The Jerry Lewis goat...

Sorry I could not resist....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bwy1qGdQ424


(Can you not stop laughing????)

Bon appetit....

Hey happy Wednesday....

I was going to title this post Full Circle as I'd planned to bring you there.

Bring you where???

Sick to your stomach, and then back to sick to your stomach.

Then I decided...don't be a hater.

Don't give your loyal and very much appreciated readers a sick stomach two times in one day.

Okay, so I won't.

(Please, you don't need to bother with a Thank you note or anything.... ;-)

So here goes.....

Yesterday at the Donut Shop (my place of employment...not really a donut shop, but that's what my brother in law calls the factory where he works..when he leaves its "I'm off to the donut shop to make donuts" he likes to say...and since my mind is such a simple and easily fooled thing .. the Donut Shop it is)

Yesterday I had the oddest conversation at the Donut Shop....

No, we weren't taking about donuts....

But we did talk about eating.

About eating a placenta.

(I'll pause now, in case you need to grab a bucket or a trash can to deposit the contents that just rose in your throat).

You good?

Onward then...

One of the young guys I work with just celebrated the birth of his second son.

He told the group of us standing around shooting the bull this morning that his nursing wife was eating her placenta.

(I vaguely remember someone calling for "smelling salts"....)

When they picked me up off the floor, he explained,

After doing lots of research (that crazy ass Google) he and his wife determined that eating the placenta would be good for his wife's post partum depression, it also is reported to increase milk production and do a myriad of other healthful things for the person brave enough to eat it.

"HOW did she eat it" I asked

He told us they brought it home from the hospital, and found a lady who came over and made capsules from the placenta.

She pureed it, (still with me??) dehydrated it, then placed it into capsules.

Capsules his wife ingests.

Alrighty then....

I'll use the polite comment my grandpa used to use when he just didn't get a personal choice someone else had made...

"To each his own, I guess, Babe... to each his own."

Now, how bout a virtual palate cleanser...(that puke can't taste too good).

Coffee cake...

I promised you (and most specifically, my darling pen pal from England, Nicola) a coffee cake recipe...

(Click on the little baby if your eyes are as poor as mine and you can't read it bare naked)

I hope you like it....I love this cake, but then again, people eat all kinds of things that others wouldn't think of eating...so to each his own.

Bon appetit

In case you are a glutton for punishment...here is some additional information about eating your placenta....

(Not that you couldn't Google it yourself if you wanted to..., just trying to be a good hostess here for christsake goodness sake)

http://pregnancy.about.com/cs/placentas/a/placenta.htm

Lost.....

I hate to lose things.

Seriously, I lose things all the time.

And when I do I'm like a neurotic dog looking for a meaty bone.

Where are you sniff sniff where have you gone sniff sniff okay who the hell misplaced you sniff sniff who is the thief amongst us sniff sniff where oh where are you sniff sniff please St Tony (I'm on a nickname basis with him) help me out here sniff sniff....

Once when Daddio and I were first married I lost a check.

I'd planned to have him take it with him to work and deposit it at the bank at lunch time.

I'd written out a "how to" list for Daddio to use at the bank...

     1. Pull in when you see "National Bank of Detroit" (it will have a blue awning, big white letters).
     2. Walk in through the double doors with the papers I am about to give you.
     3. There will be people standing behind a high counter, when they offer to help you, give them the papers
          I have given to you....

Anyway, I'd just put the finishing touches on the how to list, (which was really more like a manual) when I discovered that I had no idea where I'd put the check.

Thus began a frantic search.

Which was going on when he left for work (about 8am).

And was still going on when he came home (about 5 pm).

When he walked in the door.I was still in my pajamas, hair uncombed, teeth unbrushed (I only did that one other time, when I started reading the book The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold. It was so good I sat and read it straight through. I don't think I even stopped to pee. Daddio was more than a bit perturbed when he got home that night and not a damn thing had been done, no housework, no dinner, just a tissue holding dewy eyed wife in a serious emotion fest meltdown after finishing the last page).

(I can't say this time there wasn't a little Oprah or a nice leisurely lunch in there somewhere ...but still, for many, many hours I searched and searched and searched).

I did finally find the check.

It was in the garbage.

I blame Daddio for that one.

He throws all kinds of crap out...my wedding dress (the story of the missing wedding dress is a story for another day), my grandmother's antique lamp, his mother's antique typewriters.

He clearly has no appreciation for things of value, especially old things of value

I fully expect to one day find myself at the curb, dressed in a black garbage bag with a yellow tie around my neck....

I've asked the neighbors to kindly bring me inside when it happens.

On Friday afternoon I noticed that I lost a "follower".

If you are a blogger you know how incredibly horrible it is to lose a follower.

We don't come by them easily.

And it is how a successful blogger is defined.

I've worked especially hard to build my following... I write stuff, hit the "publish" button and then hope somebody gets a giggle...or a bit o water in their eyes...or a "wow...she sounds just like me" feeling....

Not everybody that visits your blog becomes a follower, most don't actually, so I guess that the very fact that they took the time to sign on as a follower propels them to VVIR (Very VERY Important Reader status)... anyone (and everyone) that stops by is important, don't get me wrong...but these people leave a card to let you know they've been to your place and they plan to come back.

Well, like I said a few rambling paragraphs ago...on Friday I lost a follower.

I'm pretty sure it was because I used the phrase "for christsake"....

I really thought I had myself covered when I didn't capitalize the Christ part of the phrase...in my (pea??) brain, that made it okay to say...not meant to be blasphemous,

or disrespectful.

Just a phrase choice.... and not one that I really even use.

I'm not going to lie... I do think that phrase a lot.

I just don't normally write it.

But Friday I did.

And I think I pissed someone off.

I guess I wasn't a good hostess.

My home felt unwelcoming, dirty even.

Like I had a stinky mangy unkempt dog that kept trying to hump their leg.

Or worse yet, a pubic hair on my kitchen table.

Yuck... this lady is clearly a pig and I won't be coming back to her house.

EVER.

Losing that follower made me feel bad.

If you've ever seen a hair on my table, or I've allowed my dirty dog to mistreat you, or you just feel plainly offended by my bad breath, my word choice, whatever, I want to apologize.

I need to say too that I have to be myself, my true self...full of imperfections, bad words, frustrations, and on it goes.

I want to be your go to blog girl.

I want to be a good hostess and I always hope you want to come back to my place and visit.

I want to have faithful readers and followers.

I want to keep them too.

I am sorry if I offended you.

You are going to be missed.

You can run, but you can't hide....

Saturday Centus time, a themed writing meme. The challenge is to write 100 words to add to the prompt started by Jenny Matlock from off on my tangent.

The writing prompt is in (bold) itallics...

I bought one of those cheesy DVD’S Carmella, my therapist, suggested. “I am good enough” it says “and dog gone it people like me.” or something to that effect.

So I do as I’m told and look into the mirror and say those goofy sentiments till I’m ready to hurl the mouthwash bottle at the person looking back.

 "Things change" Carmella says "and people change. You can escape your past and make a new start”.

Her face reddens and her nostrils flair when I always reply “ and objects in the rear view mirror are closer than they appear" as I hand her the check. “Same time next week?” she asks.

Bear goes to Boston....

"Can I go to Boston?" read the text I received yesterday at 2:45 pm in the middle of my Culinary Arts Class.

Wow, I hoped thought, wrong number.

I once before got a wrong number text.

(Googie told me not to respond, that people screw around with people like that.)

Then my work phone rang.

"Did you get my text?" Bear asked.

"You want to go to Boston?" I asked

"Boston, as in the state Boston? (my very intelligent co-workers glanced at me kind of funny when I said that..forcing me to clarify..)

"I mean, as in Massachusetts.... You want to go to Boston, Massachusetts????"

Have you been sniffing glue?

"Seriously....you want to go to Boston?"

He gave me the details and I told him I'd call his dad and call him right back.

"He never asked to go on any Girls Gone Totally Wild sex/tattoo/multiple body piercing a thon Spring Break trip" I reminded Daddio.

"And he's never been in one bit of trouble"

What the hell was I doing here??? I was talking Daddio into agreeing to let Bear leave the country.

Fly to the moon.

Be swallowed up by a tesseract...a sort of "wrinkle in time" in space and time, a fifth dimension.

"I will need every one of their full names (including any alias's), phone numbers, addresses, MySpace Facebook and any YouTube account info" I told Bear about his travel companions.

"I want parent's names too"... (a quick credit check couldn't hurt).

When everyone checked out okay and Bear got the go ahead it was a mad dash to get packed, secure some flow (that will probably be stolen when he is robbed and raped in some filthy germ infested rest stop along the way) and do all the things one does when leaving out of town.

"We don't have a small tube of toothpaste MOMMMMMMMMMMMM" Bear screamed into the phone, it was the 27th call he made to me at work, in the 45 minutes he had to get ready to leave.

This trip on the fly was starting to grate on my nerves.

"I don't know if I want to go" Bear said on call number 29.

And again with call number 32.

"FLIP A FREAKIN ASS COIN AND DO WHATEVER THE FRICK IT TELLS YOU TO DO OKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKAY?" I yelled, when he called again to tell me he wasn't sure.

A second later when a screwdriver stabbed me in the heart (be nice to him you idiot, if you let him go and God forbid something happens.....) I got control of myself....

"Sweeeeetheart" I purred "this is an adventure. You are going to have a blast. Make a decision, figure that there are going to be pros and cons, just like every other decision you are ever gonna make. Once you make a decision you will feel better. Just make one, make up your mind and go with whatever it is that you decide. Have some confidence in yourself. GO or DON'T GO, decide. Now, are you going to Boston or not?"

"I don't know" Bear said "should I?"

For cryinoutloud .......

OF COURSE YOU SHOULD NOT GO....an accident could happen, you guys could get so lost that you'd never make it back.

Boston is far kid, really really far.

(One step closer out the door you go.)

I'll miss you Bear, be safe and hurry home.

And don't forget, hide your money in your sock....

(I will age 20 years this weekend, guaranteed)

"My beautiful beautiful beautiful beau...ti...fulllll boooooooy"

Daddio and I always wanted three kids.

He came from three kids.

I came from three kids.

Three kids just seemed like a good number.

Then I had the Sweet Prince Buttercup....

And 23 months later Googie Monster made her entrance.

S P Buttercup was like having 6 children.

And Googie just rolled with the flow.

So for a couple of years after the two of them were born Daddio and I were content with having 7 children.

And then my brother John died in a horrible accident.

And that left just me and Susan.

And I spent lots of time wondering how awful it would be if my mother had only had two children.

And I was left sibling less.

Or Susan was left sibling less.......

I told Daddio that I wanted our third baby.

Now.... I didn't have him to replace my brother.

I had him because I realized that I felt like something was missing.

When I found out that I was carrying a boy....

I wigged out for a minute or two....

Another boy could mean 6 more children.

So with this one and Buttercup and Googie I was going to be a mother of 13.

I didn't have the patience to mother 13.

It was hard enough many days with just the 7 I already had.

I went into labor with my darling Bear at 1am.

Just after Daddio and his friend and I watched an episode of Saturday Night Live.

For a late night snack we'd had White Castle (for those of you living outside of Michigan White Castle is a little burger joint that sells theeee most addicting teenytiny flat square hamburgers for about a dime apiece...being so cheap and small you are compelled to buy at least a dozen to eat at one setting....If by chance you should ever visit I implore you to only sample one...or make sure you are very near a bathroom, as Daddio says "those babies work fast").

I was a glutton that night and in addition to a cheeseburger (or five) I ate some of their onion chips.

Onion chips....

You know the charcoal they feed you at the hospital when you ingest something horrible and poisonous....

and you need to throw-up???

I was looking for an "at home" version around midnight that night.

(I have to stop, my stomach is getting sick)

Anyway, I credit those damn awful onion chips with starting my labor.

Daddio and his friend "Dah" had had a couple of beers (not so many that driving would be an issue)....

His friend laughs and likes to tell the story this way.... I came into the room and (I Love Lucy style) told Daddio "it is time" and according to his friend (he swears this to be true) Daddio grabbed my suitcase and ran outside and then backed out the drive...

alone.

According to "Dah" I opened the door and waved at the excited father to be, letting him know he was forgetting something.

This new baby boy and I spent lots of time together....he was (and is) a joy.

And most days he was like having only 3 children.

So he and Googie and Buttecup equaled only 10 children.

And I like even numbers.

Today my baby turns 19...how did the time go so fast?

He had his girlfriend over last night and I couldn't make over him like I usually do at bedtime the day before a birthday.

Instead I left him a note on his pillow.

When I'm long gone I hope he will follow this tradition.

No matter where I am, living or dead, he and I have a date at 3:33 am on the 4th day of August.

It's not legal to eat people...

but couldn't you just eat this kid up????

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")