THE THINGS WE DO TO OUR MOTHERS

The fifties woman

I had a great mother.  Everyone should have a great mother, but not everyone does unfortunately.  My mother was very different than most of my friends' mothers, very un-Donna Reed.  She wasn't into personal vanity, or clothes or shiny things (we had no money for it anyway)  My mother was a crazy little Sicilian lady who was years ahead of the movement for Women's Liberation, although she would have conked me on the head if I had told her she was a women's libber. 

However...she did tell me the following: I didn't need a man to have worth as a woman and she told me that anything a man could do, I could do.  She said any woman was as good as any man.  Not radical thought at the present but in the fifties and early sixties she was a raving revolutionary.  Of course, this was the same woman who told my brother Napoleon survived the Russian winter by living inside of a dead horse.  He announced that in class and was nearly beaten to death by an exasperated nun.

Momma also used to forbid me to go to mass if I put up a fuss.  She would say, "Don't you dare walk into that church with that attitude, sister.  Why it would be an insult to God, you sitting there sulking and bored. I don't want you within ten feet of that church!  Don't you dare!"  Just for that I went to church every week - I showed her.

I was thinking of her just now and how my brother and I would tease her so badly sometimes. Especially this one time.  She had a big old fur coat.  It was probably a wonderful coat - in the twenties.  In the sixties it was nothing more than a humiliation waiting to happen to her children.  We called it her gorilla coat and we would whine and wail if she tried to wear it.  My mother had a solution that only she could have thought up.

She took the coat into the dining room and worked and worked, then came out and stood before us.  "What do you think?" she asked.  We were flabbergasted.  She had taken scissors and cut the coat off at the hip line.  There was no hemming involved.  Just a clean chop straight across.  My brother summed it up best.  "Now its the monkey coat."  He and I laughed until our sides ached.

She disappeared once again with the coat.  We could hear her swearing and cutting and swearing and cutting.  She came out and stood before us again.  "Well?"  She had cut the sleeves off midway.  It was my turn.  "Looks like a monkey t-shirt."  Boy was she mad at us. 

She disappeared again and I could hear more snips and curses.  I peaked in and saw the pile of dead pelts and she slipped on the last vestiges of the garment.  Her eyebrows went up hopefully.

"Monkey hat." 

She chased me for a good half hour after that.


WET GORGEOUS MAN CONTEST (BLATANT GRAB FOR FOLLOWERS)
Please choose your favorite wet man - only from these three - or any other you like.  A trip for sixteen Tampa if you choose the right one.  (guess which one is mine)

VACATION FROM HELL - PART DEUX (Valhalla requires dying in battle)

THE HILLS ARE ALIVE WITH THE SOUND OF...Karen screaming

...where did our little tale end?  Ah, yes.  On the cusp of death...

AAAAAAHHHHHHYYYYYYEEEEYYYYYYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWRRRRR!

These were the heartfelt vowels and consonants of endearment I shrieked at my husband in what I believed would be our final conversation.  Funny how sentimental you can become as you life flashes across the dashboard.  If you remember we had skidded past the driveway to our little Anniversary Love Cabin in Maggie Valley, NC.  We were sliding, hurtling down to the bottom of the Valley of Death.  The 600 were waiting.

June 2, 2011

Wasylowski’s Mountain.  Maggie Valley, North Carolina.  Richie, me, John Boy and Erin.  It was idyllic, the view spectacular, the air crisp.  Quiet.  Reflective.  I was ready to stick pins in my eyes after twenty-four hours.  After three days I was rocking back and forth in the corner, cackling and picking over dead roaches.   Squirrels were beginning to kick on the sliding doors, they began patrolling the deck, they were laughing at me...finally we had to take one out.

ON TO ASHEVILLE!!!

The only thing to see in Asheville is the Biltmore House.  It is beautiful.  We visited there several years ago, when we had all four dogs with us.  Because of this Richie and I toured the grounds separately.  He took the house.  I took the Winery.  This time would be different – no dogs to hold us back.  We could spend all of our time together, touring, drinking…

I made reservations at a Holiday Inn in Asheville.  Classy looking place.  I think it was a Holiday Inn anyway.  Who can really be sure? They didn’t allow pets in this elegant establishment, would fine you over $100 if you violate their rule, and we had old Pinhead with us, our scrawny, crabby, cat Poncho.  We are quite fond of him even if he is a pain, he’s the last of the tribe of pets we used to travel with and he’s not looking too well lately so I can’t leave him behind.  Besides, I figure a cat is not really a pet - he’s more of an employer.  I snuck Pinhead in under a coat.  It must have been a wonderful sight, me having a life and death struggle with an Eddie Bauer Windfoil Jacket as I stumbled down the hallway.  He kept trying to stick his head out and I kept pushing it back under the material.  He was hissing at me, I was swearing at him.  He and I arrived at the room alone while Richie piled the luggage on the luggage cart.  The demons had already taken possession of Poncho's body by then...

MUTUAL OF OMAHA'S WILD KINGDOM....
I have never seen this before.  One entire wall of the room was a window onto the lobby below. You were like an exhibit in a zoo, on display for the entire world to see.  It was like late night on Cinemax.  Not that we ever watch that.  Or the Spice channel.  The entire Inn was built in a kind of circle with a view down to the lobby, all six or seven stories of it, all the rooms open ended and facing each other.  You could look into everyone’s room, and we were only on the second floor.  Our room was 204, directly over the registration desk.  Here’s an interesting aside:  cats love to sit in windows so that passers-by can ooh and ahh. 

Merde.

I stuffed Pinhead into the bathroom and set about to secure our window.  I had pulled the curtain closed but now I had to barricade them down so Pinhead wouldn’t sneak behind and expose himself to the world.  He's a lot more like my Uncle Frank than I care to admit. 

Frank is third from the left.  He's the one smiling.

And Poncho would do it to, just to get back at me.  I wedged the sofa against it, the ironing board, two tables, a watermelon and all the suitcases after Richie brought them in.  Sofa cushions, lamps, books, magazines, my hair blower, a fine pair of boots.  After forty minutes I was finally satisfied that Pinhead would never be able to get behind that curtain.  We were safe from that horrifying $100 fine.  We were puttin' one over on the man.  Richie shook his head.  "Pinhead’ll find a way.  They’re gonna nail us for this.”  Sometimes my husband really pisses me off.


STORMTROOPERS ENTER PARIS

That was when hotel staff began trying to enter our room.  Oh yes. 

 The cleaning people had not finished with our room!!!!  WTF.   Since when are maids this efficient???  I have never – never – had anyone from the hotel staff try to break into my room before.  I listened to the woman outside bitching and moaning that she had to do a final check.  She wriggled the door handle, she kept inserting that card key of hers over and over and over until I thought I'd go mad with terror.  Richie began to say something so I grabbed his mouth – OK, maybe his throat. I dragged him to the floor and made him crab walk toward the door where we pressed our backs against it.  My heart was pounding.  I cracked.

"You're not gonna take us alive, you bastards!"  I shrieked.  "Ma!  Ma!  I'm comin' home Ma!"

 Pinhead began to wail from the bathroom.  We were doomed.

To be continued…

THIS AND THAT FRIDAY (And the boys)

YOU WILL NEVER SUSPECT...

OSCAR WILDE DOES JERSEY SHORE (and not in the biblical sense

FANNING SPRINGS, Fla. — "A sturgeon jumped into an airboat on a Florida river and broke a 25-year-old woman's leg."

At first I thought it said a surgeon jumped into the boat.  La.  My brain.  Well, this is Florida.  Florida is a Seminole word.  It means "ancient white eyes who come south to drive slow, have monkey sex and play bingo."  Or it means shrimp.  I never can remember

MARK TWAIN

"I have witnessed and greatly enjoyed the first act of everything which Wagner created, but the effect on me has always been so powerful that one act was quite sufficient; whenever I have witnessed two acts I have gone away physically exhausted; and whenever I have ventured an entire opera the result has been the next thing to suicide."

DO YOU WANT FRIES WITH THAT,  MR. DARCY?

Debbie Murden from Derbyshire had driven her two-wheeled carriage to the drive-thru window at the Alfreton branch and ordered her burgers and milkshakes.

Having done this before, she didn't think it would be a problem, but staff said that due to health and safety rules they couldn't serve her -- prompting her to angrily head off to a nearby KFC.

Commenting on the incident, a spokesperson for McDonald's said it was company policy not to serve customers in horse-drawn carriages… which suggests this happens more often than we would have thought. 

THE VACATION FROM HELL

I don't ask for much from my life.  Small monetary payments that would support a third world country, the figure I had and hated at twenty-one, eyebrows - NONE OF THESE ARE COMING TO ME ANY TIME SOON.  ...is a simple one week vacation also too much to ask?

I AM NOT A MOUNTAIN WOMAN

So we rented this cabin in North Carolina.  I wanted the mountains.  I wanted "awsome mountain views".  I wanted a jacuzzi and wine and cheese and nice shopping - no great shopping - and I wanted everything that I found in my size category (no I'm not telling) to be actually that size.  I usually see something I absolutely have to have - reach for the garment (or tent, whatever) and it is always about five sizes smaller.  Some damn anorexic bitch is constantly hiding her size selection into my supersized ones and I want her to stop.  But I digress...

The horror began last Wednesday.  The three of us left early in the monring.  For us 11:30 a.m. is early in  the morning.  There was Richie, me and our cat Poncho, or now known as Skinny Poncho.  He used to be Pinhead because he was so fat his head looked like an afterthought.  I'm rambling again.

My first lucid memory is going through Macon, Georgia in our old Ford Van, the car without air conditioning.  It was hot.  Florida is never that hot.  Hell is not even that hot.  I'm talking hot.  It was so hot that asphalt achieved a liquid state.  I had to close the window because of the blast of heat melting my mascarra. 

By the time we reached Maggie Valley, North Carolina we were both exhausted.  The old van kind of limped into the Real Estate lot and we flowed out of the doors on trembling limbs.  After a few bitchy comments between me and the lady behind the desk my husband took over, got the directions to the cabin, and the keys.  Then he dragged me out of the office, prying my fingers loose from the door frame just after I made the slicing motion across my neck and pointed at the Queen of the Dead.  I could have held on for a lot longer if not for that.

Well, we followed the directions to the Cabin of Doom, up the mountain, I felt like an astronaut waiting on my back for mission control to kick in - up we went, up, up, there were rutts in the road and switchbacks at bizarre angles, the old van motor was grinding and grinding away, then we crested the hill...and we began our descent.  Into the bowels of the earth.  It was a straight shot down.  Like a ski slope. I could see the wrecks of previous attempts, could see the blood splatters, the body parts. 

An interesting aside - the little forrest animals we think of as sweet and timid on level ground are seriously aggressive up there in the montains.  They live on the roadkill.

We picked up an alarming amount of speed at one point and passed right by the driveway to the cabin, which was angled off to the left.  I was screaming anyway so I told Rich he had passed the driveway.  This is what I said, "AAAAHHHHHHHOMYGODOMYGODTURNTURNTORATORATORA"  Richie slammed on the brakes and the van kept on a'goin' - for several thousand feet until it finally stopped.

My nails were imbedded into the armrest of my chair; my eyes were popping out and in like a cartoon wolf - BOING,BOING,BOING.  After a moment he had calmed himself, he tried to put the van into reverse but the van kept a'goin' and a'goin' (after spending a week with the road company of "Song of the South" my lanaguage is a bit y'all)  (Plus we visited Paula Deen's restaurant later that week - y'all). (She's real mad about the fire I started - y'all) I continued to scream as I looked deep into my husband's eyes and vowed I would use his body to break my fall...

...to be continued.

MY PEACHIE

I had a dream this evening. It was about my little dog Peachie and our cat Poncho. It was nighttime in the dream and I was sitting out on the front steps of someone’s house. I think my mother was speaking to me, I forget now. In my dreams I oftentimes confuse her and my husband. Anyway, in this dream I suddenly became very uneasy, I sensed that the cat could run out and since our cat is old and sick I panicked. I called in the dream for someone to close the front screen before he escaped but then I saw Poncho behind the fence in our old yard in Chicago. I yelled that he was outside and sure enough he was off like a shot.

We are actually on vacation in North Carolina, in the mountains, so we’ve been very vigilant with Poncho. He keeps looking out the sliding doors hoping to get out but he’s so old, if he got away from us he wouldn’t last very long. That concern probably prompted the dream.

So I am chasing Poncho in the dream and now my husband is chasing him too then I suddenly see my dog Peachie run out. Peachie is a tiny Poodle terrier mix. When she was a little puppy she ran out the front door and headed directly for the street. I was hysterical and went out after her then realized if I continued to chase her she would continue to run right into traffic so I went down on my knees and called her.  She stopped and spun around and ran right back to me.

I grabbed her and hugged her so hard; my heart was pounding. Since that day I’ve been terrified for her.

Well in this dream tonight she did it again, she ran down the block, and it was nighttime. Naturally it had to be nighttime so that I would be doubly frightened. I stopped chasing her suddenly, turned back when I heard someone had caught Poncho and sure enough Peachie came whizzing back, running toward our front steps. I was so relieved.

That was it; that was the whole dream.

When I awoke I was upset for some reason, my mind racing to make certain both of them were all right and in bed with us. Poncho was between my husband and me but I couldn’t for the life of me remember where Peachie was. I began to panic and my mind whirled as I tried to figure out where she was sleeping. She was never far from us, she always slept between us.

Then it hit me. She’s been dead for over a year. It still took a few seconds for that reality to push through my brain but when it did it was like a knife. And I cried. I cried as if it had just happened, I cried for that little dog that I loved so very much, my little Peach. She was a pistol, tiny and quick and just a real bitch when it came to her sleeping spot between me and Dick. If any of the other dogs or cats tried to come close she was after them like a Rottweiller, poised to kill. The trouble was she weighed about seven pounds; her little mouth couldn’t open wide enough to bite your thumb let alone do much damage, but she was a fearsome thing to behold when her temper was up.

I miss her so much. God how I still miss her and all our dogs, all four are dead now, but I especially miss her for some reason. I keep thinking we have to get another dog but something inside my little brain thinks that would be disloyal. She was my little girl, my Peachie Magee. How could I replace her?

Then again, it’s so lonely here without her, without any of my dogs, how can we not?

BOOK SUNDAY

AN INTERVIEW WITH DEBRA SWIFT, AUTHOR,

"The Lady's Slipper"

1.   What aspects of being an author do you most enjoy?

I love the research aspect of my books. There’s nothing better than a good excuse to visit old buildings, archives, museums and antique markets. I also love the beginnings of a new book when all possibilities are open to me.

2.  What aspects of being an author do you least enjoy?

I suppose trying to market or promote the books. I am not a natural “seller” so I always find that aspect hard. I’d rather be writing or researching, or poking round ancient sites.

3. What moment as an author have you experienced that you are likely to remember 20 years from now (good or bad)?

I think the arrival of my first book in its gorgeous hardback will stand out as a moment for me. Unpacking the box and drawing back the brown paper to see the lovely cover with my name on it. I put it on the shelf next to books by other excellent and inspiring writers, and I just looked at it on that first day over and over!

 

4. How many hours a week do you spend writing? I write every morning five days a week. The rest of the day is reserved for my other job and for research.(And for things like doing the washing, going to the shops etc!)

5. How much research do you do? I find research inspirational, and it often prompts story ideas as well as being essential to get a sense of the age – so I do a lot. I have a period of general research before I begin to write, then after the first draft I go into a more intensive phase where I find out much more detail about the scenarios I have created in the book. There are a lot of re-writes at this stage whilst I try to blend historical accuracy with the plot. For example I didn’t know when I began The Lady’s Slipper there would be a scene on board ship, and I knew zilch about  ships – so a whole new adventure of Maritime museums and looking at archives began.

6.  Tell us about your latest book.

The book that’s out now is about an artist who wants to paint and preserve a rare orchid, The Lady’s Slipper of the book’s title. It grows on someone else’s land, so she steals it, thus setting in motion a train of events leading to murder and exile, and leads her also ultimately to love and a new life.

7.  How long did it take to write?

The book was two years in the making – about eighteen months in writing and researching, and six months in the editing. It was a brilliant moment when I first saw the whole thing clunk out of my printer at home, and saw I had actually written a book!

8.  What was your inspiration?

The novel was inspired by the English orchid itself which was reduced to a single specimen when I began the book. It was part of a species recovery programme which has been a success, and now to my great delight, the lady’s slipper is flourishing in selected fragile sites in the wild. It is still monitored though, because it attracted orchid thieves a few years ago. Now its main danger is slugs and deer!

9.  If you could spend one week with one of your characters who would you choose?  What would you do?

I would love to spend a week with Stephen Fisk, the young man in the book who eventually finds the courage to stand up to his father for his principles, and what he believes in. I would love to spend a week with him at his converted English manor house, The Fieldings, to see how he has used his father’s legacy for his own ideals.

10.  What has surprised you the most about your experience of being published?

How long it all takes! I wrote the book in 2007-8, found a publisher in 2009, and it did not come to the shelves until late last year, by which time I had written a second. But also the biggest surprise is that I have been mostly ecstatic, occasionally horrified and sometimes plain baffled by reader’s reactions to the book. But I love to hear from different readers, so it has been great.

11.    How much social networking are you into?

I have a blog – www.deborahswift.blogspot.com, and The Lady’s Slipper has a Facebook page. I try not to get too sucked into social networking, because too much of it eats away at my writing time, but I always have time to talk about my books to readers.

12.  Who is your favorite author?  Favorite book?

Difficult! I’m a bookaholic! But off the top of my head - I enjoy work by historical novelists CJ Sansom, Tracy Chevalier, Philippa Gregory and Geraldine Brooks to name but a few. My favourite books (I can’t only choose one!) are “Rebecca” by Daphne du Maurier, “A Fine Balance” by Rohinton Mistry and “The Red Tent” by Anita Diamant.

12.    Give us your Website address

www.deborahswift.co.uk

THIS AND THAT (and the boys)

Dominique Strauss-Kahn & lucky, lucky wife

RIKER'S ISLAND - BANKER'S WING
The former chairman of one of Egypt's major banks has been arrested on charges of sexually abusing a maid at a Manhattan hotel, just weeks after the arrest of former IMF chief Dominique Strauss-Kahn on similar allegations.  Police say Mahmoud Abdel Salam Omar was arrested at the Pierre Hotel on Monday morning.  The 74-year-old businessman is accused of sexually abusing the maid and holding her against her will inside his hotel room.  Police say the incident happened Sunday night.  Police spokesman Paul Browne says detectives found the complainant to be credible.  Omar is the former chairman of Egypt's Bank of Alexandria.

MEN - YOU CAN'T LIVE WITH THEM, YOU CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT THEM, YOU CAN'T KILL THEM...

DOROTHY PARKER
“I wish I could drink like a lady / I can take one or two at the most / Three and I'm under the table / Four and I'm under the host"

WHY ARE MOST WEATHER GIRLS PREGNANT?
Just curious.  Is it the Doppler thing?

BLONDE JOKE 
A blonde has just gotten a new sports car. She cuts out in front of a semi, and almost causes it to drive over a cliff. The driver furiously motions for her to pull over, and she does. The driver gets out and draws a circle and tells her to stand in it. Then he gets out his knife and cuts up her leather seats. He turns around and sees she's smiling. So he goes to his truck, takes out a baseball bat, and starts busting her windows and beating her car. He looks back to see that she's laughing. He's really mad now, so he takes his knife and slices her tires. He turns around and she's laughing so hard, she's about to fall down. He demands, "What's so funny?" She says, "Every time you weren't looking, I stepped out of the circle!"

MAC VS. MICROSOFT
We had a very informative conversation with a computer geek recently and we learned a number of interesting facts.

1) The reason the MAC has fewer viruses than Microsoft is that 85% of the world have Microsoft and only 15% have MAC.  It is not profitable to go after MAC.

2)  Viruses are profitable!  Who knew!  I always thought a computer virus began in the brain of some nerdy university genius who was pissed off at not having a girlfriend or at the includible staying power of his acne.  No, no, no.  Viruses are manufactured for profits.  China makes the majority of your run of the mill, daily virus and Russia produces your best gambling virus.

3)  Web companies have huge supercomputers whose function is to ferret out the viruses (5,000 /er day) that are being distributed and find the patch to stop it

OR

they can go to a third party and buy the patch made by the virus distributor, to fix the virus that that virus distributor has manufactured.  They create their own markets.  Fascinating.  If only they used their power for good.  I don't make this stuff up, you know.

MY FIRST  AND ONLY MEDIA INTERVIEW IS NOW A SHRINE AT SUBWAY
My dear friend, Jeannie at Subway at 75th and Manatee in Bradenton has framed and mounted my first, last, and more than likely only print interview.  She has placed it, unforunately, on the trash bing.  Beggars, as the Bishop said to the showgirl,  cannot b choosers