Up town...as promised

You may recall (if you read the dribble I write on this blog) that I made a promise to write the second of my two up town stories.

In case your not one of the many hundreds (well, actually thousands really) Not All Who Wander Are Lost blog readers/fans (I'm makin myself sick here)...who read the first up town post here it is...

Up town was what my grandmother called the heart of her city. Every year she brought my sister and I to her house to attend the big street/art fair they had in July.

This year, like all the others we were soooo anxious to get there and get the fun started that we were driving my grandma nuts.

Me, Susan (hammin it up as usual)

 and (pint sized) Grandma K

This particular year we had guests tagging along.

They were my grandmother's sisters in law.

A set of creepy twins that looked EXACTLY like her husband (our step grandfather) in frizzy bun wigs.....

(If you are thinking YIKES, you'd be right).

They were given the names of the months, May and June....and if it's not just a figment of my overactive imagination..I'm thinking they had another sister named April...(mom, is this true, or is my mind wandering again???)

Seriously....

The twins were large women who both had a fondness for chain smoking cigarettes they let dangle from their lips.

Dangle with ashes at least an inch long.

The cigarettes bounced up and down like mini diving boards when they talked.

I spent countless minutes mesmerized by those dipping ashes.

Wondering just exactly how long it would take them to jump.

The twins had a great fondness for liquid beverages too.

Especially beverages that go by the names beer and whiskey.

I'd never seen the twins in the light of day.

Usually I'd only seen them at night time card parties.

Where Susan and I would watch them out of the corner of our eyes.

They were fascinating characters.

Too much drinking and too many smokes and we had ourselves a little party.

This year the twins were going up town with us.

I remember walking to the fair and thinking how different my grandma was from her sisters in law.

While they were tall and loud, she was 4'11" (or maybe less) and very soft spoken.

They cussed like foul mouthed sailors.

And cackled with deep, raspy laughs.

Because we were young, Susan and I hung pretty close to grandma and the twins once we got up town.

It was still a lot of fun.

We bought all kinds of fair goodies to eat and spent lots of our grandma's money trying unsuccessfully to win cute stuffed animals.

Our young uncle's band was putting on a show at the fair at noon this particular day and when it was near starting time we made our way through the crowds toward the center of town.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, one of these

appeared....

and ran over Susan.

Yes, I did write ran over Susan.

As it plowed into the two of us, I was pushed aside, but it threw Susan to the ground.

She was trapped under the front wheel of the tractor train.

She was in shock and having trouble breathing.

I remember people around us hollering and I remember the split seconds when no one knew exactly what to do.

My petite grandma knew what to do.

She ran to the side where Susan was pinned and like a 400 lb body builder she squatted down and put her shoulder under the front of the tractor. She rose up, anchored her tiny legs sideways and lifted the tractor off of Susan's chest. 

When the tire lifted off of Susan my grandma used her short leg to kick her out from underneath.

When she was far enough to not be squished again my grandma let the train fall to the ground.

The people around us cheered.

My grandma stood up,

straightened herself out,

brushed the mess from the front of her shirt,

and then.....

she passed out.

An ambulance came and checked Susan and grandma over and once they were proclaimed "un broken" we went on our merry way....

We were treated as mini celebrities the rest of the weekend.

The creepy twins were abuzz, they kept mentioning "owning that fair.".........over and over and over

and they smoked cigarette after cigarette looking exactly like my grandpa with lipstick on.

Creepy.

( Tractor photo stolen borrowed from "moonlakeshow dot org")

Foaming at the mouth.....

I woke up this morning somewhat tense and in the foulest of foul moods. It took a couple of minutes for me to realize that I was stressing over a dream.

In the dream I was talking to a woman on the phone, it appeared from our conversation that she was from the bank. By the things she was saying I took it that she was going over each and every one of our check/debit card transactions.

One by one she listed where we'd shopped and what we spent.

As she continued, I figured she may be instead from a debt solutions place. She commented on our every purchase.

Line by line she read and reacted.

I didn't feel any rationalization was due when she started picking on large purchase(s) from Perfumania.

Or the one from Victoria's Secret.

I hated being treated like an errant child.

I was starting to get real pissed off until she said "Ummm, here is a $364.00 purchase made at the Rockwood Bar and Grill".

Huh?

"And how long ago was that" I snapped.

"Two days ago" she answered.

"How could someone spend $364.00 at the Rockwood Bar and Grill?" I continued.

I was starting to get a bit indignant, I just knew this was some kind of stupid bank mistake.

"It was spent on a gambling machine" she quiped "and staff tips".

My chest tightened, my face flushed.....

I was going to kill that freakin man...that idiot. The inconsiderate, selfish clod. How dare he!!! He was gonna pay for this one. And big.

Daddio gambling at the Rockwood Bar and Grill!!! Maybe he bought himself a couple of lap dances too while he was there.

(Pooooor pooooor poor Daddio. He doesn't gamble, nor use his debit card for anything other than an occasional gallon or two of gas or a set of guitar strings. There is no Rockwood Bar and Grill. And according to Daddio himself, who swears on all that is holy, that he's never ever paid anyone to squat on his lap and grind....at least he doesn't ever remember ever doing something as vile and rotten as that.)

I'll be spending today making things up to him...I growled and tried to bite him when he leaned in to give me a good morning smooch.

Pining for Kanas....

Daddio and I were invited to a friend’s 40th birthday party, which took place last night. He had a gig and wasn’t able to make it (not that he'd have gone if he had absolutely nothing else in this world to do but trim his toenails, but this way he did have a credible out).

Mere seconds into my arrival to the party site I had a strong yearning to pull out a pen and a notebook, Harriet the Spy style.

Everywhere I looked, notebook worthy characters held up walls and leaned against bar stools holding pool cues or half empty beer bottles.

Too many notes and not enough napkins. So I took off my Harriet cap and slipped into David Letterman mode.

My Top Ten ...Reasons Why  You/Your Look Inspires spontaneous hysterical snickering List didn’t get off the ground (I was scared my pointing and laughing was gonna earn me an ass kickin)

 So I moved on...

To a Glamour’s Don’t and Don‘t Ever list.


1. Waist length silver hair. (This Don’t counts as two if you’re a man)

2. Basketball shorts and dress shirts. (buddy, where is your tie? Duh)

3. Sunglasses after dark. (Hard to read your poker hand in a dark bar)

4. In your face cleavage. (Holy crap... is that cleavage or is she nursing bald twins?)

5. Age spotted, wrinkled décolletés decorated with ornate rhinestone crosses. (Just plain ewwww)

6. Harold hitting on Maude. ( “huh?” click here)


And a Do……

1. It is perfectly acceptable to pretend you’re a lesbian in order to avoid  and ward off “The Pickup Artist”.

The whole evening was like an episode of The Twilight Zone.

Strange and a bit scary.

When my overactive imagination took me to a place where I felt like a working extra on That 70’s Show or Pulp Fiction….I made like Dorothy Gale and clicked my ruby red heels three times…

“There’s no place like home” I later told Daddio.