Showing posts with label Silly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Silly. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, October 02, 2006
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Patsy's Diner...
My friend, Patsy, just bought a diner. It's on route 60 , on the way to Newport News from Richmond, Virginia. When the beach t
raffic on 64 east gets to be too much for you, jump over to route 60 and give it a try. She makes the best bacon and eggs and cheesy grits ever. Y'all come on down and try it out, ya hea?!
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Spawn of who???
I only have time to post one photo this morning and I chose this one. Don't ask why?
Friday, July 28, 2006
911 and foundation garments...
It all began with a phone call on Tuesday afternoon. There was a young voice on the other end of the phone, speaking in a very fast and garbled way. It was a young woman and she was speaking in that affected way that some teenagers speak. I could barely understand her, but I was able to get the gist when I heard the words 'Hair Perfection'. I realized she was making the 'reminder' phone call to make sure I would not miss my appointment the following day. I was only able to pluck a few recognizable words from her short spiel, 'Hair Perfection' and '9:30'. I answered her in the affirmative, thanked her and put the phone back on the receiver.
Wednesday morning I decided to check my calendar to see if my appointment was indeed at 9:30. I thought that seemed a little early. I checked and, sure enough, I had recorded 11:30 on my calendar. I wasn't sure if the girl had said 9:30 or if I had misunders tood and she had said 11:30. I didn't know if I had recorded the wrong time on my calendar or if she had misspoken. Now I was faced with a very small dilemma that would soon turn into a very large dilemma. I said to Herman, "I think my appointment is at 11:30. That's what's on my calendar, but I can't be sure. I'll call them and find out before I drive over there at 9:30 only to find out that my appointment is really at 11:30."
Now doesn't that seem like a reasonable thing to do? Yes.....I thought so too.
So, that's exactly what I did. Around 8:30 I made what would be the first of three phone calls.
On the first call there was no answer which did not surprise me. I did not expect them to open till 9:00. So promptly at 9:00 I made my second call.... still no answer. At 9:10 *this is where things get slightly complicated* I made my third and final call to Hair Perfection. I was sitting in the office at the desk, still in my jammies. Keep in mind that *in my jammies* means exactly that, my jammies and nothing else.....no support garments.....no robe......nothing but my jammies.
I have to interject here that I do not wear lovely PJs or nightgowns either. My pajamas consist of pajama bottoms that are two sizes too large because that's what I find to be comfortable, and tee shirts that have been worn and washed over the years till they are as soft as a bunny's fur. Not too attractive but I don't entertain in them, K. I sleeeep in them so I'm not going to apologize for my jammies. I love them and that's all that matters......well, it used to be.
Back to the story. As I'm sitting at the desk I reach over and hit the button on the office phone that puts it in speaker phone mode. I then glance at the rolodex that is turned to the phone number for Hair Perfection. The phone number is 3** -9111. I very quickly and inadvertently hit the last four numbers (9111) leaving off the first three numbers. Imagine my surprise when I heard a very polite voice, clearly and distinctly, asking me if I needed assistance. I immediately realized my error and began to stutter an apology. This is how the conversation went.
911 Lady ~ *polite and concerned* Do you need assistance?
Bonnie ~ *embarrassed and apologetic* Oh, no! I hit 911 accidentally. I didn't mean to do it. I'm sooo sorry.
911 Lady ~ *still concerned* Are you sure?
Bonnie ~ *still embarrassed - still apologetic* Yes, oh yes. I'm just fine. I'm so sorry! It was an accident.
911 Lady ~ *realizing she's dealing with a nut* That's ok ma'am. It happens. Do y ou live at 2343 Nut Case Lane (not really, she said the name of my street and the street number of my house) I guess they like to keep track of all the goof balls.
Bonnie ~ *still embarrassed - still apologetic* Yes, yes....that's where I live. I'm so sorry!
911 Lady ~ *patient beyond belief* That's okay, no problem. Is your phone number ***-****?
Bonnie ~ *still embarrassed - still apologetic* Yes, that's my phone number. I'm so sorry.
911 Lady ~ *still polite* It's okay. And your name?
Bonnie ~ *defeated* Bonnie ******
911 Lady ~ *cheerful* Okay, ma'am. You have a nice day now.
Bonnie ~ Thank you so much. You too.
In the middle of this conversation Herman came into the room. As soon as the conversation was over he said, "What have you done now?" Then I had to expl ain. He just shook his head and looked at me with an expression on his face of a tolerant and patient parent... looking at his not too bright child who has just flushed the family pet down the toilet.
After this exchange, there was nothing to do but call my friend, Patsy, whom I was certain would sympathize, if for no other reason than the fact that I know where all her skeletons are buried. I also knew this was good for a laugh and we would definitely have one over it. I told her what I had done and we did laugh. Then I said to her, "I bet I hear from them again, just to make sure that I'm okay. I bet they call me in a little while." She said, "No, I think it's okay. They probably won't contact you again."
A few minutes later, I was still on the phone with Patsy when I heard Herman call from downstairs in a very exaggerated and slightly amused voice, "OOOOh, Boonnieee. Someone wants to seeeeee you.." There is no way I was going to the door. Remember? I was s till in my pajamas, with no foundation garments. I will keep what little dignity I have left at this point and refrain from describing my *on the far side of 50's* body. When I did not respond immediately, Herman came upstairs to get me. He had this very smug look on his face, as if he were enjoying himself waay too much, as far as I'm concerned. He said, "Come on, there is someone downstairs that wants to meet you now." When I didn't budge he said, a little more seriously, "Come on. They have to see you to make sure you're okay"
*Yikes, Omigod, Jeeze, Good Grief, Darn, Darn, Darn, Shoot me now and get it over with.*
Patsy is on the other end of the phone, snickering. Yes, my best friend, after all my years of supporting her through every single crisis of her miserable little life, is snickering at me on the other end of the phone, knowing that I have no choice......knowing that I'm going to have to go down there and face the music without my.......<>OH MY GOODNESS.....foundation garment. Just like Herman, she was enjoying it too darned much.
I reluctantly got up and went to the top of the stairs. Two of Hanover's finest were standing at the bottom of my stairs, armed and ready. They were very handsome young men. I did notice that. Other than that, it's all a blur. (Are you kidding....every single second is engraved across my brain for eternity) The following conversation took place as I tightly held my arms cross my chest in a protective manner and began to blather. I could not shut my mouth no matter how hard I tried and Herman just stood by with a smug smile on his face. I would later learn that the officers had not been as, shall we say, sympathetic and kind with him as they were with me. This is how it went.
Bonnie ~ I'm soooo sorry, I'm sooooo embarrassed.....and on and on. I didn't mean to, I just hit the wrong...... *I simply couldn't stop*
Police Officer ~ *professional & concerned* "Ma'am, are you okay? Do you need assistance?"
Bonnie ~ *unable to stop blathering and still holding my arms across my chest* "Oh, no, I'm fine, and I'm soooo sorry. It was an accident. I just hit the wrong numbers and I didn't mean to. I can't believe I've put you to all this trouble and on and on and on and on........
Police Officer ~ *professional, concerned and sympathetic* That's okay, ma'am. Don't you worry about it. Happens all the time. We just want to make sure your okay.
Bonnie ~ *melted into a puddle of warm jelly at this point* Thank you, you're too kind. Thank you so much.
Police Officer ~ *wanting to get away from me, knowing full well that he is talking to a woman who is one taco short of a combination platter* You're welcome, ma'am. You have a nice day now.
Wednesday morning I decided to check my calendar to see if my appointment was indeed at 9:30. I thought that seemed a little early. I checked and, sure enough, I had recorded 11:30 on my calendar. I wasn't sure if the girl had said 9:30 or if I had misunders tood and she had said 11:30. I didn't know if I had recorded the wrong time on my calendar or if she had misspoken. Now I was faced with a very small dilemma that would soon turn into a very large dilemma. I said to Herman, "I think my appointment is at 11:30. That's what's on my calendar, but I can't be sure. I'll call them and find out before I drive over there at 9:30 only to find out that my appointment is really at 11:30."
Now doesn't that seem like a reasonable thing to do? Yes.....I thought so too.
So, that's exactly what I did. Around 8:30 I made what would be the first of three phone calls.
On the first call there was no answer which did not surprise me. I did not expect them to open till 9:00. So promptly at 9:00 I made my second call.... still no answer. At 9:10 *this is where things get slightly complicated* I made my third and final call to Hair Perfection. I was sitting in the office at the desk, still in my jammies. Keep in mind that *in my jammies* means exactly that, my jammies and nothing else.....no support garments.....no robe......nothing but my jammies.
I have to interject here that I do not wear lovely PJs or nightgowns either. My pajamas consist of pajama bottoms that are two sizes too large because that's what I find to be comfortable, and tee shirts that have been worn and washed over the years till they are as soft as a bunny's fur. Not too attractive but I don't entertain in them, K. I sleeeep in them so I'm not going to apologize for my jammies. I love them and that's all that matters......well, it used to be.
Back to the story. As I'm sitting at the desk I reach over and hit the button on the office phone that puts it in speaker phone mode. I then glance at the rolodex that is turned to the phone number for Hair Perfection. The phone number is 3** -9111. I very quickly and inadvertently hit the last four numbers (9111) leaving off the first three numbers. Imagine my surprise when I heard a very polite voice, clearly and distinctly, asking me if I needed assistance. I immediately realized my error and began to stutter an apology. This is how the conversation went.
911 Lady ~ *polite and concerned* Do you need assistance?
Bonnie ~ *embarrassed and apologetic* Oh, no! I hit 911 accidentally. I didn't mean to do it. I'm sooo sorry.
911 Lady ~ *still concerned* Are you sure?
Bonnie ~ *still embarrassed - still apologetic* Yes, oh yes. I'm just fine. I'm so sorry! It was an accident.
911 Lady ~ *realizing she's dealing with a nut* That's ok ma'am. It happens. Do y ou live at 2343 Nut Case Lane (not really, she said the name of my street and the street number of my house) I guess they like to keep track of all the goof balls.
Bonnie ~ *still embarrassed - still apologetic* Yes, yes....that's where I live. I'm so sorry!
911 Lady ~ *patient beyond belief* That's okay, no problem. Is your phone number ***-****?
Bonnie ~ *still embarrassed - still apologetic* Yes, that's my phone number. I'm so sorry.
911 Lady ~ *still polite* It's okay. And your name?
Bonnie ~ *defeated* Bonnie ******
911 Lady ~ *cheerful* Okay, ma'am. You have a nice day now.
Bonnie ~ Thank you so much. You too.
In the middle of this conversation Herman came into the room. As soon as the conversation was over he said, "What have you done now?" Then I had to expl ain. He just shook his head and looked at me with an expression on his face of a tolerant and patient parent... looking at his not too bright child who has just flushed the family pet down the toilet.
After this exchange, there was nothing to do but call my friend, Patsy, whom I was certain would sympathize, if for no other reason than the fact that I know where all her skeletons are buried. I also knew this was good for a laugh and we would definitely have one over it. I told her what I had done and we did laugh. Then I said to her, "I bet I hear from them again, just to make sure that I'm okay. I bet they call me in a little while." She said, "No, I think it's okay. They probably won't contact you again."
A few minutes later, I was still on the phone with Patsy when I heard Herman call from downstairs in a very exaggerated and slightly amused voice, "OOOOh, Boonnieee. Someone wants to seeeeee you.." There is no way I was going to the door. Remember? I was s till in my pajamas, with no foundation garments. I will keep what little dignity I have left at this point and refrain from describing my *on the far side of 50's* body. When I did not respond immediately, Herman came upstairs to get me. He had this very smug look on his face, as if he were enjoying himself waay too much, as far as I'm concerned. He said, "Come on, there is someone downstairs that wants to meet you now." When I didn't budge he said, a little more seriously, "Come on. They have to see you to make sure you're okay"
*Yikes, Omigod, Jeeze, Good Grief, Darn, Darn, Darn, Shoot me now and get it over with.*
Patsy is on the other end of the phone, snickering. Yes, my best friend, after all my years of supporting her through every single crisis of her miserable little life, is snickering at me on the other end of the phone, knowing that I have no choice......knowing that I'm going to have to go down there and face the music without my.......<>OH MY GOODNESS.....foundation garment. Just like Herman, she was enjoying it too darned much.
I reluctantly got up and went to the top of the stairs. Two of Hanover's finest were standing at the bottom of my stairs, armed and ready. They were very handsome young men. I did notice that. Other than that, it's all a blur. (Are you kidding....every single second is engraved across my brain for eternity) The following conversation took place as I tightly held my arms cross my chest in a protective manner and began to blather. I could not shut my mouth no matter how hard I tried and Herman just stood by with a smug smile on his face. I would later learn that the officers had not been as, shall we say, sympathetic and kind with him as they were with me. This is how it went.
Bonnie ~ I'm soooo sorry, I'm sooooo embarrassed.....and on and on. I didn't mean to, I just hit the wrong...... *I simply couldn't stop*
Police Officer ~ *professional & concerned* "Ma'am, are you okay? Do you need assistance?"
Bonnie ~ *unable to stop blathering and still holding my arms across my chest* "Oh, no, I'm fine, and I'm soooo sorry. It was an accident. I just hit the wrong numbers and I didn't mean to. I can't believe I've put you to all this trouble and on and on and on and on........
Police Officer ~ *professional, concerned and sympathetic* That's okay, ma'am. Don't you worry about it. Happens all the time. We just want to make sure your okay.
Bonnie ~ *melted into a puddle of warm jelly at this point* Thank you, you're too kind. Thank you so much.
Police Officer ~ *wanting to get away from me, knowing full well that he is talking to a woman who is one taco short of a combination platter* You're welcome, ma'am. You have a nice day now.
*Fat chance of that*
Herman later told me that the police officers had been very professional with him also but were insistent and demanded to see me *in the flesh as it were* before they would leave. They wanted to make sure that there had been no domestic abuse.
Well, that's my story. I have no moral, no special ending, no lesson learned....just my story.
......and by the way......my appointment turned out to be at 11:30, just as I had thought. I arrived promptly and with a story.....
Thursday, July 27, 2006
How to kill a fly...
I always seem to have one lone fly in my kitchen, and he taunts me for hours on end. The story is always the same. First I spy the fly, usually trying to land on food that I'm preparing. I've read all those statistics about flies pooping every time they land. Yes, I'm sure they do because they get a lot of fiber from eating my fruit and veggies.
Anyway, I don't want them landing on my food so I always lean over and open the cabinet door under the kitchen sink, and reach in for the fly swatter. It never fails; as soon as I'm armed and ready to do battle the fly disappears every single time. I'm left standing there, swatter in hand, tense look across my brow, usually saying bad things under my breath, and feeling a bit like a girl at a school dance who has been ditched by her date for a prettier girl.
At this point I usually lay the swatter down in an easy to reach place, trying to fool the fly into thinking I've given up. This usually works but it takes a few minutes. You have to be patient. Eventually the little nasty winged germ carrier gets hungry and comes looking for my food again, but this time I'm ready. This must be what duck hunters feel like when they're waiting in the duck blind.
I slowly retrieve my swatter and standing far away from the fly so he won't see me, I raise the swatter into my best swatting position, and ever so slowly I begin to stalk the fly. I move in a stealth like manner across the room until I'm within striking distance, and remember, the swatter is already raised in the striking position. This is crucial because if he sees any movement he will skedaddle.
Once I've crept close enough I watch the fly as he rubs his two front feeler thingies together. *that's a technical term* When he has them off the ground and is rubbing them together, then and only then, with one swift stroke, I strike with the cunning, speed and force of a cobra.
Slam!
And that, ladies and gents, is how you kill a fly!
Anyway, I don't want them landing on my food so I always lean over and open the cabinet door under the kitchen sink, and reach in for the fly swatter. It never fails; as soon as I'm armed and ready to do battle the fly disappears every single time. I'm left standing there, swatter in hand, tense look across my brow, usually saying bad things under my breath, and feeling a bit like a girl at a school dance who has been ditched by her date for a prettier girl.
At this point I usually lay the swatter down in an easy to reach place, trying to fool the fly into thinking I've given up. This usually works but it takes a few minutes. You have to be patient. Eventually the little nasty winged germ carrier gets hungry and comes looking for my food again, but this time I'm ready. This must be what duck hunters feel like when they're waiting in the duck blind.
I slowly retrieve my swatter and standing far away from the fly so he won't see me, I raise the swatter into my best swatting position, and ever so slowly I begin to stalk the fly. I move in a stealth like manner across the room until I'm within striking distance, and remember, the swatter is already raised in the striking position. This is crucial because if he sees any movement he will skedaddle.
Once I've crept close enough I watch the fly as he rubs his two front feeler thingies together. *that's a technical term* When he has them off the ground and is rubbing them together, then and only then, with one swift stroke, I strike with the cunning, speed and force of a cobra.
Slam!
And that, ladies and gents, is how you kill a fly!
We used to burn them but...
My generation burned them but I don't recall anyone hanging them on a tree by the side of the road for all to see. I went to the grocery store first thing this morning. After I returned and put the groceries away, I then followed Herman over to the garage so Larry could put the new tires on my car. Herman had bought them a few days ago. We left my car there and Herman drove us home. As we came around a curve on an old country road Herman spied this pink bra hanging from the limb of a tree. We were left to imagine the story behind it. Maybe it's better that we don't know. I know it's silly but I couldn't resist.
Herman is out mowing the lawn now, and I'm on my way downstairs to make a cake. I declare, we get more done before nine than the U.S. Army.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Bek Goes To Iowa....
I hear tell they grow farm boys in the corn fields of Iowa. You never know where a woman may find a good man. Just pick one and bring him home, Bek.
This will be Bek, in all her homespun beauty, when she gets to Iowa and all that good ole farm cookin'. Wish I could have some.
Nothing like corn on the cob, fresh from the fields! Yummmm! Imagine butter dripping all over that!
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Erma, The Amazing Cat!
Erma As A Kitten
My friend, Patsy, was going through a rough patch about 16 or 17 years ago. We've all done that at one time or another. It was a time of transition. During this time she moved from her house into an apartment for a short time. Very little time passed before she bought a condo, and soon found herself moving again. Most people know that moving is very high on the stress meter, and to do it twice in one year is off the charts.
During this time she got a cat. Her little girl, Bek, who was about 12 years old at the time, wanted a pet. Patsy felt like it would be a good thing for both of them. They went down to the animal shelter, and after great deliberation, Bek chose a black and white cat. She named her Erma. Erma, the cat!
Erma was no ordinary cat. Noooo! Indeed, she turned out to be a very special cat, smarter than the average cat. Patsy and Bek worked with her, and over the years they taught her many tricks. She can put herself into a trance and sleep all day, she can drink water from a faucet, she can jump up on the hutch and walk in and around all the dishes without breaking a single plate, she can even fly through the air with the greatest of ease (see photo), and she can do far too many other things to write about here.....in fact, I think it would be easier to just show you.
I video taped Erma's greatest feat. To get all the poop on Erma ~ click here.
Enjoy!
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Bek Entertains Us...
On the way to Chiles Orchards, Bek took it upon herself to entertain us with song. I seem to recall Jacob pleading, "Mommy stop, please, stop."
Gotta luv his style...
This gentleman was taking his peaches to his car. I love his style, especially the handkerchief, however, I can't help but wonder what his wife thinks of his shirt. What is he thinking?
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