August 19th, 2010 | No Comments »

So, did I happen to mention we moved? We’re at least in the house. Living in the basement apartment in what I’ve affectionately learned to call our “love nest.”  Grandmother tells me that we are, in fact, living in “sin.” But since the wedding is only 6 short weeks away, it is really a sinlet. Barely a blemish on my permanent record, really now.

That’s okay, I think she approves.

mmm&j

Oh, in other news… I found my knitting bag. Behind the dollhouse under the mountain of unopened boxes.

I miss my toaster.  I want waffles.

July 27th, 2009 | 3 Comments »

I’m a fan of bangs… again. Seems that bangs come in and out of my life like the ebb and flow of the tide, like the waxing and waning of the moon, like something else poetic and pithy.

Sometimes bangs work, sometimes they don’t and I am the victim of a ‘bang intervention.’ Sometimes they were permed and pressed and teased, sometimes they are awkwardly short (or dreadfully long and dusting one’s eyelashes) and sometimes, friends, sometimes they were shorn by someone of ill experience. Yes, I’ve botched my own bang trim in the attempt to achieve something ‘pixie’ and ended up with a mess, but I was in college at the time and both confident as well as poor… but now I am referring to the “MOM CUT.”

Going through photos at my grandmother’s recently I stumbled across this one. I noticed the bangs straight away.

“Uh, Mom, did you happen to cut my hair as a child?”

to which she responded: “Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Er, no reason in particular.”

Exhibit A:

bangs1

Like one inch of hair across my forhead, lopsided and what is that little dangling ‘chad’ thing on the left? Me thinks she missed a spot.

She didn’t get much better with time either.

Exhibit B:

bangs21

I think she had a problem with the left side, what is that?

In her defense, I think she studied bang trimming in the school of her mother.

Exhibit C:

bangs3

The prosecution rests. It would seem my mother executed the bang trim MUCH much better hers did so all is forgiven. But it would also appear that the left side was problematic to all.

Now what did we learn today? Unless professionally trained to do so, do not, I repeat DO NOT trim one’s own hair or that of a small, vulnerable child.

Fortunately, my hairdresser gives out free bang trims between visits to avoid just such a catastrophe.

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May 8th, 2009 | 2 Comments »

I had some professional portraits of my Mother and Grandmother for a Mother’s Day gift this year. Now, the little old lady wasn’t really “into” it, she griped when I suggested the idea back in March. She bitched when I set the date last month, “I’m not going to buy any.” She complained when I told her what I thought she should wear (even though she asked me previously that week.) She grumped in the car on the way and almost to the moment we got out of the car at the site- “I don’t like to have my picture taken.” But for Fox, she was on her best behavior. In fact, the word ‘lovely’ might be applicable in this case and we were able to steal a few special moments like this one:

ammmm

(Mamama gets a cookie for being the only one looking at the camera and apparently being REALLY funny.) And another of my personal favorites, this is about right:

ammm1

I am truly blessed to have a talented photographer in the framily. I’m so glad that I made this happen, documenting our relationship in this way is going to be even more special and meaningful in the future (it’s special and meaningful now!) I highly recommend that if you have the slightest inclination to do a family portrait, go ahead and make it a reality immediately. You’ll thank yourself.

I also highly recommend that if you need a photographer, you call on my girl Fox at Celestial Photography in Gainesville. She has a gift, truly.

May 5th, 2009 | 3 Comments »

Fun Fact Number 1:

Mycurrent vehicle was purchased from an actual old lady and I like to drive it slowly anywhere I need to go. (I also will make 3 right turns to avoid turning left on a busy road or intersection, a point on which I was busted on just this very weekend by my man. He was very amused.)

Fun Fact Number 2:

THIS is one of my best friends:

Fun Fact Number 3:

I have cats. Errr, several, in fact.

Fun Fact Number 4:

I like to knit. If I were not employed, everything in the house would be donning some sort of ‘cozy’.

Fun Fact Number 5:

I listen to Neil Diamond (and I know all the words.) I sing Neil’s songs with wild abandon and without a care in the world nor any notice of the fact that I lack any discernible musical skill. (Love you, Neil.)

neil

Fun Fact Number 6:

I have a leopard print trench coat.

And I wear it.

Fun Fact Number 7:

I scare/surprise ridiculously easily. (Not sure that I should have shared that one.) I also side-seat drive like A LOT and make various noises of displeasure when Jeff makes vehicular maneuvers that aren’t the least bit old-ladyish.

Fun Fact Number 8:

I like to cook/bake and entertain with the primary purpose of feeding crowds of people, and when they are finished, I thrust more food upon them when they are already full. (Kind of exactly like this lady.)

Fun Fact Number 9:

I have *sob* gray hairs.

Fun Fact Number 10:

I like this song (and the new commercial that goes with it) quite a bit:

When I grow up, I want to be an Old Woman

In honor of Mother’s Day Week, go call or squeeze an old woman today. If you don’t have one, let me know, you can borrow one of mine- but I want her back in just as good or better condition I lent her.

UPDATE: I forgot my most interesting embarrassing LOL (little ol’ lady) factoid! I love infomercials and often buy things ‘as seen on tv.’ (Usually after a sleepless drunken night.) I’d love to have a Ronco Electric Food Dehydrator. I do so adore my Magic Bullet blender/drink maker. Admit it, you’d love to own a Sham Wow. You know you would. I’m pretty much Billy May’s bitch or, at least, I’d like to be.

My most recent items to come into my possession include: Not one but TWO Topsy Turvy Tomato Trees (Jeff got them for me for Easter. The plants are positively THRIVING, so more on the Topsy phenomenon to follow this summer!) A set of hair Bumpits (also working, so far, today) and the Smooth Away hair removal system -which Jeff says is just sandpaper that I could buy at Home Depot for a quarter and that I’m essentially sanding my arm hair and a layer of skin off in the delicate ‘removal’ process and that is why there is some slight “stinging” and mild skin irritation. I told him the infomercial says that it is ‘exfoliating’ for a nice smooth, hair free surface. The jury is still out.

February 12th, 2009 | 1 Comment »

I went out with this lady again last week.

To Chilis of course, we should buy stock.

Lord have mercy. My Mamama is a pistol. She begins the night with telling me of her attempt to play Scrabble. Now, she has run through two crossword puzzle dictionaries in the past three years due to her affinity for words.  But she didn’t like Scrabble.

?

I know! It would seem she didn’t realize that the words could be joined. She said she didn’t think she would go play again. I reiterated that now that she knows the rules and she is such a word smith  she could CLEAN UP and kick some serious old lady booty at the next Scrabble competition. MMM responded with, “Well… there was this woman…”

Aw Crap. I take a sip of my wine and say, yeah, well, there always is.

“And she said she had something she wanted to tell us.” (Here I can just see these old biddies leaning in, craning their necks, turning up their hearing aids to not miss a single juicy morsel of what was about to come.)

-the woman confessed, “I think my mother was illigetimate.”

Silence.

MMM says, “I don’t know what that makes her, a bastard twice removed?” (Ba-dum-bum- CHING!)

Oh, and the stories, they got even better! Do you remember a few weeks ago and it got, like, totally COLD? I mean, for Georgia, really, really cold, you can wear all your hand knit stuff at the same time and the wind still cuts through you ? Well, that was the day that MMM had her lunch date with the Red Hat Ladies. (She didn’t wear a read hat because she has a history of being a social deviant. Remind me to tell you about the time she was in high school and she and a bunch of other girls wore jeans to school and got sent home. Scandalous I tell you. You’d never guess who the instigator of THAT was.)

I digress. Well, she was waiting in line to get on the bus with all the hat women and the handicapped were getting on first, not to mention it was COLD and WINDY. (Can you see where this is going?)  One woman just had surgery, she gets on, the other had a sore toe, allowed to board, and then my Nana here says “I had my tonsils out.” And gets her clearance for early passage to the confines of an idling, toasty bus.

I look at her. I tilt my head. She laughs… “Well, they didn’t ask me when.”

(Tonsils, removed, like try 1937.)

Devilish I tell you.
Posted in My Grandmother
January 9th, 2009 | 7 Comments »

My Hispanic grandmother (not this one but the other one) buys me things from infomercials. I don’t know what it has to do with her being Hispanic, but I think it does somehow. Let me ‘splain.  She also decorates in leopard ALL OVER HER HOUSE. And I think that THAT is genetic, seeing how I have a deep and lasting love for leopard print too. This is the same woman that used to record the shopping channel when we left the house in order to make sure she didn’t miss anything good. In a word, she is nuts.

But in a good way that is fun at parties and to drink and cook and gamble with. And I love her more than words mostly because her lack of mastery of the English language (even though she has spoken it for most of her life) leads to lots of laughing and me somehow serving as translator to the rest of the family. I know what “thing” she is constantly referring to (even when she doesn’t.)

Anyways, where was I? Oh, yes, the infomercial shopping habits she has acquired over her years of “americanization” have once again led to a gifted triumph! I received this in in the mail on Wednesday:

That would be the EZ Combs you see on tv that have countless applications! Ponytails, french twists, NEVER have another bad hair day again!!! And it actually works pretty well, I have to admit it. The funny part is that as I opened the package, not one but NINE sets of these combs spilled out. I have one in red, bronze, silver, black, black and white, aubergine, you name it. Yes I have one to go with each and every outfit in my closet, if I were to choose to do so. But I don’t want to become that girl with that weird hair thing, not to mention that I don’t think one woman should hoarde all these treasures to herself, so I will be giving away a few of these gems to some fortunate friends.

WAIT just a minute! I have an even better idea! Since I’m often flummoxed and taken aback when I find out that people (other than my *mothers) actually read this blog- I think I have here the makings of my very first giveaway! I tell you what, the first two people to comment with “YES! I want me some of those EZ Combs! Right on!” will get a selection of a pair in the color of their choice (from whatever is left over) and shipped right to their very doorstep courtesy of Le Spazz.

Oh, and because I just can’t get enough of Mima today, she asked me at the last visit if I could believe that they were selling this at a second hand shop in Florida for only $3? I know I certainly can’t.

“Schlitz, es el gusto!” That is a well spent $3 if you ask me. I would have made that thrift store take at least six!

(Note* When I said I had “moms” that read my blog, I do have more than one maternal figure and no, I’m not the only child of couple of lesbians-not that there’s anything wrong with that- but I have a mom, a former almost mom, a stepmom and some additional mother figures that are moms themselves or dear friends of my moms or the moms of some lifelong friends. Needless to say, I’ve got lots of ladies in my corner.)

Have a fantastic weekend.

November 18th, 2008 | 3 Comments »

I wish it weren’t so washed out but I captured this moment at our tea party and Mamama was in mid-laugh. She had just said something slightly evil. The stole she is wearing belonged to my great grandmother, (the mother of my grandfather.) The same woman that didn’t particularly like boys (except for me, tee hee) and that always referred to my Mamama as “That woman Jim married.”

I had just asked her if that stole was a gift, she said, “Yes! She Died!”

Glad I was johnny on the spot with my camera here, this was a moment to remember!

Posted in My Grandmother
October 30th, 2008 | No Comments »

So, I didn’t take a full lunch break today (and let’s be honest I never do) in part to write some very well deserved nasty grams. Now I’m a firm believer in the rights of the consumer when being thwarted by big business, but I’m not much of a complainer, really I’m not. I don’t like to send things back in restaurants and I abhor people that complain seemingly for the purpose of getting something for free. (Although I did get a free month of internet service from Charter because of the power of the blog… but I digress.)

I believe it isn’t fair being mad at someone and not telling them why and I believe this to be equally true when dealing with giant corporate monsters too. You don’t get to have a beef if you aren’t willing on giving someone some opportunity to do the right thing, and honestly, if I were a business owner I would like to know if there were a complaint. I like to take care of the little guy. This time the little guy is my grandmother. I’ll let this nastygram speak for itself. Read the rest of this entry »

August 27th, 2008 | 4 Comments »

Nope, still not painting and the house is a disaster, but I don’t care. (Well I do but there is only so many hours in each day so I’m just not going to care and continue living in the bedroom until further notice.) I do seem to be making progress on my stormwater shawl.

The colors in these photos are crap because it is raining and I needed a surface to spread out, which was the bed so the lighting doesn’t really show how pretty the silk really is. The good news is I only have a twee little bit yarn left! The bad news is that it is two balls so that amount is really doubled.

(There’s the trusty quarter…) I think I can complete this in 17 days. Crap, I have to block it too, but I’m thinking a pin and spritz will do nicely maybe rather than a full on submerge. Any thoughts fellow knitterz?

So, I had dinner with grandmother last night. She says such colorful things. Like she wants some brunswick stew but not the “fake” kind that mother and I made her last time.  She said “Use the recipe that was my husband’s, your grandfather’s, you know what’s his name….. Jim.” Funny stuff.

August 6th, 2008 | 3 Comments »

So, its 5:25 and -shit- I’m late to pick up my grandmother. Work was a whirlwind again today with no breaks and no relief in sight. I’m spent, physically, emotionally, I’m totally drained. I blubber on the phone to my mother who is pleading with me to pull over if I’m going to have the “ugly cry” in the car. But dammit I’m LATE!

I pick up my Mamama. She wants to drive her car. She’s worried she is going to run out of gas and has been fretting over it since last week. (The woman drives all of five miles every five days, but she is sure she will run out of gas and, never having pumped her own, it is a truly frightful and horrendous prospect.) I go and fetch her car. It is a notch under half a tank. I heave a big sigh, just keep it together girl, keep it together- maybe two more hours then you can drown yourself in chocolate bars if you so desire.

We go to dinner at Chili’s, my first dinner out since the whole mess has gone down. I look around carefully for the people I don’t want to run into (I feel like I’m magnetized and will just be inexplicably drawn to the people I can’t see right now.) But the coast is clear and we like Chili’s, (particularly the wine.) She asks, “Are we going to talk about this?” I say, sure, let’s talk. She pries delicately, then plies me with libations,”Let’s have a second glass” but I don’t relent. She seems satisfied. “He just ran out of time.” Yes I nod (I dare not utter a word.) She speaks of my father, the man whom my mother divorced when I was three. The man that had commitment issues, that partied with friends until all hours- the standard “Peter Pan” syndrome- screw you guys I’m not ever going to grow up. She doesn’t mask her contention that there are some similarities in my present situation and that of my mother, over 27 years ago. She mentions how fond she will always be of my dad. A man you can’t help but be fond of, he is so freaking charming (shit, yet ANOTHER similarity?) She then says the thing that churns my gut. “The only thing I couldn’t forgive in your father was his unfaithfulness.”

I hide behind my menu. I am relieved the waitress arrives at just this opportune moment  and I hastily order the first thing I see that looks remotely nourishing (food is still not very fun.) When it comes she takes a look at my plate and thinly veils her disgust. “What is that?”  I respond “A Black Bean Burger.”  She pauses, “You mean, there’s no meat?.”  “No,” I respond, “Just Beans.”

“You aren’t going to become one of those are you?” (I think she means a vegetarian, but hell, she could mean a lesbian, that is the fun that is Mamama, you never really know what she is getting at but you just hang on for the ride.) “No,” I say “Don’t worry.”

After dinner she asks if I want to stagger to the mall with her to buy a “pretty.” I profess that would be nice, because that is what she wants to hear and she is trying to raise my spirits, but my heart wasn’t in shopping. And it doesn’t help that the motivation for the fall line at Belk’s department store is some serious ugly. Since I’ve already lost weight on the misery diet, I opted for a dress that can be cinched in at the waist, with dots on it (because who can be unhappy when they are wearing gigantic polka-dots, right?)  I then take her to the grocery store for some “staples” (sherry and wonderbread) before carting her to what she calls “prison.” (She lives in the swankiest retirement community in town, but constantly proclaims to be stifled by their abundant rules and annual physicals.)  She teeters into her doorway at which time her neighbors emerge. She introduces me to her neighbor, a delightful elderly man. He walks away and before the door is shut, she mutters “Creep.” I’m amazed and blink at her thusly. She says, “He wants to bond.” … “but I’m unbondable.”

As I leave, she calls out, “Call me when you want to drink dinner again dahlin’, why, what else are grandmother’s for?”

You got that right, sister.  No really, I love my grandmother. She is sometimes nasty, often drunk
but always a delight in the way that only she can be.