The Crab Chronicles

Remembering Aunt Hazel

My great grandfather Robert Edward Butler married Beulah Phillips in 1888, and they proceeded to have more than 12 children. My grandmother Wilma Butler Hasty [Memaw, to me and the other grandchildren] was somewhere in the middle of the pack. The 7 Butler sisters were a force to be reckoned with, as a group and individually.

Left, the wedding photo. Granny was about 5'8 and weighed over 180 lbs. when she married. She could drive a buggy as well as a man - which most women couldn't do.

Right, the sisters. I believe they are, standing from left: Miriam, Dot, Hazel, Jenny, Wilma. Seated is Marcelle and the little girl is Barbara.

They were all smart and funny, but I have grown up on funny stories my mother told me about my aunt Hazel.

Hazel and Wilma were mischievous little girls.

As a child Hazel was punished for some misdeed by being locked in the smokehouse, where there were a number of watermelons stored. She took a crowbar and smashed every single melon.

Another time, she complained about going to school and having to sit near a boy who smelled bad. For years, all the Butler children had been taught by governesses so regular school must have come as a rude shock. Hazel complained, but nothing was done. So one day she took an inkwell and poured it down the back of his shirt. The next day he had to wear a different shirt.

Hazel and Wilma decided, as little girls, they would drive around Marietta in a car. My great grandfather was a visionary and as soon as cars started being mass produced he opened several car dealerships in Cobb County. I'm sure it wasn't a big deal for him to bring home new cars all the time. Wilma learned to drive at the age of 11! She would sit on the seat and steer and Hazel would work the pedals. Of course, there was no legal driving age back then.

Hazel married Orlando Awtrey [known to all as "Gan"] when she was a young woman. Gan was a sweet man, and they had a long marriage but it started out with Hazel showing him who was boss. Shortly after they wed, one night she slept too hard and accidentally wet the bed. Hazel slipped out of bed quietly and cleaned herself up and put on a fresh nightgown. Then she poked Gan and said "Wake up! YOU wet the bed! We have to change the sheets!"

Hazel went to college and was a schoolteacher for a short while, then Gan bought a store and they ran the store together for years. Sometime in the 1950's Hazel went to work for Lacey's drugstore in downtown Acworth, and was there for many years. She knew everyone in Acworth and was essentially a manager, Mom recalls. When someone in town died she always heard about it immediately, and she would send over a case of icy cold Coca Colas for the family, probably figuring there would be enough things to eat but folks would appreciate a cold drink. Most homes then weren't air conditioned.

As an older lady, Hazel once had to go to downtown Atlanta for some reason and walked into a big office building. She had to tinkle and accidentally went into the first bathroom she saw without paying attention to the door. She sat down on the toilet and looked under the door and noticed a lot of men's shoes. She realized she was in the men's bathroom! Not knowing what to do, she started singing a hymn, loudly. Suddenly all the men's shoes were running for the door. She kept singing, finished up, washed her hands, and walked out, to be greeted by a crowd of men glaring at her.

When my mother was in college, Hazel and Gan still owned their store and Mom was on a very strict budget and had no extra money. Hazel and Gan would pack her boxes of food and send them to her in Athens, and she was always enormously grateful. My grandparents both worked but didn't really understand that meals weren't included in tuition, and Mom had to work to save up for her own tuition and books. Hazel and Gan had 1 child, a son, but they loved Mom like their daughter.

After Hazel retired from the drugstore her boss generously gave her a free trip to Hawaii. She chose Wilma as her traveling companion. The highlight of their trip was Don Ho singing to them. Both their husbands were dead and the two sisters had a blast.

I was a little girl when Hazel died. Mother loved all her aunts but she really mourned Hazel, her second mother.

We should all be so lucky to have a "Hazel" in our lives...

Below, Hazel is seated in front. Dot wears a flowered dress, Wilma the red dress, and Marcelle is standing in back.

My Linguistic Secret Weapon

I was talking to a lady the other night who grew up here in Georgia but then moved to Los Angeles for career reasons. I remarked that she didn't have a southern accent and she said "I hope not. I've tried to lose it."

I was startled by that but I decided not to dwell on it just then because we had other things to discuss. 

It got me to thinking though. What would I do if for some reason I had to move to Los Angeles, or Chicago, or New York? Would I try to hide my southern roots? I recalled that years ago my best friend move to New York City right after college, and lived there several years. I went to visit her several times. One time, we went to dinner at a really nice apartment and there were a number of folks there who were all southern ex-pats. They had all moved to NYC for work, but they socialized with each other as only southerners can - over things like pimento cheese and grits, talking normally, praise Jesus. I was so glad my friend could socialize with folks from back home. 

I like to think that I would talk in my normal accent if I moved away. However, if I was hearing Yankees [or Californians, or Chicagoans] all day long it's quite likely that I would lose my accent and mimic theirs. I have a tendency to do that - I have a musical ear and I pick up on and subconsciously mimic whoever I am speaking to -- and it can be embarrassing. I used to have a friend from Michigan and after a long phone conversation I would have a Michigan accent for a while. If I watch a movie in which all the characters are British, for hours afterwords my inner voice sounds like Hugh Grant or Emma Thompson, or whoever is the main character.

When my uncle was a young man he got a job in upstate New York, Utica, and he and his wife had their children up there. So my cousins were not raised in the south. They lived briefly in Louisiana, and then moved to Chicago, where they lived for years. As far as I can tell, they have literally no discernible accents. My brother doesn't either, but except for when he was in the Army he has lived in the south his entire life. Go figure. 

I think the way one should actually view a southern accent is not that it's a hindrance, or a huge red flag that outsiders will hear and think OMG A KNUCKLE-DRAGGING COUSIN-MARRYING TRUMP SUPPORTING MORON WHO PROBABLY CARRIES A GUN! Outsiders may think that, bless their hearts. We don't care, most of us. (In fact, I think it's hilarious.)

I like what this blogger had to say about the south -- The Real South: More Like Andy Griffith, Less Like the Beverly Hillbillies.

We are the majority. 36% of all Americans are southern. Hell yeah! Go Dawgs! Wanna argue about it? Hold my purse.

I grew up watching Andy Griffith playing Andy Taylor on The Andy Griffith show. The premise of many of those shows is this: an outsider comes to Mayberry and thinks Andy is an idiot. Tries to pull a fast one. Andy figures it out easily and foils the evildoer. Why is Andy perceived as an idiot? Small southern town. Matlock -- same premise. Country lawyer, aw shucks type of guy, always wins because his opponent doesn't see his brilliance.

I view my southern accent as a Secret Weapon. You want to think I'm an idiot? Let me show you my transcript from graduate school. Yep, I was an honors student. Still want to think I'm an idiot? Go right ahead. I will quietly and methodically kick your behind [metaphorically] and smile while I'm doing it.

I'm proud to be southern, proud of my accent, and if you think it marks me as an idiot, that's on you. Dolly Parton is a media mogul and she's southern. George Clooney's from Kentucky. Blake Shelton. I could go on and on. We are everywhere and we take no prisoners.

Check out this hilarious video, if you want to know how we really talk: Shit Southern Women Say

Shame on You, Amy Schumer

I love comedy that pushes the envelope. I was buying George Carlin albums in the early 1970's when I could save up my allowance. Brilliant guy, and always pushing comedy boundaries. Ditto for Richard Pryor. 

There are very few topics or ideas I would consider shockingly un-funny. However, I was confronted by a trailer for Amy Schumer's latest comedy show [on Netflix] and felt like I had to publicly call her out. You can see the trailer for "Growing"  here.

In regard to her being pregnant, she says: "You don't stop being you. You don't stop working, or drinking."

Um.... WHAT?!? I thought, surely I must have heard wrong. So I re-played it. Several times. 

Then I got furious. 

"You don't stop working, or drinking."

See, I belong to a large community of people who adopted children from Russia, Ukraine, Kazakhstan, Bulgaria, etc. Many of us are raising children who fall into the FASD [Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder] category. Most of us had no idea when we adopted that our children fit that category. I was told specifically that mine did not have it. Many other parents were told the same thing, but in many cases that was a flat-out lie.

I posted this on Facebook:

Buckle up. Rant loading in 3, 2, 1... Amy Schumer - who has never said anything I found funny - has a new comedy video out. The first big laugh she gets is when she says you don't stop drinking just because you are pregnant. WTF?? Amy, I invite you to spend a week with a child who is brain damaged because the mom drank while pregnant. It's so funny to see your child struggle to remember basic math from one day to the next. It's hilarious to see your child unable to comprehend cause and effect -- as in, leaving the stove on might burn the house down. I have a friend whose adopted 18 year old can't remember to take a shower or brush his teeth from one day to the next because his birthmom drank. Amy, YOU should experience the heartbreak of telling your sweet beautiful child she will never be able to hold down a job or live independently because birthmom liked to get drunk while pregnant. Maybe THEN you would not joke about drinking while pregnant. It's the only birth defect that is 100% preventable.. shame on you, Amy. #boycottamyschumer #FASDisnotfunny #amyschumerisahorribleperson

Amy, I'd love to see you trying to get your child an IEP in school because of FASD. I'd love to see you trying to survive on a middle class income and frantically scrambling to get services for your FASD children. In Canada it's a disability. Here in America, it's not.

I have a friend who has three children with FASD. I have another friend who has adopted more than 10 children with FASD. Both moms have had to homeschool because no school will teach their children appropriately and make allowances for the disability. 

Here's what one of those moms wrote:

"An individual with FASD has to be taught differently, has to have allowances made for days that function is too low, and has to have ongoing regular support in order to succeed.  They scramble information too often, their brain freezes under stress, they need constant repetition and someone working with them who won't get frustrated with brains that seemingly work really well one day, and the next have to be retaught everything they learned."

What happens when your child with FASD becomes an adult? 

"There are no programs they qualify for, as they literally fall through the cracks with function that is too high, and yet...  That is the problem for most people with FASD in America, and why most individuals with FASD end up homeless and/or in jail, because of the complete and utter lack of services available to them.  After all, they LOOK "normal", right?  Without the awareness and pro-active support that countries like Canada offer those with this disability, the outcomes for those with FASD are abysmal." 

Amy Schumer is pregnant with her first child and apparently vomiting a lot, and is quite ill. I am sorry about that. Pregnancy should be a joyful time. I don't wish ill on that child. That child is innocent. I hope that child is born healthy and has a great life.

But what about young women who think Amy is hilarious, and are easily influenced by the comedian? What if they think Hey if Amy says it's okay to drink while pregnant, I'll just go ahead and drink!

Chances are that those young women have NO IDEA of the irreversible brain damage they may be causing to their child.

Children with FASD don't ask to be born with a horrifying disability.

What makes me most angry is that even today, doctors sometimes tell women it's ok to have a glass of wine at night. Women drink to excess sometimes before they even know they are pregnant. 

Here's the terrible truth: doctors have NO IDEA how much alcohol is too much while pregnant, or when it's "safe" to drink while pregnant. The only way to guarantee your child will not have FASD is to abstain from ALL drinking even when you are trying to get pregnant. 

FASD is the only birth defect that is 100% preventable. 

Joking about damaging your child before it is even born is not funny. It's irresponsible, insensitive, and ignorant. It's also in very bad taste. You wouldn't joke about your child being born with spina bifida? How about cerebral palsy? Muscular dystrophy?

Of course not. 

I read stories about her new comedy special in The Hollywood Reporter and UK's Daily Mail. Both mention her jokes about drinking while pregnant but neither publication points out what I am pointing out here. Shame on them. 

I have never really found Amy Schumer to be funny, but my 22 year old son thinks she is funny, so we watched some of her standup a few years ago. I was confused as to what he thought was funny. I guess it's a generational thing. 

If she wants to joke about sex, fine. We have guaranteed free speech in this country. Joke about weed. Joke about whatever. Just don't joke about drinking while pregnant, Amy. That's going too far.

What Type of Cook Are You?

I was watching a House Hunters show this morning while I finished my breakfast and as sometimes happens, the young woman looking for a house annoyed the living daylights out of me. She was a young lawyer who wanted to buy a home and she had half a million dollars to spend. Let that sink in a minute. HALF A MILLION dollars. [When I was her age I was happy to be able to pony up the rent every month for a tiny apartment in a not-terrible neighborhood.] 

The young woman's list of what she wanted in a home was mind-boggling. The list included a Mediterranean-style home with "great curb appeal," all hardwood floors, plantation shutters, and "even though I don't cook I want a kitchen with white shaker style cabinets and new appliances." 

If you don't cook, why do you even care what the kitchen looks like? I wondered. Then I remembered her first requirement for a house was "great curb appeal." So appearances matter to her A LOT. I hope life teaches her what's really important and she loses her shallowness one day and becomes a decent person. I wouldn't bet on it, though.

The show got me to thinking about cooks and cooking, and why some people refuse to cook. [Just to clarify, I'm talking about people cooking for themselves at home, not professional cooks in restaurants.]

I've known several married couples where the wife doesn't cook but the husband cooks. I think that's a great arrangement. Most men make excellent cooks. My brother loves to cook.

I am puzzled by women who take great pride in not cooking, though. Even if I didn't like to cook I would cook, because it's so much cheaper than eating out. I can make food generally better than what a lot of restaurants make, too, at this point in my life.

A few years ago I was working a contract paralegal assignment with a woman who was a paralegal, like me, and quite proud of the fact she couldn't cook anything. Her husband made good money but they must have spent a fortune on eating out. There's also the time factor. I pointed out that in taking 30-45 minutes every night to pick up takeout food or an hour or more to eat out, she was wasting a ton of time and money. I can put together an excellent meal in 30 minutes. (Rachel Ray didn't originate that idea.) I offered to teach this woman to cook a few simple but tasty dishes and she looked at me with disdain. "I'm not going to spend my life slaving away in a kitchen like a servant."

I was totally puzzled by that attitude. Then she told me when her daughter headed to college she got her a really nice apartment and paid for a maid to keep it clean. "How is she going to learn to cook and clean?" I asked the woman. "We sent her to college so she won't ever HAVE to cook or clean!" she retorted. Ah, then I understood. The woman was a snob. 

 

I have come to understand that there is a great divide among women, between those of us who cook and those of us who don't cook. I think most women fall into one of these general categories:

Grandma -- This is a cook like my memaw, who could wring a chicken's neck and fry up the bird, along with homemade biscuits, fresh green beans, gravy, rice, fruit salad, and sweet tea. Her cakes were wonderful. She could cook on a wood-burning stove as well as a gas stove. When she learned to cook in the 1920's or 1930's no convenience foods existed, except perhaps what was in mason jars from last year's harvest. There are very few of these ladies left now, God Bless Them. 

The 20th Century Cook -- This is a woman like my mother, who cooked 6-7 nights a week for more than thirty years because it was expected. My dad expected a hot meal, from scratch, on the table every night. He was pretty good about eating most things Mom cooked, although he would grumble about eating creamed beef on toast or quiche (which we had to call "cheese pie" so as not to offend him, after some asshat gave him a book called Real Men Don't Eat Quiche.) About once a week he would usually take Mom out to dinner and me and my brother would eat fish sticks or hot dogs or something easy. [To her credit, my mom married not knowing how to cook but set out to learn, and became a wonderful cook and collector of cookbooks. She would also make things like homemade manicotti that my grandmother would never have made.]

The 21st Century Cook -- A woman who likes to cook and takes pride in making a good meal, even though she may or may not cook a from-scratch meal 7 nights a week. (This is me. I cook about 3 nights a week and on the other nights we eat leftovers and/or sandwiches or takeout.)

The Proudly Not From Scratch Cook -- These women will fix something like frozen meatballs and store-bought spaghetti sauce and take pride in the fact they made the pasta (dumped it in the boiling water for ten minutes) "homemade." They really don't know how to cook but they see nothing wrong with pretending to cook. [Full disclosure: I like convenience foods as much as anyone else, on occasion, but I still find this type of cooking a bit disturbing, because processed foods contain so many chemicals.]

The Proud Non-Cook -- Some women, particularly career women who are doctors or lawyers, take great pride in NOT cooking. They make it clear they think it's beneath them, so they choose to not even attempt to cook. They can afford to eat out every night, or eat takeout. They like to boast about their lack of skill in the kitchen. [They don't realize that when they do that, women who enjoy cooking feel great pity for them..]

The Reluctant Cook -- Some women know how to follow a recipe and can produce a tasty meal, but they simply don't LIKE to do it.  They won't add anything to the recipe to improve it. They want to be admired because they can produce something tasty if they have a good recipe. If the recipe is not good, of course, they blame it for the lack of appeal, not their lack of skill...

The Healthy Cook -- These women take great pride in producing "healthy" meals, that have no flavor and would cause a riot in a prison. They view cheese and butter as unhealthy and cook with just tiny amounts of canola oil. Bacon is unknown in their house. They pack their children's lunches with "healthy" foods and then wonder why the child is really thin and doesn't eat lunch. I view these women with great pity, because they were likely born without taste buds.

 

Celebrity Offspring Names

Have you ever heard a name and blanched in horror?! I have. My own name [Dee] has been a constant hassle, because people always assume it's short for Deirdre or Delilah, and it's not. I come from a long line of weirdly-named folks, with scores of oddly-named forbears, so I don't have room to throw stones, but I thought it would be fun to talk a little bit about odd names. 

If you want to snicker here's a list of the actual [recorded in the family bible] names of some of my relatives, from both sides of the family: Wilma [my grandmother]; Beulah [her mother]; Algernon [my paternal grandfather]; Eula Cordelia [my grandmother, who never told anyone her first name was Eula]; Chillie [my great uncle]; Olene [my great aunt]; Nannie [two great aunts have this name]; Sampson [my great great grandfather];  Parmee [my great aunt].

You get the picture. As odd as some of those names were, most of them were actual NAMES. 

Celebrities nowadays take great pride, obviously, in naming their children bizarre things. I guess they think it makes their child distinctive. In my childhood, they would have been teased unmercifully about their names. These kids, however, probably will never attend a normal public school. They probably all attend [or will attend] snooty private schools no normal parent could afford, where there are lots of weirdly-named classmates. If your name is Coco or Fifi or Boston you probably won't be making fun of the classmates named Apple or Moses [Gwyneth Paltrow's children].

So here's a list of some names I find just... unfortunate. Years from now my grandchildren and great-grandchildren named things like Pudding and Mademoiselle and Max Overlord will likely be very puzzled by this blog, because of course God has a sense of humor and karma is a thing...

Above, Sting and wife Trudie, with daughters Fuschia and Mickey

Beyonce and Jay Z -- Since they have such typical, average names [cough cough] what a surprised they have kids named Blue Ivy, Sir, and Rumi. I wonder when Sir gets older, will he always wonder if people are being respectful or just familiar?!

Kardashians -- These women have paved new ground when it comes to weird names. Dream, North, Reign, Stormi, Chicago, Saint, True.

Demi Moore -- Rumer, Tallulah, Scout

Gwen Stefani -- Kingston, Zuma, and Apollo

Robert Rodriguez -- Rocket, Racer, Rebel, Rogue, and Rhiannon

Forest Whitaker -- Autumn, Sonnet, and True

Jamie Oliver -- Poppy Honey Rosie, Daisy Boo Pamela, Buddy Bear, and Petal Blossom Rainbow

Here are some more:

Kulture [mom Cardi B]

Bear [mom Alicia Silverstone]

Sparrow James Midnight [son of Nicole Richie]

Moroccan and Monroe [mom Mariah Carey]

Exton [dad Robert Downey Jr.]

Dakota [mom Melanie Griffith, dad Don Johnson]

Gunner [dad Spencer Pratt]

Kal-El [dad Nic Cage]

Pilot Inspektor [dad Jason Lee]

Spike and Sunday [dad Mike Myers]

Satchel [a girl, dad is Spike Lee]

I will be curious as to what Prince Harry and Meghan name their child. William named his kids fairly normal things, George, Charlotte and Louis. But you watch - the Harry baby will probably get a slightly different name, like Ollie or Marigold or Elton.. 

 

The Demise of English?

I have stopped counting the number of times I have seen ungrammatical memes on Facebook, or posts or Tweets that use improper English. Somehow, half of the world never learned the difference between "your" and "you're." Comma splices? No problemo. Sentence fragments?! Adorable!

Most people have no clue about The Horrors of Bad English. I see grammar mistakes and they leap off the page and slap me upside the head and make me want to scream. 

So how did I go from being the child who audibly groaned when asked to diagram a sentence in 6th grade to an adult who cannot tolerate bad grammar or the horror of a misplaced comma?

English was my bugaboo as a small child. I much preferred numbers. Numbers are straightforward and simple -- at least before you have to start learning Algebra. Arithmetic -- now that's where I could shine. In fourth grade a friend of mine taught me how to do math in my head, and I became a whiz at that. I see numbers in my head and it's much easier for me to calculate, say, 25% off, than it is for my son. 

I was reminded the other day of the endless, torturous hours learning to diagram sentences when I saw a funny meme about it. 

Here's a fun fact: I had the same English teacher all 4 years of middle school except for 7th grade. Sometime after I went on to high school she stopped teaching English, and for the last 30+ years she has only taught middle school social studies. I don't think I drove her away -- I think it was her disgust at how bad most of her students were at diagramming sentences.

I still remember the torture of sitting there in her classroom, diagramming sentences. I can still pick out the subject and verb in any sentence, and all dependent and independent clauses, though -- blindfolded and under heavy anesthesia just for fun. 

Seriously. 

I mean, I literally cringe when I see nouns and verbs disagreeing in a sentence. [I am a bit perturbed by the overuse of the word "literally" these days...]

English was not always uniform, or rigid. Spelling was fast and loose until the last hundred years or so.

If you look at the history of the English language you learn a lot about gumbo. Yep, English is like the gumbo of languages -- a whole lot of other folks threw in words that became part of English. Now it's a tasty stew, delightful to native English speakers, not always palatable to those trying to learn it. 

English is composed of a lot of appropriated words.

The Vikings gave us these: run, husband, egg, knife. 

The French gave us these: fruit, people, liberty. 

"Spanish also had an influence on American English (and subsequently British English), with words like canyon, ranch,stampede and vigilante being examples of Spanish words that entered English through the settlement of the American West."

I could write a book about all the words we took from other languages, but who would read it?!

Spelling is also a bugaboo for many people. It's easy for me. I rarely mess up spelling. 

All these are fun little facts about English but what I started to write about here was the fact that English is also like Rodney Dangerfield these days, not getting any respect. 

Kids are not being drilled in grammar and punctuation and usage the way we were, long long ago. Heck, the kids don't even have to write in cursive. They are being spared the torture. Is it because everything typed nowadays is on a computer and spell check and grammar check are taking the place of actually knowing that stuff?!? Horrors!

Let me tell you a scary thing, kids: those green lines under your sentences? They ain't always correct. The computer isn't always right. 

Plus, it's like I was telling my student the other day, he can use spell check and every other crutch under the sun right up until he's writing that crucial essay on a standardized test, and then... OOPS. You think college recruiters care about nouns and verbs agreeing?!? Um, YES. Yes, they do. They don't want graduates who cannot write a decent paragraph.

We tend to just look the other way when someone cannot write well, and the world is poorer for it.

I worked for an attorney once who was HORRIBLE at writing and I used to try and correct everything she wrote before it went out, to spare her embarrassment. I wasn't always successful -- she produced such a huge volume of work sometimes I wouldn't keep up. She paid so little attention to proper English that it never occurred to her that opposing attorneys were sneering at her lack of skills -- I guess if you're oblivious to your own bad English you don't understand why anyone would denigrate you for idiotic errors. Most attorneys are good or even great wordsmiths, however. 

I read stories all the time that were published on the internet [okay, some of them were clickbait, but entertaining anyway, so don't judge] and the English in those stories is appalling. Sentences are horribly awkward. 

I hope one day students will once again actually CARE about writing proper English, but I am not holding my breath. 

Folks like my mom, who have beautiful handwriting (in cursive!) and who value proper English and know how to actually use a paper dictionary are a dying breed, much to my sadness.

 

Fun Work

There aren't a lot of sources of cheap entertainment in the world but I am here to testify that job ads have gotten quite entertaining. Looking for a job is a nerve-wracking activity, but oftentimes I find myself giggling when I read certain ads. 

I read an ad today for a copywriter and the cover letter was supposed to mention the word "pumpernickel." Now, I am a professional writer and I've written just about everything in the world. However, that "pumpernickel" insertion was too tempting. I would have likely ended up saying something like this, at the end of the letter: "Thank you for the opportunity to explain how my skills and experience make me a good fit for the position. Now I will return to my corned beef on pumpernickel sandwich, and leave you to marvel at my brilliant letter writing skills, and wonder what fabulous sum you could offer me to come work for your company."

 

Fun Work

Here's a phrase I never would expect to see in an ad for a paralegal: "This is a fun and young team environment." Now, I have worked in large and small law firms, and two multinational corporations, and I can promise you, any law firm that describes the environment as "fun and young" is likely run by lawyers who have not been out of law school very long. I'm also pretty sure they are not looking for a short fat old lady to hang out in their Fun Young Office, so I'm not going to send a resume -- but I doubt they will be in business much longer. 

A lot of ads use the word "fun" [I know because I did a word search on Craigslist]. 

"When Was the Last Time You Had FUN at Work?" - Dental - Orthodontics [anyone who can make orthodontia FUN is a magician]

"In search of FUN, Creative Party people to join our team of Art Entertainers!" [the company encourages people to drink alcoholic beverages and paint stuff -- brilliant idea]

"We Put the FUN in Fundraising" [how is begging for money fun?]

 

Must Be Fluent

I am accustomed to ads that want someone fluent in Spanish, but I just read an ad insisting that the applicants be fluent in.... [wait for it] English. Yep, clearly they have been beset by applicants not fluent in English. Multiculturalism has gone too far.

 

Proofreading Counts

I just read an ad for a company that says "This is a temperately position." Further down, the ad states  "Be able to communicate in English fluently." If only the ad writer could meet that qualification...

 

Bring Your Dog to Work

"Come join our agency and unique, dog-friendly environment!" This is so tempting. I know Lola would have a blast at that company -- they included a photo of their lobby and I saw someone had left a poo poo on the floor... [just kidding] I scrolled down and saw why they encourage dogs at work - they want people to do phone sales from 8 in the morning until 10 at night. Yikes. 

 

Tell Me A Secret

Saw an ad for a tour guide -- because obviously tourists flock to Atlanta -- and the company said on their ad: "Tell us something about yourself that you've never put on a job application before?" I am so tempted to reply to that and say...

I can sing all the words to "Georgia On My Mind," sounding exactly like Ray Charles

I can sneer out of either side of my mouth [known as The Elvis Syndrome]

I was born with a head full of red hair and we had a red-haired mailman at the time

I consider my entire house a bra-free zone

I once got paid to sing the National Anthem

I bet no other applicant can say "Where is the bathroom?" in 5 different languages

My accent is so southern I make Foghorn Leghorn sound Yankee

I am related to Thomas Jefferson, Robert E. Lee, Merriwether Lewis, and Queen Elizabeth [a lot of fun people]

 

 

The Shy Neighbors

I am very blessed to live in a nice, quiet, middle class suburban area of Atlanta, just ITP [inside the perimeter]. I have lived here since 2005, when Mom sold her house in Augusta and I moved out of my condo in Tucker, and we set up housekeeping together. I wasn't sure how it would be, living with mama once again, after 20+ years on my own, but it has been a terrific arrangement for us all, including my kids.

I love my neighborhood and we are blessed to have wonderful neighbors. I know everyone on my cul de sac by face and name. 

However, there is one neighbor I rarely ever see or speak with, although we have never had a cross word. Now, I am in a quandary because I was rude to said neighbor without realizing it. 

This neighbor is someone I have had a personal conversation with exactly twice since 2005. She never ventures outside, not to the front yard anyway. 

I walk Lola every day, usually twice a day or more. I notice things. Whose daffodils are coming up early. Whose cat likes to tease Lola. Whose mailbox flops open all the time, looking like a woman with her top down. I don't check my phone or listen to music while I walk. I try to just enjoy the beauty of the neighborhood, and be alert for other dogs because when Lola sees another dog she goes nutso and it takes all my strength to hold her.

This shy neighbor has a repair that needs to be made on the front of her house. I noticed the issue and thought, I bet they won't know this because they always go in the back door. They rarely go in the front yard. I need to call them and just make sure they know there's an issue. 

A while back, I compiled a list of all the immediate neighbors, cell numbers and emails. So I whipped out my handy dandy list and called the cell number of Mrs. Shy Neighbor. She didn't answer her phone. Her voicemail was full. I struck out there. 

I next tried her husband, Mr. Shy Neighbor -- a man so shy that I once saw him in Publix, threw up my hand and hollered HEY NEIGHBOR! He was in the produce department. He looked at me in absolute horror, like I was with the KGB and was going to arrest him for illegal broccoli smuggling or something.

So when I got Mr. Shy Neighbor on the phone yesterday he sounded surprised to hear from me. I told him about the repair that needed to be made to the front of his house and he said "We had noticed it but we didn't know what to do about it." He explained they are still getting estimates on the repair.

I gave him the name and phone number of the handyman I use, who also lives in the neighborhood. 

So that was that, or so I thought. 

Every night after dinner I sit and relax and watch TV and play Words With Friends on my phone, and sometimes do little painting projects. I was just finishing my dinner last night when I got a call. I looked at the screen and thought, it's one of those horrible calls from idiots trying to sell me something. They always call from a local number. Unlike many people, I like to answer my phone but I HATE those calls! So I decided to be clever about answering it. 

I answered the phone and said Yes?! Who is this? in Russian. There was a pause. 

A woman's voice barked I GOT A CALL FROM THIS NUMBER WHO IS THIS?!

I thought Wow, way to sound rude. My Russian is very limited. So I just I answered, "I didn't try to call you lady!" and hung up. I didn't want to get into an argument with a rude, deranged person. 

Then I thought about it, and realized it might have been Mrs. Shy Neighbor. 

Oh CRAP.

So do I call her back and acknowledge it was me and apologize, or not? What if I am wrong and it wasn't her?

I talked to Mom and told her the situation. She said just let it go. 

I have let it go. I think. 

Remind me never to speak Russian around Mrs. Shy Neighbor. She might think I am a spy, looking to do some broccoli smuggling...

ADDENDUM

My "shy neighbor" came to see me this afternoon and we had a nice chat. She had seen this blog but she was incredibly gracious about it. She said she did NOT call me -- I was relieved to hear that. She has always been polite and kind and I was so startled when I thought it might have been her. I am so glad to be mistaken. I am still left with the mystery of who it was that called me, though. Interesting...

Never Have I Ever

All over Facebook people are posting memes saying "Never have I ever... broken a bone / gone bungee jumping" etc. I am always fascinated to read those, but also equally amazed that I have done most of the things on those lists. I lead such a quiet life now, but not long ago I fearlessly ran around doing stuff, all the time. So here are my little lists, with notations. 

 

NEVER HAVE I EVER...

Broken a bone

Been to Disneyland [or Disneyworld]

Got a tattoo [I have a strong aversion to the very thought of embedding ink in my skin]

Had chicken pox

Been skydiving [the very thought makes me shudder]

Been in love [I thought I was in love, several times, years ago, but it was infatuation]

Worn braces

 

OH BUT I HAVE ACTUALLY...

Visited another country -- England, Germany, Scotland, France, Russia, Kazakhstan

Sung karaoke -- did that years ago, in a bar, great fun [but then again I have sung professionally and it doesn't scare me] 

Gotten a piercing  -- ears count

Dyed my hair -- how many women over 40 have never done this, hmm?!

Been on a train -- in France and England -- I love trains. Wish we had better trains in this country.

Been on TV -- when I was in high school I was in a girls' ensemble and we were invited to go on a local morning show and sing Christmas music. Then I did volunteer work for the Tennessee Valley Fair for a couple of years, running a kids' talent contest, and the local news covered the finals. 

Gotten stitches -- in my elbow, after a car accident when I was 19. Also in my mouth, after wisdom teeth pulled.

Cut my own hair -- huge mistake; my bangs looked like I had attacked them with a weed wacker

Swum [swam?] in the ocean -- many times, love the ocean

Been to New York City -- several times, although not recently; the older I get the less big cities appeal to me

Been camping -- once was enough; rain washed my sleeping bag into a creek, with me in it..

Got in a fight -- I grew up with a brother, so DUH

Been stung by a bee -- many times, often on the foot - I grew up hating to wear shoes because I have deformed hobbit-like feet and shoes never fit well

 

me in England in 1988, with a friend

The Destructor

Remember the other day I wrote about a friend of Mike's becoming a dad? Well, I decided it would be a good idea for him to bring his puppy to us to look after since they were spending so much time at the hospital and the puppy was all alone for hours. So on Monday afternoon we got her.

Let me just say this from the outset: I have had many dogs in my life. From pound dogs to bassetts we have always had a dog. For some years, my parents had three dogs. They lived on the lake and there was plenty of land for them to run around on.

The puppy, however, has been a tornado of canine destruction and mayhem. She is half pit bull, half boxer. Three months old.

She is not fully housebroken. Fortunately, we need to get the family room carpet cleaned soon anyway. She turned over my drink twice last night and then tried to eat the cup, which is fortunately plastic. I only drink water, so no major carpet mishap there, just annoyance.

We weren't sure how Lola would react, but she has been unfailingly kind and tolerant of the puppy.

Lola was an older dog when we adopted her, a rescue. She has accidents now and then but mostly she's housebroken. The dog before her, Coco, had medical issues and we couldn't take her outside, so I spent a lot of time cleaning the floors. So did Mom, the kids, all of us.

Before Coco, I had not puppy parented in some years. Especially not a live wire like this puppy. We have gone through two rolls of paper towels in less than two days.

Her favorite thing to do is try and chew Lola's tail. Lola tolerates this with great patience.

These are some of the things she has mistaken for chew toys:

my Teva sandal

my shoes that I was wearing at the time [hard to walk when a puppy is biting your shoes]

the TV remote control

electrical cords

my bongo drums

my foot

a kleenex, and several paper towels and napkins [she loves paper ripping]

my bathrobe

the mail

Lola's bed

the sofa in the family room

Michael thinks she is adorable, but he is not here most of the time. I actually work from home, I've had to remind him. Hard to get work done when you're trying to watch a puppy and keep her form destroying the house.

She goes home late this afternoon, thanks be to God.