Ms Allaneous

Cristie, my baby daughter was digging through old pictures and found this one of me, circa 1984.
It was Halloween night and Suz and I were going to meet some friends at the Sunshine Saloon for their annual adult costume party, a first for me. A few days earlier, someone had asked what kind of costume I was going to wear. I had no clue, but told them it would some miscellaneous creation, which put an idea in my head to be Ms Allaneous.

My sister Phyllis, (Lois) had given me that red dress, which was floor length, made from a fluid stretchy knit fabric quite popular in those days. It was also very form fitting, cut to give a girl the image of a very curvy body. In those days, I had the tiny waist and curvy hips but lacked anything "outstanding" in the bosom department. That was easily fixed by borrowing one of my Mom's D cup bras, sewing tucks in the band to fit snugly around my chest and filling those enormous cups with undies and socks and fiberfill. I pushed those fillers under and around my own boobs until I had a cleavage to die for, stretching that knit bodice to it's max, emphasizing my tiny waist and curvy hips. I was HOT! I looked in the mirror and decided that boobs that great needed a little nipple showing, which two perfectly placed cotton balls accomplished. Suz was laughing her butt off at body I had worked so hard to create.

Since I knew the whole point of the evening was to look as ridiculous as possible, I completed the costume with a multi colored, curly clown wig, a plastic necklace to match the wig, long white gloves, finished off with every colored bracelet I could beg, borrow or steal... which was six or eight. Next came the makeup, piled on as heavy and thick as I could muster, finished off with thick black false eyelashes and a painted-on black "beauty mark". I looked garish as hell and I loved it! Last came the Ms Allaneous banner and the spiked heels. The only thing missing was a tiara, which I couldn't find. Suz wore a wonderful clown costume shown in the picture below. Neither of us looked like ourselves..................mission accomplished.

Suz and I knew the Saloon would be packed that night, so we finished with our costumes and left for Boise around 8:00 PM, earlier than we would normally make out entrance. We laughed and joked all the way to town, high on the anticipation of the fun to come. And boy, howdy, did we have fun! Neither of us were much into drinking....it was the adult conversation, dancing, and meeting new people that we always looked forward to on our girls night out.

When we arrived, the party was going full swing. And, the costumes were amazing! We always liked to sit at the bar, closest to the entrance, so that we could see and hear everything going on from the best vantage point. In fact, we were there frequently so the bartenders always saved those first two bar stools for us. We took our seats, ordering the first of maybe two drinks for the night, waiting for whatever might happen. Only a few of our crowd of friends actually knew who we were which made it easy for the two of us to be as silly and outrageous as we liked. No one came into that bar without being greeted by us.........we'd sort of became the official greeters to all of the regulars and were always surrounded by a group of people, laughing, joking or dancing our legs off to the music of a very good band.

The room was dimly lit, as most bars are, hiding our imperfections most of the time. As the evening wore on, Suz leaned over to me and, giggling, said, "Dort, don't look now, but that guy over there with the cowboy hat is lusting over your body. He can't take his eyes off that cleavage you created for yourself." "Really", I said. "I guess I'll have to pour on a little charm, wit and personality and see what happens." Nonchalantly, I turned, looked him in the eye and mouthed a "Hi" and little wave. He seemed embarrassed and turned away.

You know, how sometimes you can just "feel" that someone wants something from you. Well, I just "knew" that cowboy was dying to get me out on the dance floor for one of those slow, hold-you -close, dances, except it wasn't me he was interested in, it was my chest he was longing to feel against his. Now, though they looked soft and cuddly under that soft, silky fabric, they were not...those size D wonders. All that stuffing had given them the feel of an overfilled basketball. I knew it and Suz knew it, but..........the cowboy didn't.

The band was Rockin' and Rollin' and I was dancing a lot. Every time some guy asked, and we walked past that cowboy, I could feel his eyes following me. Finally, they slowed down to a belly rubber song and Suz said, "I'll bet he asks you to dance on this one" as she went off to dance with a friend. Sure enough! As soon as she left, there he was. "Would you like to dance?"he asked. "I would love to." I said, as he held out his hand and led me to the floor. The first few steps of the dance were modest but it didn't take him long to tighten his arm around my waist and pull me in for the "feel". The look on his face was priceless as I looked up, innocently smiling into his face, just as Suz, who was dancing next to us, burst into hysterical laughter, bending to her knees. What could I do, but follow suit. Through bursts of uncontrollable giggling, I managed to tell him I needed to sit down, trying to apologize for my outrageous behaviour. He knew he'd been caught at his game and quickly left the bar for greener pastures.

Suz and I couldn't quit laughing and other women, who apparently had encountered this guy in other hangouts, were coming up and laughing with us. We heard comments like, "It's about time someone put that jerk in his place, he thinks he such a gift to women." and "You go, girl!"
Women can be such bitches when the need arises.

That was the first and last time I ever went somewhere incognito, and let it all hang out. We had a fabulous time at that Halloween party. And, I don't regret a minute of it. Thanks, Cristie for helping to bring that memory back. I'm hearing Suz's laughter again and enjoying every minute of it.

COME ON DORT, LET'S PARTY! (SUZ)

When I Think of This, I Laugh

Ever have those moments when you're doing something (or maybe nothing) and, out of nowhere, you remember something that makes you laugh out loud?

I've had several of those thoughts lately. Don't know why, but here we go........

• When we were in Junior High School, my twin sister Dolores (the Clone) was jealous of the fact that I had 36" hips and hers were only 34". (She told me this years ago) She is NOT jealous anymore!! And, my hips aren't 36 inches anymore either. LMAO

• On the day of my Mom's funeral, at the dedication of her grave site, four folding type chairs, connected/welded together, were placed for me and my three sisters to sit upon during the ceremony. Along with it being a somber and sad occasion for us, it was also cloudy and rainy that day in October. Many, many people had gathered to pay their last respects, standing silently as the four of us took our places in the provided chairs next to the grave. We had only been seated for less than a minute, when the connected chairs, carrying the weight of four fluffy sisters, started to sink into the soft, wet earth beneath us. That was the fastest any of us had moved in many years prior to, or the years since. As heartbroken as we were to have to say goodbye to Mom, we all laughed at this unexpected "happening". It was one of the few light moments of the day and I know Mom was giggling with us.

• During our early growing-up years, the Clone and I were as different as night and day. I couldn't get enough of fun and games, while she would spend most of her days in the house, organizing and cleaning everything she could get her hands on. When she babysat, or whatever, to earn some cash, she would save it, while I would spend my earnings as fast as I could run to the nearest store, or movie, or skating rink. The fun things! When we got to Junior High, like all other girls of that age, we wanted to wear the latest fashion in clothes, shoes, makeup, hair and shoes. THE most popular clothing item in those years was the "Little Love" sweater, made by Janzen. Everyone wanted to own one of every color available. However, that sweater was expensive. For most of us, it was closer to a dream than reality. Dolores, managing to save her money, bought at least two of them. I don't remember the exact number, but one of them was Heather gray. Somehow, I managed to be the first person to wear this valuable little piece of knitted wool. It happened to be a weekend; Dewe was not home when I adorned myself with the "Little Love" and went about my activities for the day, feeling like a million dollars. When I arrived home from my adventures, I walked into the kitchen, not even thinking of my intrusion into her personal property. She happened to be slicing a loaf of bread at the time, took one look at me and that sweater enhancing my perky little "nubbins" and immediately turned into Freddy Kruger.
  Oops! I knew I was in deep doo doo as I sank to my knees, begging for mercy as that bread knife she held rose to the full height of her arm. We had experienced our moments of sibling rivalry, but I knew I had committed the unforgivable sin. I had been the first to wear her brand new sweater and she was literally going to kill me! The look of pure terror on my face must have overpowered her anger, for the next thing I knew, she was laughing hysterically at me and at herself. Whew, that was close but I learned very quickly, asking permission is the only way to go. We've never had a cross word in the fifty years since then. And, today, she would give anyone in need the shirt off her back.

Wasn't that an edifying bit of trivia? Let's hear your out-of-the-blue moments of laughter.

Good night and good laughs to all.......................................

The Christening

This is my brother, Bill (William Lowell, to be exact) circa 1955. He was 15/16 years old....yes, I said fifteen or sixteen. Now you may think that's a little young to be an enlisted man in the United States Army Paratroopers and you would be correct, except for one thing. This young man is Bill, who has always been a "try something new" person for as long as I can remember.

By the time he was fifteen, he'd had all the farm life he could stand. He was done milking cows, repairing equipment, (since he was old enough to walk), hoeing beets, planting potatoes, slopping hogs and all the other chores required by a large family to keep a small farm running. It was a hard life and Bill was ready to head-out to see the world. School was not his cup of tea, although his mind is like a trap, capturing more knowledge and understanding of more things than anyone I've ever known. He is a very interesting man; also very determined, which is why he somehow managed to change every record about himself that ever existed, to make him a year older than he actually happens to be, which in turn got him into the US Army. That, and a lot of pleading and good reasoning to persuade my Mom, who finally gave in and signed the consent papers. And, as a note of interest...........He is, to this day, legally one year older than his twin sister, Lois. (Wilma Lois, to be exact, Phyliss for fun).

Today's blog, however, is not about Bill's Army career, it is about a time a few years earlier. It is, in fact, about the year we moved from the farm into Pocatello, after the death of our father. The reason for the move is another story for another time but I will say this much; the move came about quickly and without much notice.

Having been raised on the farm, where life was, by today's standards, very backward and unsophisticated, we kids were a very, very long way from being worldly. Mom cooked on an ancient stove, water was hauled from a pump and heated on that same stove for cooking, cleaning, and bathing. As I've mentioned before, this farmhouse was three rooms and a path and as plain as an unsalted soda cracker.

Well, when the day arrived for the move to be made, Bill was in the boondocks somewhere in the hills, tending sheep for someone, living in what was basically a covered wagon. He was, at best, thirteen years old and since he had no way of communicating with us on a regular basis, he had no idea about the move that was about to happen.

I don't recall the packing and actual move, but I do remember seeing that "mansion" in the city for the first time. It was huge (about 800 sf) with real bedrooms, a real kitchen with cabinets and counter tops, and a double sink for washing dishes, and HOT and cold water coming out of this fancy lookin' contraption connected to this marvelous sink. And, for Mom, there was an electric stove to cook on. It had a soup pan (Mom said it was a deep well cooker) built right into it where she could cook her fabulous soups, stews and home made chicken and noodles. (Our favorite) Then there was the electric oven, where she could bake her bread, rolls, biscuits, cakes, pies, and cookies and roasts. It was almost more than a seven year old farm kid could ever dream of living with. The youngest of us thought, for sure, we'd died and went to heaven.

Back to Bill, or Billy as we called him then. It so happened, a few days after our big move, Bill had finished up his sheep herding for the year and came home to the farm, only to find that he had been abandoned! The whole fam damily and all of our belongings were gone. Bill never got too exited about trivial things like this so he just found a neighbor, who just happened to have all the information he needed to find us. Once he had that information, he ventured into Pocatello to the new homestead. We, of course, welcomed him with open arms, happy to have him back in our midst.

Bill, like the rest of us, was quite happy with our new digs, and started exploring the new possibilities of this place. Being a twelve or thirteen year old man of the world, he wasn't nearly as impressed with the running water, electric appliances, indoor bathroom and such. He had, after all, learned about these things at school and during his limited (at that time) travels. However, there was one item that was new to him. Like every other object he ever ran across in his life, he had to figure out what it was and how it worked.

He looked this simple object over carefully, studying it's construction, what purpose it might serve and, most importantly, how it worked. It just so happened he was in the dining room during this study, a room that was wall-papered in a Cabbage Rose patterned paper, very fashionable in those days.

Perhaps if Mom hadn't been out on an errand at the time, his revelation may have ended a little differently, but fate was not on his side that day. It was easy to see the light of realization come on in his eyes about that object's purpose and his intent to give 'er a try. We watched in wonder as he changed the way he held that object, into the same position a soldier would carry a bayoneted rifle as he lunged toward the enemy. Bill gave it everything he had as he aimed for his target, a Cabbage Rose on the wall. Holding on for dear life, his thrust with the object hit the wall with a loud bang, Bill pulling back immediately. Success.....to a degree. Those of us watching this, gasped in horror as the Cabbage Rose refused to die, clinging with all it's might to that toilet plunger, and bringing a few it's neighbors with it for support.

The new house had been christened! Bill got a few choice words from Mom and a lesson on the proper use of the aforementioned toilet plunger, that day's object of his never-ending curiosity.

Life on 8Th St went on and the Cabbage Rose paper came off. Life was good.....an adventure indeed, in the early fifties..............I love my brother Bill!

Sometimes ya Win, Sometimes ya lose....

Saturday before Superbowl is the busiest day of the entire year at my store. With the weather being the worst in many years here on the Palouse, many surrounding communities, even parts of Moscow/Pullman, were snowed-in. School was closed all week; even the U's (first time since the winter of 68-69)as I mentioned in an earlier post. Therefore business was way down until Friday afternoon and Super Bowl Saturday, when, I swear, every human being within a 50 mile radius came grocery shopping.

Thank goodness all of my staff showed up, so we were sittin' purdy for help. I had paid someone to come clear out my driveway on Friday, so even I got to drive my own car. (nothin' worse than being unable to get out)

Well.........on Saturday the "boys" at the store hadn't filled their "game" card, which they try to hide from me when they're betting on the games. You know....what I don't know won't hurt. Hahaha! The Buckman comes into my office, hem-hawing around, and finally asks if I would like to get in on the card. "What card?", I innocently ask. "The Super Bowl card." he says, telling me "they" (now who might "they" be?) needed to finish filling the card. I tell him no, (a girl has to play hard-to-get, ya know) which leads to a teeny bit of begging and groveling on his part. Being the soft-hearted sweetheart that I am, I finally ask how much ($2 bucks a square) and agree to buy one. "Oh, come on," he says, "you can afford more than one!" I pull the $6 bucks I have out of my pocket and say, "This is all I have, you pick three squares for me." He takes my money and runs. Later, they drew the numbers and gave each of us "investors" a copy of the card. I asked what the numbers meant; it was explained to me; I put the paper in my pocket and went about my business for the remainder of the day knowing I was a mere contributor to their fun.

Sunday.. game day. Didn't watch the game, don't understand a thing about football. Sometime that evening I saw, on my internet homepage news, that the Giants had won........no score listed. I was on my way to post a blog and didn't really care.

Monday morning while getting ready for work and listening to the morning news, I hear the score, 17-14. Hmmmm, "I'm pretty sure I have a 7 and 4 on my card.", I thought, but the card was in my apron pocket at the store so I wasn't positive. When I got to work, I checked it out and, sure 'nuff, I had won the fourth quarter! I was $80 bucks richer, less the six bucks I'd been coerced out of by the Buckman.

The "boys" know I'm not a football freak, so it was tough for them to hand over the cash. I gloated while accepting it. ( couldn't help myself) The Buckman always wins, so I can hardly wait to see him Tuesday morning (he was off today) to thank him for picking such good squares for me. LMAO!!!!


That'll teach 'em for thinkin' they're pullin' the wool over this old broad's eyes !
Momma always knows.............sometimes ya win and sometimes ya lose.

Breakfast at the Green T

Mary Hell (baby sister) called me a few nights ago just to chat and, to have me read my latest blog (she does not do computers, but I will change that!) which happened to be my "Ain't Love Grand" tale. Of course this brought back memories of old school mates who became "True Loves" and our ability or inability to attract these studs in our youth. This chatting led us to a time, much later in our lives, when we were in our mid to late thirties.

Mary Hell was married (still) to Bill, while Dolores and I had reverted back to the single life. I was living in Boise at that time.......Mary and Dolores in Pocatello. This particular week I had a four-day weekend off so I decided to make the drive to Poky to see my Mom and siblings.

On Saturday, the Clone, Mary, Bill and I were sitting at Mary's table visiting, laughing, and reminiscing about various and sundry things in our lives, when Bill made some smart-ass remark about us women being "over-the-hill". This instantly made our hackles stand on end as we reminded him that our charm, wit and personalities were just beginning to bloom! Bill, not willing to hear any good reasoning in what we were trying to convince him of, made a challenging statement, leaving us with no choice but to prove him wrong..............."If you girls can't go out, do a little dancing, have a few drinks and hustle up a free breakfast at closing time, you aren't worth a damn." I said, "I take umbrage at that remark", as the Clone and Mary Hell joined in to defend our honor and femininity. "OK", he said, "I'll bet you can't do it."

"Girls, we're going to the Green T", Mary said. "We'll show this MCP, that we are still bee-u-ti-if-amous!" None of us was willing to take this abuse, so we headed for the bathroom to put on our most gorgeous faces, perfect our "do's", change clothes , and put on our dancin' shoes. The bet was on!

A couple of hours later, we arrived at the Green T, the local hot-spot for dancing, drinking and trolling. Now mind you, this was a challenge! Here we were, the Sistys Ugler, competing with twenty -year -olds, flaunting the bodies that go with their glorious youth. Even so, we were determined to hustle-up that "after-the-bar-closes" breakfast, which the restaurant side of the T was famous for. The T had been around for as long as I could remember, nothing ever changing but the music of the current generation, which happened to be country-western at that time. While the three of us were among the "elders" in the crowd (and it was a big crowd), we were not ignored. Since we all love to dance, our charm, wit, and personality kept us going, swinging around the floor for the next three hours. We were beyond the stage of life when the gorgeous girls, stand around with that "I'm too sexy for my pants" attitude, waiting for the perfect 10 to sweep them off their feet. We were there to have fun and it showed. Boys, young enough to be our sons, or men, old enough to be our father, were leading us onto that floor, offering to buy us drinks, or just stopping at our table to chat. All that fun we were enjoying had almost made us forget our goal for the evening.............the breakfast.

Then it happened, the right one came along! We had seen him standing at the bar most of the evening, sipping on a tall Bud. Dressed in the required skin-tight Wranglers, western shirt and boots, he wasn't painful to observe, but didn't appear to a fun-seeker like most of the boys in attendance that night. About 45 minutes before closing time, we were sitting back at our table, winding down, when this creature walked over, asking if he could join us. Remembering our goal, we all agreed..........then started pouring on the charm! We flirted, we made coy conversation, we created hsyterical remarks which kept us all laughing. Between the three of us, we made this cowboy feel like the only man existing in this universe. Finally, it happened....he asked if we would like to have breakfast with him! In unison, we told him, "We would love to!"

So off we went to the restaurant, triumphant in our success. Oh, we could hardly wait to get home to rub this in Bill's face. We didn't have to wait long...........Bill was sitting in a booth across from us, eager to see the result of his big bet. We ignored him, smiling our most radiant smiles as the Cowboy sat down with us to order. The waitress came, bringing hot coffee along, and asked if we wanted to order now, or wait a few. The Cowboy, taking charge, spoke up and said, "How does ham and eggs sound?" "Perfect", we said, not really caring. Bill, who could obviously hear us, was sitting there in silence, showing no emotion one way or the other. The Sistys Ugler were smug in our triumph until.........................the Cowboy turned to the waitress, as she was leaving, and said, "Put that on one ticket and would you bring three extra plates?"

Bill was laughing out loud (people just thought he was drunk) at the prospect of us getting one breakfast and four plates, but still, we ignored him as we went into one our own hysterical laughing fits. We were NOT losers..........we got breakfast, didn't we? I don't think Cowboy ever figured out what was so funny even as we thanked him for the "bite" of breakfast and graciously said our good-nights as we departed arm-in-arm.

Bill still thinks he won the bet.................................................

For Women Only -On the Vanity of the Male Creature

I have to admit to the world that I am the possessor of latent, blatant irreverance. So, if you are easily offended by the realness of life..................skip this post you cowards.

My regular routine of getting up every morning........... taking a shower, brushing & flossing, blow-drying my hair and finally, performing my daily ritual of creating a half-way decent looking face from the secret ingredients contained, in what I call my "Miracle" kit......... was rudely interrupted by the Fireman. I was deep in thought, contemplating the tasks I would be attending to at work that day. Looking in the mirror, I saw the Fireman walk-in behind me, wearing nothing......... except a somber face, his eyes wide, and full of what appeared to be disappointed disbelief.

I turned slightly to ask the obligatory, "Are you OK?", but before I could get a word out of my freshly painted lips, he said to me............."I'm not middle-aged anymore!" continuing with, "I must be getting old, I have silver b***s!" "Would the fact that you are old have anything to do with this dilemma?", I asked, as that old demon, hysterical laughter, was welling up in the depths of my being. Now mind you, I really intended to soothe his tender ego but the irreverent me just couldn't do it! The laughter erupted to the point where I was bending over, holding my mouth, as I unsuccessfully tried to articulate some kind of profound wisdom that would make him feel loved, adored and totally virile. My failure was obvious as he turned on his heel and left the room, muttering, "Well...ah, well....ah, well.....ah." Seems I was unbelievable to him. Imagine that!

I re-applied my mascara, got myself dressed and left for work, leaving him with a peck on the lips and a sparkle in my eye, as I walked out the door. I was feelin' good! I'm telling you, laughter is, indeed, the best medicine! When I got to work, I was chuckling to myself as I walked into my office. Of course, my Secretary followed me in and wanted to know what was so damn funny. I just couldn't keep this secret from her so.... I repeated the incident, giggling as I was telling her the story. She related very well, getting that "good" feeling going in her soul too. It seems that I couldn't leave well enough alone, so as she turned to leave, I started singing......."Silver B***s, Silver B***s...." to the tune of "Silver Bells", the Christmas song. She stopped, dead in her tracks, turned to me and said, with exasperation, "DOROTHYMAE!! Why did you do that? Now I will have that tune and your words, in my head all day and I will never be able to see Mike come in the store again without it going through my mind. You are such a brat!" "Whadda ya mean.....I'm a GOOD girl!", I said, as she left the room, shaking her head.

Well..... I had to repeat the story several times that day, to a select few women have lived long enough to appreciate the humor in this tale. Some of the men there wanted to know what all the merriment was about, but it was our little secret and we were keeping it to ourselves. (To this day) And yes, the next time the Fireman was in the store shopping for groceries, Sherry found me and cursed me for the tune that was running rampantly through her head.

I just smiled innocently................................. :)

A Funny Thing Happened On the Way To The Drapery Dept

It happened my first Winter in North Idaho a week or two after Thanksgiving........ my baby sister, Mary, had invited me to tag along for a Christmas-shopping trip to Spokane.  We planned for Mary to drive to Moscow to get me on Friday, then we would drive to Spokane and meet with Sis (my niece) and her friends at the Mall on Saturday. We planned to shop till we dropped, eat all we wanted, treat ourselves to a night in a motel, then drive back to Moscow on Sunday; Mary would spend the night before returning to the Tri-Cities on Monday. Our plans were going without a hitch. We had shopped our way through a variety of shops, tried on every perfume, lotion and potion known to mankind, nibbled about 10,000 calories worth of this and that, and people-watched, (while taking short breaks) from the benches provided along the highways and byways between stores. Mary and I decided to head for the second floor of Penny's to look at some drapes and valances.

Mary stopped to look in the window of some little shop, which put me a minute or so ahead of her. As I entered the doors into the store, I noticed (couldn't have missed him) a man who instantly caught my eye. He was the epitome of the 1970's man. (In fact, he probably WAS in his seventies) Tall, with coal black 'hair', which I'm positive he had created himself, from an old, fake-fur Gorilla suit worn at some long forgotten Halloween costume party. I must say, he did manage to comb it into an Elvis style pompadour, sideburns and all. At the nape of his neck, there was a strange little gray pigtail sticking out from under the "DO". He wore large, dark sunglasses and was dressed in a dark gold polyester knit Leisure jacket with coordinating plaid knit slacks. To complete the look, he was sporting the open necked shirt with the 70's style huge, pointed collar, the heavy gold chain, monster sized rings and black patent leather shoes. He was decked out and strutting his "stuff" for the whole world to see and admire! I took all of this in as I tried, nonchalantly, to passed by him towards the drapery department. Since he was walking the opposite direction from me, toward the other side of the store, (the Men's department) I felt it was safe to look again. I turned to see whether he was a figment of my imagination, or a real, living, breathing Human Being. He was indeed real, but what I also saw, was my baby sister, bent over with one hand on her knee and the other holding onto her mouth as if she were about to spit out some disgusting abomination that she wanted no one to see. Well, seeing her in that state of being, I was certain, from knowing her my entire life, this was just the beginning.... of a fit of uncontrollable laughter. I quickly turned away so I wouldn't encourage what I KNEW was coming. My ploy was a failure.....I heard THE voice, squeezed out in an almost inaudible high pitch. "Dorothymae, (giggle) did you (giggle) see what I (a more hysterical giggle) just saw?" Then, "Oh,  oh, I'm going to pee-he-he-he-he my pants!" Now, mind you, I was trying to stop myself from letting go of the laughter this vision-of-a-man had created deep within the uncontrollable part of me. Mary was NOT helping! She managed somehow to get to me and wrap her arms around my shoulders, laughing uncontrollably. Of course this was all I needed to join her in the merriment, laughter bursting from me like an explosion from a volcano. There we were, two out-of-control, over-the-hill sisters, exposed to the world, in a mall full of hurried shoppers. convulsing with uncontrolled laughter.

People were turning to staring at us with "what in the world is wrong with you" looks of curiosity. Tears were literally gushing out of Mary's eyes, her mascara was running down to her chin, and between the convulsions of laughter, she still kept on about peeing her pants. She wasn't kidding! She told me she had to sit down, as she headed for a display bed, which was decked out in a beautiful, red brocade ensemble fit for a queen. I said, "NO, you can't sit there! You're ready to pee your pants! Come on! There's a bathroom right over there, let's go!" I grabbed her hand before her butt hit that brocade, pulling her up, then dragging her to the safety of the 'Ladies' room. Luckily, the first stall was open so Mary shuffled right in, her legs squeezed together, tippy-toeing, looking like a penguin in a mighty big hurry.

I had visited the restroom a little earlier so I was fine to just wait outside the stall door. Mary, still laughing out loud, was saying (or trying) "oh, lordy, I can't stand it, that is the funniest thing I have seen in years!" I was laughing along with her, once again enduring those 'looks' from complete strangers. After a few minutes, she says to me, "Dorothymae, you HAVE to go down to the ladies department and get me some sweat pants, or something, because I can't wear these wet ones!" She struggled to get these words out as she continued with her hysterical laughter. Oh, my gosh... she had, indeed, wet her pants! Agreeing to rescue her, I took a couple of very deep breaths, then headed back out to the escalator, trying my best not to look like some nut case, caught laughing out loud, while walking alone in a crowd. As I turned and walked toward the doors where we had entered, I saw two other women on the far side of the store, near the Men's department, arms wrapped around each other, bouncing up and down in tiny jumps and obviously roaring in laughter. They had seen this vision of 70's manhood too!!

We managed to get Mary properly re-dressed, then pulled ourselves together, (sort of) slinking out of Penny's to continue on with our shopping spree. When we finally met with Sis and her friends again, Mary made me repeat the tale to them, and the laughter started all over again. Every time Mary and I looked at each other, until we finally went to sleep about 2:00 am, the fits of laughter and talking about this man's demeanor, from the "rug" on his head to the shoes on his feet, continued. Our ribs hurt so badly we could hardly move, That was one of the best days of shopping I have ever experienced! We literally FELT the truth that laughter IS good for the soul. To this day, when we are together and something reminds us of that shopping trip, it's like we are re-living it, and we end up with sore ribs again. I've often wondered whether those other two women felt the same JOY of laughter that Mary and I did. This memory has brought me pleasure just writing about it :)...........Oh, we never did make it to the drapery department..........and 70's Man, please forgive us for for being soooooooooo naughty, at your expense...............................Merry Christmas Everyone!!

Incensed at the sensor

Most of us work for a living these days and those who do, usually have tales to tell of some irritating piece of equipment that's a part of our working environment. My current hometown has THE worst water I have encountered. It is so hard it can fill a copper pipe full of lime scale in a 3-4 month period of time. I've had to deal with this several times a year in the bakery of the store I manage. It kills the steam box proofer which helps the bread dough to rise. I've grown accustomed to it's ways at this point. However, the MOST irritating thing this water does at work, is cloud the sensors on the sink faucets in the restrooms. You get your hands all sudsed-up and the damn water won't come on to rinse the soap off , unless you know the "trick" of rubbing the sensor eye. All of the employees know this trick, as do most of our regular customers. This is a University town, so we get a lot of visitors from out of town, for sports and other events.

The faucets had been giving us trouble for several weeks. One particular weekend during that time period, the population had grown considerably with visitors, increasing traffic at the store. I had requested, begged and groveled to my then VP, for new faucets to be installed. He was a very busy man whom I admired immensely, but I had not yet received the needed approval. However, a visitor came along who, unknowingly, helped me get my coveted OK. (these faucets are a high-priced expenditure) Following is a close guesstimate of the e-mail I sent to my VP regarding this unknown person:

Good Morning....................Picture this. My secretary goes to the women's restroom and enters a stall. She hears someone come out of the next stall , then walk to the sink. She hears the pumping of the soap dispenser. She then hears a voice say. "Turn on!" Silence....no water. She then hears a frustrated voice say, "Turn on, damnit!" immediately followed by a "G..damnit, turn on!!", in a louder and angrier voice. My secretary, not wanting to embarrass the woman, and in the back of her mind, thinking maybe she had a Biker Mamma type out there, decides to wait for her to leave. In an instant she hears, even more loudly, "You Mother F..........ing C............S...........er, TURN ON!! Knowing she couldn't hide in that stall forever, Sherry decides to bite the bullet, go on out and face this scary "lady". The person she sees is a little mite of a woman, probably in her seventies, dressed in a beautiful, and obviously very expensive, red wool suit, along with the perfect heels and matching bag; silver hair in perfect order and beautifully manicured nails. The lady looks at her, then smiles sweetly, as any lovely little Grandmother would do. Sherry shows her the "trick" to get the water on. They wash their hands and leave the restroom with nary a word. Sherry immediately tells me of the incident, which I am now relaying to you.............. Have a great day!

Within five minutes of hitting the Send key, I receive a phone call. It's my VP. :) Between his laughter and the tears I can almost see running down his cheeks, I am told. "Go ahead and get new faucets installed." There are indeed, angels out there, sometimes dressed to the hilt and using a restroom at the Grocery Store. I will need her to visit again sometime in the future.

The Wedding Cake

Maybe I should tell the tale of the wedding cake I mentioned in my last blog. I had made the 2 1/2 hour trip to Pasco, WA to visit my sister, Mary. Mary owns and operates a small restaurant and does some catering on the side. Well, this was June, which we all know is THE wedding month. Mary had previously contracted to do the wedding cake for a client who was getting married on the same day I arrived in town. Now I was under the delusion that Mary was free for the weekend and we would just be "playing". (This was not the first time I had had this same delusion) As soon as the hugs and "so happy to see yous" were done, Mary sprang the news; we had to go decorate a wedding cake. Of course I protested, stating the fact that I was Not a cake decorator but, I agreed to go along for the ride. We went to the restaurant, loaded up the cake, a four tiered monster, and headed for the Marina clubhouse. The place was beautiful, situated on lovely manicured grounds near an exclusive marina on the Columbia river.

We were a little slow getting out the door, so we had to make haste to get the cake into the reception hall, place it onto the waiting cake table and then turn it into a thing of beauty. The bride and her mother were waiting anxiously for this miracle to occur and a miracle it was. As I kept asking myself how I get hooked into these dilemmas, I took in the fact that these people had high expectations. After whispering into Mary's ear, "Who are these people?", she told me they had something (I don't recall, exactly) to do with the Wineries in the area and that the theme of the wedding was relevant to that industry. As we were speaking, she was pulling out silk grape leaves, very high-end artificial grapes, a cake topper and some dried heather. I asked what she was going to do with all of this and her reply was, "I don't have a clue, but you HAVE to help me." As I slapped myself on the head and my eyes rolled back, I wondered, again, "what the hell have I gotten myself into now"? The cake was sitting there naked, except for the base coat of white icing. The goal was to turn this ugly duckling into a thing of rapturous beauty. Yeah, right! The first thing we did was set the porcelain bride and groom, standing under an arch, onto the top layer. From then on it was, punt. Mary started placing grapes and leaves as I stood rubbing my chin and trying to conjure up something brilliant in my mind. I picked up a piece of the heather, rather a large clump, and kidding, stuck it upright into the cake, behind the bride and groom. "Wow!" I said, "That looks like a miniature Crape Myrtle tree, blooming in the spring. So, we went with it. By then, we were really into this "faking it" stuff, fingers and imaginations working in perfect concert. When we finished and were stepping back to view our creation, the bride came over, her hand flying to her mouth as she audibly gasped. She loved it!!
She stated that it was perfect and the most gorgeous cake she had ever seen. It really did look nice and we were relieved. Me, oh me, oh my! What we can do when we're backed into a wall.

Mary and I walked out of that place with confidence in our hearts and huge smiles on our faces. As soon as we got into the car to take our leave, we both burst out into hysterical laughter. We'd pulled it off and everyone was happy. It was a memorable day!

Note: Mary makes her cakes from scratch and really does know how to decorate a beautiful cake. This was just a day where her mind was scattered. (She had already catered another event that morning) And, she also catered the food for that same reception. She received compliments on the food and cake for months afterward. I've avoided visiting her in June since then. :)