The Alphabet Series-O is for Ordinary

Aging & Attitude

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New Thoughts on Words

“Honey, I’m home,” yells Mr. Wonderful,* as he parades himself through the front door carrying a boxed Hamilton Beach toaster oven I requested he buy. I meet him in the kitchen as he continues saying, “You’re gonna love it,” his chest buffed out, ready to strut his feathers like he is a peacock.

“Great,” I respond as excited as he is, “Was it still on sale?”

“Yes, $37.99.” He answers and reaches for a sharp knife to cut through the cellophane tape.

“Wait!” I demand. “Don’t open it! You didn’t get the red one. It says black, see.”

I point to the bold lettering on the box.

Hamilton Beach Toaster Oven

Black

“What’s the difference? They didn’t have a red one. Black, red, it makes toast, heats rolls, melts cheese.”

“Black is ordinary, dull, predictable. Black lacks distinction. Red adds, pizzazz, makes a statement.”

He says, “Who needs a statement? I want toast in the morning, ordinary, plain toast. I add cherry jelly if I need pizzazz. Dull and ordinary is just fine by me.”

“Fine? As in average, common and mundane. I want better than fine. Red adds color, interest against the black granite. I’ll take it back, where’s the receipt?”

“What difference does it make, nobody sees it. It’s a toaster.”

“I see it. Now I’m a nobody?”

“Claudia, that’s not what I meant, you’re being ridiculous, why can’t you ever be happy?”

“So I’m a ridiculous unhappy nobody.”

“I didn’t say that. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“It doesn’t matter what you said, what you meant was, STOP being a pain in MY butt and settle for ordinary.”

“Geezzzzzzzzzz, What if it only came in black, you’d have to be happy with black.”

“Now I should fake it, pretend I like humdrum black. Did you look for chrome? Chrome, at least chrome would be different.

“You’re right. I’ll take it back. Why be ordinary? God forbid we’re ordinary. Whatever you want. If a red toaster oven makes you happy, I’m happy too. Yada, yada, yada”

*Mr. Wonderful is my husband of forty-two years. This was posted in 2013. He returned the black toaster oven and we still have the red one.
The picture on the left was taken this morning. Still looking good he prefers to be called, Bobbie C. And yes we are still married. . .fifty-two years.

….just saying

Inconvenient Weather

In Florida, weathermen or weather-people, to be politically correct; now refer to weather as inconvenient.

Well. . .your feet might get wet, your hair blown, and you’ll have to follow a car’s tail-lights to get home. But, you’ll be safe, in a down pour.

It is inconvenient; but catchy and cute. Isn’t it?

The expression hasn’t caught on in the north. Weather people announce the above freezing temperatures void of express, with little regard for the lack of sunshine.

Inconvenient weather is normal, and expected.

I don’t know what’s happening in other parts of the country.

So, on a normal fall day in the north, we drove to Indian Ladder Farms to buy apples. The variety of apples is outstanding and their sugar apple donuts memorable.

As we were leaving, I saw a restored Jaguar, and asked the owner if I could take a picture. He offered to take a picture of me in the vehicle.

We got to chatting. He and his wife are Florida Snow Birds and owners of a window washing service, Mark Washing Windows. They have a place in Port Orange, twenty-five miles from me.

They don’t think Florida’s weather is inconvenient and will be heading south after the holidays.

Is your weather inconvenient?

That’s Not Me

We’re visiting family in Delmar, N.Y., and the leaves are falling fast.

We arrived Wednesday to a chilly temperature of 35 degrees. I enjoy the crisp air and sleeping under a ton of blankets, so the adjustment from Florida is welcome. There is only a smidge of color, and most of the leaves have fallen. The leaves are blown into the street, not raked, and not bagged. The town routinely vacuums them, following a schedule similar to their garbage pick-up.

You can view my story, Wheels of Circumstance at Miriam Drioi’s That’s Not Me. I’m a contributing writer to her blog series.

The story originated when I met Vera in college in 1966. She and her mother had to run into the woods to flee the Russians and escape to Austria on November 4th, 1956

I’d love you to share this story, with family and friends, if you’re comfortable .

A Great Idea

Make a Photo-Book

Here’s a great idea Choose favorite pictures, saved on your phone over the past year, and make a photo-book. There are many companies, some more popular than others, but the one I used can upload them to your phone. I can’t tell you how because my granddaughter-in-law made the magic happen.

I have to confess it took me hours and hours to do the rest, and than hours to use the sale voucher I purchased, but it was worth it.

I received the book today.

I don’t take many pictures, so I had to beg, borrow, and steal from other places. But, next year I’ll think about making a book as I take pictures throughout 2024.

It’s hard to believe there are only 65 days left in the year.

The Alphabet Series The Letter N

Photo by Ichad Windhiagiri

The New Normal

Who knew this would be the new normal

Toes that no longer wiggle, giggle or dance, they sleep

Then suddenly cry, “Sudden leg syndrome is attacking my feet.”

Hands that can’t twist open a door

Or flip pages any more

Kitchen tops decorated with items I don’t want not forget

A part of my brain

Ridge in thought

Like stiff knees reluctant to bend

Grey cells will not receive or send

Exhausted and depleted

Comfort myself with food Mama cooked best

Meatloaf and mash-potatoes

Gives my cerebellum a rest

So, what if I forget to lock a door, a date, a score. . . and more

I’m old, invisible, and small

Don’t fret_____ explore!

Close your eyes, remember your youth and come with me

Imagine places we have never been before

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J is for Junk Drawer

Marshall says, “Every Man Needs a Junk Drawer.”

My husband, of 52 years, walked into the kitchen and asked, “Have you seen my what-ch-ma- thing?”

I knew exactly what he is talking about because he had on glasses and was holding a plastic tube of wood glue.

“You wanted the who-GA-ma-call-it put back together, and I need it.” He stammered and shook his head; his eyes focused on a ceiling corner in an attempt to retrieve the information.

I relished his sputtering, because earlier in the day our discussion about his health ended with him yelling, “You’re right, you’re always right, but you can’t make me do it.” And me leaving the room to avoid a fist fight.

He followed me with comments about who was right versus wrong, and smashed his toes, which hung over the front of his slippers, into the floor molding; and consequently hipped hopped about, flamingo style, scrunching his face like a shriveled prune and swearing, . . . shit. . . shit. . . shit.

I gave him no sympathy.

After rubbing his toes, he blurted out the real issue, “Why can’t we have a junk drawer?”

Yes, you heard right, we do not have a junk drawer. I am philosophically opposed to the concept and wonder why people accumulate items, they do not want and have no need for; useless items, that fill a complete kitchen drawer.

“We have managed for fifty two years with out a kitchen drawer bursting with rubbish. Why would you want one now!” I yelled back.

“Marshal says every man needs a junk drawer, all the guys have one, I’m the only one who doesn’t.”

“Marshal says? Okay,. . . You want a junk drawer, for things you have no use for but, want to keep just in case. I get it, and what would you put in this drawer?” I asked.

“My who-Ga-ma-call-it, golf balls and golf tees, I don’t know, STUFF!” He answered.

“Don’t you keep golf balls and tees in your golf bag? And the what-ch-ma-thing is in your tool box.”

“You’re right, you’re right, I hate it when you’re right!”

G is for Gaudy-The Alphabet Series

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Aging & Attitude

The Alphabet Series – New Thoughts on Words

Gaudy is a word I heard as a child. My mother used the adjective to describe styles not to her liking. Designs she considered garish, ornate, flashy, kitschy, tasteless, vulgar, and extravagant. Our neighbor’s orange velvet sectional is a good example. The French Provincial Couch covered in plastic stuck to the back of your thighs in the summer and cracked when you sat in the winter. The iridescent fluted fruit bowl filled with shiny fake red apples and ornate oranges that decorated their dining room table was in my mother’s words, “poor taste.”

She told me “Gaudy is derived from an eccentric architect, famous for constructing some God-awful cathedral in Spain.”

Photo by Mehmet Turgut Kirkgoz

The true impact of the word is captured by a visual of the works of Antoni Gaudi, the architect. As an adult I was fortunate to visit Barcelona and view the site she talked about.

Gaudi, born in 1852, is famous for his elaborate ornate architectural style. The Sagrada Familia  has been under construction since 1882 and expected to be completed in 2024. That is a 142 year project funded by private donations.

My mother knew about Gaudi but learned her sense of style from her father, Achilles DeSalvo, Pop-Pop to me.

Called Charlie, and never trendy, faddish or snazzy, he knew how to dress.  His family owned a tailor shop in Manhattan called DeSalvo & DeSalvo.

I loved him dearly.

Summertime, Saturday morning, Pop-Pop would take the Long Island Railroad to the Westbury station. He arrived wearing a blue seersucker suit, straw hat and spectator shoes, an afternoon addition of the Herald Tribune under his arm.

He wore cuff-links and his nails were polished.

We waited with great expectation for him to remove his suit jacket, and get comfortable in a chair. Surrounded by his four grandchildren he would unwrap one Mounds Bar and divide each half,  in half  for us to share.

But the best was yet to come.

Concealed in a breast pocket was a cigar.  The  cigar ban was presented to one of us and worn as a ring, for the day or week…depending on how long we made it last.

We never moaned or complained. We stood with hope and felt his love.

My grandfather got me my first real job at the Plaza Hotel.

Occasionally he would say, “Meet me on the northwest corner of 55th street and Madison on Tuesday at noon, and we’ll go to lunch”. There was no follow-up phone call, email or text. I met him on the corner.

Nothing ornate, flashy, gaudy or extravagant about his love. It was genuine. His style memorable.

                                                                                    

The Alphabet Series C is for Curmudgeon

photo by Claudiajustsaying

New Thoughts On Words

C is for Curmudgeon

Cranky, cross, and Cantankerous

Quarrelsome

It’s someone else’s fault

Is being a Curmudgeon a choice, or about loss?

Crappy, critical and uncompromising

Like a Republican who is sore

Callous, cautious, careful

A Curmudgeon ruminates the same thought

Perhaps their hippocampus is shrinking, their dreams forgotten, or tossed

Left alone to commiserate

A connoisseur without a cause

Realizes a critical point

Dick Chaney could be their new boss

A special thanks to my friend Mary for suggesting the word Curmudgeon and to Michael Ray King for encouraging writers to write poetry.

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The Alphabet Series B is For Bootylicious

New Thoughts On Words

Bootylicious Bouillabaisse

    Bootylicious is on my mind. It happens to writers. Words jump into our minds and refuse to leave. I could blame Beyonce` Knowles, but the truth is I like the word. Its rhythm somehow attaches itself to bouillabaisse and bingo, becomes an onomatopoeia dancing around my head.

The American language evolves quickly and when a word becomes popular it is included in the dictionary. Merriam Webster has a paid staff that scans publications and records the frequency of a new word or expression before deciding.

The Webster dictionary defines booty as spoil taken from an enemy in war or loot.

In the today’s world Bootylicious is slang; a compound word, booty or buttock with delicious. The song “Bootylicious” made the term well-known.

Words are added yearly. Recent additions are cougar, helicopter parent, soccer- mom and EEVO an original by Rachael Raye.  A few of the words for 2012 are: man cave, coperniciu, energy drink, game changer, gastropub, mash-up.

So what does Bootylicious Bouillabaisse bring to my mind?

Picture Beyonce` dressed in a black corset and spike high heels joining  Julia Child in the kitchen for a cooking lesson.

We will need something like the time machine in “Back to the Future” to transport Beyonce` to Marseille to learn from the American chef and food writer.

Close your eyes and imagine  Meryl Streep as Julia Child in Julie and Julia if you have to.

Julia opens the conversation with,  “to me the telling flavor of bouillabaisse comes from two things: the Provençal soup base — garlic, onions, tomatoes, olive oil, fennel, saffron, thyme, bay, and usually a bit of dried orange peel — and, of course, the fish — lean, firm-fleshed, soft-fleshed, gelatinous, and shellfish.”[3] Wikipedia

Beyonce`  questions the chef, “Lean and firm, that part girl I know what you talkin bout. Gelatinous…I know you gotta work your jelly. Gelationous? Got to text Jay Z. He’ll know bout that.”

Julia emphasises the B saying, “bouillabaisse is a fish stew. You combine two actions, blhir (French to boil) and abaissar (to reduce).

Beyonce` says with an attitude and one hand on her hip,  “I can boil fine, real fine. She shakes her booty to mimic Julie’s stirring

Julia’s voice crescendos saying,  “Not a hard boil, a slow steady bubbling.” And purses her lips saying ” Then turn it real low and slow.”

Beyonce` says “I gotcha, girl”

Bon  Appetite

There were 370 words added in 2022; dumbphone, video doorbell, janky, greenwash, and yeet are a few. We’ve updated the Merriam contains all of them.

P.S. Post written in 2013. Although dated still makes me laugh. Hopefully you will too.

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A is for Acerbic -The Alphabet Series

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   (The conversation below is between two women in a doctor’s waiting room. )

                                                                                                                                                    Acerbic

“Unacceptable!  My time is of value, too.  Why aren’t you complaining?”

“I was told the doctor was running late when I signed in.”

“This is ridiculous.  I’ve been waiting more than twenty minutes.  My appointment was for nine fifteen.  What time was your appointment?”

“Well, I’m not sure; I think nine thirty, why?”

“It’s better if everyone is out of sorts.  I can complain for you, make something up, like your dog is in the car, sick and needs to be taken to the Vet.”

“Reading here is as enjoyable as anywhere.”

“Boy, you people are annoying, must you be so perky and pleasant?”

“You’re upset.  Why don’t you thumb through a magazine?  There’s a travel article about Hawaii in this one.  Have you been there?”

“You think looking at pretty pictures of places I can’t afford to travel to will help me… what?  Be happy I have to wait for a man, I pay to tell me I’m sick.  And looking at colorful advertisements won’t help either.  I’m Acerbic.  My parents and grandparents, on both sides, were Acerbic and proud of it.”

“Acerbic?  Is that … American or … a religion?”

“Acerbic is a way of life.  You got a problem with that?  Our dispositions are generally crabby.  We find fault in others quickly and enjoy being sarcastic.”

“Golly gee, everyone feels crabby from time to time.”

Golly gee?  Golly gee, we’ve been sitting here over a half hour.  Can’t you pretend you’re a little annoyed?  That wing back chair looks awful uncomfortable.  These doctors are all the same; think they’re better than the rest.”

“His nurse said the doctor had an emergency, it sounded serious.  Are you really Acerbic?”

“Our whole neighborhood is Acerbic.  We don’t like friendly.  People yell, ‘Don’t park in front of my house, jerk’ and threaten, ‘If your dog pees on my grass, I will call the police!’  Although things are changing.  Someone, I can’t find out who, moved my garbage pail out of the street on a windy day.”

“You don’t mind if I read my book?’

“Of course I mind.  I get it.  Why not say shut-up?  Add please if you have to.  It’s easy; watch my lips, ‘Will you please shut-up!’ ”

“No, tell me about your life.”

“Actually I had a great childhood.  We owned a small cabin not far from Route 95 below the Georgia border.  Dad named it Acerbia.  It was a retreat where we could be sour and discontent on weekends and during vacations.  You know, say nasty things about neighbors and relatives.”

“Was that fun?”

“Are you kidding, of course, the best.  By the way, they call me Unfortunately.  I’m Unfortunately Fortunato.  What’s your name?  Not that I care.”

“Unfortunately is a first name?  And Fortunato your family…?”

“Mom wanted an Acerbic name, nothing cheerful or common like Hope, Joy or Grace.”

“That had to be a difficult name for a child.  Did she think it was a mistake?”

“No, Difficult and Mistake are my brothers.  Mother named them good, too, because Difficult is in prison and Mistake, chronically unemployed.”

“Was that a surprise?”

“They still haven’t called anyone.  All they do is talk on the phone.  Someone else has to complain.  You can do it.  I like your pink eyebrows.”

“My eyebrows are pink?”

“Yea, they match your lipstick, compliment that bluish tint in your hair, and look cool on a woman your age.”

“My hair isn’t blue! I’m not that old.”

“Isn’t that book you’re reading in large print?”

“It’s easier I don’t have to remember my glasses.”

“Most seniors get a little forgetful.  It’s normal, not a problem unless you can’t remember what glasses are.  You know glasses magnify things, right?”

“I know what glasses are for and I didn’t forget them.  I do not need them to read a large print book.”

“Did you hear that?  The receptionist called Ms. Fortunato.  That’s me, Unfortunately.  Doc’s ready for me.  Have a rotten, day”

“You too, and my eyebrows aren’t pink!”

                                                                                         . . . just saying

   The Alphabet Series is an approach bloggers use to infuse new life or creativity into their writing.    “Acerbic” is the first post in my series “New Thoughts For Words”.   “Acerbic” draws on personal experience and is published in FWA, Let’s Talk by Peppertree Press.The challenge for that Anthology was to use a dialogue format to present your short story.

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