A BAD WAY...

To spend a Saturday afternoon is to see a good friends name on the news and find that he has been killed on his motorcycle.
I knew Curtis way before I ever met him.
Joe Friday says its all about young and old souls and past and future friendships.
Its all very confusing to practical fellows like me.
Gobless...
Gobless you Curtis...
Gobless us all.

CUPID BLIND DID RISE

APELLES SONG

CUPID and my Campaspe played
At cards for kisses,—Cupid paid;
He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows,
His mother's doves,
and team of sparrows:
Loses them too.
Then down he throws
The coral of his lip, the rose
Growing on's cheek (but none knows how) ;
With these the crystal of his brow,
And then the dimple of his chin :
All these did my Campaspe win.
At last he set her both his eyes ;
She won, and Cupid blind did rise.
Love, has she done this to thee ?
O' What shall, alas, become of me ?
John Lyle

Chavonne bumped into me at the Mall.
Literally.
I had not seen her since High School but I recognized her rght away.
She was holding the hand of a girlfriend of hers that I recognized as well and squinting at me through very thick glasses.

"Watch where you are going, Chavonne" says I.
" How do you know my name?" asks she.
"Oh, no, not him!"" says her friend, Debbie and I knew her as well.

"Its me, Steve from High School...you were in my Speech Class"

Chavonne lit up like a Roman candle, like fire and Gasoline.She was pretty easy to look at; Strawberry blonde, a Pixie face shaped like a Hamadryad...that is to say her breasts were way bigger than her frame would suggest.
If you put wings on her she would look like Tinkerbelle.

I had that feeling behind my eyeballs we were going to be good friends.Her friend Debbie seemed to disapprove, but we were already there. I got her number and called her that night and went to her house.
I found out that Chavonne, for all practical purposes, was blind. She could not drive, nor could she go in public by herself. It was due to Diabetes.

For the next two months we were friends and lovers and we had the best time. We would go to Keg Parties at the Lake at night. I would lead her through the bushes to the site, the whole time exhorting her to hurry up, watch out, this way.
She was delighted.
In the woods, we would dance like Pagans around the bonfire.
She loved Aerosmith and a Band called Moxy. We would dance at her apartment and sometimes we would go to clubs and dance.
Her friend Debra didn't like me taking her to the lake or to Clubs.
I called Debbie "Miss Fussy Britches", which did not earn me any points with Debbie, but always delighted Chavonne.
Chavonne also liked to play pool and wasn't too bad. The balls were close and brightly colored and didn't move. So we played pool alot.

But what she really liked to do was Play Ping-Pong.
Thats right, Ping-Pong!
I had a friend with a table and Chavonne never got to be any good but we would get high and she would play by sound and I would help her make a game of it. Sometimes I'd let her win and we would just laugh and laugh and laugh. Chavonne loved me because I would play Ping-Pong with her.
I don't think Miss Fussy Britches liked that either!

We laughed all the time.

In early September in 1978 I went Dove hunting with a friend. I didn't take Chavonne but I told her next time she could go and we would shoot the guns if she wanted.

Ready!
Aim!
Fire!
Like Mr. Magoo with a gun!
"Chavonne, you have to promise me not to shoot 'Miss Fussy britches."
We just couldn't stop laughin'.

I was gone for three days and when I got back I called for her. There was no answer. I called again. I went by her place.
She was not home.
Two days passed before I got the call...
Her mother said her appendix had burst.
Her mother said she was in a coma.
Her mother said that Chavonne had loved me so much because she had never had a friend like me.
Chavonne loved me so much because I did not know how sick she was.
If I had known, I'd have been like all her other friends.
I never once asked what her blood sugar level was.
I never asked if she had her shot or even how she was feelin'.
I never tried to stop her from doing anything she liked to do, even if it was bad for her.
I never had that look of concern on my face the way her other friends did sometimes.
I never had a picture of her.
I never gave her a present, took her out to eat, cooked her a meal.
She never came out of the coma.
Chavonne died this week 31 years ago.

I pleaded to her mother at the funeral “I just did’nt know how sick she was”
I’ll never forget the soft empathy in her mothers voice and the kind look on her face as she tried to comfort me
“Steve, don’t you know why Chavonne loved you so much?”’
‘No”
‘Chavonne loved you so much because you didn’t know.”
What a rare privilege that is, not to know.
Its her mothers face that replays in my mind from time to time.


I always think about Chavonne this time of year. We were friends for only two months.
How could I ever think someone was taken from me...
When its so clear that someone was sent for Chavonne?


It was many years later that I found, in my own life, how rare a friend it is that will look past your limitations, your weakness, your faults, and treat you as though you were complete and proper just as you stand.
I wonder sometimes about Miss Fussy Britches, and if she ever got the rare privilege to be the kind of friend to someone that I was to Chavonne.
There is so much about our own stories that we may never quite know completely.

Tonight, I dance!.

From the old "Abandoned Blog"....this is actually the second post I ever did...

I have purposely left this pretty well as I wrote it 4 years ago. It wasn’t until Debbie Williams-Short (Miss Fussy Britches) found me on Facebook that I found that I had spelled her name wrong.
It wasn’t until a month ago that I knew the exact date of Shavonne Freitas' death….September 16, 1978.
I had hoped to find Debbie when I joined Facebook in order to share this story and wondered how long it would take.
I never considered the idea that Debbie would find me in less than 12 hours.
We have also found Doug, Shavonnes brother, and her mother too.
I can’t begin to tell them what an effect Shavonne continues to have in my Psyche.

FISHING REPORT #2

FROG JUICE

I went to Church Camp last week with my old friend Kem. We have been friends for 4 decades, but we are not as good of friends as we used to be....I stopped smokin' pot and he found Jesus Christ...
It bothers Kem a lot when I cuss...especially if I manage to drag his heavenly Father into the mix which I quite often do. I do try to watch my language around Kem. The main reason he wants me to go to Church Camp is so that I might find Jesus too..even while he smokes his joint...but the other reason he wants me there is so that I can help the youngsters catch some fish. I enjoy that immensely and that is why I go
This year I hoped my 16 year old son, Rip, might be of some help getting 12 6-8 year olds baited up and their poles in the water on the side of the bank and keeping their lines from becoming impossibly entangled, but Rip was more interested this year in collecting tiny frogs on the bank and putting them in a Gatorade bottle.
They were a smarmy slimy mess in there and in the 100 degree heat I kept begging him to get rid of that bottle and give me a hand with all these kids.
It took about 30 minutes to get everyone baited and in the water.
One of the young-uns, Joshua "fit the Battle" I called him, looked up to me and says:
"Thanks Mr. Steve, You sure look hot"
'Thirsty too" I replied.
I was sweating like a Pig and I reached for my drink. My eyes were stinging as the sweat rolled into them and I pressed my lips to my once cool bottle of Gatorade.
I tilted my head back....
...As the first frog passed my tongue I knew there was something wrong. I froze in mid-gulp. There had been no Frogs in my Gatorade before and as the next Frog entered my mouth...
....I knew what was happening....I had accidently grabbed the Gatorade bottle Rip had been doing his little Biological Swamp Torture Experiment in... and now I had a mouthful of frogs in frog juice.
In front of God and Kem and 12 little Church camp Kids I spat the vile liquid out of my mouth and let loose with a
"GODDAMMIT"
that echoed up and down the Lake.
All heads turn to me, and up till now I have been the figure of charity and compassion and a mentor to some of the nicest little boys and girls you would ever want to meet and generally a good influence.
But I see Kem out of the corner of my eye and hear him whisper very loudly
"Steve, please, watch your mouth"
Well, that did it for me and I turned to him and said quite loudly
"KEM, WOULD YOU GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK, JUST ONE TIME?"
And all 12 of those kids just cracked up!!!

I owe Rip one... I do.... and I'm gonna get him good!

DAVY JONES LOCKER

"In angling, as in all other recreations into which excitement enters, we have to be on our guard, so that we can at any moment throw a weight of self-control into the scale against misfortune; and happily we can study to some purpose, both to increase our pleasure in success and to lessen our distress caused by what goes ill. It is not only in cases of great disasters, however, that the angler needs self-control. He is perpetually called upon to use it to withstand small exasperation's."

FROM "FISHERMANS LUCK"

Cap'n Hook is the Great Great-Grandson of"Fighting Joe Hooker, a bombacious and hard drinking Union General from the Civil War.
He and I became good fishing partners. He was my Supervising Sous-Chef at the Crystal Crotchless when I first started working for the Hymen-Regency.
For the first few trips we would go to a Dam below lake Granbury where we hoped to catch Stripers in the 'tailrace" below the Dam.
We would be using Fly rods- and the Fly rod is seldom seen here in Texas.

We did not catch any Stripers, but we did have a most unusual catch for a Flyrod in Texas...
Our first time out below the Dam Hook caught an 18 pound Opelousa Catfish!
We thought it was a bit of a fluke until the next weekend, when we both caught Opelousa's...his was 12lbs. and Mine was 14 lbs.

Then I bought a boat and Motor. I had been saving coins for about a year and a half. I took them to the Bank and the total came to....

EIGHT-HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS!


I bought a 15 horsepower motor with that money, brand spankin' new.

Hook located the boat...it was a 1956 Lone Star V-Hull. When it was new it had a Canopy, windshield, two seats at the Wheel and two more seats facing aft (to the rear) and a 60 HP Motor. Back in 1956 you could not ask for a better Ski Boat.

But this was 1982 and the boat had caught fire and all the seats and Canopy and Windshield and steering Mechanisms were gone....the Aluminum was melted in spots and most of the paint inside and out was burned of as well. It looked like a big ol' beer can weathered and crumpled on a Trailer.

I bought it for $75.
With a little ingenuity that I really dont have much of, I managed to turn it into a good fishin' boat.
It looked like a real contraption, but it was one tough floatation device.



HOW TO SINK A BOAT

One day at an area lake, Hook and I found a little moss bed full ogf fish. We very seldom caught many fish, but for about 20 minutes we were knockin' the fire out of them.

But our fortune was not to last...a big ol' fancy-assed Ski boat came plowin' right through our serendipitous little honey hole.
We kept fishing even as the giant wake thrown up nearly tossed us over.
Then the Bastard did it again, this time even closer...so close the spray almost bathed us.
Several times over the Son-of-a Bitch came through, until our spot was now floated with Seafoam.
All this racket is not good for the fishing.
Its not good for anything.
We gave several dirty looks to the Skipper and even tried to wave him off some, but it became apparent it we were being blatantly disrespected.

It made my Maritime Blood boil.
So... I cranked up the motor and we went else where.
An hour or so later, we decided to call it a day...

As we were heading in to the ramp, I spy the enemy vessel. It seems to be adrift, and perhaps the occupants are swimming or taking a nap or whatever. i brought my bow to bear upon the wicked craft, now only a few hundred yards away.

Hook looks to me and says
"What are you doing?"

'We are going to pay them a little visit"

I approach the boat and there are still no occupants visible.
At full throttle I circle round twice..still no one...
so I said to Hook:

"This ought to wake 'em up"

and brought my bow right in line with their beam...full steam ahead...and announce our arrival:

"HOLD FAST, YE SHEEPSHEADS...GANGWAY!!!"

And we slammed into the Ski Boat taking her broadsides.
Still no one appeared, and as I surveyed the damage, I could hardly believe what my $75 piece of crap had done to this guys boat.
It was starting to sink.
I had found its sweet spot.We got the hell out of there.



I don't know if it sank all the way or not...or where the occupants were when I rammed her...but we never did go back to that Lake.

CAPTAIN HOOK USED TO SAY...

'You can lead a horse to water, but you can't look him in the mouth"

"What a man won't do, won't get done."

...and my favorite...

'If you think you are not part of the problem,
you are part of the problem."

Cap'n Hook (thats what I called him away from the kitchen) was one of the best Chefs I ever worked with; a good Mentor and Fisherman. Over the course of two years I watched him go from an "Iron Fisted Tyrant" to being one of the most tactful managers and polite Gentlemen I have ever known.

He was there the day I sank the boat.

"WHERE'D YOU HIDE THE BODY"

Continued from parts 1, 2, and 3

Some few of you may be wondering the rest of the story about Larry, but its one I can't tell. I may be able to confess to you my mistakes and that I even pissed my own britches once upon a time...but thats for and about me.
I said that I didn't know what was in Pensacola for Larry but thats not entirely correct... what was there was the fact that it was not here and really, LARRY HAD HAD ENOUGH OF HERE.

There had been some really tough days for my friend Larry.

I never liked a man as much as I liked Larry.

If you have ever been to Texas, especially West Texas, you will know how flat and dry it is and that there is a great distance to travel between towns...and when you do get to the next town about all that is there is a Shamrock Gas Station and a Motts 5&10 Store.
Within a week of moving Larry, an Album by one of my favorites, James McMurtry, came out with the following song on it and it sounded just like Larry, especially that last verse.
And I didn't know that the rest of the Album titled "Where'd You Hide the Body" would pretty well script my life for the next few years...
I believe there are a few entries on You tube for this one.
There really is a town here in Texas called Levelland.

Levelland

Flatter than a tabletop
Makes you wonder why they stopped here
Wagon must have lost a wheel or they lacked ambition one
On the great migration west
Separated from the rest
Though they might have tried their best
They never caught the sun
So they sunk some roots down in the dirt
To keep from blowin' off the earth
Built a town around here
And when the dust had all but cleared
They called it Levelland, the pride of man
In Levelland

Granddad grew the dryland wheat
Stood on his own two feet
His mind got incomplete and they put in the home
Daddy's cotton grows so high
Sucks the water table dry
Rolling sprinklers circle by

Bleedin' it to the bone
And I won't be here when it comes a day
It all dries up and blows away
I'd hang around just to see
But they never had much use for me in Levelland
They don't understand me
Out in Levelland

And I watch those jet trails carving up that big blue sky
Coast to coasters watch 'em go
And I won't blame 'em one damn bit
If they never looked down on this
Not much here they'd wanna know
Just Levelland
Far as you can point your hand
Nothin' but Levelland
Aw,You can wash your hands
Out in Levelland

Mama used to roll her hair
Back before the central air
We'd sit outside and watch the stars at night
She'd tell me to make a wish
I'd wish we both could fly
Don't think she's seen the sky
Since we got the satellite dish
and I can hear the marching band
Doin' the best they can
They're playing "Smoke on the Water", "Joy to the World"
I've paid off all my debts
Got some change left over yet and I'm Gettin' on a whisper jet
I'm gonna fly as far as I can get
from Levelland,
I done the best I can
Out in Levelland

DANCING IN PARADISE

continued from parts 1 and 2

Yeah, Mother of Invention got it...starting at 9:00 that Saturday night, we began moving Larry's stuff into my house, my Garage, my back porch.
At about 1:00 in the morning, I called a friend and told him we needed some help..
"But I have a new girl over here" he whispers over the phone.
"I don't care if you're having group sex with a Penthouse Pet, the Playmate of the Month and Ginalollabrigida....I need your ass here in the next hour...."

You know what? He showed up!

The kids were thrilled...the five of them had set up camp in Rips room and Larry and Deb would take Water Baby's room.

At about 8;00 on Sunday morning as Larry slid the last box into my garage, I put the speakers for my Stereo outside...
We were both a little punch drunk if you know what I mean...
'Larry, you couldn't have planned this any worse if you had tried....you hired a mover to take all your worldly possessions to two different houses and we just finished moving you from three different houses into mine. What are you gonna do now"

Larry raises that handsome eyebrow again and says
"Well I'm not going to piss in my pants Steve"
and we just fell out laughin...
So I cranked up the Stereo.... the Bass and Drums are in this chopped up Rhythm....
BUM-ba-BUMbapum-BAbumpum-baBUM-pah pum pah- bum-pah-bum

and then Mick Jagger starts in....

Shattered, shattered
Love and hope and sex and dreams
Are still surviving on the street
Look at me, Im in tatters!
Im a shattered

So up and down the driveway, Larry and I start dancin'...doin' our best Mick Jaggers and a bunch of other stuff we just kinda made up...
We're in Tatters!
And before long all the kids are out there too...it was great and our kids still talk about it.

Then the neighbor that never did like me ever since I carved a hand flippin "The Bird" at his house outta the tree trunk came out and gave me the Hairy Eyeball...even though I cut the "Bird " down before he ever saw it.

Larry didn't piss himself, but that week he quit his job and two weeks later we loaded up two big Vans and we moved his family to...
Pensacola Florida from Fort Worth Texas...
I really don't know to this day exactly why, or what was there for him....it seemed that Larry just needed to go somewhere.
I moved Larry 4 times in two weeks.

I never liked a man as much as I liked Larry.

"I CAN'T GIVE IT AWAY ON 7th AVENUE"

previously...
"The owner of the house Larry was buying the house from finally arrived at 12:30- he had been due at 8:00 that morning.He had some kinda bad news.
There was to be no sale.We were far, really far, from finished moving for the day."

Larry was my best friend. The night we graduated from High school together, we sat on the hood of the Pontious and he talked about being an Artist and I talked about being a Chef. He now did Graphic Design for an Advertising Company. Not exactly Matisse, but Art has changed, no?
Larry had the sweetest little family. His very pretty wife, Deb, was from Belgium. He had met her while in the Service (thats where he learned how to overorganize) and they married as soon as he got his 4 years done. she and my wife were best friends as well.
They had a daughter, Erica, 6 years old; and a son, Mikey, 4 years old. They also had a new addition, a one year old.
My two kids were 4 and 6 too, and yes, they were best friends as well.
We were all best friends....


Larry had been Ramrodding the Operation from his old Rent house, and there was a lot of angst because the owner of the house he was buying had not yet arrived on the scene. I do not know the particulars of the deal, but it was a FSBO- "For Sale by Owner- nor do I know much about Contracts or Real Estate...but I know now that we had moved 90% of Larry's stuff to a house he would never spend a night in.
I think it was a handshake deal that went awry.
The bottom line was that his old rent house was no longer available. All his Earthly Treasure, including wife and kids, sofa and bed, every fork knife and spoon were now at a house no longer for sale, and the Movers wanted to know what to do with the half truck of treasure yet to be unloaded.

Every Mineral and Spiritual Resourse available to Larry were distributed between 2 houses and a moving van and none of these were to be final resting places.
It was like an Exodus to Nowhere.

Somewhere the call was placed to a Rental Agency, and a rent house about 2 miles away was found that Larry, his Wife and three kids could move into that afternoon. Things were beginning to move pretty fast.
Larry had the Movers load up what would be a truckload of the big stuff to take to his newly rented, sight unseen property. Somehow, we would move the first Truckload they had taken ourselves. That was all the funding that was available. I could not help but notice that Larry was starting to look a little ragged at the seams. All the color coding and organizing could not help us now.

While Deb was off at the Leasors signing an agreement, I began to load the Gypsy Wagon. I met the Movers at the leased house and they began to unload their Truck and I waited for Larry or Debra to show with the key...
Now, the movers having finished unoading into the driveway, bid adieu to me, and left.
Debra showed up with the key and began transporting what she could from the Driveway to the house. Larry was at the no longer for sale house with a friends Pickup Truck. I went home, hitched up my boat to use as a Moving Trailer and set off to help Larry.
Things were movin' really fast.

Larry and I arrived at the rent house with our first load.
Larry was beyond looking a little ragged at the seams...he was frazzled..he was tattered...to be...shattered...
because this Rent house he was 'sposed to move into, that about half his stuff was already moved into was a real dive.
It was like a Roach Motel with a leaky roof.

Larry took one look around, raised that very handsome eyebrow of his, and said
"I'm not moving my family into this house".
It would seem his future now depended on me and the Gypsy Wagon.
I was afraid he might just "piss himself".

Sooooo...any guesses what our next move was?

"All this chitter-chatter, chitter-chatter, chitter-chatter bout
Shmatta, shmatta, shmatta -- I cant give it away on 7th avenue
This towns been wearing tatters (shattered, shattered)
Work and work for love and sex
Aint you hungry for success, success, success, success
Does it matter? (shattered)
does it matter?
Im shattered.
Shattered "
the rolling stones


YEAH, IT DOESN'T REALLY FIT, OR DOES IT?


to be continued

HIGH MAINTENANCE

"PONTIUS MELARCKY"

Did you ever just run out of time? Get in such a hurry that you start making some pretty hasty decisions?
Well my best friend Larry, all the way from High School did while I was helping him move one day.
Years before he had seen me do the same thing....



It was 1975 and I was throwin' a Keg Party out at the lake.... I started at 9:00 in the morning with a hit of Strawberry Mescaline, a moderate Hallucinogen. I had a lot to do...there were the keg's that had to be picked up and taken to the Lake...there was Marijuana to be procured, then I had several friends that I had to pick up, including Larry and my girlfriend Suzie, and others before we met the 100 or so other people at the local Foosers Hut.
From there, a Caravan of 30 or 40 cars thru town to the backroads that led to Devils Backbone at the Lake. Me and my 1955 Star Chief named "Pontius Melarky"
It was a great spot and I was one of the few that knew how to get there.
I had had to pee since about noon, and I was trippin' pretty good when I picked up Larry...we were on our way to Suzies and I did a quick calculation in my head...there was no time to stop to pee.
I told Larry I had to Pee.
He says "Why doncha pull on over?"
I says "Got no time Larry"
I told him I had no choice...I was gonna to "piss myself".
Larry laughed, I looked at him crosseyed and let it rip, right there in the front seat, with both hands on the wheel, drivin down the road...
"Ahhh, thats better"
Larry says "NO you didnt"
"Yep, I did"
Larry has this very handsome way of lifting one eyebrow which he did to great effect as he glanced to my darkened crotch confirming that I had indeed "Pissed Myself"
When we got to Suzies house, I went to the door and when she came out I explained I needed to borrow a pair of her pants.
She just laughed and said I was really getting to be high maintenance.
That waas some really good Mescaline.

But this story is supposed to be about Larry and the day I helped him move 20 years later....
He and his wife Deb had bought a house. They were moving all their possesions and three Kids from a rent house. He had spent a good month getiing ready for this move, because Larry is one of these over-organizers....you know...boxes labeled and color coded and arranged in some kind of Algebraic scheme so as to fit into the truck in the most logical and least space consuming fashion possible...
He had hired a moving company to move the big stuff which he had plenty of....Bureaus and Hutches and China Cabinets of English Oak and German Steel- this stuff was heavy.

But Larry is not only an Over-Organizer, he is a Penny-Pincher too. The Big Moving Truck and Commercial Movers would only be Moving the Big stuff- he had negotiated them down to a couple hundred dollars for 2 loads.
The other 1000 or so boxes was to fall to me and my trusty 1984 Toyota Van (sorry, no photo) with 300, 000 miles on it....we called it my Gypsy Wagon because it had been about everywhere and done everything.
Of course, I wasn't getting paid because, well, I've never liked a man as much as I liked ol' Larry.
At the new house, Deb and the kids were waiting for the Owner to show up to get the last of the papers signed. She had the key, so when the movers and I arrved we were able to put the boxes and furniture into the House.
At about Noon the movers had the last truckload in the driveway.
I had about three more loads of boxes to move.
At Larrys almost empty rent house, the new tenants were pulling their truck into the driveway.
It looked like we were almost finished moving.

The owner of the house Larry was buying the house from finally arrived at 12:30- he had been due at 8:00 that morning.
He had some kinda bad news.

There was to be no sale.
We were far, really far, from finished moving for the day.

to be continued

THE FAMILY GEWELS

Gewels and me are goin' on a date maybe someday!
I sure am hopin' so.
I have been wanting to do a post so that I can maybe say
'Welcome to the Family, Gewels"
but I thought I didn't know her well enough.
I thought I might maybe put her and another sister (who cannot be with us presently) together somewhere in Oz. i just don't have that formed in my mind yet and I wanted to recognize Gewels now regardless of what I don't know.
We all like her.
What else can one say?
Is there any other material maybe relevant here?
I know that she's had rough go the last several months and currently qualifies her as what Dylan called one of "these battered brothers and sisters of mine" on an album subtitled 'Songs of Redemption".
ActuallyI just looked and that phrase must maybe come from elsewhere.
Can't say where. Don't recall.
Could maybe be anywhere.
Whatever.
I took a fast liking to her straightforward sly sense of humor (she likes to try to bust my chops) and am finding her kind and soft words spread throughout my own newfound blog family. She seems to take to Tropical climes and brings home nice pictures from picturesque places.
I wan't her to know that for every maybe there is another maybe.
Maybe's are inevitable.
And, she has nice toes.
Based on that, I give you Gewels, and a "Song of Redemption" from 'Desire".


MOZAMBIQUE
I like to spend some time in Mozambique
The sunny sky is aqua blue
And all the couples dancing cheek to cheek
It's very nice to stay a week or two
And maybe fall in love just me and you.

There's a lot of pretty girls in Mozambique
And plenty time for good romance
And everybody likes to stop and speak
To give the special one you seek a chance
Or maybe say hello with just a glance.

Lying next to her by the ocean
Reaching out and touching her hand
Whispering your secret emotion
Magic in a magical land.

And when it's time for leaving Mozambique
To say goodbye to sand and sea
You turn around to take a final peek
And you see why it's so unique to be
Among the lovely people living free
Upon the beach of sunny Mozambique


DON'T LOOK NOW BUT ITS A DOUBLE POST DOO-DAH DAY

THE ANTI-MEDUSA

PART OF THE BLOGGERS THAT MAKE MY DAY SERIES
Medusa was one of 3 sisters. She had Snakes for hair, a double-ugly scowl permanently stuck to her face and turned men to stone were they to see her. She had a nasty disposition and was a terror of the underworld. In the 3rd grade I was so fascinated with her that I did a report om her and had a meeting with my Principal to discuss her. Later in life I would have other meetings with other Principals, but this is not about me.
Here in Oz we have the Anti-Medusa. She has shiny Green Hair, the flashiest laser beam smile in the Universe and I can feel the laughter and warmth coming past the satellite or through the fibers or whatever it is that the Internet is. she turns me into a gallon of Butter Double Nut Crunch Ice Cream.

Somewhere over the Rainbow and in another Galaxy, there are little Green Haired men trying to build a Rocketship just to come to Earth to see Annelisa. They are working day and night.
Their doctors and Dentists have charts and full color glossies using her as a guide. Did I mention her smile yet?
Their Religious Leaders argue and write great volumes over whether she be a Deity or merely the most High, for she is Graced with Gods Bounty.
And the Scientists just keep working on that Rocketship. Night and Day.
Their whole Culture is based on either finding her or being more like her in every way.
She enters Forests that become enchanted upon her arrival. I would wager that were she to walk through Saint Annes Court, or Soho, or even Doncaster that the Enchantment meter would Red Line.
Did I mention her smile?
Now you may have heard of Blogathons and Carnivals and such, but her site is pure Picadilly 3 Rings Circus every day. And like so many of you kind ladies, she responds at length to each and every comment she receives, even mine, bringing a quick familiarity to fast friends all over the World. I imagine her to be able to type 1000 words a minute, even underwater.

The Trees spruce and leaf
The hills roll for her.
The dales dole for her and
The moles they mole for her.
The Swans hey-ho-bonny-o for her.
(pleas'do follow the link for she is the Harp playing alone)
The chipmunks genuflect for her
The clouds of the sky billow and sail for her
And Sparrow takes to his wing.
Some where a Rocketship flames for her.
Did I mention her smile?


Oh how I would love to be a frog in her Garden. I would imagine along the trails she enchants, the frogs are fairly lined up, fascinated, dreaming of being smacked by her.
Better keep a sharp eye, Girl!

THE WIZ

"no mere mortal can resist the evil of the thriller"

The Christmas Holiday of my 9th Grade year, under the guise of ‘Christamas Caroling” I met up with several Neighborhood friends. After regaling the first house with a rousing rendition of “Where Shepherds Lay” we paired up and headed for the fields and bushes for the purpose of ‘making –out”.
Up to that point I did not know who Rhonda was, but there is a certain ‘growing closer” that can be experienced by the simple act of a very wet kiss. We grew very close that night. Wanting to grow closer still we ‘Caroled” nightly in the trusty woods, all the way to New Years Eve.
It was all so simple then.
For the next year and half, Rhonda was my girl. She had curly hair and a very cute ‘Button’ (word of the Week?) nose and when she said “R-Ruff’ it drove me wild. We had Purple Pants and Green Felt shoes with stars on them that matched and of course there were the Captain America shirts we wore with this get up always on the same day. Oh God.
Our shoes always matched.

We used to go to “Skateland” on Friday nights. The music of the day was “I’d Like to Buy the World a Coke”, ’My Sweet Lord” “American Pie” and “Rockin’ Robin”. ‘Rockin’ Robin “ was one of my favorites by Michael Jackson.
"Tweet-tweet...tweeedly-deet"
So simple then.
As we skated, we danced, and on the ‘Couples Skate” we got to hold hands and they would play something slow like “Nights in White Satin” or "Killing Me Softly"and Rhonda and I would gaze into each others eyes. Then, "All Skate" and the lights would come back on and they would crank it back up with ‘Bad Moon Risin’”.

It was all so prophetic, and Rhonda moved to Phoenix. Five years later, a married Rhonda came to town for her friends Wedding and we went to dinner. We could have taken up where we left off. R-R-Ruff.

During my Senior Year, love found me again by way of “Susie the Slut”. We were Engaged for a time, but she had sense enough to break it off before we made a really big mistake.
I will explain her nickname in another post because this post is about (was supposed to be about) the Movie we went to see. It was called “The Wiz” and it was the Soul Version of the “Wizard of Oz”. Playing the Scarecrow was none other than little Michael Jackson.
Now we all knew that Michael could dance from his "ABC" and “Rockin’ Robin” days, but the exhibition he put on in this Movie was unbelievable. It was but a warm up for Michael, just a precursor of what he would do in the next 10 years.
So where is this really going?
The music for Barbaras Party of course. I would suggest for her Party that she needs to have one of the best selling albums ever...its not something I sit around and listen to, but it is great for Dancin'! I remember watching The Boys from the Crystal Crotchless dance to this stuff. It took me a while to find the genius in it.
Michael Jacksons “Thriller”.
Vincent Price doin' the Rap part:
"And whosoever shall be found
Without the soul for getting down
Must stand and face the hounds of hell
And rot inside a corpses shell"

Pretty scary, huh?

I will also nominate what I think is the best Live album ever done and mandatory boogie for the crowd I party with.
Littlefeat’s “Waiting for Columbus”...from start to finish this album rocks with its slow southern syncopated style. With “Tower of Power” providing horns and Lowell George still at large, from ‘Fat Man in the Bathtub” to "Rocket in my Pocket" to “Willin'’’ this album gets me movin’ every time.

Gewels said that 'Dixie Chicken" stayed with her all day long last week.

"Many years since she ran away,

yes that guitar player shore could play

she always liked to sing along

she always ended with a Song"

THE WICKED WITCH OF THE WEST

She is Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West.
Oz is just another dreary day without her.

She is Isis, Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali.
She is Inanna.
She is a Carpenter and a Debutante.
She is the answer to Samsons Riddle.
She is Murphys Law and Brewsters Factor and Hobsons Choice.
She is the White Whale. She is Ahab.
She is Hannibal.
She is Calamity Jane and Annie Oakley and Cat Ballou.
No, she is too smart to be Cat Ballou.
Not just another Lost Angel.
She is 1 part Genius and 2 parts Magic and as far as pure thinking goes, she pushes me.
She tasks me.


One of the blogs I have looked at almost as long as Grizzbabes took me a long time to actually leave a comment. The reason is that it may be in some ways the smartest blog I look at. Now ‘smart “ is largely overrated and if we were going for smart as reading material we probably, none of us, would ever have met. Still Kissyface stands as the smartest blog I will allow myself to look at.
If The Grizz and my three companions in Oz are all holding hands and singing "Kum-bay-ya", then Kissyface would well Qualify as a very Foxy, kinder and gentler Elphaba, better known as The Wicked Witch of the West.
It was Elphaba that admonished Dorothy to ‘Go home” in skywriting from her Broom. Indeed, that is all Dorothy wanted anyway. How could Dorothy have made it home without Elphaba? Hmm?
When the Solstice's and Equinoxi have their days on the Calender , and as the seasons of the Earth and phases of the Moon move through their cycles, I can hardly wait for my lesson and rush to the site for instruction from Kissyface. Her blogs become treatises on all manner of occasion and during Halloween and Valentines Day the reading becomes extremely interesting. She combines Norse with Celt and throws in the Greek and Roman equivalents and I find it all so fascinating.
But she does not stop there....she is Elphaba yet because she is so controversial. She will speak right up with a sharp tongue and a wicked little mouth and because of that she is not for everybody. She is for me.
When we are all trying to recover from MLK Day, she pulls Muhammed Ali from her pointy hat, reminding us of another Great one.
Lately she has taken to finding very nice Photography and writing a bit of Poetry or Prose or something inspired by that image. Back when I was trying to explain what I thought was the difference between passion and Love she came up with this, and I do not know if she had me in mind when she wrote it or if I am just tilting windmills... it seemed to say what I wanted to say...I’ll let you decide...its but an excerpt.

From 'Fifteen"

“People, tread with naked, tender steps,
the careful paces of those who know that each touch
bite of bread
every seed sewn, every limb torn down,
garment dropped
button popped
every lay me down
should be handled like a prayer
whispered in earnest to the Mother
the ear of the lover
to the hole you dig in the ground
because each time is new
every all the time a beginning.”

Kissyface, I believe, Groks Holiness.
She talks to Angels.

QUEEN BITCH OF THE UNIVERSE

I am but a lowly contractor for a very large company. I am a Kelly Girl and I am the best Kelly Girl ever.
I tell them so.
I stop by on my Bicycle to the Kelly Office at least twice a month to tell them so. And since I make more than they do they are obliged to listen to me.
The company I contract with is having their Awards Banquet in Annapolis this month.
They were taking nominations for awards last month and I was not sure if I was allowed to make a Nomination...in fact it would not let me onto the Website to do so; in the hopes that I was in flagrant violation of at least 1 mindless Policy and in my usual no-apologies style I wrote a 1500 word e-mail to the Bosses Bosses Boss nominating the lady I work for/with. She is really something and I lovingly refer to her as the “Queen Bitch of the Universe” a nickname she loves, truly deserves, and her husband has adopted.
That poor Bastard.

Anyway, the Bosses Bosses Boss cleared the way for me to formally submit my Nomination and she was listed along with the other 300 Nominees for an Award.
Last week we got the e-Mail where the Nominees had been trimmed down to a Final Five and guess what?

She travels to Annapolis later this Month to attend the Banquet, having made

The Final Five.

I am so proud of her I could burst.
I keep thinkin' about Emilio and I got this feelin' my girl is gonna win.
Won't that be sumpthin'?

My Award was "Best Background Vocalist"

In 1986 at the Fort Worth Hyatt, preparations were being made for the Annual Employee Awards Banquet. Every year, someone is picked by the Executive Committee for this Award, and it was usually a Bartender or a Front Desk Person or the General Managers Secretary or somesuch.
Emilio was a Steward...a Dishwasher/Potwasher/ Floorsweeper. He barely spoke a word of English and he was a skinny, smiling fellow that stayed a s busy as a Bee. You could set your watch by what Emilio was doing, and he was in perpetual motion. When things got super busy and the Kitchen was on Hypercook and the trash cans were reaching the overflow level, Emilio was there just as you began to look for someone, with new liners in his hand and with his smile and energy you were suddenly ready for round two.
Anytime you began to look for a Steward because it was about time for pots to get knocked out, or the floor to be swept or a Cart of Food to be taken to the next floors storage, smiling Emilio would appear in an eerie uncanny way as though the Lords Trump had sounded somewhere and he had been called.
I swear, if an Orange was about ready to roll off the table, Emilio would be there to catch it.

I was so duly impressed by this man that I took it upon myself to lobby with the 9 Members of the Executive Committee, telling them about Emilio and his performance. I went to each Member and pled my case, indicating if Emilio were not to take this "Employee of the Year Award" there was something wrong with the whole slanted system that favored all the beautiful and well spoken people that worked in the 'Front of the House".

And you know what? That year our Employee of the Year was Emilio, whom I loved dearly, and he was none but a lowly Potwasher and the Salt of the Earth.
I should mention that this Honor came with a $2500 Cash Award.

Emilio.
Makes me think of "Mariano".

THE MERRY OLD LAND OF OZ

MORE CONCERNING WHAT MAKES ME THINK

So if this were Oz, and it kinda is, then Grizzbabe would be Glenda the Good Witch of the North who floated in inside a bubble and advised me to follow the Yellow Brick Road. We exchanged a few E-_mails and she was kind enough to support some fairly lengthy ones where I directly "Blogged" her. From there she went further by sending me EMails about a comment I had left somewhere and saying it was further reason I needed to blog. Too kind.

The three companions I would first take on would be Barbara, Ol Lady and Mother of Invention. I distincly remember the comments left by all three from the old abandoned blog and the posts they had done that compelled me to leave comments, if not on that particular post, on a subsequent one.

Barbara has to be the most Spiritual and loving of us all and it shows through in the softheartedness of her posts. Her post that made a huge impression on me was one where she and a group of ladies were preparing to go into some kind of 'Water Ritual" and Barbara was explaining how the act of cleaning before you go in was directly related to the cleansing effect of the ritual itself. Very wise. I think she brings the Qualities of Scarecrow Tin man and Lion all together, and I think I love her most of all. Her heart is huge.

Ol' lady has the most in common with me...she and I would have a blast with a conveyor Dishwasher and a party of 1000 to serve and clean up for. Rack em' and stack em' baby. She is hard working, tough, not scared of nothin', with a cream filled middle. Did I mention she can be crazy whenever she wants to be? The first post I remember reading from her was about a Van full of party goers in Lawn Chairs that would wobble like weebles whenever they took a turn but they didn't fall down. I think it was 714's that had started the evening and I couldn't help but think I might have been invoved in that somehow. But the Ol'lady has a way remembering that jogs my own. She is like a Country road with stories on both sides and down the middle and in the ruts. Her ancestral wisdom has been passed down like seed corn. She, like myself has led a very interesting life. Certainly she is the Scarecrow and Lion all in one. There are a lot of people that love the Old Lady.

Of course Mother of Invention is hopelessly the sweetest thing in Oz, probably Kansas too, because she combines The Woodsman with Auntie Em rather well, doncha think? Her heart is huge and it doesnt take more than a parargraph of hers to find this. The goodwill and compassion pours, "Spills out" from her site.I don't recall as well the first posts of hers that attracted me so much, but they are all flavored Red and served in Heart-Shaped cups. If ever she has had a cloudy day, we would hard catch but a hint of it. I can also see her as the Wizard, ruling Oz with a Mothers-loving touch and Music nightly in the Atrium of the Emerald City. Her heart is every bit as big as Barbaras.

Between these three I think I better understand what the Wizard told the Tin Man about the heart. He said "The size of a Human Heart is not judged by how much it loves, but how much it is loved by others." I was never sure how I felt about this before, but these three ladies have made my poor Munchkin heart feel much bigger.

I AM; THEREFORE I WILL THINK

Now my charms are all o'erthrown,
And what strength I have's mine own,
Which is most faint: now, 'tis true,
I must be here confined by you,
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please.
w.shakespeare

Damn, he was good...

There is a Blog that makes me think...
The first blog I ever looked at came while googling "Stranger in a Strange Land". It was called "Everyday stranger" and very well written with MANY comments every day. But over time the good writing wore me out I guess and though I had resisted the urge to roam from there, in the little roaming I did I stumbled on to Grizzbabe. Something about her written word speaks to me. She reminds me of Erma Bmbeck, some of her posts do, but I just got the feeling that she was a bit of a friend. maybe it was her easy manner, or ladylike fear of her attic and all things mechanical and her 1000 Baking Recipes...I don't know and it doesn't exactly matter.
We like who we like.
Anyway, all of ya'll that I have become aquainted with over the last 7 months are directly related to Miss Grizz...and like the Grizz, you seem as a friend to me. It is because of this feeling, either real imagined, that I have come to know ya'll as friends.
With the exception of my nephew Dave and our neighborhhood Quack, Rod.

All of ya'll make me think.
I think a lot about cha'.
I started this blog to try to improve writing and typing skills of which i had none. i have advanced from the Two Finger Seek Attack Desroy (T/F SAD) to a very jazzy freestyle "Head Hands and Feet" Keyboard Massacre.
I would like to thank all of you (ya'll) for bearing with me and giving me good reasons to continue this exercise, even to the point it is no longer an excercise but a staple, and beg your communal pardon for some of the things I have written. There is nothing that makes me think any harder than trying to decide what to type about today, and how to say it to you.

Your effect on me has been very positive

DATING A TEXAN

FOR KISSYFACE; SHE IS ONE LUCKY WOMAN TO BE DATING A TEXAN-I HOPE ITS NOT TOO LATE!
She has requested advice and I shall give it...so smart of her to come to me!

"lets go chase tornados
just me an' you
you don't always catch em'
but, man! when you do..."
James mcMurtry


-> Always sit as close as possible to him, as though you were stapled at the hip, especially in the car. Its just what we do.

>Anytime you go out is a special occasion.

->Get your "Concealed Weapon" License and carry a pistol in your purse. I hope you'll never have to use it. A Baby Desert Eagle would be sweet depending on the size of your purse. check with Citizen H. over at "Beer, Bait and Ammo".

->Wear tight jeans with too much starch and a crease so sharp it might cut you.

->Put your hands in your back pockets and rock back and forth Ellie Mae style...its irresistable!
Get braces for your overbite... just a little one will do.

->Shirts with embriodery, beads, and feathers are highly desired...you don't have to wear them all the time, just on special occasions.

->Learn the language. I'll make it easy for you.... any 3 syllables can be condensed to two...say "got-dyamit"...and any 2 syllables can become 3.... say "bool-shee-it". Very nice!

->Chicken Fried Steak with Bisquits and Gravy for Breakfast. I hope you like Buttermilk. Need I say more?

->Be able to arch your back and take a deep breath... everything is pretty darn big down there. I mean out here. In Texas. You get the picture.

->Talk loud and sit close to the house.


->Learn all the words to "Choctaw Bingo". Learn all the words to "If I Needed You"

-> Get the reddest lipstick you can find and as always wear your hair BIG!

Kissyface, remember he is just a Man, only moreso.

WE NEVER SHOULD HAVE PUT SHOES ON THEM (birthday remix)

A few months back I posted this regarding the Red Dirt Poetry girl and she was delighted... lets have another look, shall we?

Many years back I had a job that required me to be Manager on duty for a large hotel once a month. I had to wear a business suit and the suit I had made me look like Elvis Presley during his later years..
I headed for the local “Men’s Wearhouse” because I truly admired the commercials that featured George Zimmerer announcing with all confidence that “You’re going to like the way you look. I Guarantee it!”. I would place my faith in him.
After finding a suit that fell within my price range ($10 more than the Rock Bottom prison Release issue) a Double Breasted Slate Grey affair, measurements were made and it was sent to be altered. Mind you, my fashion statement is all about dressing down to the point of Sloth, but I do know what looks good. As they were shuttling my selection to the Tailor in back, I was told to take a look around for a tie.
The salesman certainly knew that I was a bit of a Huc-Huc- Huckleberry and offered this:
"A tie is an extension of you and a reflection of your personality.”
I thought this was a very strange thing to say, right up until I saw a tie that just screamed at me. It was a kind of psychedelic paisley thing that would contrast the Slate Grey Suit in a most tasteful way. Suddenly I understood what the Salesman meant.
And even my wife “liked the way I looked.”

I was never the most creative Chef in the world and had to rely on certain tricks to gain some inspiration. One of them that worked best for me was to come up with a name for a dish and then try to work the dish around it.
Beef Brigadoon.
Scotch Salmon Cream.
Deep in the Heart.
He-man Soup.
Recently I have made a friend, RDG http://red-dirt-girl.blogspot.com/ and we have developed a little collaboration. She is into shoes and somehow we have begun to pair up shoes with meals. Kind of a “Meals on Heels “ thing. It started out to be a bit of a gas for me but she is REALLY INTO THESE SHOES and is able to provide a lot more inspiration than I ever would have thought possible coming from a shoe. She posts a shoe and I see a menu there. I pitch a Menu and she comes up with the shoe.
This little game seems to be leading to more and smarter dialog than you might expect.
I should also mention she and her son write some very nice poetry. Its coming up to a major food and shopping season so if you are short on inspiration, take a look at the RDG....its certainly got more flavor than picking out a tie!
There is only one problem I am having with this.
Every time I see a Women’s shoe these days I start makin’ like Pavlov’s Dog and drooling all over myself.
I need a bib over here!