confessions of a delinquent blogger

November 27, 2007 at 10:13 pm 2 comments

Man, have I been missing in action on this blog lately or what? Anymore, it seems like what inspires me to write is the desire to RANT. And, I’ve felt very much like not sharing angst. Okay, well, I did share some angst once, but after reading it a couple of times myself I decided it was a bit corrosive in nature. So, I deleted that post. For the thirty some odd of you who read it and watched it *POOF* disappear, sorry ’bout that ‘un. I often vent here, but I don’t want to mame. Ya know?

I hate my round-toed brown shoes. I’m trying to like them.  I bought them, afterall.  But, I just don’t. They’re so not for me. Truthfully, I need to pick up some longer length pants so I can wear higher heels. I mean, the brown shoes in question?  They’re on trend. Jessye would never let me out of the house if they weren’t fashionably presentable. But, hhhhhh! It’s a sad tale. But,  I just got tired of searching for the perfect mix of trendy, brown, and affordable. And I…I just caved and bought theeeeeeeeeese…theeeeeese… shhhhhhhhhoooooooooes out of exhaustion and need for brown flats. I have FAILED myself. How could I do this to me?

Our church is in the throws on Christmas cantata rehearsals galore. And, this Sunday is CANTATA SUNDAY. In the words of Handsome Jimmy Valiant, “Mercy Deddy!”  I cry mercy!   Around the ole hacienda we daily recite the mantra:

 “Hakunah cantata, hakunah cantata, hakunah cantata, hakunah! It MEANS no worries!” (ohhhh go on, join in. I KNOW you know this song!) “For the rest of your days! It’s our problem-free phiLOSoPHEEEEE! Hakunah cantata!”

No, I haven’t been drinking. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times, I don’t drink.  Remember, jokers, you were the one complaining that I never write anymore. Care to retract those complaints now that you’ve witnessed my current state of mind?

Maggie is playing with a balloon from her cousin Morgan’s birthday party. She’s batting the balloon about in the living room. Maybelle was attempting to play, too, until every adavance the dog made towards the balloon was met with frantic shreiks from her five year old friend. She’s now retreated to the comfort of her kennel. Maybelle, that is.  Maggie won’t fit in the kennel. If she could, I’m sure she’d get in with her, and then Maybelle wouldn’t have a moment’s peace. The dog needs that place of sanctuary.

My house smells like garlic. I baked half a loaf of garlic bread tonight. Assuming Terry gets home from cantata rehearsal sometime tonight, I’ll make him a delicious grilled ham and swiss sandwich with it. Oh wait–Maggie is bellowing.   (Please stand by…)

From the east wing of Malone Manor I hear the melodic stylings of a near fifteen year old saxophone player. She announced over the weekend that she has a bazillion songs to pass off *over the next two weeks. {(*pass off: to play a song in front of the band director to prove your proficiency in playing said song.) That definition was for all you people who don’t comprehend band-speak.}  So, I hope our new neighbors will not call the Poe-Poe on us for disturbing the peace. Friends with the police scanner, turn ‘er up. You know who you are! John, I trust you’ll let us know if SPD is coming our way on a domestic disturbance call.

Yes, we have new neighbors. Okay, not new. Relatively new, though.  Wait, I think I may have mentioned them before? If I did, then I pro’ly toldja that I kinda thought they might be spies, initially. I mean, we never saw them. They’d slink in under cover of darkness and all we’d see was their tail lights disappearing behind the lowering automatic garage door. But, finally we made contact. They have a dog as big as my car. His name is BOSCO. So, naturally I said, “Bosco? Are y’all from Nashville?” And whattaya know? They are. And, Pam Case? He’s a PK.  You know what they say, preacher’s kids are the worst. (Just kiddin’ Chetch.) But, that IS what THEY say, ya know.  And by the way, they’re not spies. As it turns out they’re salesmen. Well he is, anyway.

So, the new neighbor-feller’s wife works for the company that owns William Sonoma and Pottery Barn. And they keep flinging their employee discount in my face. Offering it to me. How long can I say continue saying nooooooo? Hhhhhh! Having been in retail management myself, I have never been one to ask someone if I could use their discount.) But, if they keep shoving that opportunity at me…ME! Me with furniture neeeeeeeds! I may have to give in and just USE THEM mercilessly. Hhhhhhhh!

Last night we were coming in from our four-days-late Thanksgiving meal at my mama and daddy’s house. And, there was the neighbor couple, backin’ a moving truck in. Ohhhhhhhhh me. So, we got out of the car, and Terry and the girls made a beeline for the house. As exhausted and zapped as Terry is right now, I know he heard the couch calling his name. But, I heard the neighbors calling mine. They summoned me over to view their latest incredible furniture purchases. Grrrrr!  Well more on that in a minute.

Before last night, I had not met the new neighbor lady yet. So, I finally introduced myself. Oh, I mean, I’d waved at her a couple of times over the past week, of course.  But inevitably our schedules have been such that both times I saw her, I’d been in like in mismatched pajamas and flip flops, sporting serious bed-head, and carrying a hefty bag of garbage out to the trash bin. Yeah? Ya with me? Didn’t think that’d make a great first impression. So, I decided I’d wait and let the first time I’d stick out my hand and say howdy be a time when I didn’t have the previous day’s mascara melted down to my cheeks.  (Seemed right to me.)

Anyhoo–So, the new neighbors told me last night that they plan to rent here in this town through July; then they plan to leave. To this remark, I looked at them in disbelief and responded by scrunching up my eyebrows and saying, “Well, look here folks: I hope you don’t expect MEEEEEE to invest any time in yoooooou people if you’re telling me already that you’re outa here in seven months.”   We all laughed. But, I’m not completely kidding. Of course, I invited them to church anyway. I mean, they may not be in town for long, but maybe they can take the Lord with ’em when they go. : ) Have God will travel. Head ’em up; move ’em out. (Cue theme from “Paladin”.)  Don’t even tell me you don’t know “Paladin”.  Hhhhhhh! Babies!

So then the new neighbor feller started hinting around about askin’ Terry to help him move a big, honkin’ couch outa the back of that moving truck… UPSTAIRS.

Uhhhhhhhhh, noooooo. My Terry doesn’t need to be hauling anything up a staircase. I’m sure I could get a second on that emotion from Greg Jenkins and Brad Thompson.  I mean, hey buddy–we have a back to protect, bro!  Heh!  Over and above that, we have a holiday season to protect, bubba.  (Okay, I didn’t tell the neighbor feller any of that. But, I sure didn’t waste any time finding my way home after he said that, ya know?)

So, the neighbor feller says, “Well, I’d better start unloadin’ that moving truck!”   

And I said, with little or no hesitation, “Okie doke. I’ll be next door eating pie.” 

And I beat a hasty retreat home. Well! I mean, come on!  I usually am a pretty decent Welcome Wagoneer.   Yes, I’ll bake you a pan of biscuits.  Bring you a lovely jar candle, at the very least. But let’s not push it.  Yeah, yeah; welcome to the neighborhood, already!   Shhhhhort-timers!  But, I just can’t see me unloadin’ your boxes and your brand spankin’ new 80% off retail Pottery barn furniture for ya. Especially not with Thanksgiving supper sittin’ in my belly. Seven months? Phooey! Why bother unpacking? I’d just live outa my suitcase and stack the boxes in the garage.

-tsm

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Entry filed under: mindless babble.

happy birthday maggie moo an email conversation

2 Comments Add your own

  • 1. jeterfam6  |  November 29, 2007 at 10:26 am

    Wow…………those neighbors stay in a house ’bout as long as we do except they don’t BUY their house so that they NEVER make a profit and there UPSIDE down on their mortgage…….j/k, sort of!!! Seriously, Grace told my Mom that IF we were still living in THIS house on Thanksgiving we were having Daddy’s side of the family over………poor children, they never know what’s coming next!

    Like

  • 2. pcase  |  November 30, 2007 at 12:07 am

    Wow – wasn’t sure where to begin on commenting… since I was actually mentioned by name! Still chuckling over the possibility of a POE POE call over Jessye’s sax playing.

    Then I had to laugh at any admission that you were interacting with next door neighbors! LOL. You know we both have been known to slither into our respective homes like snakes to avoid any interaction with the outside world! Like you, it has changed over time. But as you know, I’ve had five neighbor families come and go from my driveway’s north side. So, I’ve not gotten too attached thru the years Meanwhile, Dan and Laura remain as my trusty southside neighbors.

    In just over a year from now, ALL my neighbors will wonder what happened to us, as we have started the 18 month countdown to packin’ it up and gettin’ a little closer to the big city. I’ve learned a lot about myself in 11 years, I’m pretty much a city gal.

    I sure know what THEY say about PK’s. THEY haven’t met Chetch, have THEY?!! As for my very own PK, she’s doing great and counting down more than we are as she has college on the brain. As you know, despite her PK status, she has walked a pretty straight path – making momma and daddy proud!

    Whoa – it is late – what am I doing online at 11p!!!! Goodnight friend!

    Like

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