Not at ALL What You Thought

Friday, November 28, 2008

Just Thankful

Merry Day-After-Thanksgiving! I am thankful (daily, but especially this time of year):

1. for my faith;

2. for my family, as crazy as the members thereof behave from time to time;

3. especially for Juice and Goobs, who, as annoying and unaccountably clueless as they are, sometimes daily, make me laugh just as often, and are so beautiful and smart, I have to forgive them their foibles all the time;

4. for a roof over my head, clothes on my back, food in the pantry/refrigerator, and the ability to pay (some) bills, something I can't take for granted, ever, in these days;

5. for a job, a career, a vocation, which I still enjoy, despite all those essays somebody keeps assigning;

6. for my friends, RL and cyber, who are, among other realities, proof that God loves me, else I'd've been kicked to the curb by those good people a long time ago;

7. for my dogs, Nimue and Frody, the idiots.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Yes, But How Do You USE It?

All of my sister's friends are beautiful, funny, and full of the Holy Ghost. You want somebody to pray for you? Honey, these are The Ones. And a few of 'em like Scrabble, so they schedule get-togethers where we eat the most delicious home-cooked food, (kinda) watch some of the newest movies and make each other laugh till we have to pee.

Seriously.

So Saturday was the latest Scrabble and Movies date, at L's house. After we had eaten my sister's delicious Chicken Soup and A's to-die-for banana puddin, we sat down to Scrabble, and L's sister came over.

"I am not too stupid to play Scrabble!" she protested. "Why don't y'all invite me sometime?" And then the jokes started. L stood up from the table and acted out a church story.

"There's a man at our church who's mentally challenged. You know Rich." Everybody knew Rich. "One Sunday, my husband asked him to help him park the car.
'I'ma back up, Rich,' he said. 'Don't let me hit the wall.'
'Okay,' Rich said. Hubby got into the car and began backing up.
'Come on back,' Rich said. Hubby moved back.
'Come on back.' Hubby moved back some more.
CRRRRUNCH!
Hubby had hit the wall.
'Hold up, now,' said Rich." We nea'bout died laughin.

It was A's turn to tell a story.
"We were singing at an important function one time," she said, "And the soloist was tearin up her part. Just singin. And then she threw her head back to hit a particular note.

And her wig fell off." We were already in the painful throes of laughter, but A wasn't finished.

"Our director had seen it, but she hissed at us: 'Don't you DARE laugh. Don't you DARE laugh.' Our eyes got big, but we kept singing. We didn't DARE laugh. The soloist hit the floor, still tearin that song up, not missin one note" --right here, A nearly did a split to show us what the soloist did. We were sufferin really bad. "And she reached behind her, grabbed that wig and popped it back on her head!"

L, who had also been there, nodded. "Did not miss a note," she said.
"But when we were finished," A said, "and left the stage, girl! We laid on the floor, laughin!" We were almost there ourselves.

L and her sister began reminiscing about parental expressions --The Old People's sayings. My sister had a problem with one of those expressions.

"But what does it mean?" my sister the lawyer asked.
"It means 'It's not happening. Give up on it,'" L's sister said.
"But in what context," the attorney persisted, "do you use it?" L and her sister shrugged. It was hard to explain the context. It was show and tell, and there was no context available to show and tell it. We moved on. My sister and I shared our favorite expression from Mama. If you quote or allude to the advice of somebody Mama doesn't respect, she will, without fail, say, "And he knows as much about it as a bear knows about makin ice cream." My sister was laughing so hard as she tried to relay this information, her eyes were tearing and she was near incoherent.

"My favorite," I said, "is '. . . .as a dog knows about makin hot biscuits.' That always cracks me up."

L, using a word already on the Scrabble board, legally put down three words at once, clearing some 50 points. L always wins these Scrabble tournaments, although, Saturday, my sister came close to beating her. The conversation moved on to the Obama girls.

"I do not know why the media is so obsessed over where they're goin to school," L said.
"Did they obsess over Chelsea?" the attorney asked, rhetorically.
"You know, I heard that some people think they should go to public school," I added. The room went into an uproar.
"How are they gonna attend public school?"
"Think of the security!"
"That school'll be on lock down!"
"Before That Man became president, they could've gone to a public school. . . ." somebody said.
". . .but the dog's eye is out on that one now," I added. The room erupted in woman laughter. My sister just put her head down, and tears ran down her cheeks. One index finger managed to point accusingly at me.

"THAT's the way to use that expression!" L's sister said, triumphantly. "Regina's got it."

On Sunday, I got a text message from my sister with the dog's eye is out on that one in it. But she still wasn't usin it right.

Dear Jesus, remind us that a merry heart does good. Like medicine.

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Christina Makes Me Tired.

But Christina doesn't care, and I think this award is just lovely, so I'm passing it on:

*to Elayne of Elaynocentricity, because, over and over, she says what I was thinking, and so well;

*to Jen of A Few Choice Words, who is always pithy and on point;

*to Tom of The Long View, another English Prof who loves the profession and his country;

*to Kem of Kem's Utterly Merciless Guide to Essay Writing, yes, one more, who is Dead Serious about what everybody should be Dead Serious about;

*and to Bill of Tome of the Unknown Writer, whose shameless novel title and shameless writing about his daughter and his life is always refreshing.

Hey, y'all? I appreciate y'all. Now do this, please:

*Each Superior Scribbler must in turn pass The Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends.

*Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author & the name of the blog from whom he/she has received The Award.

* Each Superior Scribbler must display The Award on his/her blog, and link to this award">, which explains The Award.

* Each Blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visit This Post(same as above or IBID) and add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List. That way, we'll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives This Prestigious Honor!

*Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his/her blog.

Go crazy.

Monday, November 03, 2008

On To the Revolution

A social-worker friend emailed these lyrics to me this morning. I'd never seen them all:

Fly Like An Eagle

Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future

I want to fly like an eagle
To the sea
Fly like an eagle
Let my spirit carry me
I want to fly like an eagle
Till I'm free
Oh, Lord, through the revolution

Feed the babies
Who don't have enough to eat
Shoe the children
With no shoes on their feet
House the people
Livin' in the street
Oh, oh, there's a solution

I want to fly like an eagle
To the sea
Fly like an eagle
Let my spirit carry me
I want to fly like an eagle
Till I'm free
Fly through the revolution

Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future

I want to fly like an eagle
To the sea
Fly like an eagle
Let my spirit carry me
I want to fly like an eagle
Till I'm free
Fly through the revolution

Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future