Martha here. Aunti M has been deluged with questions about the pandemic, social isolation and whether it is true that vegans have a better chance. She wants to share with you all some of her latest thoughts. I need to tell you that she is on her second toddy, and it is only 10 a.m., but she's happy and who's counting.
Damn straight, who's counting. Alcohol is recommended for all kinds of germ killing right? We know how you would feel if something happened to your Aunti M. Rest assured, I am making certain my insides are inhospitable to Covids of any Number. And I've had a brilliant idea, one of many. But I need your help spreading the word.
You all know there's this awful shortage of masks, right? At the very same time, sports of all kinds have been cancelled. PeeWee to Olympics. Think about it: all those jockstraps suddenly with nothing to do. Freed up. Ready to go. A little run through the washer - or not if the need is truly urgent - cut the back strap to make adjustable ties, and there we are. You might have to sew together three or four of the peewees, but easily enough done. All those sewing machines sitting idle. Let me know what you think. Meanwhile, here are a few of your questions.
Q. Aunti M, I read a story about Boober Eats, strippers out of work delivering your very own meal. Where can I sign up? And would I have to stay six feet away?
I could not be more proud of my profession. Imagine having one of our perkier members show up on your stoop, burgers and fries in a bag, pasties front and center. Even if you were sick with the coronavirus, that would give you a reason to live, would it not?
I do want to express, however, the tiniest disappointment. Your Aunti M went down there to apply for the job. Showed them my very Emeritus membership. I was even dressed, or semi-dressed I should say, under my red plastic raincoat, the one with the gold stars, ready to show them my credentials.
"That is okay," they kept saying. "That is just fine. We don't need to see that," which made me feel really good that they trusted me completely. Anyway, evidently they already had more applications than they needed. They kept saying they did not need mine. I could not be prouder of my girls, always ready to be of service.
Q. Aunti M, there is a governor in Texas that says old people should be prepared to go first. I don't understand that. It's not like there's a quota of people who have to die, sacrificed to the Covid god, and if you volunteer, you save a 10-year-old in Moldova, right?
I have never been good at math, but no, I don't think that is the way it works. And here's the truth, one of the reasons this thing is spreading like it is is because we are too damn busy and moving too damn fast. Old people know about slowing down. And they are more likely to have been in Scouts back when being a Scout leader was a no doubt honorable thing to do. The motto was "Be prepared" not "check your phone," like it is now. How many times have you walked into an old person's home and questioned why they had to keep every one of those prune containers? Stuffed into the cabinet just in case. Martha is always trying to get me to throw away all kinds of valuable merchandise. But who has pulled out of the trash almost empty toilet paper rolls, for years and years, eh? Just in case. Paying attention, that's who.
Q. Well, I'm not sure that's what I was asking, or if that is the answer, but it does piss me off that now old people get to go first at Harris Teeter. Get their very own hours plus a 5% discount on Thursdays.
First of all, I don't see you out of bed that early. And secondly, you just wait. For a lot of those people, not your Aunti M of course, going to the Harris Teeter with a fistful of coupons is the highlight of their day. They come home to (slowly) put away their groceries and that's it. No family, no one to pay them a visit, to show interest in their lives. Now that you've got some time on your hands, maybe you could go sit on the porch with them, safe distance. Take your own nip, mind you, enough to share, adds pizzazz to instant iced tea. Get them to tell you a story. Tell them one. Then maybe they'll share with you a prune container stuffed with toilet paper ends - only a slight mark-up.
Well, I think that is all for Aunti M today. She has nodded off, still on the porch. Beautiful Spring. Keep sending in your questions. And stay safe. . .
Friday, March 27, 2020
Tuesday, March 17, 2020
Aunti M Goes Viral. . .
Martha here. Aunti M is a little pissed off. It has something to do with being government classified as"elderly." From what I can tell, she thinks it outrageous that anyone wearing sequined short shorts should be classified as "old", much less "elderly" which she said is pumped up old and even worse. She's been ranting for awhile. I took her a toddy to calm her down, and she said she was ready for your questions.
Q. Aunti M., Covid 19 is a respiratory illness, right? So why the run on toilet paper?
A.M. Well finally. I've been waiting on this porch for what seems like damn forever. Finally, Martha brought me my toddy, and I've already put in my order for Number Two. And Three while she's at it. And then she moved the rocking chairs six damn feet apart, measuring with a ruler. The world has spun out of control, I'm telling you. I'm not even sure I recognize it. I wake up every morning opening my eyes to what I remember as normal, and then before I get a nip sneaked into my coffee it dawns on me that its all inside out. I can't go anywhere. Nobody much can come see me. And the 52nd annual Strippers and Pole Dancers Emeritus convention has been cancelled! For the first time in 52 years. What the Motel Six down at Highway 29 is going to do without us, I do not know. We've kind of been the highlight for the past several years I don't mind saying. Seeing as how we tend to draw a crowd. Harold, down at the local paper - editor, publisher, reporter and photographer - comes every year, just to see us and take our picture, which always makes it to the front page, above the fold. Unfortunately, our numbers are dwindling. The good news is that everybody but me is spreading so we take up the same amount of space.
But you had a question? Oh, right, about toilet paper. You know, at first glance, and to the normal person, that would seem a mystery. But not to your Aunti M. You came to the right place, sit right over there. Oh good. You brought your own toddy, excellent since the service around here is sketchy on a good day. Here's the thing. If you listen carefully, every time there is another announcement about what they are calling the coronavirus, what happens in your very own brain? Over and over? If you listen you will hear yourself say, "Oh shit." Not just you but everybody around you, over and over. The next thing they tell you about it, "Oh shit." And then the next thing is even worse, "Oh shit" again. And everybody knows that the more often something is in your brain, the more you believe it. In fact, if you think about it, there are a lot of people pretending to be news networks that make millions of dollars just on this one thing! But I digress. So if the main thing that is ping-ponging in your brain over and over is "oh shit, not that too" then when you go into the grocery store thinking you are going to buy light bread and a six-pack, you are going to be what they call subconsciously led over to the toilet paper aisle, and there it goes into your cart. "Sub" stands for where you can't see it, and "con" means a trick, and "scious" is french for hush now, just follow along and don't make trouble. So there you are tricked by your own brain into buying more toilet paper even though you don't have a coupon and its not Super Doubles Thursday with the senior discount.
Q. But Aunti M, what am I going to do with all this toilet paper?
A.M. Honey, if you have to ask for instructions, you need more help than your Aunti M. can give you.
Well, Aunti M has dozed off, but she asked me to tell you that if you had any more questions she would be glad to answer them. After her post-nap toddy, of course. And she wanted you to know that she would stay open for business no matter what happens, as she knows how much you all depend on her.
Q. Aunti M., Covid 19 is a respiratory illness, right? So why the run on toilet paper?
A.M. Well finally. I've been waiting on this porch for what seems like damn forever. Finally, Martha brought me my toddy, and I've already put in my order for Number Two. And Three while she's at it. And then she moved the rocking chairs six damn feet apart, measuring with a ruler. The world has spun out of control, I'm telling you. I'm not even sure I recognize it. I wake up every morning opening my eyes to what I remember as normal, and then before I get a nip sneaked into my coffee it dawns on me that its all inside out. I can't go anywhere. Nobody much can come see me. And the 52nd annual Strippers and Pole Dancers Emeritus convention has been cancelled! For the first time in 52 years. What the Motel Six down at Highway 29 is going to do without us, I do not know. We've kind of been the highlight for the past several years I don't mind saying. Seeing as how we tend to draw a crowd. Harold, down at the local paper - editor, publisher, reporter and photographer - comes every year, just to see us and take our picture, which always makes it to the front page, above the fold. Unfortunately, our numbers are dwindling. The good news is that everybody but me is spreading so we take up the same amount of space.
But you had a question? Oh, right, about toilet paper. You know, at first glance, and to the normal person, that would seem a mystery. But not to your Aunti M. You came to the right place, sit right over there. Oh good. You brought your own toddy, excellent since the service around here is sketchy on a good day. Here's the thing. If you listen carefully, every time there is another announcement about what they are calling the coronavirus, what happens in your very own brain? Over and over? If you listen you will hear yourself say, "Oh shit." Not just you but everybody around you, over and over. The next thing they tell you about it, "Oh shit." And then the next thing is even worse, "Oh shit" again. And everybody knows that the more often something is in your brain, the more you believe it. In fact, if you think about it, there are a lot of people pretending to be news networks that make millions of dollars just on this one thing! But I digress. So if the main thing that is ping-ponging in your brain over and over is "oh shit, not that too" then when you go into the grocery store thinking you are going to buy light bread and a six-pack, you are going to be what they call subconsciously led over to the toilet paper aisle, and there it goes into your cart. "Sub" stands for where you can't see it, and "con" means a trick, and "scious" is french for hush now, just follow along and don't make trouble. So there you are tricked by your own brain into buying more toilet paper even though you don't have a coupon and its not Super Doubles Thursday with the senior discount.
Q. But Aunti M, what am I going to do with all this toilet paper?
A.M. Honey, if you have to ask for instructions, you need more help than your Aunti M. can give you.
Well, Aunti M has dozed off, but she asked me to tell you that if you had any more questions she would be glad to answer them. After her post-nap toddy, of course. And she wanted you to know that she would stay open for business no matter what happens, as she knows how much you all depend on her.
Thursday, July 25, 2019
The Aunti M-Igration plan: Party of the First Part
Oh dear. She really does think it is about her. I wasn't home, but she had the television on, just listening while she did her sit-ups, and she kept hearing about anti-immigration. By the time I got home, she was sitting on the front porch in a rocker with a toddy and a notebook, fleshing out the details.
Fleshing out, one of my favorite things! But already, I digress! Yes! Who knew there were so many people committed to Aunti M-Igration! Evidently, there are a whole passel of them, starring some little cutie named Stephen Miller, and our very own President! Committed! To Aunti M-Igration, and me knowing nothing about it!
I tried to learn more, but they had already changed the subject on the tv before I finished the sit-ups and had gone on to painting my toes. Have you noticed that? How quick everything is now? Not only quick but here they are, two people already on the screen, one in one place and one in another, and not only that, but underneath there are two more things to think about racing each other from the left to the right, one on top of the other. You would think they would give a girl a minute for things to just sink in. But maybe there is just plain too much going on. Maybe it would be dangerous if it all sunk in.
In any case, that leaves it up to me, of course, Aunti M Herself, to come up with the full-fledged, Start to Finish, A to Z version. So here goes:
1. It seems to me that unless you can trace yourself straight back to Adam and Eve with no interruptions or little side trips, then your DNA likely resembles Aunti M's, which is a lovely jumble, (I know, I had it tested.) If yours is a little more organized and you can trace yourself back say to some barely remembered seventh Grand Something who was born and lived in the same house where you live right this minute, then you need to get up and start packing. Because honey, if you haven't been anywhere but surrounded by your very own relatives, well, let's just say being constantly marinated in one's own juices is not highly recommended by people who recognize and promote sanity. Just watch some BBC about the people in the big castles if you don't believe Aunti M. And even that person, that musty, barely remembered old coot was not Number One.
So, what Aunti M is trying to gently tell you is we are all immigrants. Everybody. You included. Our families all started out somewhere else. The only ones of us in the United States of America that have any claim to anything solid is Native Americans, who made the long lamented mistake of putting up with our ancestors as they dribbled to shore, helpless and stupid about where they had landed. So all that is to say, when you think about immigrants, think about your own family. Well, maybe that might not be the totally best idea, as I agree, it might have been a little better for all concerned if your Uncle Stanley had fallen off the boat, but I digress.
All that is to say, the absolute first thing in the Aunti M-Igration plan is to imagine yourself, (or your Great great great great great Aunt Whomever) in the same position these people are in, giving up their homes, and everything they have known to come here, hoping for a better life for their children. There might even be something in the Bible about putting yourself into someone else's sandals, not sure.
2. But Aunti M, aren't they criminals, aren't they bringing drugs? Why should we let them in to take our jobs?
I am so glad you brought that up. Here's the thing. The good drugs are already on sale in Colorado. And the people bringing the really bad drugs have got way too much money to think of walking in the heat in increasingly flimsy shoes from Guatemala to Texas. Criminals who want in to the U.S., if they are any good at their jobs, buy their way in on an air-conditioned airplane. As for our jobs. Here's a gentle question:
WHO THE HELL WANTS TO PICK TOBACCO/COTTON/STRAWBERRIES BENDING OVER IN THE HOT SUN HOURS AND HOURS; PUT SUCTION CUPS ON A COW'S TEATS FOR TWELVE HOURS A DAY IN WISCONSIN; CLEAN A COMPLETE AND SMELLY STRANGER'S DAMN HOTEL ROOM; WORK IN A MEAT-PACKING PLANT TRYING TO CUT LEGS OFF A DEAD CHICKEN RACING BY ON A CONVEYOR BELT WITH A VERY SHARP KNIFE OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER???????????
You think about that while your Aunti M takes a deep breath and a big sip or two. . .
These are the jobs that they are "taking" from us, which is not the kind of job your Mama envisioned for you, a bona fide having-nothing-to-do-with-where-you-were-born U. S. Citizen. Now, if you want to do those jobs? There are plenty of them unfilled, right now, in the great state of North Carolina: packing plants all over, pig or chicken take your choice.
3. But I thought Stephen Miller was Jewish and went to Duke University. Doesn't that mean he is smart and ought to know about being discriminated against, himself and his family?
Well, there are many graduates and fans of the University of North Carolina that would say that long term exposure to Duke would explain the crazy. As for the Jewish part, both his rabbi and his very own uncle have lamented their relationships to him, in public, meaning, in the newspaper, in articles that they wrote themselves. Plus there was that time he painted hair on his ample bald head in the very unfortunate TV interview. And we have all learned that hair/no hair is a stinging sore subject (see number 5.)
4. But what about the President? His grandfather moved from Germany, right?
Yes he did, and got over here to make his fortune in "hotel management" out West, as Sean Spicer/"the Mooch"/Sarah Huckabee Sanders/ would have put it. Translation: ho-houses in the Gold Rush, the American dream! Yes, it isn't quite clear why the President is so mad at immigrants when his esteemed granddaddy was one and he has his own self two out of three times married one. Well, maybe that does begin to explain it. I am not one to meddle in a personal affairs, any of them, all of them that he has had. Except for that one with Stormy, who is an acquaintance, a professional colleague and a fully developed fan of Aunti M.
5. But here is what I don't get. Why does a man who is so excited about preserving whiteness bake himself to darker tones on a regular basis?
Well honey, it is a mystery. But I think you have hit on the answer to all this. Have you noticed that our Dear Leader is just the slightest shade of orange? No one talks about it, so keep it to yourself, but I think that is part of the problem. You see there are not many orange people, and I think he feels left out, a lot, like he is still trying to find his own people so he can feel okay. And the Orange People have yet to fully organize. There was that John Boehner guy, with the unfortunate last name, who too felt so left out he had to leave Congress and go smoke and drink Merlot. Evidently he has recovered a bit, as he gets interviewed from time to time, with his cig and wine glass, and he is always, always in a good humor, looking in from the outside. Right now, the only orange person on the national stage is 45, and have you noticed how all the people around him keep leaving? I don't really understand that, but you know it has got to make him feel badly about himself.
And then there is the hair business. This too is rather hush hush. But if you look closely when he's in the wind, that part on the top, the part that looks kinda like what you pull out of the dryer vent, if it was all flattened and carefully arranged, well, that part kind of lifts up. I think we ought to have a little sympathy. What would it be like if you were constantly in danger of having the vast majority of your hairdo lift up like that and be somewhere it was not supposed to be? Especially if you were orange?. . .
. . .Martha here, sorry to interrupt. But it is time for Aunti M's pre-cocktail hour nap, (she has company coming at 4:15), so I'll let her continue another time. . .Aunti M had me put another rocker on the porch so if you want to come on over, you are welcome. She said there was a LOT more she wanted to talk about.
Fleshing out, one of my favorite things! But already, I digress! Yes! Who knew there were so many people committed to Aunti M-Igration! Evidently, there are a whole passel of them, starring some little cutie named Stephen Miller, and our very own President! Committed! To Aunti M-Igration, and me knowing nothing about it!
I tried to learn more, but they had already changed the subject on the tv before I finished the sit-ups and had gone on to painting my toes. Have you noticed that? How quick everything is now? Not only quick but here they are, two people already on the screen, one in one place and one in another, and not only that, but underneath there are two more things to think about racing each other from the left to the right, one on top of the other. You would think they would give a girl a minute for things to just sink in. But maybe there is just plain too much going on. Maybe it would be dangerous if it all sunk in.
In any case, that leaves it up to me, of course, Aunti M Herself, to come up with the full-fledged, Start to Finish, A to Z version. So here goes:
1. It seems to me that unless you can trace yourself straight back to Adam and Eve with no interruptions or little side trips, then your DNA likely resembles Aunti M's, which is a lovely jumble, (I know, I had it tested.) If yours is a little more organized and you can trace yourself back say to some barely remembered seventh Grand Something who was born and lived in the same house where you live right this minute, then you need to get up and start packing. Because honey, if you haven't been anywhere but surrounded by your very own relatives, well, let's just say being constantly marinated in one's own juices is not highly recommended by people who recognize and promote sanity. Just watch some BBC about the people in the big castles if you don't believe Aunti M. And even that person, that musty, barely remembered old coot was not Number One.
So, what Aunti M is trying to gently tell you is we are all immigrants. Everybody. You included. Our families all started out somewhere else. The only ones of us in the United States of America that have any claim to anything solid is Native Americans, who made the long lamented mistake of putting up with our ancestors as they dribbled to shore, helpless and stupid about where they had landed. So all that is to say, when you think about immigrants, think about your own family. Well, maybe that might not be the totally best idea, as I agree, it might have been a little better for all concerned if your Uncle Stanley had fallen off the boat, but I digress.
All that is to say, the absolute first thing in the Aunti M-Igration plan is to imagine yourself, (or your Great great great great great Aunt Whomever) in the same position these people are in, giving up their homes, and everything they have known to come here, hoping for a better life for their children. There might even be something in the Bible about putting yourself into someone else's sandals, not sure.
2. But Aunti M, aren't they criminals, aren't they bringing drugs? Why should we let them in to take our jobs?
I am so glad you brought that up. Here's the thing. The good drugs are already on sale in Colorado. And the people bringing the really bad drugs have got way too much money to think of walking in the heat in increasingly flimsy shoes from Guatemala to Texas. Criminals who want in to the U.S., if they are any good at their jobs, buy their way in on an air-conditioned airplane. As for our jobs. Here's a gentle question:
WHO THE HELL WANTS TO PICK TOBACCO/COTTON/STRAWBERRIES BENDING OVER IN THE HOT SUN HOURS AND HOURS; PUT SUCTION CUPS ON A COW'S TEATS FOR TWELVE HOURS A DAY IN WISCONSIN; CLEAN A COMPLETE AND SMELLY STRANGER'S DAMN HOTEL ROOM; WORK IN A MEAT-PACKING PLANT TRYING TO CUT LEGS OFF A DEAD CHICKEN RACING BY ON A CONVEYOR BELT WITH A VERY SHARP KNIFE OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER???????????
You think about that while your Aunti M takes a deep breath and a big sip or two. . .
These are the jobs that they are "taking" from us, which is not the kind of job your Mama envisioned for you, a bona fide having-nothing-to-do-with-where-you-were-born U. S. Citizen. Now, if you want to do those jobs? There are plenty of them unfilled, right now, in the great state of North Carolina: packing plants all over, pig or chicken take your choice.
3. But I thought Stephen Miller was Jewish and went to Duke University. Doesn't that mean he is smart and ought to know about being discriminated against, himself and his family?
Well, there are many graduates and fans of the University of North Carolina that would say that long term exposure to Duke would explain the crazy. As for the Jewish part, both his rabbi and his very own uncle have lamented their relationships to him, in public, meaning, in the newspaper, in articles that they wrote themselves. Plus there was that time he painted hair on his ample bald head in the very unfortunate TV interview. And we have all learned that hair/no hair is a stinging sore subject (see number 5.)
4. But what about the President? His grandfather moved from Germany, right?
Yes he did, and got over here to make his fortune in "hotel management" out West, as Sean Spicer/"the Mooch"/Sarah Huckabee Sanders/ would have put it. Translation: ho-houses in the Gold Rush, the American dream! Yes, it isn't quite clear why the President is so mad at immigrants when his esteemed granddaddy was one and he has his own self two out of three times married one. Well, maybe that does begin to explain it. I am not one to meddle in a personal affairs, any of them, all of them that he has had. Except for that one with Stormy, who is an acquaintance, a professional colleague and a fully developed fan of Aunti M.
5. But here is what I don't get. Why does a man who is so excited about preserving whiteness bake himself to darker tones on a regular basis?
Well honey, it is a mystery. But I think you have hit on the answer to all this. Have you noticed that our Dear Leader is just the slightest shade of orange? No one talks about it, so keep it to yourself, but I think that is part of the problem. You see there are not many orange people, and I think he feels left out, a lot, like he is still trying to find his own people so he can feel okay. And the Orange People have yet to fully organize. There was that John Boehner guy, with the unfortunate last name, who too felt so left out he had to leave Congress and go smoke and drink Merlot. Evidently he has recovered a bit, as he gets interviewed from time to time, with his cig and wine glass, and he is always, always in a good humor, looking in from the outside. Right now, the only orange person on the national stage is 45, and have you noticed how all the people around him keep leaving? I don't really understand that, but you know it has got to make him feel badly about himself.
And then there is the hair business. This too is rather hush hush. But if you look closely when he's in the wind, that part on the top, the part that looks kinda like what you pull out of the dryer vent, if it was all flattened and carefully arranged, well, that part kind of lifts up. I think we ought to have a little sympathy. What would it be like if you were constantly in danger of having the vast majority of your hairdo lift up like that and be somewhere it was not supposed to be? Especially if you were orange?. . .
. . .Martha here, sorry to interrupt. But it is time for Aunti M's pre-cocktail hour nap, (she has company coming at 4:15), so I'll let her continue another time. . .Aunti M had me put another rocker on the porch so if you want to come on over, you are welcome. She said there was a LOT more she wanted to talk about.
Monday, July 22, 2019
Aunti M for Precedent!
Hello everybody, Martha here. As you can see by the title, Aunti M has decided to get into politics, and is launching a campaign - of sorts. Its complicated, She kept me up until all hours talking about it. You take over; I'm going for a nap.
Aunti M here, home from the 63rd Annual Strippers and Pole Dancers Alumnae Convention, held at the Motel 6 out on Hwy 273. We made quite a presence at the IHOP next door. Peggy got inspired by the Double Stack and decided she wanted to introduce a new featured pile-o-pancakes called the Peggy Stack of the Rack, reproducing her own fine features, or at least the fond memory of them, all firm and upright, right there on the dish. But when she stole cherries off a child's plate at the table next to ours to make nipples, well, things got a little dicey. It was at that point that our waiter finally agreed to get the manager, even though Peggy had tried multiple times to convince him this was a sure-fire menu item and he needed to get a picture.
There were five of us (sadly, our numbers are dwindling) who showed up, despite the appeal of the program: Workshops titled: Thongs for Seniors; Gyration for the Slightly Arthritic; Tassles for Tired Ta Ta's and the ever popular Best-Selling Fragrances at Wal-Mart. Of course, it is true that we put these together the morning we arrived, all the planning greased with toddies, but girl, life is short. And Aunti M believes in continuing education, however it occurs.
But it was the one on Poles that got me thinking. The newspapers seemed obsessed with them these days, measuring who is going to vote for whom, almost a year and a half before anybody gets to! We had been talking about our President, and that fabulous mop of blond hair that he spends two hours fixing every morning, and the fact that he uses the Very Hairspray that the Strippers International Health and Beauty Plan recommends (coupon included which never expires.) There are a lot of people running for President, some actually kind of walking, others crawling if you ask me. But it seems to me that there is plenty of room for something new, which has always been kind of my job to introduce, whenever there is a crack, you are welcome.
So your Aunti M, fashion maven, and holder of the Second Place Red Ribbon in the 1946 Diving off the Low Board Competition at Swazey's Fishing Pond and Bait Store, realized that given my background, I had a solemn responsibility to represent my country. You see people, stripping for a living gives me a special window into what makes people happy, and also what makes them unhappy enough that witnessing complete strangers wiggling around in their altogethers makes them happy.. That is one of the many gifts I bring to this campaign.
Aunti M for Precedent. Our motto: We're OLD, We're BOLD. We've done it ALL BEFORE!
So, stay tuned for further announcements. Right now, I am my own campaign manager. I stayed up all night trying to convince Martha to do it, but she just kept hanging her head and running her hands through her hair, not sure why. But when she gets up from her nap, I'll try again. Meanwhile, go out there and do your civic duty: Picket the IHOP for the Peggy Stack!
Aunti M here, home from the 63rd Annual Strippers and Pole Dancers Alumnae Convention, held at the Motel 6 out on Hwy 273. We made quite a presence at the IHOP next door. Peggy got inspired by the Double Stack and decided she wanted to introduce a new featured pile-o-pancakes called the Peggy Stack of the Rack, reproducing her own fine features, or at least the fond memory of them, all firm and upright, right there on the dish. But when she stole cherries off a child's plate at the table next to ours to make nipples, well, things got a little dicey. It was at that point that our waiter finally agreed to get the manager, even though Peggy had tried multiple times to convince him this was a sure-fire menu item and he needed to get a picture.
There were five of us (sadly, our numbers are dwindling) who showed up, despite the appeal of the program: Workshops titled: Thongs for Seniors; Gyration for the Slightly Arthritic; Tassles for Tired Ta Ta's and the ever popular Best-Selling Fragrances at Wal-Mart. Of course, it is true that we put these together the morning we arrived, all the planning greased with toddies, but girl, life is short. And Aunti M believes in continuing education, however it occurs.
But it was the one on Poles that got me thinking. The newspapers seemed obsessed with them these days, measuring who is going to vote for whom, almost a year and a half before anybody gets to! We had been talking about our President, and that fabulous mop of blond hair that he spends two hours fixing every morning, and the fact that he uses the Very Hairspray that the Strippers International Health and Beauty Plan recommends (coupon included which never expires.) There are a lot of people running for President, some actually kind of walking, others crawling if you ask me. But it seems to me that there is plenty of room for something new, which has always been kind of my job to introduce, whenever there is a crack, you are welcome.
So your Aunti M, fashion maven, and holder of the Second Place Red Ribbon in the 1946 Diving off the Low Board Competition at Swazey's Fishing Pond and Bait Store, realized that given my background, I had a solemn responsibility to represent my country. You see people, stripping for a living gives me a special window into what makes people happy, and also what makes them unhappy enough that witnessing complete strangers wiggling around in their altogethers makes them happy.. That is one of the many gifts I bring to this campaign.
Aunti M for Precedent. Our motto: We're OLD, We're BOLD. We've done it ALL BEFORE!
So, stay tuned for further announcements. Right now, I am my own campaign manager. I stayed up all night trying to convince Martha to do it, but she just kept hanging her head and running her hands through her hair, not sure why. But when she gets up from her nap, I'll try again. Meanwhile, go out there and do your civic duty: Picket the IHOP for the Peggy Stack!
Monday, February 8, 2016
Aunti M Unveils Her Health Plan, Standard, Deluxe and Single-Malt.
Martha here: I just want to warn everybody that there is a reason for Silence from Aunti M for the last little while. Bless her. You know she’s never been a real business person. Her idea of a savings account was an extra large bra so the men could stuff in more dollar bills. However, she has a number of younger friends and they’ve all been on these new health regimens since the year turned over. Some of them even have corporate incentive plans. Well, you can imagine how well all this is going over. She came storming into the kitchen last night with a new business idea: the “Aunti M Kick Your Ass Into Gear Motivational Package” (Regular and Deluxe). Well, she’s right here, and wants to explain. . .
Good god awlmighty. I just have to say something. Three of my dearest friends have turned to the Dark Side and I’m afraid if I don’t speak up, this kind of thing is going to spread. I’ve never seen anything like it. Instead of hanging out with me, planning trips and fun things to do, they are all staying in, counting calories and car-bo-hy-drate grams like it was the last change under the seat and they were out of cigs. Oh, and if you think all the counting is bad, they are also cutting back on their d-r-i-n-k-i-n-g. Just because the calendar added a number, one, that’s all, added one number. Suddenly, in the middle of the night, when December 31st turned to January 1, somehow they decided their thighs were too big, their stomach was too poochy, the scale was their enemy, and they put away their wine glasses.
It has been no fun around here, I will tell you, and mighty mighty lonely. Between you and me, Martha is even doing it. I tell you, the woman is obsessed. She weighs before and after she plucks her chin hairs (I'm not kidding.)
So, since you might has well join them, if you can’t beat them, and I’m having to waste my own time standing in line for contraband french fries not allowed in the damn house, I’ve decided to come up with my own Health Enhancement Incentive Plan by Aunti M Herself.
One of my friends (and if I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’), belongs to this company where they pay her cash money to keep track of the foods she eats, the exercise she does, and the goals she reaches. She got paid to sign up, and they gave her this big box with a human scale, a food scale (who weighs their food?) measuring cups, little calorie counting booklets, some stretchy things that you are supposed to put over your foot and bend it back and forth. I guess you get points for that too. Oh and gift cards. . .to restaurants? What is that about? I wonder if you take that gift card and you order a chocolate milk shake and a double bacon cheeseburger and cheese fries and a shot of bourbon if it won’t cash at the end of it? Maybe it will only cash if you order a bowl of lettuce with a squirt of vinegar and skim milk. She hasn’t tested it, so we’ll let you know.
Well Aunti M thinks all this is a bit extreme and she is worried that we in this country, that was once America, are promoting the wrong values. And you know Aunti M has always been a Stand -Up Kind of Girl (well, most of the time. . .there have been moments if you know what I mean. Oh my my my. . .) (my my my my. . .)
But I digress. . .here is The Thing. Aunti M has noticed that there is a hell of lot of Anxiety floating around. And now that Donald Trump, with our help, may elect himself President of His Own Reality, the World Included, well it has only gotten worse. And then there’s Isis, and the number of friends you have on Facebook, and whether this morning when you got up there was the tiniest zit that was too little to do anything about but by the time you are in that important meeting at 3:30, it promises to come into the room before you get there. This is all before you get to your thighs and your poochy stomach, which we all suck in when we need to. And all That is before we get to your family, which is sicker than most, everybody agrees to that, and yes we know that if they would just listen to you, just this once - well, their problems would be solved. We know. Believe us, we know.
And there is nothing wrong with thinking that maybe a salad instead of french fries from time to time would aid your digestion (which has been getting trickier, now hasn’t it? We’ve noticed your spending a little more time in the bathroom. . .) And Aunti M likes a fruit or vegetable or two, mostly fermented and in a bottle, but fresh isn’t so bad. . .
The problem is The Big Deal. The problem is when the calorie counting and the carb counting, oh and I forgot until just now!!!! The Fitbit wearing. Holy Self-Absorbed Minutiae! You may not have heard about this, but there is this plastic thing that you actually pay (substantial) money for and you put it on your wrist and it ensures that you will never have another anxiety-free moment. Why? Because every second of the world, you can check to see if you have taken enough steps (I’m not kidding) or what your heart rate is (which is going to be up because you keep checking on it, and won’t let it rest and every time it seems like you haven’t taken enough steps (to where?) you start doubling back and forth like a demented person). Oh, and I haven’t mentioned that you don’t even get a break when you are asleep. Or you just think you are asleep! Until the next morning and you can check for sure! All those years that you blissfully slept away or thought you did, Unveiled. Now you get to also worry about how many times you turned over and whether that was too much, or more than you turned over the night before.
So Aunti M, in service to the Republic for which it stands, has come up with her own plan. And she is offering it here. You are the first to see, so Take - It - All - In. . .
With the Standard Package, price to be determined but if you order in the next 25 minutes, it will be a whopping 25% off:
1) Signing Bonus: when you sign up, Aunti M gets a signing bonus; after all she is the one to go to all the trouble to put this together;
2) Aunti M is your new Life Coach, available an hour or so a day, just before and just after Happy Hour. That way you can get the advantage of both Fabulous Aunti M and Slightly More Mellow Fabulous Aunti M;
3) Gift Cards: Aunti M, through her vast network, is able to offer to this Exclusive Community the following deals:
a) Ol’Harry’s Suds and Sudz: if you go down there (Hwy 253, just past the American Legion) and drink and do your laundry before 4 p.m., Harry will throw in a bag of chips. Just be sure to ask for the Doritos instead of the potato chips, they have more fiber.
b) The Pilot Station, Hwy 621, only when Eunice is working, 3-10a.m., Tuesday and Thursday (she has her mother to take care of, which by the way is a Charter Member of This Very Club). Eunice has a case of only-slightly-outdated beef jerky in the back. (Melvin let her have it for free. . .well not exactly for free but their relationship is none of my business). Well anyway, if you show Eunice your Aunti M Health Plan Membership Card and buy a giant fountain drink (diet of course) Eunice will punch your card for a slightly stiff beef jerky - up to five while supplies last!
c) For the literary-minded: Aunti M’s Maurice works at the newstand down at the bus station. You may not know this, but at the end of the month, when the new magazines arrive, they come and get the old ones and tear the covers off (abuse, but there is too much else in the world to worry about). Well, Maurice has a deal with that guy and if you get there on the last day of the month and stick your chewing gum on the ones you want, well Maurice will save them for you. (AGAIN - Important: YOU MUST HAVE A MEMBERSHIP CARD TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THIS BENEFIT.)
The Deluxe Package.
Well, actually Aunti M is still working on the Deluxe Package, and part of what she is able to offer is going to depend on you. The more of you that sign up, the more Money Aunti M’s New Venture will have to work with, developing even more benefits for even more money, reducing Aunti M’s already low anxiety. (See Happy Hour Coaching, available above.)
However, here are some Sneak Peaks:
1) Discounts on Aunti M’s Workout Gear. These are still in the early stages but do you remember Aunti M’s sequined short shorts she wore to the canning workshop with Reenie? Well, just imagine. . .
2) And a Special Senior’s Line: bra cups closer to the waistline where they belong, spanx for the knees, etcetera.
3) An On-Porch support group, with actual people, sitting in actual rockers, next to each other, for real.
The Hard-Core Single-Malt Package:
For the select few: Aunti M will lock up your cell-phone, fitness tracker, tablet and laptop. She will refuse to reveal the combination, however you badger her. You pay by the hour and the longer you last, the more Aunti M points you are awarded. Meanwhile, you can spend that time with her and other friends on the porch (see above) (Martha will serve toddies and french fries). Guaranteed to reduce your blood pressure, your resting heart rate, and the rocking counts as exercise! You can cash in your Aunti M Rewards with Ol’ Harry, Eunice, Maurice, or for future work-out gear.
Well, this is enough. Aunti M is worn out with all this thinking. Time for some refreshment. Don’t call. I don’t want to talk to anybody. But ponder all this and let me know.
Good god awlmighty. I just have to say something. Three of my dearest friends have turned to the Dark Side and I’m afraid if I don’t speak up, this kind of thing is going to spread. I’ve never seen anything like it. Instead of hanging out with me, planning trips and fun things to do, they are all staying in, counting calories and car-bo-hy-drate grams like it was the last change under the seat and they were out of cigs. Oh, and if you think all the counting is bad, they are also cutting back on their d-r-i-n-k-i-n-g. Just because the calendar added a number, one, that’s all, added one number. Suddenly, in the middle of the night, when December 31st turned to January 1, somehow they decided their thighs were too big, their stomach was too poochy, the scale was their enemy, and they put away their wine glasses.
It has been no fun around here, I will tell you, and mighty mighty lonely. Between you and me, Martha is even doing it. I tell you, the woman is obsessed. She weighs before and after she plucks her chin hairs (I'm not kidding.)
So, since you might has well join them, if you can’t beat them, and I’m having to waste my own time standing in line for contraband french fries not allowed in the damn house, I’ve decided to come up with my own Health Enhancement Incentive Plan by Aunti M Herself.
One of my friends (and if I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’), belongs to this company where they pay her cash money to keep track of the foods she eats, the exercise she does, and the goals she reaches. She got paid to sign up, and they gave her this big box with a human scale, a food scale (who weighs their food?) measuring cups, little calorie counting booklets, some stretchy things that you are supposed to put over your foot and bend it back and forth. I guess you get points for that too. Oh and gift cards. . .to restaurants? What is that about? I wonder if you take that gift card and you order a chocolate milk shake and a double bacon cheeseburger and cheese fries and a shot of bourbon if it won’t cash at the end of it? Maybe it will only cash if you order a bowl of lettuce with a squirt of vinegar and skim milk. She hasn’t tested it, so we’ll let you know.
Well Aunti M thinks all this is a bit extreme and she is worried that we in this country, that was once America, are promoting the wrong values. And you know Aunti M has always been a Stand -Up Kind of Girl (well, most of the time. . .there have been moments if you know what I mean. Oh my my my. . .) (my my my my. . .)
But I digress. . .here is The Thing. Aunti M has noticed that there is a hell of lot of Anxiety floating around. And now that Donald Trump, with our help, may elect himself President of His Own Reality, the World Included, well it has only gotten worse. And then there’s Isis, and the number of friends you have on Facebook, and whether this morning when you got up there was the tiniest zit that was too little to do anything about but by the time you are in that important meeting at 3:30, it promises to come into the room before you get there. This is all before you get to your thighs and your poochy stomach, which we all suck in when we need to. And all That is before we get to your family, which is sicker than most, everybody agrees to that, and yes we know that if they would just listen to you, just this once - well, their problems would be solved. We know. Believe us, we know.
And there is nothing wrong with thinking that maybe a salad instead of french fries from time to time would aid your digestion (which has been getting trickier, now hasn’t it? We’ve noticed your spending a little more time in the bathroom. . .) And Aunti M likes a fruit or vegetable or two, mostly fermented and in a bottle, but fresh isn’t so bad. . .
The problem is The Big Deal. The problem is when the calorie counting and the carb counting, oh and I forgot until just now!!!! The Fitbit wearing. Holy Self-Absorbed Minutiae! You may not have heard about this, but there is this plastic thing that you actually pay (substantial) money for and you put it on your wrist and it ensures that you will never have another anxiety-free moment. Why? Because every second of the world, you can check to see if you have taken enough steps (I’m not kidding) or what your heart rate is (which is going to be up because you keep checking on it, and won’t let it rest and every time it seems like you haven’t taken enough steps (to where?) you start doubling back and forth like a demented person). Oh, and I haven’t mentioned that you don’t even get a break when you are asleep. Or you just think you are asleep! Until the next morning and you can check for sure! All those years that you blissfully slept away or thought you did, Unveiled. Now you get to also worry about how many times you turned over and whether that was too much, or more than you turned over the night before.
So Aunti M, in service to the Republic for which it stands, has come up with her own plan. And she is offering it here. You are the first to see, so Take - It - All - In. . .
With the Standard Package, price to be determined but if you order in the next 25 minutes, it will be a whopping 25% off:
1) Signing Bonus: when you sign up, Aunti M gets a signing bonus; after all she is the one to go to all the trouble to put this together;
2) Aunti M is your new Life Coach, available an hour or so a day, just before and just after Happy Hour. That way you can get the advantage of both Fabulous Aunti M and Slightly More Mellow Fabulous Aunti M;
3) Gift Cards: Aunti M, through her vast network, is able to offer to this Exclusive Community the following deals:
a) Ol’Harry’s Suds and Sudz: if you go down there (Hwy 253, just past the American Legion) and drink and do your laundry before 4 p.m., Harry will throw in a bag of chips. Just be sure to ask for the Doritos instead of the potato chips, they have more fiber.
b) The Pilot Station, Hwy 621, only when Eunice is working, 3-10a.m., Tuesday and Thursday (she has her mother to take care of, which by the way is a Charter Member of This Very Club). Eunice has a case of only-slightly-outdated beef jerky in the back. (Melvin let her have it for free. . .well not exactly for free but their relationship is none of my business). Well anyway, if you show Eunice your Aunti M Health Plan Membership Card and buy a giant fountain drink (diet of course) Eunice will punch your card for a slightly stiff beef jerky - up to five while supplies last!
c) For the literary-minded: Aunti M’s Maurice works at the newstand down at the bus station. You may not know this, but at the end of the month, when the new magazines arrive, they come and get the old ones and tear the covers off (abuse, but there is too much else in the world to worry about). Well, Maurice has a deal with that guy and if you get there on the last day of the month and stick your chewing gum on the ones you want, well Maurice will save them for you. (AGAIN - Important: YOU MUST HAVE A MEMBERSHIP CARD TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THIS BENEFIT.)
The Deluxe Package.
Well, actually Aunti M is still working on the Deluxe Package, and part of what she is able to offer is going to depend on you. The more of you that sign up, the more Money Aunti M’s New Venture will have to work with, developing even more benefits for even more money, reducing Aunti M’s already low anxiety. (See Happy Hour Coaching, available above.)
However, here are some Sneak Peaks:
1) Discounts on Aunti M’s Workout Gear. These are still in the early stages but do you remember Aunti M’s sequined short shorts she wore to the canning workshop with Reenie? Well, just imagine. . .
2) And a Special Senior’s Line: bra cups closer to the waistline where they belong, spanx for the knees, etcetera.
3) An On-Porch support group, with actual people, sitting in actual rockers, next to each other, for real.
The Hard-Core Single-Malt Package:
For the select few: Aunti M will lock up your cell-phone, fitness tracker, tablet and laptop. She will refuse to reveal the combination, however you badger her. You pay by the hour and the longer you last, the more Aunti M points you are awarded. Meanwhile, you can spend that time with her and other friends on the porch (see above) (Martha will serve toddies and french fries). Guaranteed to reduce your blood pressure, your resting heart rate, and the rocking counts as exercise! You can cash in your Aunti M Rewards with Ol’ Harry, Eunice, Maurice, or for future work-out gear.
Well, this is enough. Aunti M is worn out with all this thinking. Time for some refreshment. Don’t call. I don’t want to talk to anybody. But ponder all this and let me know.
Monday, March 31, 2014
Aunti M Goes To Texas. . .Briefly
Aunti M just got back from Texas. Well, more accurately, Aunti M was just escorted back from Texas. Evidently, it was important that she get all the way home. It took awhile to get the whole story as the Rangers weren’t talking, and Aunti M wouldn’t quit making goo-goo eyes at them, but after they left, and after a toddy or two, this is what seems to have gone down. I’ll let her tell it as there are parts of it I just can't say. . .
Your Aunti M still does not see what all the fuss was about. I thought Texas was the Land of Anything Goes but maybe not. I just went down there to see my friends and go to their art opening at a lovely little cowshed of a gallery right there in The Heights of Houston, all converted and cleaned up and bamboo planted. White walls and catered, you know the type.
I asked Marvin down at the truck stop if I could borrow his Texan Sexans tee shirt, and it made the prettiest little dress, came just below my hooha if I kept it pulled down. Looked mighty fine with the fishnets and my sequined cowboy boots. The hard part was getting my hair all teased up, but Martha had just brushed the dog so I added some extra on top. While I was talking Marvin out of his tee shirt (I sprayed it with Right Guard and it got most of the smell out), I noticed they had some beer can earrings right there at the cash register so my outfit was complete. Packed it all up in my Harley tote bag with the mud flap closure and was good to go.
My friend Nita met me at the airport in Houston. We go way back. I’m proud to know her even though she only got the bronze back in ’64 (I got the silver). We were both crowned Distinguished and Award-Winning Alums at the Tippers and Strippers Conference held at the Reno VFW. We did our executive training together at Strip and Tip U in that very city back in the day.
She still looks good, that Nita, I will give her that . Even though she is one of my best friends in all the world, I could tell at the gallery opening she was jealous of my outfit. Hers didn’t get nearly the attention mine did, even when I did remember to keep that teeshirt pulled down.
Your Aunti M knows she is an artist, but of a different and special kind than her friends who make these things you can hang on a wall. Your Aunti M hangs off a pole and we all honor that for the talent it is.
Nonetheless, your Aunti M is cultured, or at least fermented, and that means I have great respect for other people’s efforts to express themselves. Well, these friends had done just that. My goodness. Who knew that you could collect all these different things and hold them together in a box and make people realize something about their inner Goddess? Aunti M has always thought of herself as a Goddess but even I - and Nita - were moved.
So we were having a good time, and there were a lot of people there and everything was going just fine. But I got hungry dammit and wandered into the room with the punch bowl. I tasted it and bleccch. . .so I took the mason jar out of the my purse and was fixing it up but then it needed stirring. Well didn’t see a spoon big enough but I had Pulsing Purple Peter in my purse. I was hoping the batteries were still good even though I’d given it a pretty good workout the night before, and they were. Well, you would have thought I’d farted in church for all the ruckus it caused, and I still don’t understand. That’s how I got my return flight bumped up and those cute Rangers to ride with me. Lordy. Two of them: one left and one right.
By the time they got me home, we were good friends, or at least I thought we were, but they wouldn’t let me have any real drinks on the plane and then they declined my toddy offer, leaving me on the porch and spraying gravel in the driveway.
Well, so here I am, home early so if you need something to do, come on over. I’m still a little stung over this experience so I don’t want to talk about it, and I could do with some entertainment. But only come if you’ve got something to tell and a little something to pour. I’ll let you know when it is time to leave. . .
Sunday, June 23, 2013
Aunti M Goes to Canning Class
Martha here. Well, I had signed up, was supposed to go, but something came up at the last minute, and Aunti M volunteered to take my place. I should have thought about it a little more before I agreed, but lesson learned. . .
What the hell. Being a domestic goddess requires freshening from time to time and when my friend Reenie said come on let's go, it will be fun, maybe we can can vodka tonics, I said OK. It had been boring around Martha lately (what else is new?) as she had been fussing around with houseguests and that infernal garden. I was itching to explore new territory.
Well, we showed up at the Cooperative Extension Service office with four other eager participants, no one else in sequined short shorts but what the hey. The teacher seemed glad to see us, although she stared a little at my halter top, but it is summer, people! We got a nice folder with all manner of handouts and the Ball Canning Book. Well, that set Reenie off, as canning balls sounded even better than canning vodka, but then Reenie has just broken up (again) with her biker friend Rufus. So it was on.
The teacher was all excited about the green beans we were going to can because they didn't have strings and wasn't that just "a wonder of the modern world." Reenie raised her hand immediately and wanted to know if they were GMO's and the teacher didn't know what that was.
Reenie, I said, under my breath, maybe they are just born that way, but Reenie has a thing about GMO's; she has been going to meetings. So this was a big deal.
Well, we broke them up anyway, the green beans, sitting around a table set just for this occasion, the teacher showing us how to use the knife so it was easier, and making sure we understood all the pieces needed to be the same size. I asked her if she had a ruler, and she said, going to get one, "why that is the first time in canning class that anyone wanted to do things exactly the right way." This seemed to make her very happy.
Which was good because this buttressed her against future disappointments when we moved on to grape jelly.
She was pulling a hot jar full of boiling water out of a kettle on the stove just as Reenie made a crack about how the grape juice smelled like the Baptist Church on communion Sunday, "the cheapskates". The teacher dropped the jar and boiling water splashed across the counter toward two of the completely innocent students. Well, everybody but the teacher thought this was funny. She kept saying this was the worst thing that had ever happened in canning class but nobody was listening because Reenie had moved on to telling about sneaking into the Episcopal Church so she could get the real thing.
As she ran for towels, sprigs of her hairdo began to stick out, here and there.
Reenie won the door prize which was a box of old canning jars someone had found in their basement. And she deserved it because she was the one who asked the most questions. It turns out according to the United States Department of Agriculture, which the teacher explained to us is the god of canning, Reenie, her mother and her grandmother, all still alive, have been doing it all wrong, start to finish. The teacher was very patient and it seems we should all be grateful that Reenie is still with us.
We had such a good time, Reenie and I discussed it and decided we wanted to sign up for every class this teacher taught. I mean imagine what you could learn to pickle. We asked the teacher and I guess she is really popular because she said all her classes were already full to overflowing, too bad.
Reenie said she was going to practice at home and maybe even enter a jar of beans in the County Fair. The teacher explained that the judges are very particular and want the brand of jar to match the brand of lid and the beans, of course, we know this now, to be all exactly the same size. Reenie said maybe she could find a tequila worm that could just kind of float around at the bottom.
First prize is $4.50, coincidentally, the same price as a beer and a bump down at Tony's Tap and Tanning Salon. If she wins, I'll let you know and we'll meet her down there. . .
What the hell. Being a domestic goddess requires freshening from time to time and when my friend Reenie said come on let's go, it will be fun, maybe we can can vodka tonics, I said OK. It had been boring around Martha lately (what else is new?) as she had been fussing around with houseguests and that infernal garden. I was itching to explore new territory.
Well, we showed up at the Cooperative Extension Service office with four other eager participants, no one else in sequined short shorts but what the hey. The teacher seemed glad to see us, although she stared a little at my halter top, but it is summer, people! We got a nice folder with all manner of handouts and the Ball Canning Book. Well, that set Reenie off, as canning balls sounded even better than canning vodka, but then Reenie has just broken up (again) with her biker friend Rufus. So it was on.
The teacher was all excited about the green beans we were going to can because they didn't have strings and wasn't that just "a wonder of the modern world." Reenie raised her hand immediately and wanted to know if they were GMO's and the teacher didn't know what that was.
Reenie, I said, under my breath, maybe they are just born that way, but Reenie has a thing about GMO's; she has been going to meetings. So this was a big deal.
Well, we broke them up anyway, the green beans, sitting around a table set just for this occasion, the teacher showing us how to use the knife so it was easier, and making sure we understood all the pieces needed to be the same size. I asked her if she had a ruler, and she said, going to get one, "why that is the first time in canning class that anyone wanted to do things exactly the right way." This seemed to make her very happy.
Which was good because this buttressed her against future disappointments when we moved on to grape jelly.
She was pulling a hot jar full of boiling water out of a kettle on the stove just as Reenie made a crack about how the grape juice smelled like the Baptist Church on communion Sunday, "the cheapskates". The teacher dropped the jar and boiling water splashed across the counter toward two of the completely innocent students. Well, everybody but the teacher thought this was funny. She kept saying this was the worst thing that had ever happened in canning class but nobody was listening because Reenie had moved on to telling about sneaking into the Episcopal Church so she could get the real thing.
As she ran for towels, sprigs of her hairdo began to stick out, here and there.
Reenie won the door prize which was a box of old canning jars someone had found in their basement. And she deserved it because she was the one who asked the most questions. It turns out according to the United States Department of Agriculture, which the teacher explained to us is the god of canning, Reenie, her mother and her grandmother, all still alive, have been doing it all wrong, start to finish. The teacher was very patient and it seems we should all be grateful that Reenie is still with us.
We had such a good time, Reenie and I discussed it and decided we wanted to sign up for every class this teacher taught. I mean imagine what you could learn to pickle. We asked the teacher and I guess she is really popular because she said all her classes were already full to overflowing, too bad.
Reenie said she was going to practice at home and maybe even enter a jar of beans in the County Fair. The teacher explained that the judges are very particular and want the brand of jar to match the brand of lid and the beans, of course, we know this now, to be all exactly the same size. Reenie said maybe she could find a tequila worm that could just kind of float around at the bottom.
First prize is $4.50, coincidentally, the same price as a beer and a bump down at Tony's Tap and Tanning Salon. If she wins, I'll let you know and we'll meet her down there. . .
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)