Thursday

Even though it’s Thursday, today is my Friday.  I have tomorrow off from work.  The reason for this is…wait for it…July 1^st is the beginning of Kitty-pa-looza!  That’s right: Kitty’s birthday is Sunday, so of course we will be celebrating it all weekend long!

I was told that Kitty-pa-looza is my fault.  You know us single mothers: have to go above and beyond for the kids!  When I worked at the oldies radio station, every summer they would put on "Summer Jam" on West Mountain on July 3rd.  There would be music groups from the 60s and 70s; and as an employee of course I had back stage access, etc. with my girls.  There would be upwards of 30,000 people there; and each time we went I would tie balloons to Kitty's wrists since July 3rd is her birthday; and after the groups performed there would be fireworks!  So naturally as a little girl Kitty always thought that "Summer Jam" was her birthday party.  Trust me: I was very sad when they stopped doing Summer Jam and I left the radio station because then I had to throw the birthday parties!  But those are great memories, because what other child could boast 30,000 people at her birthday party???

So what exactly will Kitty-pa-looza encompass this year?  A whole host of things that make me tired just to think of them.  But here is what’s on the agenda for 2011 (schedule subject to change):

·         Friday:

o   Hair appointments for all!

o   A trip to Build-A-Bear Workshop where Kitty and Brie will build their own stuffed animals.  No bears for them: a monkey for Brie and a special edition lamb for Kitty, which she has already named Lady Baa Baa.

o   A trip to BSW for trendy eye shadows for Kitty.

o   Visiting our favorite Popeye’s restaurant for Wicked Chicken and biscuits

o   Going to see “Mr. Popper’s Penguins”.  Remember: Brie is 30 and Kitty will be 26.

·         Saturday:

o   Shopping for Kitty

o   Getting her fishing license (she loves to fish; I love to read while she’s fishing).

o   Kitty’s birthday dinner with family friends at Siam Thai Sushi (I will NOT be eating sushi, but I love their crab Rangoon’s, steamed dumplings and shrimp on a stick).

o   Home for cake #1

·         Sunday:

o   Pick up Kitty’s real cake at Price Chopper.  Hawaiian theme and coconut (to ensure that I won’t be able to eat any 😒)

o   Lisa J’s annual party at Glen Lake, always including the best pork EVER, all the food you can possibly eat and real professional fireworks to rival those of the Great Escape.  We are using this as Kitty’s party (thanks Lisa & Tim!) and all we’ll need to bring is Kitty’s cake and the best pasta salad around.

·         Monday (the 4^th):

o   Sleep?  No?  Then the family barbecue at my house.  There won’t be any cake left from Lisa’s, so I’ll do a cheesecake/chocolate mousse pie.  (Apparently I will have to rest when I return to work on Tuesday.)

If I have any money left after Kitty-pa-looza, it will be the first time.  But you know what: I don’t even care! It’s Kitty’s birthday weekend!  When Kitty’s happy: everybody’s happy!  And isn’t that what it’s all about?  Whoo hoo!!

Hope you have a safe and happy 4^th of July 🎆

Cracklin' Rosie

I used to be a radio station deejay in this area for an oldies station, and I loved it.  But even though it seems like you’re getting paid to do nothing but listen to music, you really don’t have too much time to kick back and listen to what you’re playing.  You have to cue up your next commercial/song, take phone calls, make sure the news guy is ready to go on, read the weather…you’ve got a pretty full plate.

One Sunday afternoon, I let a friend twist my arm into going to my favorite local restaurant for lunch.  Well, maybe twist is too strong of a word: he said “hungry?” and I did a u-turn in the middle of the road to go to the Peppermill.

Regardless of how I ended up there, we began to peruse the menu; even though I have it memorized and could quote it in my sleep.  My old radio station was playing in the background.  “Oh how fun, it’s Dave’s station,” I commented, trying to decide between the hot roast beef sandwich and the sirloin steak salad.  Even though Dave no longer owns the station, that’s still how I refer to it.

Suddenly an old Neil Diamond song came on, one I had probably played 30 times over the years.  But for some reason, on this day I happened to start listening to what he was singing, and then I started thinking...wtf?

Let’s start with the name of the song: “Cracklin’ Rosie”.  Why, exactly, was this her name?  What, exactly, did the ‘cracklin’ part signify?  Were her clothes too starchy?  Did she have cellophane in her pockets?  Did she wear so much make-up her face cracked when she smiled?  Or was she from the south and sold fried pork products from a roadside stand?

While we were listening to Mr. Diamond, it made me think of another song he had recorded that had an aura of ridiculousness to it.  How about “I Am, I Said”?  Apparently he said this to no one there, and no one heard him not even the chair?  I understand putting words together for the sake of a rhyming scheme, but shouldn’t those words make at least a modicum of sense?

And it isn’t just Neil Diamond.  What about the song “Tarzan Boy” by Baltimora?  Was he on his own like Tarzan boy because he lived in the jungle, lived with animals, or didn’t bathe?  That will certainly keep you alone!

“Vienna Calling” by Falco is a favorite of song of mine, but the only words in English are “Vienna Calling”.  So nothing makes sense!  But you can dance to it, and trust me: I have!

And we probably shouldn’t even delve into the world of rap!  I’ll mention one name: Juvenile.  Forget rhyme scheme, forget sense, you can’t understand a word he says except the word “Hah!”  But he does wear a lot of nice bling, even if he does sound like Mush mouth from Fat Albert.  Brie was out one night at her favorite club and the song “Back That A$$ Up” by Juvenile came on.  One of her exes came up to dance with her and decided to sing along with Juvenile.  According to her, this is what Dev was singing: “Heebie jeebie he said, and then they said, vouléz vous couché may, who-dee-hoo yay!”  Seriously: and what‘s with the French, Dev?  Do you really think that those are the words?  But then again: who knows what the words are, so maybe he was right!  And every time Brie tells me this story I laugh and laugh because I can just picture it.  Love you Dev!

How about when you hear a hip hop song on the radio, and you like the beat, you like the lyrics and you go to iTunes to download it.  Then you realize you are now listening to the uncensored version and your ears start to bleed?  This happened to me when I downloaded a beautiful song by Drake.  “Baby You’re the Best” is such a pretty song, and one that you’d like for your significant other to sing to you.  But in the uncensored version not only are you the best, you’re the f*&king best, over and over again.  Perhaps this can be viewed as a compliment, but by the 20^th time he sings it: not so much.

However,  if I was going to be perfectly honest I do have to say that for some reason, there is a song that has a lot of naughty words in it but I don’t mind because it just sounds so…dirty and sexy.  (Don’t tell my mother!)  It’s “Gravel Pit” by the Wu-Tang Clan.  Between Method Man, Ghost Face, U-God and Raekwon they rap some hardcore lyrics but the way they play out in the song: it’s golden.  And plus: somehow it doesn’t seem to be gratuitous profanity.  So I’m giving Wu-Tang a pass.

But as for those other songs: who am I to judge?   Whether I understand the premise, words or not, profanity or not, there is SOMEBODY out there who is saying, “Hey, that’s my favorite song!”

~*~

I Wrote This???

Sometimes I wonder exactly what goes through my mind when I write poetry.  I start out with a thought, and then it’s like the poem takes over and writes itself; and I’m VERY surprised with the results!

I was going through some of my old stuff, and I found one such poem.  Written several years ago, I can guarantee to you that this never happened to me, but it made for an interesting read when I was done with it.  So here you go, for your enjoyment and edification!

SATURDAY NIGHT

Lace and ribbon, buttons in rows.

Look at us: we’re dressed like hos!

Satin and silk, leather and suede.

Yeah girlfriend, we’re gonna get laid!

Thigh-high boots and not much skirt;

Low cut tops: we’re set to work.

As usual we have a plan:

Tonight we find a one-time man!

At the club sexy dancing’s a must.

In no time guys are looking at us.

I soon pick one; we slip out the door.

Head for his car: need I say more?

My best girlfriend is doing the same.

I wonder if she got his name?

Yes we have protection at hand.

You need that with a one-time man.

Once in a while, just to unwind,

Everyone needs an anonymous grind.

Back in the club, thanks and goodbye.

Next time: another lucky guy!

‘Nuff said.

It's a Small World

I took last Friday off to do some work at home, and later go with Schmoop to price tires for my car.  As I was on the computer I noticed a notification that Brie had posted on her FaceBook wall.  It said: "If a woman walks by and she smells like cologne and vomit, she's a hooker.  If you see a midget beating up a trashcan that's bigger than he is, you're on South Street".  I thought "WTF?" and posted that.  She responded, "That's what I saw last night as Kara and I were going for pizza."

You have to admit: that was very bizarre, and not something you see every day.  I promptly put it out of my mind.

Eventually Schmoop-Dog showed up so we could price tires and find them at the most economical price.  Hey: that's what he does.  So he decides we should go to Sears first so we head out in his truck.  As  we are traveling north on Upper Glen Street, we come to the stoplight by Toys 'R Us.  I  happened to turn to say something to Schmoop, and I noticed something outside his window.  It was a midget, shaking and kicking the speed limit sign!  He was also yelling and then he threw his keys!  Schmoop and I looked at each other.  "Do you think it's the same one that Brie saw?" he asked incredulously.  "Let's find out," I replied.  I sent her a text and described the guy, and she sent back, "LOL!  It must be the same one!"  What were the odds of that? 

We made it to Sears, where I tried to talk Schmoop into buying me a freezer instead of tires, but he figured that a freezer wouldn't exactly help me get back and forth to work.  So I trudged behind him to the automotive section where we discovered that they weren't running any great specials that would fit my budget.  So we left, went to another place, and I made an appointment to get the tires put on since they were the right price.  Afterwards we had a little bite to eat at New Way Lunch and that kind of made up for the freezer, haha.

Once home again, I figured I'd be able to do some writing and watch some judge shows.  But nope: now Kitty had places to go!  So I took her to Wal-Mart and Price Chopper; then we headed home.

As we got to the red light at the bottom of the Glen Street Hill, we could see 2 police cars with lights flashing on the northbound side of the bridge.  "Uh oh," Kitty began, "someone must have been speeding."  "I guess so," I replied, as our light turned green.  As we drove, I of course had to take a look at who the hapless person was that had gotten caught.

Imagine my surprise when I saw a policeman patting down the midget!  "Mom, it's a little person!" Kitty exclaimed.  "That's the same person your sister saw last night, and I saw earlier," I said. 

Kitty shook her head,  "He's having a real bad day, huh?"

That was very true.  I have no idea of what that poor guy had been through during the past 24 hours, however I sure hoped that things would get better for him.

But seriously: what were the odds that all of us would have seen him??  I should have played the lottery and made a wish!

A TRIBUTE TO AMERICADE

This year Americade was again held in Lake George (thank goodness!) from June 7 - 12.  I always try to make it up there over the weekend to go to DJs, my favorite club.  I went there for the first time when I was 16, so you know the place has been around for a looooonggg time!

With that said, I wrote this poem for one of my best friends on her last day at work, back in the 90's, to remind her of a particular night we spent during Americade.   This was a few years ago, so remember that I was a different person then ;-)  So Susan: this one's for you!

What we looked forward to each year

Is Americade: at last it’s here!

Not because we’re cycle chicks

But we love bikers with big dicks!

They’re only “weekend warriors”.

That’s okay: we’ll make them ours!

Doctors, lawyers, architects

Are only some that we have met.

In Lake George, DJ’s the place

Where you will find the handsome face

Of a studly motorcycle guy,

You don’t even have to try!

It was on a Saturday night,

My friend and I were wound real tight.

“A rum runner is what we need.”

My friend bought one: I drank with greed.

A whole one I would never buy

‘Cause I don’t drink and that’s no lie.

But by the third shared one, let’s say,

I was more than ready to play.

It was warm so we were dressed

By the credo ‘less is best’.

Shorts and sheer tops we were sportin’,

Hoping guys would come a-courtin’.

The music, it was really pumpin’,

Safe to say the joint was jumpin’!

My friend and I, we hit the floor.

Suddenly: there was one more.

He was cute, we didn’t mind,

He also had a nice behind!

He could dance, that was a plus,

We didn’t mind him dancing with us.

He was shorter than I was;

I guess I had a little buzz.

He said his name was Anthony,

From the town of Albany.

He was nice, bought me a rose,

And a soda, I suppose.

He’d come up for the bike show

And wasn’t alone, wouldn’t you know.

His cousin Angelo was there,

Like his cousin he had dark hair.

Bedroom eyes, he had those too:

A guy for me and one for Sue!

They were both Italian

That’s our favorite kind of man.

For the night we both were set.

This could be the best night yet!

We talked and danced and it was great,

Meeting them was just like fate.

We were having the best time.

Americade: it sure was fine!

Finally Susan said to me:

“We have to go, it’s almost three!

“I don’t want my boyfriend mad

“Although a lot of fun we’ve had!”

Reluctantly I said okay,

Even though I wanted to stay.

We said goodbye to those we’d met.

Anthony said, “You can’t go yet!”

“We’re staying not too far from here,

“Stop on by and have a beer.”

If I hadn’t had the rum

I never would have said, “We’ll come!”

“Are you crazy?” Susan said.

“If our men find out, we’ll be dead!”

“It’s just for a little while,”

 I said with an enchanting smile.

“No one will know what we do

“And this will be quite good for you.

“Angelo has a killer bod

“He’s built just like a roman god.

“Angelo and Anthony

“Are harmless: just you wait and see.”

Then we headed for the car.

They were right: it wasn’t far.

We pulled into the parking lot

The guys went upstairs like a shot.

Not that drunk, I stayed downstairs,

They wouldn’t catch me unawares!

Sue stayed buckled in her seat.

“Let us make a quick retreat!”

I could see that she was vexed

I wondered: what would happen next?

They came down again to flirt.

Angelo, he had no shirt!

He was looking mighty fine.

Susan said, “Okay, he’s mine!”

As for Mr. Anthony,

He came walking up to me.

“You don’t want to see the place?”

Then he began to kiss my face.

I may have had a little rum

But it didn’t make me dumb.

Maybe just a tad reckless

And maybe just a shade feckless.

I figured kissing wouldn’t hurt,

At least he still had on his shirt.

I would only go so far,

He backed me up against the car.

He kissed just like I thought he would:

Damn, I tell you he was good!

As he rubbed up against me,

Hello!  It was Mr. Pepperoni!

It seemed rather wild and free,

I wondered just how that could be?

Then I realized what he had done:

Underwear?  He was wearing none!

When they went up the stairs I guess

They both had partially undressed.

They figured we’d be easy marks

Since in the club there’d been such sparks.

Now I might like to fool around

But both feet still stay on the ground.

I wasn’t thrilled with their assumption

Or at their quite nervy gumption.

I said, “Time for us to go.”

Anthony, he just said, “No!

“The party’s only getting started.”

But my friend and I departed.

The kissing certainly was great

As a lover I bet he’d rate

At least a ten on the normal scale.

He was a healthy, horny male.

However I don’t sleep around

No matter how big is the mound

Of pepperoni in their pants,

Or even how well they can dance.

Sue reminds me of that night

And when we caught our first sight

Of Anthony and Angelo

And then she calls me “DJ ‘ho!”

But I know it was all in fun

Since similar things she has done.

We won’t forget that Americade:

The night we both almost got laid.

~*~

Ah, memories!!

A Piece of Cake to Go

I've been thinking about my father for the past couple of days.  I miss him a lot.  So here's a little tribute to my father...and something we had in common :o)

Anyone who knows me knows that one of my favorite foods is cake.  I’m talking about real cake: moist, rich, fattening, with the traditional “sugar and lard” frosting.  No carrot cake: vegetables have no place in desserts!  No pound cake: it’s too plain.  Also: none of that ‘best crème” for me! I want to taste and enjoy every calorie.

Now, the cake doesn’t have to be the fanciest, or from an authentic French bakery.  My aunt that lives down the street from my mother makes a lemon Bundt cake that is so good we actually fight over it.  Sometimes she makes a whole cake, and sometimes she makes little individual ones: one for each person in my mother’s house and my house.  So when it’s the small ones, we try to barter with someone else so we can have two, or I try to talk Kai-Enna into not wanting hers because it’s too lemony.  When it’s a whole cake, I go over to my mother’s and cut the biggest piece I can, and then eat it in the car so my girls don’t even know about it!  Sure that’s part of the reason why I look the way I do, but seriously: if you ever had a chance to taste it you would know exactly what I’m talking about. Unfortunately, you’ll never get a chance to taste it because if she sent you any: I’d eat it in my car!

I have decided that it’s not my fault that I like cake so much.  I’m going to blame it on my father and say it’s an inherited quality.  He loved cake, and he didn’t even care what kind.  He’d even eat fruit cake!  Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised by that since he also liked black jellybeans, but I digress…

He so enjoyed when my mother would bake; and when I grew up and had my own place whenever I would bake I’d always bring a piece of cake over for he and my mother.

But as the years went by, my mother came down with Type 2 diabetes and totally changed her diet so cake at that time was out.  I think my father came down with it too, but he always said, “I don’t have diabetes; I just have a touch of the sugar.”  Seriously Clarence?  Every time he’d say that it would drive my mother nuts!  After all, she was depriving herself due to doctor’s orders, but my father was still loving life and living large.  Change his diet?  Not on your life!

We still tell a lot of stories about my father.  At the time maybe the situation wasn’t that funny but over time they made us chuckle.  The year or so before he died he was having trouble with his balance and his legs, and sometimes he would fall.  When that happened my mother would usually call me to see if I could come over and help get him up. After all, she was barely 5 feet tall and he was 6’1”.  Being the giant that I am, who else would she call for help?  On this particular occasion, it was a day or so after Kai’s birthday, and we’d had a party at their house.  I had left the extra cake there.  My father had fallen in the kitchen, so I went over and helped get him up and into a chair that was by the wall so he could rest and regain his strength.  Well once we got him settled in the chair, he said, “Can you scoot me over to the table?  I might as well have a piece of cake while I’m sitting here.”  And sure enough: I scooted him over to the table and cut him a slice of birthday cake!  Man, did he enjoy it.  I had to go home and lay down after that episode!

But here’s the real proof of how much my father loved cake.  Since he’s died, I’ve often had dreams about him.  Well, according to my best friend who thinks she knows everything about dreams, these aren’t dreams but actually visits from my father due to the realism and content.  Anyhoo, the last time I dreamed about my father was a few months ago.  In the dream, I had made dinner for a date of mine (that’s how I knew it was a dream because I had a date); and for dessert had baked a dark chocolate layer cake with butter cream frosting.   I went into the kitchen and there stood my father in a dark blue suit.  Yes, he always dresses up when he visits, ha ha.  He says to me, “How about a piece of that cake to go?”  So I get a paper plate and a napkin, cut him a slice of the cake, put it on the paper plate with a plastic fork, cover it with foil and hand it to him.  He says, “Thank you” and then is gone.

Maybe that sounds crazy, but to me it seemed perfectly natural.  After all, when he was alive he knew who always provided him with delicious cake.  Apparently some things never change. 

This One Wrote Itself

Subtitled:  Another Marie Story

It happened again: I let myself get suckered into taking Marie to the supermarket.  When will I learn my lesson??

It was Sunday of Memorial Day weekend.  Somehow Kitty had talked me into having a barbecue, and I was already annoyed about that.  But as I was driving Marie home from church, she said, “I sure do wish I could go to K-Mart to get some cherries.”  “Cherries?  That’s random,” I commented.  “Yes.  They’re on sale and I have enough money to get some.  They’re only $2.99 a pound.  Don’t you like cherries?”  “Well Marie I wasn’t planning on buying any today.”

Then I made the mistake of looking at her, and she was looking at me with big soulful eyes like Pumpkin’s.  Ugh!  “Are you sure that cherries are the only thing you’re going to buy?  I have to get home and start this cookout stuff.”  “Yes it’s just cherries.  I promise.”  So I grudgingly headed for K-Mart.

As much as I would have loved to stay in the car, I knew that if I did there was no telling how long she’d be in there trying to find the produce section.  So as we were entering the store I said, “Did you just want to get a basket since you’re only getting cherries?”  “Well I think I’d better get a cart.  It helps me to lean on it as I walk.”  Seriously Marie?  “Okay.”

We got a cart and I put my purse in it.  “Okay Marie, the produce section is straight back, so we can head that way.”  “Oh I just want to go over here for a minute.”  “Over where?”  “To the deli.  I want some of that marshmallow stuff.”  “Marshmallow stuff?”  “Yes, you know what I mean!” and she proceeds to march over to the deli counter.  And I was forced to follow.

We get to the deli and she looks in the case; then a crestfallen look falls over her countenance.  “They don’t have any of the marshmallow stuff.”  “Mom, you don’t even like marshmallows.  Are you talking about ambrosia?”  “Oh yes, that’s it!  But they don’t have any.”  “Yes they do.”  The employee came over.  “Can I help you?”  “Is that ambrosia there in the back?”  “Yes ma’am.”  I turned to Marie.  “How much did you want?”  “Just ½ a pound.  Thank you daughter for finding it!”  Hey, anything to speed things up!

“Okay, now the produce section is right back here –“  I tried to steer her towards the produce, but she became fascinated by the baked goods.  “Look daughter, I wonder what this is?”  “It isn’t cherries Marie, so let’s get to produce.”  “I’m not going to buy it, since I’m just a poor widow woman, but I still would like to know what it is.”  “It’s cheddar pull-apart bread.”  “Oh.  Look, here’s a pepperoni one!”  “Marie, no one wants that.  Let’s get to the cherries.”  “Okay.”

However, we now have to pass the freezer section.  “I sure would like one of these Mrs. Smith’s pies.”  “Marie, have you seen the price of that pie?”  She looked and gasped.  “My goodness, the price certainly has gone up!”  “Only here.  Let’s go: the produce is straight ahead.”  “Well I still want to look at the pies.”  Oy vey!

Mercifully, at the end of the frozen section is the produce section.  At long last: daylight!  I think I can even see the cherries from where I was standing!  However, we reached the end of the frozen section and I went straight for the cherries: but then realized I was alone.  I looked back, and uh-oh: Marie was lurking amongst the plants.  She held one up.  “Daughter!  Wouldn’t this plant look lovely on your patio?”  “Yes it would but I’m not buying any plants today.”  “But it would be perfect!”  “It’s not in the budget today.”  She picked up another one.  “Hmm, what’s this?”  “It’s not cherries Marie.”  “Don’t be silly: of course it’s not cherries.  How much is this?”

Sighing, I looked at the prices.  “Looks like the plants are $9.99 and $12.99.”  She looked horrified.  “Well I don’t want to pay that much.  How about a different price?”   “Marie, I don’t work here, so I can’t change the prices for you!”  Humphing, she put the other plant down and continued looking.  Knowing that time was rapidly slipping past, I said, “The mini tea roses are only $4.99.”  “They are?  Then I’ll get 2 of these.”  “Great!  Is one for me?”  She slanted me a look.  “No.”  Then she put them in the cart and wheeled over to the cherries.  “These 5 bags are all they have?”  “It’s all they have out here now.”  “Well I have to make sure they taste good before I buy them.”  She then proceeds to eat like 15 of them before putting 2 bags in the cart!  I told her that they were going to have to put her on the scale at the register if she ate any more of them.

I could see the homestretch coming and tried to hustle her along, but she also had to get a cabbage; and then as we slowly made our way up to the register I made the mistake of pointing out a sugar-free drink that I thought she would like.  So we had to look at each one to be sure she got the flavor she would like the best.    This turned out to be a peach lemonade concoction, and she happily put it in her cart as well.  And it was only fifty cents for the bottle!

We finally get to the register and I tell her to put her items up first.  I also ask her if I can taste on of her cherries.  “Certainly, daughter,” she says, handing me one.  I brush it off and pop it in my mouth.  It sure was good, and I wished I had bought some for myself.  Then I noticed her eat one, take the pit out of her mouth, and surreptitiously put the pit in to a box of candy bars that was right there by the register.  “Marie!  What are you doing?”  She looked guilty.  “Oh, you saw me do that?”  I tell you: you can dress her up but you can’t take her anywhere!

So we finally, finally made it out of the store, of course with more than the 1 initial item we had gone for.  And you want to know what she said as she was getting out of the car at her house?  “I’ll see you in a couple of hours for your barbecue!”

Stay tuned!