The Crab Chronicles

Flashback: the 1980's

I love watching my son react to movies from the 80's. We started watching Weekend At Bernie's, which I remember from years ago as being very funny.I got it from Netflix and didn't say a word to Michael about it, except "It's a comedy."

We started watching the movie and as soon as Bernie "died" Michael's first comment was "The guy is DEAD! He would be STINKING and NASTY!" - totally missing the fun/suspension of disbelief element. We haven't had time to finish the whole movie but I know he's hoping it will perhaps turn into a horror movie and the corpse WILL become bloated and putrid, any minute now.

Of course, when I watch movies from the 80's I just have a flashback, remembering how we all spent so much time getting our hair to look like that.

I used to allot about 20 minutes every morning to my hair, and it wasn't enough time.

I also wore shoulder pads and for once in my life, for almost an entire decade, it looked like I actually had shoulders, not just an enormous skull that appears out of nowhere. Even some of my tee shirts had shoulder pads.

I also used to wear pantyhose every day. If I could recoup all the money I spent on pantyhose over the years I could afford a new car, y'all.

When I hear any of Peter Gabriel's hit songs from the record "So" it's like I time travel right back to the 80's, especially this song:

In Your Eyes This was me in about 1985, when I had just finished college. Why I wore a skirt to have my photo made with a basset hound, I will never know.

This was actually around 1990. I had lost a bunch of weight. I still have those jeans somewhere. They actually fit me [then], unlike most any other pair of pants I've ever owned.

I could actually dance in them. This is one of my fave dance songs, Stomp, by the Brothers Johnson. That was dance music, y'all, none of this crazy stuff they make now that's a heinous mishmash of rap and old songs ripped up, and nasty lyrics, and I don't know what all. And why do all the girls sing like little girls? And why do the guys [hello Bruno Mars?!] sing like girls??

In the 70's and 80's, people could sing.

If you liked a little more intellectual music there was Peter Gabriel or Sting, or even Kate Bush. Remember Running Up That Hill? Awesome stuff.

[OK JUST SHUT UP YOU PEOPLE YOUNGER THAN MY SHOES! Yeah yeah yeah, I AM OLDER THAN DIRT!]

I used to have to pass inspection before I left the house every morning to go to high school. If I had a hole in my jeans I had to wear something else. Now the kids buy jeans pre-ripped!

Now "ripped" is a good thing.

Now "hot" doesn't mean uncomfortably warm. I still don't like the word "hottie." Ick.

In high school we all wore blazers and knee-length skirts if we wanted to "dress up."

The last time I saw girls at Mike's school "dressed up" they were wearing skirts and dresses so short they were what I'd call gynecologically short. My mother would've had a heart attack before she would've let me leave the house wearing something like that.

Wow, this is turning into an Old Fogie Rant, huh? I don't care.

I hate hearing my son whine about doing projects or papers. He can do most projects in less than an hour, with a computer. I would spend hours in the library, pulling heavy, dusty old books down from the shelves, trying to make 3x5 cards that would magically become a brilliant paper or project. And we had to be quiet in the library. And we had to type our papers on typewriters.

If you had told me when I was in high school that one day I would give my child his own phone to carry around in his pocket, when he was 14 years old, I would've laughed. Michael finds it annoying his phone doesn't do much besides calls and texting. I say want some cheese with that whine, boy?!

Everything was better when I was young. Even big 80's hair.

Now I am going to get an aerobic workout [never hear that phrase any more, huh?!] to one of my fave songs of twenty years ago, She Drives Me Crazy. Listen and bop along, y'all.

 

Play That Funky Music

Yesterday was a marathon day for everyone in my little family, and well before 9 we were all pooped out. Totally. On top of it all, it was FREEZING.

I actually wore a coat to work.

I worked yesterday morning, then came home and took Mother to the Wound Clinic for a re-check. Her legs are better, but she still has to wear bandages for a couple of more weeks before she can do the compression stockings.

On the way home I had to stop at the school and find Michael and give him his asthma inhaler. It was his first day of grueling 3 hour wrestling team practices. I found him in the gym, in a long line of sweaty boys. He had already done his running, so I was too late, but he tolerated mama coming to school pretty gracefully. The coach came up and introduced himself. He's such a nice young man. I felt very.very.short.

Michael's grade in Math is close to 100, and his math teacher is also the wrestling coach. He's never had such a high math grade, thanks be to God.

Came home and had to work some more, at my second job, writing blogs for a young lawyer.

Cooking dinner was just impossible so I ordered a pizza. I rarely do that, but it was either that or grilled cheese sanwiches and I figured pizza was slightly more nutritious.

The howling wind startled Coco about 9:30 and she started barking and woke up Michael. He was about to go downstairs and put her in "time out" and she stopped. Her "time out" is simply to be behind baby gates in the back part of the house. The easier it is for her to see outside, the more she barks.

Praying for all the people in the path of the Frankenstorm...

One of my Facebook friends posted a graphic and about half a dozen of my friends have shared it. You have to be past 40 to "get it" but we oldsters think it's hysterical: Picture a drawing of a surgeon with a scalpel. "Patient laid down the boogie and played that funky music til he died."

For those of you who'd like to hear the original song, here it is:

 

Explain This to Me, Please

I seem to live in a perpetual state of confusion these days. Maybe some of you can explain some things to me.I am getting old.

How exactly does one get high on bath salts? When I was a kid, I like Mr. Bubble, and as a teen I liked to let Calgon Take Me Away. Never thought I'd see the day when some poor idiot would get high on bath salts and go running into church swinging a hammer. I've been to Kingsport, Tennessee. It ain't Las Vegas but there are some things to do at night that don't involve ingesting toiletries and scaring folks in church.

Why is is that food is just so dang la di dah now? I had a grilled cheese sandwich, some potato chips, a coke and two cookies for lunch. Cost me $9! Now, the grilled cheese was "artisan white cheddar on rosemary herb bread" and the chips were made in somebody's backyard in small batches and sold to the folks who ran this fancy bakery in my office building, and they served "real" coca cola in a real glass but c'mon, $9?!?! I could give everybody in my family the same meal for far less than $9. And the cookies were tasteless globs.

How is a small muffin worth $3?! I don't care how much icing you put on it or what snooty name you give it. That's ridiculous.

How do bugs get in my washing machine?! I was taking a load of clothes out of the washing machine and there, in the bottom of the machine, was a stink bug. He was dead - BUT he didn't stink any more. How did he make it through a wash cycle with all his legs and antennas intact?! I buried him in a used Bounce dryer sheet. He obviously loathed life as a stink bug and chose to end it smelling sweet...

Why is there an assumption [by some people] that anyone over 70 is a doddering old fool?! I recently had some "friends" tell me [loudly and obnoxiously, much to my disgust] that my mother needs to be told what to do and I needed to be tough with her. I won't reveal everything that was said. Suffice to say this: my mother is sharp as a tack. So are all her friends. Hell to the NO, I won't try and tell her what to do. I am southern, and I revere my mama. You wanna say ugly things about my mama? You are no friend of mine then. 'Nuff said.

Why is it every time I like a song on the radio, Michael says "That's an OLD one, Mom!" Of course, to him anything that's been out more than a few weeks is "old." LOL I often think, Boy, I have shoes older than you are... Anyhoo, I really like this song by Ed Sheeran, even if it is dusty and old:

 

Ed's a talented guy. I look forward to hearing more from him.

Your Inner Redneck

When I was a kid and we moved to Tennessee, my dad became a HUGE country music fan. Up until then he had mostly preferred the music of Frank Sinatra, Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass, Sam Cooke, and Johnny Cash.[Yep, Johnny was as country as he got, before we hit Knoxville.]

Suddenly, it's the 1970's and we're living in the foothills of the Smoky Mountains, and the only radio station he ever listens to is WIVK.If I wanted to talk to him in the car, I had to wait until a song came on that he didn't like, or an advertisement.

Now, if you only saw my dad downtown, you might never guess the Inner Redneck was his alter ego.

My dad was a banker and wore impeccable suits to work. He spent all day advising customers about their trust accounts and estate planning needs.People called him "Mr. Thompson" and "Sir." He was like a general in charge of his troops, the folks in the Valley Bank Trust Department.

Then he went home and put on old clothes and drank PBR and wore ballcaps with cartoons of tractors on them. Once banker's hours were over, he had to just let out his Inner Redneck.[I can't show you a photo because Mama wouldn't let me photograph him in full redneck regalia...]

He was half Henderson on his mama's side - a refined, ladylike southern matriarch who didn't allow drinking or swearing in her home. That's where he got his banking persona. BUT... he was half Thompson, and that half was South Georgia dirt farmer.

I am only one quarter Redneck but I totally understand that need to let out one's Inner Redneck.. [Heck Jeff Foxworthy has made a career reminding us of our redneck roots! Go Jeff - click that link if you want to laugh at a routine called Redneck Fashion Tips.]

My Inner Redneck likes Allman Brothers and Lynrd Skynard, and I have been known to drink a cold beer now and then. Yes, and I will eat Vienna sausages and fatback, and drink hot Pepsi colas now and again. SO WHAT?!

So when I saw this email it brought back a lot of memories.This list made me laugh, and I wished I had a cold PBR to guzzle while I watched this here video.

Top 10 Country Songs

10. I Hate Every Bone In Her Body But Mine

9. I Ain't Never Gone To Bed With an Ugly Woman But I've Woke Up With a Few

8. If The Phone Don't Ring, You'll Know It's Me

7. I've Missed You, But My Aim's Improvin'

6. Wouldn't Take Her To A Dogfight 'Cause I'm Scared She'd Win

5. I'm So Miserable Without You It's Like You're Still Here

4. My Wife Ran Off With My Best Friend And I Miss Him

3. She Took My Ring and Gave Me the Finger

2. She Gets Better Lookin' with Every Beer

And the Number One Country & Western
song is...It's Hard to Kiss the Lips at Night That Chew Your Ass Out All Day Long...

 

 

Such True Words

Every once in a while I see things on Facebook [don't laugh] that are so true, and I feel compelled to share them here. The irony is that sometimes I see very similar things from two totally different people.

Such was the case this morning.

The sermon I heard was about the fact that whether or not Jesus was married is totally beside the point. The MISSION is the entire point.

Faith is the important thing. Don't get bogged down in the details. Live the message.

Faith + staying positive + passing on the message [to love each other]

My friend Martha posted this:

"You are a Living Magnet. What you attract into your life is in harmony with your dominant thoughts."

-Brian Tracy

My friend Delaine posted this:

Life is an Echo. What you send out - comes back. What you sow - you reap. What you give - you get. What you see in others - exists in you. Do not judge, so you will not be judged.

Radiate and give LOVE - and love comes back to you.

Amen, y'all.

Sending love and prayers out to all of you reading this.

No wonder this is one of my all-time favorite songs - the New Radicals "You Get What You Give":

 

Funky Town and the Bold Rat

I graduated from high school in 1980. Therefore, all my high school years were filled with a great debate: Pro Disco or Anti Disco?!

In 1977 when Saturday Night Fever opened, it quickly became THE movie to see. I remember buying the soundtrack on cassette tape and listening to it over and over. (I also had no trouble singing along to the Bee Gees because I sang soprano in the school choir.)

In the late 70's it became "cool" to be ANTI DISCO, and so I hid my love of disco and tried to embrace the other great bands that were popular, like Journey, REO Speedwagon, etc. but at heart I remained a disco devotee.

Last night, Michael showed me a South Park clip on his iPod where one of the characters plays a little version of Funky Town on their phone. Michael said "Funky Town?! That's not a real song." I told him it's a real song, and played the video. He loved it.

Now, in Kazakhstan when I was there 5 years ago, everything on the radio was cheesy techno and house music. The word "disco" was synonymous with "party." Michael still has a fondness for music that is dance oriented or techno, as evidenced by his love for Deadmau5.

Anyway, somehow Michael and I started playing disco songs on YouTube. He greatly admired a clip of John Travolta dancing in Saturday Night Fever. Go on YouTube and you will find tons of clips of Travolta dancing in that movie.

I am trying to talk Michael into going to the Homecoming Dance at his school next weekend. Of course, they won't play good music there, but he can still ask girls to dance, and have a good time.

Anyway, we were listening to music and laughing, and then we heard Mother screaming downstairs.

Michael and I raced down there.

Mother keeps a bag of Lay's potato chips on her dresser, for when she awakens in the night with leg cramps. That happens a lot, unfortunately. There was a rat inside the Lay's potato chip bag. He didn't even flee when he heard Mother, or heard us.

Mother has "grabbers" in her room so she can pick up things off the floor when Michael and I are not there. So Mike grabbed a grabber and knocked the potato chip bag into a trash bag I held next to the dresser, and the bag and the potato chip bag and the rat fell in. I threw it out in the backyard. I suggested Mike grab a baseball bat and go kill the rat dead, and he looked appalled. I had momentarily forgotten, this is the kid who feels "catch and release" is appropriate for flies!

I considered killing the rat myself but I was too squeamish. I also feared a rat bite, trip to the hospital, tetanus shot, etc.

Now, we just had Joe the Pest Control guy out here recently.

Guess the little buggers like Lay's Potato Chips better than the rat poison in the boxes around our house. [I HATE living on a creek!]

Life is complicated.

Mother loves these so much, I told her when she dies we will put her ashes in a Lay's bag. LOL

 

John Mayer and the Devil

OK, so today was better than yesterday. Not perfect but WAAAAY better.Of course, it had nowhere to go but UP.

For reasons unknown to me, I CANNOT get this John Mayer son out of my head, and not just because it has a white-hot ukelele playing throughout:

 

Now, I must confess, I never watch videos. I open a new tab and play the music while I work on my Farmville Farm or check out blogs or something. Not that John Mayer isn't a cutie. HOWEVER, it's hard to believe I am digging music made by a person who is younger than some of my shoes.

He must've had a hard time coming up with lyrics, too, because he repeats "say what you to say" about 5,000 times. Point made, John.

If you want something a little more groovy, try this one. Not a big commercial hit, but very cool tune:

 

My son is so funny. We were talking late this afternoon and somehow the subject of beards came up. Michael informed me he wants to grow a goatee. [This is a premature discussion, as his beard hasn't come in yet.]

"No no no... no goatees, Dude."

"Why not?"

Me: "Too pointy. Not good. They look devilish."

Michael: "OK, I'll grow a full beard then and look like Jesus!"

I laughed so hard I almost missed the sound of my grandmothers flipping around in their graves...

All the News

The past couple of days have been quiet, but in reality lots of stuff is happening all around me. It's like this quote I love: "On a cellular level, I am really quite busy."

If you saw the word "cellular" and thought phone, WRONG.

Some of the stuff happening around me is sort of amusing and weird.

For instance, I have a neighbor who appears to be pregnant, but is she?! How rude, if I asked her and she's not. She's a tall, skinny lady, but the belly is pooching out there. She has a child Mike's age, and a 3 year old. She's only a few years younger than me. So it's unlikely she's pregnant, but who knows?! The curiosity is killing me.

A friend of mother's had a terrible mishap the other day. Her husband wears a hearing aide. They were packing to go on a big trip to Europe. Their dog ate hubby's hearing aide. I know it's mean, but I thought that was very funny. [I can say that now because they are in Europe, not reading the blog...!] Hubby got a replacement hearing aide before they left, BTW. All is well.

Except the dog probably thought he was passing a football.... LOL

Speaking of yucky stuff, I have Facebook friends who post photos of food they have made, and 95% of the time it looks utterly disgusting. I mean, like something the dog puked up. There is one now I keep seeing and my stomach lurches every time I look at it.

Please stop posting pictures of your meals, unless you are a wicked good photographer. Cakes and cookies are OK. Anything with gravy?! Just say NO.

I was trying to not go anywhere this weekend, just stay at home and putter around, and of course I ended up running around in the heat yesterday. [It was close to 90 yesterday and will be 90 today.]

Michael needs a new pair of sandals about once a year. It's too hot around here to wear tennis shoes all summer. So yesterday we went to the local discount shoe place, Shoe Carnival, and got him some new ones. We were in and out in 5 minutes, which is unusual. He's normally quite slow about chooing things. He wears a men's size 8. He insisted on getting a size 9. I hope he will grow into those. He has long, skinny feet.

When he first came home, his little foot fit neatly into my hand with lots of room left over.

Michael told me for his birthday [in July] he wants a Deadmau5 tee shirt. A group that sounds like "deadmouse"?! I was aghast. I told him I wouldn't get him one unless I listened to some of their music. It sounds like it was made by space aliens, a lot of it. I did find this song that I actually like. It sounds like European music from the 80's, very retro and cool.

I will probably get him a tee shirt. At least it's not rap. I despise rap.

Michael played in a round robin tennis tournament at the pool last night. I sat there for 3 hours, sweating, keeping score, and watching teenagers play tennis and flirt. They reminded me of young colts.

On the plus side, I got to talk to a mom I really like, and get to know her better. That was pleasant.

I don't really know anything else. My exciting weekend plans include housecleaning, clipping Coco, and laundry.

Hope y'all have a great day!

Time to Dance

Michael and I saw the show Billy Elliot last Tuesday and I wrote a review of it. At one point in the show Billy's Dad, who is very happy, starts hollering "IF YA WANT MY BODY / AND YA THINK I'M SEXY...!" and Michael chuckled but turned to me and said "What was THAT?!" and I realized he was unaware of an important aspect of American culture: Cheesy Videos from back in the day.

So this morning I showed him Rod Stewart's original video for that song, and we both had a good laugh. Michael said "He really can't dance, can he?" I said "Nope. But he was a white guy in the 70's! Nobody could dance back then." 

Then we watched this video so he could see a guy who really COULD dance.

He's used to videos like this one that's more real, that show people who really CAN dance.

Of course, if you want to see dancing AND laugh, check out this classic from Weird Al Yankovic. Or check out Michael's fave Weird Al song, White and Nerdy...

Catching Up

This will have to be a quick post because I overslept this morning and I'm way behind already.

We have not had winter this year. Today is supposed to be 75 degrees! Even for Atlanta, that's ridiculous. It's February. I like a good solid 2-3 weeks of freezing temps overnight, to kill the bugs. My friend Patty from Indiana sent me an email complaining about not seeing snow this year. I'd be happy with coat weather!

I will say this, I was glad of a heavy sweater last night while watching Michael's tennis match.

FWIW, I am reading two books at the moment. I carry around The Strangers on Montagu Street by Karen White, and read it when I have time. I like the fact her books are often set in the Low Country, specifically Charleston, where I've spent some time. When I'm at home lounging around [cough cough] I am reading The Prophecy. I like his books because I always learn a lot, there's a mystery to solve, and he writes his main characters very vividly. The story moves along well.

What am I listening to? I am liking Allison Krauss more and more. I found this song on YouTube, a duet with Vince Gill, and I love it: OK, I hope that worked. If not, click here. I also love Jubilee, which sounds more folksy than country. Her voice is just amazing. She's better than Adele in my opinion. [shhh, don't tell my son]

I love to sing along with her version of "I'll Fly Away" because I can sing melody or harmony. This video is particularly nice:

 

Last night, Michael and I watched an old movie I like a lot, High Spirits. It stars Peter O'Toole and Steve Gutenberg, and it was filmed in Ireland. It's silly, yes, but on long weekdays when I'm tired and trying to relax I want silly, not heavy drama.

Hope the videos worked. If not, go on YouTube and do a search for Allison Krauss.