other and say--
“LOOOOOOOKIN’ GOOOOOOD!!!”
….and for those of you who are at your prime…well power to you GF…flaunt it while ya got it and catch up with us later. We’ll be waiting on you…we’re the ones with beautiful eyes and kind faces as we redefine sexy ….a tummy that pooches because we’ve born 1 or 3 kids, a lingering gaze--with creases--that rests upon the daughter of your daughter, and soul that runs deep enough to know what lookin’ good really means…deep enough…. to quite mean it!

DANG 101

When I graduated from high school I hardly even said the word butt. College certainly changed that and my cussing habits got a little out of hand. When I had my children, I stopped cussing and started biting my fingernails. Then I started letting those bad words slip more and more as they got to be teenagers…(mostly under my breath and outside behind the pecan tree)…but nevertheless, I let the habit creep up on me again.
Most years, my resolution was to quit. I don’t do it that much anymore because it’s important to me that I have better control of myself and let beauty grace my lips.
So, I came up with Dang 101, which simply put is to see how many ways can you say dang.
First of all, and most simply.
Dang.
I challenge you. Let your mind get a little creative and give it a whirl.
DANG. Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaang. Danguh. Hecky Dang. Dang It. Dangggggit. Gosh Dang. Gosh Darn Dang. Ding Dang. Well I’ll be dang. Well, I’ll JUST BE DANG. Whoooohoooodang. Dangahangadangdangdang. Dippity Dang. Dang Ya’ll. Frickin Dang. Dang a Mercy. And my favorite of all. Damn Dang. Oops!

SHOPPING AT MY HOUSE

Well poop
I’m pretty sure I placed fifth in the HGTV home giveaway. That prize includes:
1. winner winner chicken dinner2. watching, live, from Florida….the person who won first3. and playing shopping at home game…see below
The economic climate looms over us all. I think for the most part, our country has enjoyed a plentiful season over the past years and the thought of an uncertain future is scary.
When I get a little blue and think I don’t have enough, there is a thing I do called “shopping at my house.” It goes something like this. Find your beginning point and work your way around the room you have selected and pretend you could have anything in the room you want as if you don’t.
Example: My purple living room.
I begin at the front door where Brian with his own two hands removed the partitions so that our friends could linger with their good-byes more comfortably. On to the antique china cabinet that I bought about 25 years ago for next to nothing in Guymon, Oklahoma--inside it are six lidded pumpkin bowls that I like to serve the first soup of the fall—my purple 100 year old rocker--next three large picture windows where I can see my great big pine tree sway in the wind--that now have quite a few little baby handprints where someone is waiting for someone to drive into the driveway-- one very large carved wooden angel Brian bought me for my birthday—my blue Herend rabbits with the droopy ears..one big one, two middle ones and one baby one--the chair that I bought from Coretta Ralston and had recovered in cheetah linen--an oil on canvas called “The Director’s Chair” that was given to me by my friend Debbie Hagerman because I told her I liked it—a large pedestal that we bought at an auction for a dollar that has a vase of flowers in front of a mirror--my large, cushy, ruby red lipstick couch!!!!--the small spot on my border that was left by what I thought was a very large miller that turned out to be a bat that Trent took to show and tell--the grandfather clock that will someday belong to Charles--the glass curio cabinet my mother bought Grace when she was born currently filled with our collection of sextants, compasses, and kaleidoscopes--the large wooden giraffe Brian traded for soap while he was in Africa—a picture of leaves from our trip to New England to celebrate our five years of marriage--the water color painted by Koko the Gorilla that looks like a pink heart that was my gift to Brian one Valentine Day--my cello resting on his piano. And probably my favorite thing of all…the paint by number picture of Brian and me that I cut in half one sad day. If you look closely, you can see barely see the gray tape on the backside holding it together. We all know how strong that gray tape is.
So you get the idea…don’t spend your time sitting and wishing and hoping for things and stuff. Go on a journey around your own house and take a moment to remember how much you wanted all the stuff you already have before you got it. It’s a big fat lie that you can have it all, but it’s a big fat truth that you can have a lot!

MR. SMARTY PANTS

If I could find you Mr. Smarty Pants, you wouldn’t feel so smart when I got through with you.
You have messed around where you shouldn’t be messing…in my computer and I imagine from some place very far away..maybe India.
It took me a week or so to realize it was you. At first I thought I just had a sniffle from all the forwards and surveys about “me in one word” my peep Paula sends me all the time. And then strange things began to happen. A different look on my monitor. My documents disappearing while I was gone to town. My whole system shutting down. Why, there was even one day that my TV channel changed by itself. Did you do that too?
I just want you to know that what goes around comes around Mr. SP. Believe me…if I know anything I know that! And I may not be the one to give you what you have coming, life’s not fair that way…but someone will.
You might have a flat tire in the snow and no one will stop…or a mouse poop in your green curry chicken….or someone might get your credit card number from your dumpster and when you go to pay for that sexy pleather jacket, you will be declined in front of a long line of cute girls...or you may be doing the SNL walk all over the mall and be so sure everyone is looking at you because you're so cute and check yourself in the mirror only to find the reason they are looking is because one lense is out of your cool sunglasses. Count on it. You will live the frustration you have given me. And I’m ok that I don’t get to see it because I know it will happen.
I sit here smug as a bug in a rug at my newly secured PC and smile thinking about how you will get what you got coming Mr. Smarty Pants.

PISS N VINEGAR

Too much beer, not enough beef jerky. Lips and words lacking grace. One small thought that has nothing to do with anything crescendos into an ugly soliloquy that is unnecessary and quite dumb. Funny….all that piss and vinegar comes pouring from two hearts that at their core love…love very much and very deeply. How? It makes little sense, except that maybe sometimes you just say stuff to cleanse the gutter so the whole house can look better. One thing I know…the opposite of love is not hate…it is indifference. Another thing I know...I love that man!

A FORTUNATE KOOKIE

I got a fortune in my cookie that says, “You will become an accomplished writer”…cool…because since I’m the editor of online newspapers and since I have absolutely no formal training other than Mr. Mitchell’s English IV class…I might need that piece of good fortune to come my way.

I am an entrepreneur and I have done a lot of things. I have raised ostrich, I have sold exotic animals via worldwide satellite, I have owned and operated a bed and breakfast, I have owned an art gallery and offered the fine world of art to my tiny town, and several other entrepreneurial things…but you know? This is the best!

I love to write and while I do possess fundamental skills on how a person should write and talk, the best thing I have going for me is my imagination.

I want what is written in my HPOs to do some good in the world of the people who read it. Plant the right kind of tree for our zone, catch a criminal, get a stray dog adopted into a loving home, give some folks a laugh….you know…be accomplished.

I have that fortune taped to my monitor and I read it every day. I’m glad that my kookiness has paid off and that I can consider myself “accomplished” simply because I have a fortune that tells me so…every day.

And just so you’ll know…when the flowers bloom there will be great joy in my life. Oh good.

MELANCHOLY MIDDLE

I cried a river more than once before my last one left for college. I have been a mother a very long time and I admit, not that great of one in the cooking category, but certainly right up there in the loving category.

My experienced friends told me that when she came home for the holidays I would be glad when she left and I just politely smiled and said no way…NO!WAY! Her Christmas break was 40 days. Lent is 40 days. Jesus was tempted 40 days…why do all tests seem to be 40 days?

She left Friday and I am caught somewhere in the middle of glad and sad.
After tripping over her laundry that she has left in a pile for me to do; after getting the gripe out for getting up early to exercise, dress, and begin my day too loudly and before noon; after the 18 year old routine that I have lived without for 5 months…yep…it’s time for her to go.

Someone was right and it wasn’t me.

I’m not sad about her leaving, I’m sad about the fact that things have really and permanently changed. This will never really be her home again, at least not in the same way. That unsettled feeling, not ready to stay, but nowhere really to go. That change is just one of those things in life you never really get quite prepared for…they slip up on you even though they’re glaring with a red blinking sign…curve up ahead. Sentimental sadness for the way things were because they were so very good and scary excitement for life ahead because of the potential for all it will be.

Life is good like that.

LIFE IS A RIDE

My sister loved Fredrick John Meno IV more than I’ve ever known her to love someone. She married him. He cheated on her and she divorced him. She says today she wishes she’d been more patient during their reconciliation.
I stood beside her at the Tarrant County Courthouse while the judge dissolved her marriage with the tap of his gavel. I went with her to her house to get a few things to come stay with me for a day or two after. I wrote on Fred’s mirror in her red lipstick the following words: “Losing you as a brother is truly one of the saddest days of my life.” We left.
Tracy met Tim and they have Claire and Mary and Eleanor and Joseph.
Life is like the Tilt-a-Whirl…you stand in line to ride. You do your level best to lean a certain way to make the ride spin fast enough to take your breath away. The out of control motion scares you half to death. You laugh but sometimes it spins so fast it makes you sick. It’s over. You tumble out and if you are brave, you rush down the ramp and stand in line to ride it again.
The Tilt-a-Whirl is my favorite ride.

JIMMY YANG WANG

Twinkle lights under 3 inches of snow. Blazing Pinon Fire. Bottle of Nobilo. Brian showing Betty all of her Christmas presents--modeling her hot pink tutu included. Jimmy Yang Wang busting out of a full Nelson from a no-name Atilla the Hun Wannabe with sequin camo and fluff boots on the new 52” plasma. Winter?... Priceless!

BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR

Behind the green door…..didn’t know until I googled it…(dontcha just love google?) that Behind the Green Door is a porno flick…

Not so in my house…all adult activity is above bored….oops. Freudian Slip….

This summer I painted my front door a mix between green and blue over the existing color and ended up with somewhat of a turquoise crackled over red and wallah….my new favorite color.

Really, I read somewhere years ago that one was supposed to paint your front door your very most favorite color of all time no matter what that color is, and the reason is this….it’s the first thing you see when you walk up to your house from say…

A hard day at work

A fun day of golf

A scary day at the doctor

A long day away

Or leaving your last baby at a college far far away….

Well…you get the idea…and so that color, your favorite of all time, is meant to welcome you home, to greet you in style, to say a great big HELLO TO THE HOUSE, your house, your porch, your front door…and all that lies behind and within it. Which in my case….is turquoise… and may or may not be…boring!

THE BIRD HAS THE WORD

I once had a dove that came to my pond and he was Chris Laddoux. His song was so apparent in his little dove voice…(there was no mistaking it)….Chris Laddooooux…Chris Laddooooux…When I was telling one of my friends about him she informed me that Chris Laddoux was in fact…dead…ok…so it was Chris Laddoux coming to my pond and as dove angel… what’s so bizarre about that?

He was only here that one summer, but I have witnesses!

Which brings me to this summer and my pair of peacocks.

My across the street neighbor kids named them Lola and Mr. Cutie Pie. Peacocks can live over 70 years and I’ve read, mate for life. In my yard..they might as well. There are no others besides them.

Lately Mr. Pie has taken to roaming outside the backyard. He flies (if you can call his cumbersome hop, skip, and jump, “ flight”) over the house, into the alley, into the front yard, and has even begun to wander down the street. Lola does not. She stays put…stable, strong, predictable….there and happy to be.

But when Mr. Pie. wanders, she calls for him-- it’s really not hard to imagine her words. They go something like this.

“Come home,” she coos. Mr. Pie answers from the alley…”I will.” “Now”says Lola. He says “I will”…she says “I want you to come home,” and in just a few minutes…here he is, back, and pecking the grass right beside her. She has gently grabbed him from beyond. Their calls to each other are enchanting.

Perhaps Cutie suffers from wanderlust…maybe he doesn’t know a thing I know as an outsider looking in.

 The “outside the boundary animals” do not serve his best interest

 She is the only peacock around for many many miles ~he better be dang grateful he has her

 In his backyard, the grass is very green and there are peanut treats and cheerios to boot

 Loving one peacock all your life is a very very worthy goal…if you can do it, you are a fine bird
I admire her. She is a regal and beautiful creature who has taught me more since she’s come into my life than many other things. Patience. Humility. Cajoling. Confident and strong enough to say…”I’m for you and you’re for me…so get on back to where you belong…NOW!”

Dontcha just love nature?

YOU KNOW WHEN YOUR NEST IS EMPTY

• ...when your dishwasher has 8 wine glasses

• 2 knives to cut up fruit to put in your wine glasses so they'll be festive

• one baby bottle brush used for cleaning mushrooms

• and one pan for your One Pan Dandy Supper..with mushrooms~
  

One Pan Dandy1 pan
1 pound of some kind of meat
1 package of fancy noodles
1 thing of some kind of sauce...soup? sour cream? wine?
1 lid
and don't forget the clean mushrooms!
Fry, simmer, stir, blend, and serve...with a nice glass of crisp white with 2 fresh strawberries and a little umbrella if it's Friday.

FRIDAY NIGHT FOOTBALL

Friday night football is big stuff in the Texas Panhandle. It’s the biggest baddest funnest stuff there is. It drives the economy, the social circles, and the future of many.
I was a cheerleader as a senior when my team went to the state play offs…the only time ever. Coach Sherwood changed our colors from “stately purple” to “just try and stop me lavender”. What a brave thing he did. We played well into December and let’s just say that little lavender cheerleading outfits aren’t knit for frosty weather!
I do have fond memories, but my Friday nights have evolved and I’m glad about it. When my brothers graduated, I was so thankful that I didn’t HAVE to go to the games anymore. One thing I do miss though, are the smells of cigar and popcorn floating together in the crisp fall air.
Today, Friday night football is still the best, just different--I’m no less a fan. I turn on my TV to Channel 6 where the game is broadcast live from KXDJ. I sit by my backyard pond with my friends who share my fairweather lack of athleticsupportedness, sip a nice glass of Kim Crawford, and listen to the sounds coming from just down the street. The bands playing their fight song when their team scores, the crowd cheering, the bits and pieces of the announcer when the wind turns just right, and a nice fire in the chiminea if the weather justifies. Perfect…a little bit of this, a little bit of that…ah Friday night football--a toasty fire, sauvignon blanc..and TGIF!