I'd Never Buy That

Isn't it weird what kinds of random things will annoy you?  There is a commercial on TV that really bothers me.  Well, not just one...

The first one is the commercial where the couple is trying to decide where to go out for Chinese food.  Then from out of nowhere this panda bear puts in his two cents worth and recommends they cook Chinese food in that night.  I can't even remember what the product is: Wan Tai Fairy, or Cherry, or something like that.  Then as they are eating the Panda says, "I didn't feel like going out anyway."  Really?  Does no one else find it weird that the couple wasn't even surprised when the Panda bear offered his opinion?  Ot that the bear was even there?  Why does he get a vote anyway?  I'm sure he didn't buy that Wan Tai whatever-it-was, but he was eating it like a champ!  I'm sure the premise was supposed to be who knows Chinese food better than a Panda who is from China but still:  I'm not taking my food recommendations from him!  And I can't help but think if they didn't go with what he said: Panda would be eating the couple for dinner!

The other commercial that bothers me contains bears too.  Coincidence?  I think not!  It's the Charmin bath tissue commercial.  Don't get me wrong: that's the brand I buy and I like it. But seriously: who honestly believes that it would only take 4 squares of Charmin to clean a bear's butt???  It takes at least 4 squares just to get the roll started! 

And here's another thing: I'm tired of Junior Bear always having paper biddies on his butt.   How in the world is he wiping anyway, if all of that frayed tissue ends up all over?  Someone was negligent in his potty training, obviously.

I really don't know why these two commercials in particular get under my skin so much.  But I do have to mention one more; and this one doesn't feature talking bears.

I believe the product is for Luvs diapers.  It's an animated commercial; where kids are competing at what can only be called the poopie-Olympics.  They are being judged on how much poop their diapers can hold, so they strain really hard, turn around and then the diaper grows huge with all the poop.  I swear I am not making this up!  It's just gross to me.  Yay you have a diaper that has great holding-non-dripping power.  But a thousand boos for presentation!  The only thing worse would be if they were REAL babies!

So here's a little thought for you: what commercials drive you nuts?

AGAIN????

Over the years I've had friends ask me why I write suicide poems.  Am I trying to tell them something?  Is it a cry for help?

Of course not!  The easy answer is because sometimes I like to be very dramatic; or elicit a certain response from whoever reads it.  The not so easy answer is because when I was in high school, I had written a kick-ass suicide poem that I thought I would incorporate into a book I was writing.  But before I could do anything with it, my best friend Emily thought she was doing me a favor and cleaned out my locker.  She threw the poem away.

I hadn't memorized it and didn't even have an extra copy of it anywhere.  Needless to say I was very upset.  And I think that since that time: I have been trying to re-create another kick-ass suicide poem.  Maybe the recent ones were for Topher, since he had tried suicide and I was trying to understand.  Regardless of the reason:  this one's for Emily & Topher, and it might be better than the original. Unfortunately, Dan took this ride. R.I.P my friend...

SUICIDE RIDE

Don’t tell me your tale of woe

About that bitch that let you go.

That’s more than I want to know;

So sad your ego took a blow.

Now is not the time to hide.

I see that ghosts through you do slide.

You think there’s no one on your side

So take me on your suicide ride.

Our souls have known each other well.

We’ve been through what might pass as hell.

It was almost a death knell

There’s nothing left now but a shell.

Blackness beckons, opens wide,

The ocean won’t call back the tide.

“Come to me” you hear it bide.

Take me on your suicide ride.

Yes your power she did take.

A puppet of you she did make.

She had feelings that were fake.

Emotions will no more awake.

Cold cement roughly abrides,

As you lay upon your side.

Looking up: the clouds do slide,

Take me on your suicide ride.

From your soul there comes a sound,

Keening that it won’t be bound.

No strings ‘round your heart are wound.

With me freedom can be found.

Forget about taking a bride,

Forget about how much you cried,

Forget about the way she lied:

Take me on your suicide ride.

I don’t care who you used to be.

I’ll show you what you need to see.

No need to be afraid of me;

For I’m the one to set you free.

Make a choice: you must decide.

No more worries about pride.

Redness down the wall does glide:

You just took the suicide ride.

'Nuff said.

What Keeps Me Humble?

Well that’s simple: it’s Kitty.  Anytime I may have a little increase in the old ego-department, she makes sure she brings me back to earth.  She isn’t mean about it. She just keeps it real.

Kitty is autistic and sometimes exhibits a bit of Asperger’s syndrome, which in my laymen’s terms means sometimes the filter doesn’t work as quickly as it should before she says something.  What she says isn’t rude, it’s just her telling it like it is before she has a chance to…pretty it up.

Back in the day when I actually thought I had a chance of dating again, my friend Susan called and suggested we go out dancing.  Seemed like a good idea to me, since I really enjoy dancing.  She advised me to wear something “fetching” in case any cute guys were out.  So I got off the phone, got ready, put on a “fetching” outfit and went into the living room for both girls’ perusal.  “How do I look?” I asked.  Before Brie could say anything Kitty said, “Mom you look so pretty.  Just like a stripper!”  I thanked her, and then immediately returned to my room to put on something that didn’t make me look like I’d be working a pole later.

It didn’t get much better as she got older.  A few years ago I had bought a new outfit, put it on and asked her, “Does mom look fat in this outfit?”  She replied, “No, you just look squishy, like a mom.”  Yep: I took the outfit back.  Sure squishy might be nice for a settled, happily married matron secure in her husband’s love and wearing knit pastel stretch pants with the sewn-in crease down the front, but that wasn’t the look I was going for.  The squishy outfit was OUT!

And it isn’t just clothes.  I came into the house one spring day and she looked at my hair and said, “Mom, how windy is it outside?”  Hmm, since there was no wind…apparently the “tousled bed-head” look wasn’t for me!

Maybe it isn’t the autism, because her sister was the same way when she was young.  We were living at my parents, and they were getting ready to go to church.  Little Brie took one look at her grandmother’s paisley print dress and said, “Grandma!  You look like you’ve been scraped, scratched and screwed!”  I had no idea what that even meant but I burst out laughing as I clapped my hand over her little mouth.  My mother gave us both a dirty look and left.  Hey, it wasn’t a great-looking dress, but I would have been more diplomatic in my description!

Or the time she asked my sister if she was wearing Garanimals, because her top and bottom matched!

But the latest incident with Kitty was one for the record books.  I have recently discovered Twitter, and I’m using it to network for my books and blog.  So I follow some people that may seem rather unusual and random for me, but there’s a method to my madness.  So each time someone “famous” tweets me back or direct messages me, I run to tell Brie because I know she’ll be jealous.  No, that isn’t the method to my madness but I have to admit: I get a little twinge of satisfaction when I get celebrity tweets and she doesn’t.  Kitty doesn’t exactly understand Twitter (like I do???) so she doesn’t pay any attention.

One evening a couple of weeks ago I’m checking Twitter, and lo and behold Joel Madden tweeted me back.  I know how much Brie loves Good Charlotte, so I had to run and tell her.  I knocked on her door and she and Kitty both opened their room doors at the same time.  “Guess what?  Joel Madden tweeted me!”  As I knew she would be, Brie was totally jealous!  But Kitty said, “Joel Madden?”   I said, “Yes, he’s in a band and is married to Nicole Richie.”  “He’s married to her?”  “Yes he is.”  Then she just shook her head at me sorrowfully and said, “Mom, has he seen your picture?”  She thought it was a dating site! As usual, Brie fell out laughing as I explained to Kitty that it wasn’t a dating site, and I wasn’t trying to steal Nicole Richie’s husband, and yes he HAD seen my picture.  Seriously?  What was she trying to say: that I’m not as cute as Nicole Richie and couldn’t steal her husband?  Thanks for the support!

As I said, I know she’s not trying to be rude but is trying to make sure I am well-grounded in reality and don’t try to steal other people’s husbands.  Apparently no one needs to worry about that!

Fractured Fable

While I was watching TV earlier, a commercial came on for the new Red Riding Hood movie, which I want to see.  It seems spooky and about werewolves, so it should be good.

This reminded me of a time when I thought it would be interesting to re-write some fairy tales, put a beat behind them and come up with a rap CD.  Granted, I'm a horrible rapper but I actually went as far as to do a speech for Toastmasters with this rap.  Talk about stepping out of my comfort zone!  I actually bought a CD that had all instrumental rap music on it to play as I got in touch with my inner Compton.

Needless to say that was the first and last rap I ever did; but I'm going to share my lyrics with you.  Just use your imagination and put a "gangsta beat" behind it!  It's called "Little Red In Da Hood":

Once upon a time not long ago

Lived in a girl in da hood but she weren’t no ‘ho!

She lived with her momma, a sheltered life,

That didn’t contain much stress or strife.

But Red knew there was more out there,

And baby girl wanted to see her share.

She looked out the window, every day

Then worked up the courage one day to say,

“Hey momma you know I need more than this.”

“But baby girl right now your life is bliss!”

“It’s boring; I need to see what’s out there.”

“Red, all that danger will curl your hair!”

But Hood continued to plead her best

Till momma finally acquiesced.

“There’s one place that I’ll let you go,

To Grandma’s house and don’t be slow.

Take with you some homemade goods

And don’t forget to wear your hood!”

The girl was excited as she could be,

She tied her hood on so prettily.

“Thank you mom this will be great!”

“Now hurry up so you’re not late!

“I’ll call granny and let her know

To expect you soon, don’t dawdle so.”

So little red hood went on her way,

Skipping and singing that lovely day.

But after a while she had to slow down

And set her basket on the ground.

She didn’t know it was this far

And she didn’t even see a car.

The woods were bigger than she thought

The basket was heavy with the goodies she brought.

Her mom had told her not to dawdle

But now her knees began to wobble.

Maybe she should have thought some more

Before she set foot out the door.

She squared her shoulders and soldiered on

To get to granny’s ‘fore the light was gone.

As she started to crossly grumble,

All of a sudden she heard a rumble!

She quickly jumped behind a tree,

“Hey girl, don’t be scared of me!”

Peeking from behind her cover

She saw a Harley Davidson lover.

Dressed in leather from head to toe,

Which was this, a friend or foe?

He took his helmet off his head,

“Girl, you got nothing to dread.

It ain’t safe out here by yourself,

Now do you need a little help?”

“Not from you sir, but thanks though,

On your way now, please just go.”

The biker wasn’t done just yet.

His curiosity she had whet.

“Why you out here all alone?

These woods can be a danger zone.”

“I think that I’m beginning to see

What momma was trying to tell me.

I should have stayed at home with her

Instead of being here with you sir!”

“At least come out from behind that tree,

So who I’m talking to I’ll see.”

She took a step from behind the bark

And was glad that it still wasn’t dark.

“I like your hat, is it a snood?”

“Back up foo, don’t touch my hood!”

“I see you’ve got a basket there.

How about me and you just share?”

“These goodies are for my granny see,

Jump back Jack or you’ll feel my knee!”

He placed his hands up, backed away,
“No need for that, but listen, say

How about I give you a ride on my bike?

‘Cause that will save you quite a hike!”

“You think that I was born last night?”

She got ready to put up a fight.

“Come on girl, you can trust me

I have sisters, here are pictures, see?”

Warily she checked them out

And then decided he wasn’t a lout.

“If you try a trick or two

Your butt is going to feel my shoe!”

“Just put this extra helmet on

So in a minute we’ll be gone!

Now just where is your granny’s place?”

“It’s right outside the woods a pace.”

So Little Red got on the back

And placed her basket in the side rack.

“Remember sir, no funny stuff

Or else I’ll have to get real tough!”

“Chill out girl, we’re on our way,

You got anything else to say?”

Little Red said, “Not a peep.”

Then settled herself on the seat.

The ‘cycle started with a loud roar,

Then the throttle was all but floored!

Like a shot the bike took off,

The exhaust made Little Red cough!

Through the woods the riders rushed,

Jumping logs and dodging brush.

She hung on tight for safety’s sake:

Dirt and stones flew in their wake!

“Please slow down before we crash

And we both end up with road rash! “

“Don’t worry Red!” he shouted back.

“It’s all good, we’re right on track!”

She hung on tightly; said a prayer,

Then before she knew it: they were there!

“Here you go Red, safe and sound.”

Shakily her feet touched ground.

“Thanks, I think,” she told her ride.

And got her basket from the side.

“Anytime Red but remember this:

You had better be careful, Miss.

Lucky for you your momma sent me

For the purpose, just to see

How you did on your first trek out.

I’ll have to tell her all about

How you didn’t ask me for I.D.

I could have been a big bad wolf, you see.

So next time don’t accept a ride,

There are laws that you must abide.

For safety’s sake girl, keep it real,

Or your goodies some guy might steal!”

On that note they heard the door

And out stepped granny, who was five feet four.

“The gentleman’s right,” Granny said.

“You must be careful, or wind up dead!”

Hearing this gave Red a fright,

Luckily, it turned out all right.

But in the future she did vow,

To be more careful, and how!

Holla!!  (too bad you can't see me flashing my gang signs.  Word to your mutha!)

Going Once, Going Twice...

Since it's February, the Lake George Winter Carnival is going on.  I'm not a snow bunny so I rarely ever participate in any outdoor activities.  However, one year a very good friend of mine sent an email out to a group of our friends soliciting participation in a Lake George Winter Carnival fundraiser.  I like fundraisers, especially ones for children.  But then she says what the fundraiser is: The first ever Date Auction!  Oh, no way José is what I reply back, but Beth says “It’s for the kids.  Come on, if enough of us do it we’ll have fun.”  Well, as long as others are going to do it: okay.  Hey, it’s for the kids!

So I dutifully went to the website, completed the application and sent in a photo (oy vey!).  Afterwards, I emailed everyone to make sure that they had gotten their registrations in too.  And can you believe it: not a single other person did it!  “Are you kidding?” they all said in horror.  “I could never get up in front of a bunch of people and have them bid on me!”  “But it’s for the children!” I wailed.  “We’ll buy tickets and come up to support you,” they said helpfully.  What I said in return…that’s another blog entirely!

So there I was: stuck, having to do this auction when I wasn’t sure at all that the North Country was ready for my particular kind of…charm.   But after the heartfelt phone call from the organizer, I knew I couldn’t back out.  It’s for the kids!  I was starting to really dislike the kids…

There was a meet-and-greet for all of the bachelors and bachelorettes a week before the big event.  I went, and was shocked to discover that there were only 2 women and all the rest were men!  Yes, men that I would have been happy to bid on, but only 2 women!  I couldn’t help thinking how disappointed all the male bidders would be with only 2 choices: chocolate or vanilla and both on the northern side of 40!  But thankfully, the other women hadn’t been able to make it but would be there the night of the auction.  Whew!

What I also hadn’t realized going in was there was a talent portion as well.  Talent?  Were they mad??  What in the world could I do that wouldn’t get me tossed from the event?

So how was I going to make it through this type of event, knowing that there were going to be who knew how many people looking at me, judging me, waiting for me to do something talented and bidding on me?  Hopefully with wit, aplomb and some kind of dignity that usually saved me!  After all: it's for the kids!

When the night arrived: to say I was nervous would be a total understatement!  However, I knew I was supposed to dress to impress, so I did.  I got my hair done (hello Mary J. Blige!), did my nails, threw on a slit skirt and a top that showed my cleavage and headed out to the Holiday Inn!  A little diversionary “smoke and mirror” action couldn’t hurt.

Thank goodness when I arrived my friends came in shortly afterwards so I had a table of support.  They were very interested to know what my talent was, and I told them I had written a poem.  Oh yeah, THAT should go over well!  My friend Beth designated herself as my “wing man” to introduce me around to the single gentlemen who had come hoping to win a date with someone.  So I took a deep breath and let the evening begin!

What helped me through this was knowing that basically everyone was there to have a good time, offer support and ooh at the fact that I was sooo brave to be doing this.  Hey, it’s for those freakin’ kids!

There turned out to be 5 women and 6 men up for bid, and we were certainly rooting for each other.  That helped to calm me down! 

Finally, it’s time for the auction to start.  We had pulled numbers, and wouldn’t’ you know it: I was number 10 of 11!  So I had to sweat through almost all of the other contestants.  By now I was praying: Dear God, please let SOMEONE bid on me!  Surely some man would bid on the only chocolate chip in the cookie!

The emcee was great and was also someone I have known for many years (shout-out to Mikey C!) so that made it easier, plus he did talk me up very nicely.  As I was standing on the dance floor with all eyes on me he said, “For her talent portion Maxx is going to read a poem specially written for this occasion!”  Ahhh!!  Oh, I was sure that was going to drive the bids up!

I smiled, drew in a deep breath and began reading:

I have done some crazy things

That right now I won’t mention.

But standing here in front of you,

Trying to get your attention?

Really has to rank up there

With other things I’ve done

Waiting to get bid upon:

How’s that supposed to be fun?

Maybe we can make it so

And I won’t be so nervous

It takes guts to stand up here

And try to act impervious.

To the butterflies I feel

As I anticipate:

Who will be the lucky guy

To win me as their date?

What’s important here tonight is

That it’s for the kids.

So open your hearts and wallets too:

Gentlemen: start your bids!

Well by the end EVERYONE was hooting and hollering!  Was it because they were drunk?  No, it was because they liked the poem and were now primed to bid!  And bid they did: I think I went into a fugue state because I didn’t even see who was doing the bidding.  But it started at $20 and when all was said and done: I ended up being the one that went for the 3rd highest bid!  Not too shabby if I do say so myself :o)

That was a night where I really stepped out of my comfort zone.  Did I make a love connection with the lucky guy who won me?  Nope.  But was I grateful that he made me look good that night?  Damn straight! 

Poem Time!

Wishful Thinking

I stand in front of the mirror, watching a river of tears
Traverse the planes of my face:I feel I've been crying for years.
The sadness overwhelms me.  How did I get to this place?
I thought my life would be golden but now I have tears on my face.

Did I mean to kill you?  I really couldn't say.
Did I mean to kill you?  On this fateful day?

When I picked the pistol up I hadn't meant to start
Pulling the trigger that would put a bullet through your heart.
I couldn't take it anymore: the shouting and the pain.
Being beaten, ridiculed and locked out in the rain.

Did I mean to kill  you?  We wrestled with the gun.
Did I mean to kill you?  Apparently I won.

We can call it self-defense 'cause you were an abuser.
Looks like now the table's turned and honey: you're the loser.
I was just a frightened wife who tried to please her man.
But with your drugs and alcohol you didn't understand.

Did I mean to kill you?  I couldn't stand much more.
Did I mean to kill  you?  The cops are at the door.

Maybe I should let them in; it was in self-defense.
But sometimes they don't let you off; you must pay recompense.
Physically and mentally you threw your weight around.
You often said that you'd kill me but who's dead on the ground?

Did I mean to kill you?  I turn the gun on me.
Yes I meant to kill you.  Now finally: I'm free.

Another little glimpse into my past but as you can see: not 100% true.  However, the title is wishful thinking...except for the turning the gun on me part.

Brr Brr Brr BRRRRRRR!!!!

Contrary to what you might think: the title is not an editorial comment on the weather here in the great northeast.  Nope: it's me tooting my own horn because on Wednesday, February 2nd, 2011, I received my first-ever royalty check for my writing!  Whoo hoo!  That's right: now I am a paid author.  Finally, after all these years :o)  I have wanted to be an author ever since I wrote my first book in the 3rd grade with my best friend at the time Ellen Feinberg.  It was called "The Adventures of Tom and Bob".  Since we were like...7 or 8 at the time, I'm sure you can figure out just how wonderful the book was!

But Els and I had shared the book with our teacher and the class; and we were told it was a good endeavor and funny story.  After that: I didn't want to do anything else.

And truth be told: ever since then I have written more stories and books than I can remember.  However, the closest I had ever gotten to getting published (not counting my poetry) was in 2001.  I had found a publisher and had sent in my manuscript, and they wanted to publish it!  However, 2 things happened to derail that:  Brie got sick and almost died, so I missed the deadline to have the contract signed and returned.  Then after I had convinced them to give me another chance: 9/11 happened and they decided my book didn't have the right "tone" of the country after that tragedy.  So that dream didn't materialize.

I was heartbroken, but not deterred.  I submitted manuscripts, hounded editors, did poetry readings and kept writing but nothing happened for me.

Finally, in 2010, I made a resolution that I was going to get published during that year, no matter what.  And thanks to Barnes and Noble: it became a reality!  http://www.bn.com/ and look for "Southern Hospitality" and "Three's The Charm".  My first name is Rita so make sure you download them both onto your e-reader or computer :o)

You have no idea how wonderful it was to see my work for sale on their website; and how gratifying it was to receive payment.  Of course I can't quit my day job; but it was great validation to know that people were willing to pay for my books and that they enjoyed them.

So tell your friends and family ro make their purchases: they'll be glad they did :~p

Rocky, Is That You?

I have to start this out with a rhetorical question:  since when did my mother’s house turn into a wildlife sanctuary?  You’ve heard me talk about Marie before, and you know I love her, but there are strange doings happening over there that should not affect me.  However, she finds a way to pull me into “her world”: sometimes vicariously and sometimes not.

For instance, I was minding my own business at home one day when my phone rang.  It was Marie.  I knew I shouldn’t have answered and I have caller ID, but I was feeling magnanimous. “Yes?”

“Daughter, we have a situation.”  “We do?”  “Yes.  There’s a squirrel in the house.”   “Really?  Well what am I supposed to do about it?”  Then she uttered the most chilling words I’ve ever heard her say: “Go to the store and get me a gun.”

I know that it’s written in the Bible that children should obey their parents, etc. etc.  But somehow, I just did NOT feel comfortable with the thought of waltzing into Wal-Mart and buying my 70-year-old mother a gun!  “Um, mom, do you think that’s a good idea?”  “Of course I do!  That’s the only way I’m going to get him out of here.  I’ll see you soon.”  Click.

I thought about this for a minute or 2.  On the one hand, I have respect for my mother and she usually has a pretty good head on her shoulders. On the other hand, did I really want her with a loaded weapon target shooting poor Rocky in her house?  Looks like I’d have to think about it on my way to Wal-Mart.

Long story short: I did purchase a gun for her, but it was a just a little pellet pistol that I figured would do less harm to her TV, other furniture and the people living with her.  And fortunately, they did get the squirrel out with minimal muss and fuss.  Thank God!

Now if you think that’s the end of Wild Kingdom in her house, you are WRONG!  I have driven up to her house and seen my brother sitting on the porch smoking a cigarette, with a squirrel sitting at his feet eating a nut!  I’ve been in her kitchen, looked out the window and seen squirrels sitting on the picnic table looking in!   I’ve also heard tapping on her screen door, and it will be a squirrel wanting to come inside to visit!  Aye yi yi, what is the attraction?

But the best story happened about a year ago.  First, let me set it up for you: picture Marie and I sitting in one of my favorite restaurants, with me treating her to lunch (why is it that I’m always the one buying? But I digress).  I had broiled lemon pepper haddock, she had a hot turkey sandwich…anyhoo, we’re almost done eating and then she says, “I have to remember to call Tom to see if his back is better.”  “Oh?  What did Uncle Tom do to his back?”  “I didn’t tell you that he hurt his back at my house?”  “No, what did you do to him?”  “It wasn’t my fault, he just got up from the chair too fast and wrenched it.”  “Why was he getting up so fast?”  And now we get to the actual story:

Apparently my uncle had stopped by on Friday to visit.  He’s my mother’s younger brother and they like to get together and ‘chew the fat’, so to speak.  He is also one of the funniest people I know, so if I ever drive by her house and see his car in the driveway, I usually pull in.  So, he is at my mother’s house and they’re reminiscing about the good old days.  My sister happened to be home too; and she got up to go into the kitchen for some water.

According to my mother, a couple of minutes later she hurried back through the living room and went into her bedroom, shutting the door.  “Robin, are you all right?” Marie called out.  No answer.  “Well that’s strange.  I wonder what happened in the kitchen.”  Within a minute my mother got her answer: a squirrel came out of the hallway and sat in the middle of the living room floor!

Being a dignified, reserved woman, my mother did what any woman would do if she saw a squirrel sitting in the middle of her living room floor that day.  She screamed like a little girl, and screamed for my brother to bring the gun.  Contrary to what you might think: the squirrel did not like the high-pitched sound and so he began running around the room.  In the meantime, my uncle sat there, non-plussed, waiting to see what would happen next.

The sound of the screaming finally roused my brother Keith, whom my oldest daughter has dubbed “the uncle who lives in the attic”.   Mind you, my mother doesn’t have an attic, but again I digress…  Usually unflappable, he came downstairs to see what the commotion was about.  Being the sharpest tool in the shed at that time, he assessed the situation.  “Mom, stop yelling you’re scaring it.  I’ll get something to trap it, and Uncle Tom can open the door so he can get out.”

Sure this sounded like a practical plan, but you have to realize who was enacting the plan.  My mother managed to stop yelling and Keith grabbed a curved-handled walking cane, intending to get that around the squirrel’s neck to help usher him to the door.  But the squirrel had other ideas.  Keith headed towards him with the cane, and the squirrel climbed up the curtains and ran back and forth on the curtain rods.

So now we have my mother yelling again, my uncle trying to restore order, and my brother trying to get the handle of the cane around the squirrel’s neck like he’s really going to be able to get it out of the house.

Then the unthinkable occurred: the squirrel tried to leap to safety, and landed right on top of my mother’s head.  You think she was screaming before: she really let out a holler then!  So the squirrel used her head as a launching pad and then landed on the back of Uncle Tom’s chair.  Being the big, strong man that he was, he jumped up so quick he twisted his back, hindering his plan to escape out the front door!  “Open the door!” Keith shouted, because believe it or not: he had the squirrel by the neck.  No need to tell Uncle Tom twice: he managed to open the front door and Keith tossed the squirrel out.

As I sat in the Peppermill listening to my mother recount this tale, I laughed until I cried.  I laughed so hard the other diners were looking at me and laughing too.  All I could visualize was my poor little mother sitting in her chair with “Rocky” perched atop her head like a jaunty chapeau!  Ah, good times at Marie’s house.  I told her she’d better be careful because one of these times when Rocky comes to visit: he might bring Bullwinkle too!