Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Happy Birthday, Carole!


Today is my sister Carole’s birthday. She is my eldest sister, born 10½ years before me, so I’ll let you do the math. Let’s just say it’s a milestone birthday for her.

Of all of my many blessings, having a sister like Carole is right up there at the top. She inspired my love of music, of Daphne du Maurier novels, and of old movies (Remember Jennifer Jones in "Duel in the Sun"?), along with my respect for quilts and the domestic arts. She's a fantastic cook, jelly-maker, gardener, musician, singer, choir director, needleworker, artist, mother and grandmother. A cautious but dogged Farkle player, she can also whip me soundly at Scrabble every now and then.

If you don't have a big sister like Carole, you should get one. She is one in a million, and I love her very much. You can e-mail her at clcorder@wildblue.net and tell her Happy Birthday!

Saturday, May 24, 2008

Got any duck jokes?

A duck walks into a 7-11. He says to the guy at the counter, "Got any grapes?"

The clerk says, "No, we're a convenience store with snacks and beer and stuff like that. We don't carry any produce."

The next day, the duck comes back. Waddles up to the counter and says, "Got any grapes?"

The clerk says, "I told you yesterday. We're a 7-11. We don't have any vegetables or fruits."

The next day, the duck comes back yet again. He approaches the counter. "Got any grapes?"

The clerk is really mad now. "I TOLD YOU. WE DO NOT HAVE PRODUCE. WE DO NOT HAVE GRAPES. And if you come back in here again asking for grapes, I'm going to nail your bill to this counter! GOT IT?"

The next day, the duck returns. He says to the clerk, "Got any nails?"

The clerk says, "No, we don't carry nails."

Says the duck, "Got any grapes?"

Friday, May 23, 2008

A GREAT UPDATE FROM A FRIEND OF MINE!

Please read and enjoy this update from a strong and focused colleague of mine. She undergoes additional surgery next week; she will do great!------------------


I cannot believe that I last wrote you in November! Wow, time has flown and so much has changed, so here goes. …..


I have completed 6 months of somewhat arduous chemotherapy for HER2 biological breast cancer. I have undergone 16 treatments and am so glad it’s FINALLLY OVER (More technical details are outlined below). Some things I have learned:

The term “chemo brain” is true. Without all of your patience, I would be nowhere.

You all are always so supportive during my memory losses and those times when inappropriate words pop out of my mouth.

My countless forgetful retelling of stories, gossip and needless facts.

You have played ‘Guess the Topic’, ‘Guess the End of this Sentence’, sat there ignoring my mishaps or laughing it off with me.

“Mini-T”. My wig, Mini-T, and I get along famously, but have had a few learnings. Might I share some helpful hints:

1. They provide wig tape for a reason. If you choose not use it, then that’s your fault. I chose not to use it, so it is my fault?

2. Rolling down car windows, can make your wig feel the need to take a hike

3. Bending forward can cause unnecessary forward back-wig movement

4. Lying down at the Dr office can cause total wig movement upwards

5. Choose wisely when stepping into windy/gusty weather. Be prepared with how to avoid wind wig removal.

6. If you choose to affront the windy weather, have a plan for how you will inconspicuously hold your wig in place. My first time out, I put an index finger on the top of my head and must have looked like Tinkerbell. I inadvertently met up with my company’s CEO, Steve, whose confusion at my look then led to laughter. I really appreciated his great sense of humor!!!

7. If your wig is sitting too far back on your head, you can look like a conehead from Saturday Night Live…Not a good look, but a lot of fun to ‘scare’ people with.

8. DO NOT, under any circumstances, send pictures of your nicely styled pre-chemo hair without double checking the picture background. I uploaded those pics and sent them to Cheryl, my wigmaker in NY. Only after we were discussing the pics, did I notice my big naked butt in the mirror reflection in one of them. OH MY GOSH!!! What was I thinking!!

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

We have a new deck and garden!



With native, easy-to-care-for plants and a "water feature!" This is Lynn's pretty sago palm anchoring the scene, and we installed a water-spouting urn from Joshua's up in the Heights. Casey likes it, as you can see. And we like having the messy covered patio gone. In the shot below, you can see that the back fence is now wrought-iron, and that last crackhouse in the hood that was on that lot has been torn down. Click on the photos for detail. Casey looks particularly stunning in the top pic.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Pat Gets Even!

I had my "minor medical procedure" yesterday to even up my, uh, stuff that needed evened up. Soon I will get the finishing touches, done with tattoo ink (I am not kidding) that will improve things cosmetically. I am going to have to be talked out of a monkey tattoo. I really, really want one.

Anyhow, the surgery was brief and there were no problems. Chuck was with me; we came home and he made me a DELICIOUS BLT with yellow tomatoes. MMM. I watched Dancing with the Stars, took a pain pill, and went to bed. Up at 7 am; made a 9 am meeting at Greenspoint, and am now back in my office.

Our department moves to the new headquarters at Greenspoint this weekend. This will be much easier commute for me, and I have a really nice office to decorate with my numerous monkey items.

Tuesday, May 06, 2008

The Drunk and the Five Dollar Bill

People of my generation were reared by parents who survived the Depression. So we’ve all heard the stories about how poor everyone was and how difficult their lives were. I was all grown up before I realized that my mom’s stories were not a reflection of how everyone had lived. She endured some special circumstances, which of course made her the woman she was, but it took me awhile to understand that her hardships were very different.

For one thing, her mother left. On Christmas Day. Lee left four children, ages five through thirteen, with their alcoholic father and took off with another man. So my mother and her siblings were children of divorce, when divorce was a real stigma. And Grandpa Louis Skaggs was indeed a drunk, a working drunk, but a drunk nonetheless.

All of us kids knew this from an early age; it was a fact of our lives and of his. He had come to live with us after a stroke that left him partially incapacitated and unable to live on his own. Mom had told him, in a stern conversation, that he could come to live with her family – her husband and five small children – but he couldn’t drink in front of them. He said, “I’ll die if I don’t drink.” She replied, “You’ll die sober.”

He lived another nine years. Didn’t have another drink. But he spent his time teaching small children to play cards and cribbage and perform other useful tasks, like tricks with a penny, how to fetch his pipe, and how to light matches. It seemed to me he was very patient with us, but I wonder now if he was just trying to get through each day. We all have a lot of stories about him, but one of my favorites is the story mom told about an incident when she was a teenager.

Louis had come home one evening, drunk, which wasn’t unusual, but he had a friend with him this time, a drinking buddy. The friend was also drunk and the two of them burst into the house, laughing and cutting up. Mom, the eldest, was 14 or 15, and she was protective – she had to be – of her younger siblings. She said it frightened her to have that other drunk in the house. She didn’t know him well and was worried about what could happen. So, she did what she always did when she was afraid – she got very mad.

The two drunks pulled chairs up to the kitchen table. Louis said, “Make us some sandwiches, Ruthie!”

She replied, hostile, “I’ll make you a sandwich, but I’m not making that goddam drunk a sandwich.”

Her father reprimanded her for swearing and told her to do as she was told. At the same time, Louis’s companion said, “I’ll pay you five dollars to make me a sandwich!” And he took a five dollar bill out of his pocket and slapped it onto the kitchen table.

At this point in the story, Mom always told us, “Five dollars was a lot of money in those days. It’s like fifty dollars now. But I was mad and scared and worried.”

So she said to the drunk, “I don’t want your goddam five dollars,” too angry to care if her father got mad at her for swearing again. Her younger sister and two younger brothers stood in the kitchen door, impressed by her bravery and waiting for some kind of fight, she told us.

Louis asked her if she wanted a whipping, and although she knew he wouldn’t follow through, she reluctantly turned around and made two bologna sandwiches. She handed one sandwich to her father and put his friend’s sandwich on top of the five dollar bill that still lay on the table.

She watched quietly as the drunk picked up the sandwich, along with the bill, and ate them both in four or five bites. Mae and Bud and Arthur still watched from the kitchen door, their eyes wide, too astonished to laugh.

As soon as the drunk finished the sandwich, he noticed that his money was gone. “Where’s my five dollars?” he shouted.

Her dad chimed in. “Ruthie, where’s his money?”

“He ate it,” she replied calmly.

Louis complained, “Well why the hell didn’t you say anything?”

Mom answered, “It wasn’t my five dollars. It was his. I figured if he wanted to eat it, he could.”

We always loved hearing this story and her very graphic description of how the drunk ate the money along with the sandwich, “Chomp! Chomp! Chomp! He tore the bill with his teeth, swallowed it right down, and never noticed it!” We would howl with laughter.

Louis said, “I oughta whip you, Ruthie,” and Mom said, “Go ahead.”

He looked at her, and at the other children, who were trying not to laugh out loud. He gathered up his still complaining friend and said, “We’re leaving.”

“Good,” she said. “Don’t bring any more drunks back here.”

And he didn’t.

This story and others – about a drunken father, about a mother flirting with a neighbor man while the milk cow ate her flower garden, about petty-criminal friends, about being looked down on by neighbors and teachers – were always presented to us as funny stories, or at least stories that had positive endings. It was probably my mom’s way of getting past and putting away the sadness of what must have been a heartbreaking childhood. I continue to admire her strength, long after she’s gone.

Shameless Commerce Division


For my friends and family who hang out at junk shops, garage sales, First Monday, and other places of ill-repute, I am looking for these dishes. They were manufactured under two names: Royal Bayreuth, Bayreuth Birds; and Royal Tettau, Woodsong. There are a number of different wild birds on the plates, but the band is bright yellow or orange. I'll take any of them. If you find any dinner plates or smaller, buy them for me and I will reimburse. And yes, I'm watching on e-Bay and I've registered at China Replacements. Duh.

Monday, May 05, 2008

Stories that make me laugh out loud.

This is one I can just think about and fall out of my chair.

One time my sister-in-law Cheryl announced that she would like to get a massage some time. "But," said Cheryl, her beautiful eyes flashing, "I've never had a massage. Does it hurt? I don't want someone to beat me up."

I explained to her that you can always tell the massage therapist to go easy on you. "You can just say you're a 'massage-weenie,' that it's your first time and that he or she should use light pressure until you say otherwise."

"Oh," she said, "that makes sense. I never thought of that."

Just then my brother walked in the door and Cheryl said, "Hey, Tommy, guess what? Did you know that if you go to a massage therapist, you can ask for a weenie massage?"

"Yes," said my brother, without missing a beat, "but it costs extra."

Thursday, May 01, 2008

More Stuffing, Please!

Going back in for minor surgery on the 12th -- need to have my, um, operation evened out. In honor of everyone's new focus on environmental, green choices, I have opted not to have silicone but will request cornbread instead. It may turn out a little lumpy, but I'll smell like Thanksgiving!

And don't worry. It's very minor surgery. I should be able to reach the top shelves of the Spec's wine section (where the cheap bottles are) within 24 hours.