Aging gracefully, or Not

Nutsrok

‘Push’n 50, but ya still got it!!’

When I was a kid, there were a lot of things I wanted to ask old people, but didn’t have the nerve. I’ll post some of them, since I have some “old friends” who have answered some of them for me. If you have questions, send them in and I’ll try to get some answers for you, too.

1. Do old people still have sex? Sure, thanks to pharmacology, if they can find someone willing, able, and blind or demented enough.

2. Why do old people drive so slow and park crazy? Most of them are retired and it doesn’t matter how long it takes them to park. Just be glad they didn’t scrape your fender on the way in to that space. They may have neck and back pain and stiff joints.

3. Why do old people dress so crazy? Why do…

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Our Awful Friends Part 6

Grandma Awful was never seen outdoors, but I saw Grandpa Awful twice a day on his walk toward town.  Mother warned me never to speak to him, but she could have saved her warning.  Had he spoken to me, I’d have run like a rabbit.  He was a little scary looking with red-rimmed eyelids and continuously watering eyes.  His lower lids stretched out of shape like the elastic in droopy underwear and gave me the creeps.  I was convinced his bright blue eyeballs were about to pop out, an event I dreaded but didn’t want to miss.  I was also sure his pants would drop off sometime as he scuffed by our house.  His behind had dwindled away to nothing and no one seemed have thought to buy him smaller trousers.  If that wasn’t charming enough, as often as not he’d peed his pants and left them unzipped.

Mother told me he was nearly blind, so I felt free to stare to my heart’s content.  I was mystified that he managed so well with his cane.  A few hundred yards from our house, he left the red-dirt road and followed the railroad track to town. Though I’d never been fortunate enough to travel down the railroad track, I knew from the other kids there was a high trestle to be negotiated near town.  I was always a bit surprised to see him pass our house again in the afternoon on the way home.  Occasionally, on our trips to town, We’d see Grandpa Alford sitting in front of West’s Barber Shop or the Pool Hall.  Mother made it clear hanginging out at the Pool Hall was bad, though she never actually said anybody was going to Hell.  She wouldn’t have actually said Hell, anyway.  She’d have said The Bad Place.  The Pool Hall looked dark, mysterious, and spooky.  I desperately wanted a peek inside, but it was not to be.

Grandpa Awful was reknowned for his incredible tales, multi-layer creations mostly concocted on no more than a teaspoon of truth.  Despite has reputation, he could be very convincing, causing great embarrassment to anyone foolish enough to believe him.  One morning Daddy was cleaning a large catfish when Grandpa Awful passed by.  They discussed the fish, the weather, and passed a few minutes in conversation before Grandpa went on his way.  Not too long afterward, a couple of fellows pulled up in a truck, hopped out, and asked to see Daddy’s catfish.

“It’s in the house in a sink of cold water.  Why do you need to see it?” He asked.

“Old Man Alford said you caught a catfish so big its head weighed forty pounds,” one of them answered.  “We wanted to see it before you cut it up.”

“Fellows, you’ve been shellacked.  It was a nice fish, but it didn’t weigh but eight pounds.”

 

 

Afternoon Funny

Nutsrok

Did you hear about the $3,000,000 Kentucky State Lottery? The winner gets $3 a year for a million years.

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“Daddy,” a little boy asked his father. “How much does it cost to get married?” “I don’t know, son. I’m still paying for it.”

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Talent does what it can, genius what it must. I do what I get paid to do. What is the thinnest book in the world? “What men know about women.” What do you call a woman who works as hard as a man? Lazy. What not to say to the nice policeman: I can’t reach my license unless you hold my beer. What is the difference between a sofa and a man watching Monday Night Football? The sofa doesn’t keep asking for beer.

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Our Awful Friends Part 5

Little Becky soon grew into her heritage and joined her roving brothers. Of course, being smaller, she tired sooner and was apt to be left somewhere along the way.  Mrs. Awful didn’t need to worry.  Without fail, some mother was sure to dispatch Becky home if she lingered too long.  One unfortunate day, we suffered a sewer malfunction at our house.  Daddy was hard at work digging out the sewer line when he noted Becky behind him, making mud pies in the mess he’d left.  He wasn’t particularly enjoying his work that day and howled for Mother to get Becky out of there.  Mother sprayed Becky with the water hose and walked her home herself, figuring that was the best way to contain the mess and cut down on her own laundry.  She handed her off to Mrs. Awful, who commenced yelling for the boys who were supposed to be watching Becky.  Mother didn’t linger for coffee.

A couple of days later, Mother looked out to see Little Becky sitting in our sand pile, still wearing the same unlaundered clothes she’d been wearing on her last visit.  Again, Mother delivered her home.  After that, whenever Becky lingered too long in our yard, Mother would have Phyllis return her, fearing the unsupervised child would wander into the pasture and be kicked by a horse or fall in the pond. For some reason, she was grudging about taking on the care of another toddler since she had plenty of her own.

I know Mother chose Phyllis to return Becky because she could resist the lure of the Awful’s since Billy and I had made it clear we yearned to join their traveling circus.  We were always denied permission to “go see the Awfuls” or ramble with them. One fine day, I caught Mother napping on the sofa and whispered a request.  “Can I go play with Jamey?”

She snored, “Uhhhhhh” at me and I knew I’d hit pay dirt.  Their house was a wonderland.  A sycamore grew adjacent to the front porch.  We skittered up the tree and climbed in through a mangled attic window.  From there, we crawled through the dusty attic and dropped through the attic access into their grandma’s closet.  Until we dropped in on Grandma, I had no idea she existed.  Deep in a nap, she awoke screaming, to the kid’s delight.  We fled, leaving the house through a hole in the living room floor.  Of course, Mama Awful was unhappy to have her soaps interrupted by a bunch of wild kids.  We had traversed the entire house without using a door.  We made two or three such passes before Phyllis appeared at the door to fetch me home.  She took great pleasure in telling me how much trouble I was in for going to the Awfuls without permission.  Naturally, when I got home, I was able to make Mother remember my request to go. I escaped that time, but she made it clear she had to be awake before giving permission for anything else.  I was also pre-threatened not to awaken her unless a kid was bleeding or something was on fire.  She had a bad attitude.  In the future, when she took her rare naps, all requests had to go through Phyllis, meaning they were met by a resounding “NO!”  It was a rotten deal.

 

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I Love Sally!

What’s in a Name by Sally Cronin

I loved this book by Sally Cronin so much.  I had been awaiting its release since I’d read several of her name stories in her Smorgasbard WordPress Blog.  She took ordinary people and made them fascinating, extraordinary people and made them approachable.  She even made me admire to ethics of an assassin., though somehow that just doesn’t seem right! I do hope Sally intends to get busy and finish out the alphabet!

Amazon Review by Linda Bethea

This review is from: What’s in a Name? (Kindle Edition)

I rushed to buy this as soon as I saw it was released. I have read and loved Sally’s books before and this one did not disappoint. Read it through in one sitting. I loved the crooks and twists. The characterizations are wonderful. Do yourself a favor and grab this one, but I doubt you’ll get much done once you start!

http://uk.linkedin.com/in/sallycronin1

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I have also read and enjoyed Odd Job Girl, Sam, and Tales from the Garden.  Please check out Sally’s Books.

 

 

Today Is The First Day

Sunday Snickers from JustCruising2

 

Sunday snickers

Revenge edition

Mildred, the church gossip, and self-appointed
monitor of the church’s morals, kept sticking her
nose into other people’s business.

Several members did not approve of her extra-
curricular activities, but feared her enough to
maintain their silence.

She made a mistake, however, when she accused
George, a new member, of being an alcoholic after
she saw his old pickup parked in front of the
town’s only bar one afternoon.

She emphatically told George and several others
that everyone seeing it there would know what he
was doing.

George, a man of few words, stared at her for a
moment and just turned and walked away. He didn’t
explain, defend, or deny. He said nothing.

Later that evening, George quietly parked his
pickup in front of Mildred’s house… and left it
there all night.
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Comments are always welcome.

Our Awful Friends Part 5

The fallout from the birthday party continued when Mr. Awful got home and heard the sad saga of the missing birthday shoe.  Loss of a shoe was a weighty matter in that time.  Many families usually got shoes in the fall and perhaps a pair of sandals or tennis shoes in the summer to get kids through till serious shoe season in the fall.  I suspect this may have been true at the Awful’s as well, since he bellowed at the kids and put them to searching for the lost birthday shoe.

Naturally, they returned to the last place the shoe was seen, the pigpen adjoining our property. They truly searched for a few minutes, this time not harassing the pig family.  Before long, their inherent high spirits overcame them and they began sliding in the black mud and manure mixture created by the pigs.  They were so joyous in their search, we watched enviously, begging Mother to let us join in the fun.  Unreasonably, she refused, though she did join us in watching their fun.  They cavorted in the ever-increasing slime till the entire pig pen became one enormous excremental slide, spread universally over the entire lot, erasing all the hills and valleys the pigs had carefully constructed for their wallows.  From a running start, the kids could skid from one end to the other, spraying slop high on either side as they flew by us.  The squealing pigs fled from one end to the other as the slimy kids approached them.

I have never been more jealous.  Eventually, it occurred to Mr. Awful no one had returned with the missing shoe.  He was reunited with his filth-encrusted children and shrieked his disappointment to High Heaven.  “You kids better find that shoe or I’m gonna tear you up!”  To demonstrate his intent, he picked a wispy weed and smacked his own leg, demonstrating the beating they could expect.  I suspect those poor kids had never heard such a threat, since they set up a wail and started diving into the slop in earnest, eventually uncovering the filthy lost shoe near the feed troughs.  I couldn’t tell a lot of difference in the search and what they’d been doing before, except that they squalled all during the real search, as Mr. Awful periodically shouted threats and swatted his leg with the switch to terrify them back into action.  Altogether, it was a wonderful show.