A Lucky Day

One morning when my daughter, Janine, was kindergarten age she woke me up saying, “Mom this is your lucky day.”

I had gotten her older brother off to school and gone back to bed. I wanted to pull her into bed with me and cuddle. But, she was dressed in her favorite Health-tex outfit and her purse was across her shoulder.

She explained, “Mom I am taking you to lunch at Shelby’s.

So at 10:30A.M. on a school day we sat on metal stools that spun and ordered lunch.

I had a hot dog and Janine a grilled cheese sandwich.

 When we finished Janine asked, “Mom would you like desert?”

“Oh no, thank you. I much too full.”

She would and called the waitress over.

This sour looking woman held a pencil and order pad in hand, never smiling.

“I’d like a scoop of vanilla ice cream with a cherry on top,” she said with her head held high.

“That’s 5 cents extra,” said the hardened waitress.

Janine counted her money and I debated giving her the extra nickel she lacked. She had the ice cream without the cherry.

Yesterday was another lucky day.

Twenty well-wishers came to discuss and purchase books at the Halifax Plantation Golf Club luncheon. My daughter was unable to attend but nevertheless I’ve been doing a lot of smiling thinking about the two events.

Thank you to those who attended. I value your kindness and support. And yes, I’m working on the second book in this series called, The Middle Seat Passenger.

Morningside Drive is a cozy/mystery novel and can be purchase on all online book stores including Amazon.

P.S. Johanna, thanks for reminding me of past posts.

Easter March 31, 2024

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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

How I Spent the Weekend

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The Alphabet Series H is for Hanky Panky

The Alphabet Series

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New Thoughts on Words

H is for hanky panky, two words joined by alliteration, not meaning.

Tommy James and the Shondell’s song, “My baby does the hanky panky”, creates a picture of a couple making out in a 1966 Mustang convertible. There is a mischievous fooling around atmosphere and we know the girl is easy.

But what is hanky panky?

Webster’s (Standard Reference Works Publishing Co. 1956) definition; The meaningless professional talk of a juggler or magician, jugglery or legerdemain.

Sounds like politicians talking about the sequestration.

The term hanky panky is sighted in the first edition of Punch magazine Volume 1 September 1841.

In London, a con-man said to a judge in court; “Only a little hanky-panky, my lud. The people likes it; they loves to be cheated before their faces. One, two, three-presto-begone. I’ll show your ludship as pretty a trick of putting a piece of money in your eye and taking it from your elbow, as you ever beheld.”

A later reference is from George Bernhard Shaw’s Geneva, 1939:

Hanky panky makes us think things are unethical, and referenced as Hocus Pocus or Hokey Pokey, grew in popularity when sexy and illicit acts were included.

It was playful and school children wiggled to the hokey pokey to practice eye hand coordination skills.

The closest we can get to that ridiculous fun for all is the Harlem Shake.

Google Hanky Panky and you will discover many companies sell lingerie and naughty items, but only one company makes the lace.

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Klauber Brothers is a sixth generation family business and creators of an exclusive Signature Lace for Hanky Panky, a leader in intimate apparel.

The Klauber family was lucky to escape the treacherous trickery that forced them to surrender their business and never considered they would be in the  hanky panky business. They fled Nazis Germany on the SS Manhattan. It was the last boat to America in 1939.

Their story and craftmanship adds sobering thoughts to hanky panky, but I still hear lyrics in my head and think about a randition of the Harlem Shake, me mouthing the words…My baby does the hanky panky. I saw her walkin’ on down the line You know I saw her for the very first time A pretty little girl standin’ all alone “Hey pretty baby, can I take you home?”

A Happy Day

BELAIR FINE ART

I have decided to give up the notion that a happy day is when nothing goes wrong.

My daughter was out of the house by 4 A.M. to catch a flight, but the plane wouldn’t start. This not a joke and there is no punch line. . . not yet, anyhow. After three attempts to jump start the plane, it was decided she would take an Uber to Orlando, and if everything arrives on time be in Newark, New Jersey at 7 P.M. instead of 11A.M.

Then my husband’s doctor’s office called. His request to be on an insulin pump has been denied because his blood glucose is too high, which is the reason the doctor wants him on a pump.

It was only 9A.M., was I going to do be miserable all day? I’d been planning on a down day and thought when are things going to go right? I had a whole day ahead of me.

Why let a few things spoil a sunny deadly hot day?

How about you?

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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What are you reading?

Jackie and Maria

Recently, my husband and I flew on Allegiant Airline from Florida to Albany, New York. The plane was on time, a direct flight, and the staff accommodating and friendly.

However, I hope I never have to fly this airline again.  

Why? There are caveats, aka; Allegiant’s nickel and dime approach to flying.

Ordering the tickets on-line was a nightmare. I’d purchased two round-trip tickets, I thought. The total cost was $659.50, and included two seats, (neither one of us wanted to stand on the trip), the fee to carry-on our bags and the cancellation option. The constant pop-ups through-out the process made me dizzy. I even signed up for their credit card, because I thought I had to.

Twenty-four hours before, I checked myself-in. But couldn’t check-in my husband.

Come to find out, after hanging on hold for one plus hours, and listening to a constant reminder to resolve your flight concerns on-line, I spoke to a human. They convinced me I’d purchased only one ticket. I argued. . . that can’t be. . . I paid for two seats.

So, I bought an additional ticket, last minute, paid again for the seat next to me, that I’d already paid for, and checked luggage for a cost of $ 461.50.

When everything was said and done, the cost for two round trip tickets was $1,121.00!

I was in tears and my husband standing behind me said, “Pay them whatever they want, you can’t go alone.” I felt like a hostage and he was paying ransom.

ONE THOUSAND AND ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-ONE DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS, to fly from Florida to New York, on Allegiant, the cheap airline.

Now do the math. The flight was full, 180 seats. If every passenger paid $461.50, the airline took in $90,000. If they paid $659.50, the take would be $118.710.

So, Allegiant collected between 90 and 119 thousand dollars for a two hour and fifteen-minute direct flight.

 But. . . money was made elsewhere. Snacks and beverages; and you pay for water. The only thing free was use of the toilet. Rumor has it toilet paper will be an add on soon.

Last, but not least, (don’t get you panties in a twist) you must have the Allegiant app on your phone, or print your boarding pass at home, otherwise it will cost you $5 to have it printed at the airport.

Whew! Talk about stress. I thought I would lose my mind.

BUT! We landed early!

                                                               * * *

The sun was out the first day of our vacation and the next, for our family gathering. It was wonderful.

However, it rained everyday thereafter.

 Fortunately, my sister, Mel, gave me a book.  Jackie and Maria, by Gill Paul (historical-fiction) and I couldn’t put it down.

I often quote Jackie Kennedy Onassis’s response to the interview question, “Mrs. Kennedy, what is your greatest accomplishment? Jackie said, “I didn’t lose my mind.” I guess she never flew Allegiant.

After reading Jackie and Maria, it was a miracle she didn’t. Evidently though, she was a compulsive shopper.  I totally enjoyed this read.

You’ll find more reviews on goodreads.    

                                                                                         . . . just saying

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It’s Fathers Day

Sweet Memories

The pedaling of an old man riding a wide-tire bicycle grabs my attention as I drive Acoma road. The methodical around and around of the bike’s wheels is mesmerizing.  I press the car brakes, slow to a crawl and drop back, to give the senior space, as we approach the corner stop.

He wears red Keds, and a large droopy straw hat shades his face from the morning sun. He sports a long sleeve plaid shirt and hazardous baggy Dockers. The blue and chrome fender bike has no basket or hand brakes.

Behind him rides a man in a metallic Speedo shirt, and black skin-tight shorts.  He wears a helmet and mustache, and he does not pass abruptly. Instead, he moves to coast gently beside the elder, a solid traffic barrier.  They ease the corner, two abreast, like dancing a Minuet synchronized to Chopin.

I stop at the corner. . . rather than go straight. I turn right. . . and follow them, absorbing their relationship.

They are a pair. Paternal. Their head, back, and shoulders are a younger/older version, of the other.  The son deliberately peddles ahead, never looks back, but hoovers; and allows his father to ride independently. The old man’s bike wheels don’t wobble. The handlebars do not shake. There is an air of pride accompanying his movement.

As they resume their single file adventure, I drive by, see his wrinkled face, and guess the elder is eighty. I catch a glimpse of the son’s full head of peppered gray hair, and face with minimal expression lines, when passing, and guess . . . he’s nearing sixty.

My mind conjures a past Father’s Day,

I imagine it is 1958, the father wears the same plaid shirt, Dockers and Keds. The son, is dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt. The father, leads the way with subtle protectiveness and allows the son to celebrate his newly acquired skill, riding a bike.

“Daddy, look at me!” He yells with a big smile.

Today is Father’s Day 2012. I watch the pair celebrate with the simple act of being together. Pedaling their bicycles, and needing each other in a different way.

                                                                               . . . just saying

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*Post was originally published in 2012, over ten years ago.