Archive for the ‘Stories’ Category


Boyfriend Bob

November 28, 2007

That’s right…when I was 3-4 yrs old my imaginary friend’s name was Boyfriend Bob.  He always let me ride my catepillar inch-worm rider first.  He was the best boyfriend ever!

I remembered Boyfriend Bob the other day when I overheard Gremlin talking to all his “friends”.  It sounds like he had a whole herd of ’em in his room. 

OldMan had 2 very faithful friends:  Boy (who was a boy…shocker) and Kid (who was a girl).  Boy and Kid were great companions for OldMan up through Kindergarten.  I ended up having the conversation with him about moving on from his dear friends.

Gremlin’s been playing with his friends for about 6 months now.  He has so many I had to sit down with him and write it all down:

Big kid (boy)
T.D. (girl)
T.D. Bo-bah (boy)
Bo-Bay (girl)
Gi-bah (boy, but he’s at school.  He’s also 255 yrs old and irritates people.)

Apparently, he requires a crowd.  I asked him, “Are you sure about their gender?”

“Yep…that’s what they look like.”

Oh.  Right.  Sure. 

As goofy as those names are, he never changes them and is quite adament about who is who (or whom is whom…HELLO!…I live in the Ozarks.)

Apparently I was much more simple-minded when it came to my imaginary friend.  There was only one.  He was loyal, thought the stars hung in my eyes, and treated me like a lady.  And it took me over 20 years to find another like that.  Except he’s not imaginary!

So I’m curious, who was your imaginary friend?


What happened to Thanksgiving?

November 6, 2007

Gremlin and I are in a knock down drag out fight dispute.  Being 4 years old, he doesn’t remember anything about Thanksgiving, so to him there is no such thing.  Of course t.v. shows, commercials, and stores are NOT helping this fight what so ever.  Everywhere you look it’s all about Christmas…and it’s KILLING my side of the argument!

The other day, on the way to a local grocery store, the argument got started again.  I had a headache and had been up all night hacking my life-force out.  I was not in the mood for this.  I told him to knock it off and not to talk about it again.

Yeah, I’ve got completely control….right.

I absolutely LOVE this local-yocal store.  It’s one of the places where the baggers are local senior citizens, they have donation jars for the local high school band, one of the baggers carries a pocket full of quarters just in case a birthday kid comes in his line….he always wishes them Happy Birthday and gives them a quarter.  It becomes a tradition for little kids in the area to head to Murfins for their birthday quarter.  They also have little carts with flags that say “Future Shopper”, and Gremlin adores it! 

Since we didn’t have very many things to get the other day, I let him take care of the cart for me.  He was an uber-angel!  He got everything we needed and carefully put them in his cart, then when we got to the check out, he unloaded everything onto the belt, and lastly walked his grocery cart over to where it belongs and pushed it in place.

When he grows up he’s going to be the most caring shopper ever!

As I was checking out, I noticed they had a new bagger.  He was quite…uhm….elderly. And was lacking all teeth except 2.  He was oh-so cute!  After Gremlin returned from putting his cart up, that cute, little old man looked at him then asked me, “He your son?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Humph…well, he looks full of it!”  He leaned down to get face to face with him…

“Are you full of it!?”  Gremlin nods his head right proudly.

That old man eyed him up and down then said, “Well….then MERRY CHRISTMAS!!”

They looked at each other for a split second, then Gremlin snapped his eyes back to me… “SEE?!?!?!?!”

What am I thankful for this season?…Drunk old men.


Craft fairing for Dumbies

October 22, 2007


I’ve experienced a lot of cultures, but going to a craft fair in Arkansas takes the cake.

There was serious Christmas shopping going on.  The parking was nuts and so were the people, but this is what I learned at War Eagle:

1.  Exhibitors are no dumbies.  They know how to take advantage of big store consumers.  Every toy booth had signs like the following:

Our crafts have been painted with lead-free paint!

Smart little hillbillies!

2.  There are some really unique ideas (and I took advantage of those) and there are some down right DUMB ideas (and I laughed at those).  Nothing was as dumb as the people who were buying duck tape wallets from a guy at the Apple Butter Festival for $5.00!!!  I am NOT kidding you!  Or as wacky as the guy that took his beer bottles and made hummingbird feeders out of them.  That’s what I want…a bunch of drunk hummingbirds swirly-giggin’ in my front yard!!

3.  People will get vicious to park in a handicapped spot then walk for 8 hours to get the best deal on some copper cat-tail rain chimes!  Or better yet, they come with a motorized scooter and run over the toes of 110,000 impatient shoppers!

4.  The food!!!  I’ve never seen so much food!  Foot-long corn dogs, strawberry crepes,  choco-dipped cheesecake on a stick,…just about EVERYTHING was on a stick and cost my right arm to eat it…but it was YUM!

4.  As crazy as it was, I found some great, unique gifts like this shirt:


 Can you believe it?!?!?!

I had a blast with some great gals. 

There was Hot-Mama ‘D’ who put up with a car full of 30-somethings acting like a bunch of 10 year old boys (did you know that there is a creek called Spanker Creek that butts up to Beaver lake??)

Ginger – she is my dear sweet friend who has a side to her that ROCKS!  She’s a trip!  “Good girl”…my fanny! 

Now ‘J’….she is a girl after my own heart…prego and ready to chow at any time..!  I never want to leave a prego-girlfriend in the lurch when it comes to feeding the baby.  I ate for her….REALLY!

There was Crazy Coco who ended up being my bed mate…and who was the queen of sarcasm…I’ve learned a whole new line of vocabulary from her!

Thanks ya’ll for giving me some great memories and laughs!


The Ghat

October 16, 2007

Indian train

I’m dreading this post, but I know it’ll end up coming out at some point or time so I might as well just do it now.  It’s the My-Most-Embarrassing-Moment post. 

The first time we moved to India as a family we lived in Madras.  Every season was extreme in Madras.  The lower castes (untouchables) had so many fatalities when the monsoons would hit.  They died by the loads during the cold season.  Cold to them was anything below 70 degrees.  Imagine people dying due to 60 degree tempatures!

We weren’t in India long when my brother, Hulkman, came down with an illness that almost killed him.  That is a story for another day.  After he recovered, the doctors told my father that Hulkman needed a cool place to recover.  The Assemblies of God had a compound in Kodaikanal and they offered one of their homes to our family.

To get to Kodai we had to ride a train through the night to the Palani Hills then a guy who lived in the compound was to meet us at the bottom of the hill (uh…more like mountain) and drives us up the Ghat.  The Ghat took several hours to drive and had like a million hairpin turns.  Now mind you the road was the width of a narrow lane and you had to share the road with goats, donkeys, cows, people, and lorries (looks like dump trucks). 

A few hours before we got on the train a friend took us to one of our favorite steak houses (only the holy cows aren’t eaten…and we’re not vegetarian).  This place had the best steaks, but it was practically pitch black inside for a reason.  The cockroaches that dwelled at this restaurant was nauseating, but when you need a steak…dang it…you need a steak!  We just learned not to touch the table much.

Apparently my steak had a little more than just steak sauce on it because about 2 hours into our train trip I was puking everywhere.  Poor dad was sound asleep and just couldn’t get the locks on the door open fast enough.  His socks took a beating.

(By the way, Dad…why exactly were you sleeping in black socks?!?!)

Even though most 12 year olds can get to the bathroom fast enough, I puked all night and didn’t make it once to the bathroom in time.  You see, when you get touched with the ‘Delhi-belly’ it’s like nothing most American’s have ever experienced.

Needless to say, by the end of our train ride I was one wore out little girl.  I don’t remember much about getting into the van.  I just remember laying in the back seat with my head propped on my mum’s lap.  About half way up the Ghat, it hit my bowels.  Here comes the embarrassing part….

I was wearing a salwar, which is drawstring pants with a dress-like top.  This particular top had a high slit on both sides so I had a front flap and a back flap.  Like this…


Thankfully, we were driving up an area that was mostly desserted.  I ran…yes RAN about a hundred yards down the hill, hid behind some bushes, dropped my drawers and let ‘er rip.  Talk about the screaming mimi’s!  I was dying!

Then I heard a faint rustling sound down the hill from me.  I froze.  I looked up at my mum, but she was facing the van.  I knew not to yell for her, in case the rustling was closer than I thought.  I was pretty much done with my business so I just sat there real quiet thinking that maybe whatever was down there would wander away.

No such luck.

The sound was getting closer…real close.  I needed to know what it was so I peered over the bush in front me and wouldn’t you know it…we both made eye-contact.  Or rather, I should say, we all made eye-contact.

A family of wild boars was VERY interested in my ‘business’.  I panicked.  I jumped up, pants around my ankles and turned to run, yelling for my mum.  I scared the crap out of the boars so they took off in the other direction and then I froze. 

Remember the back flap to my top?  Apparently I hadn’t gotten that completely out of the way when I was doing my ‘business’.  When I jumped up real quick, the heavily drenched flap, slapped itself on the back of my thighs with much dripping of goo.

I was embarrassed that the driver would see me, I was freaked out that the boars would come back, I was nervous that a bunch of Indians would come out of woodwork to help the poor little white girl…it was humiliating.  My poor mum was my hero that day as she quickly brought me another set of clothes and helped me clean up.

It’s a horrible experience for anyone, but for a 12-year-old girl, it was unbearable!  Thankfully (?) I did a lot of stupid things in my teen years which helped me appreciate just how dang funny that situation was.

So there you have it.  Ahhhhh…I feel so much better getting that out of the way.  Soooo….how about you?  Wanna share??  It would make a great post….really….and it’s theraputic….come on…you should try it.


Up Syndrome

October 14, 2007


  October is National Down Syndrome Awareness Month (thanks, P&B Girls for the reminder!).  In honor of this, I want to make you “aware” of my brother, Hulkman. 

When it comes to Hulkman I have a tendency of acting like a brand new grandpa…brag, brag, brag.  I love my dear brother.  We are twins born 5 years apart (poor mum!).  I can honestly say that no one has taught me to be more Christ-like than him. 

He is very educable which means he’s smart enough to tell me that he doesn’t have Down Syndrome…he has Up Syndrome.  And don’t you dare call him retarded.  He says retarded people drool and he doesn’t drool.  One minute he can preach a Brimstone and Fire sermon (purple face and all) then the next he’s telling you about how gentle and loving his friend, Jesus, is.


I’ll never forget the time we almost lost him in India.  He was dying.  He couldn’t talk because of the tubes that had been down his throat for days.  One morning one of the cleaning gals was sweeping up his hospital room floor.  She kept trying to sneak a peek at this white man.  Hulkman noticed and signed to her “I love you”.  She didn’t know sign language so my Dad told her what he said.  She asked, “How can he love me when he doesn’t even know me?”  Dad explained that Hulkman was a simple man that only knew to treat others the way Jesus would treat them, and since Jesus loves her, then Hulkman loves her.  It brought her to tears.  My family and I believe that more than likely Hulkman led more people to Christ in India than most missionaries.  Just because he lives “it”.  He’s not just a Christ follower, but he’s a Christ doer.

 Hulkman is now 40 years old and not afraid to tell me to obey him since he’s my older brother.  I’m sure he’s not going to live more than another 10 years.  I think from time to time, do I have any regrets with him?  And I can’t think of a single one.   Wait…I take that back.  I’m going to regret not being able to see what he looks like in heaven without that extra chromosome.

I bet money we’ll look like twins.


The Lake Road

October 8, 2007

I’ve shared incidents’ from my time overseas from time to time, but as I get older I’m forgetting so much (or rather I have already forgotten so much).

So, starting now, I’m going to write up some of the memories I have of my travels overseas.  Maybe once a week or every other week.

Please note that I in no way want to seclude anyone(thing) or offend anyone.  These are just my stories and my thoughts.  I preface this because of my first story.


When I think of that name it makes me angry and to be truthful a bit scared.  It is scary (to me) to see a creation of my God with so much mis-use of power.  To be honest I guess I really don’t even think it’s a misuse of power, but more of a use of evil power.  See….

During a time of my life I lived in a hillstation (resort of types –  trust me…it’s no Vale!) in South India called Kodaikanal (pronounced Kodi-canal).  It is absolutely beautiful.  A lot of people go there for their vacations to get away from the intense heat of the plains.  We moved there because I was attending the International School there.  I was a day-boarder so I lived off campus with my parents in a compound a couple of miles from the school.  Since I was far enough away, my folks got a mo-ped for me to travel to and from school. 

You would think you couldn’t get any safer than a mo-ped with pedals!  But I wrecked so many times on that stupid thing…I’ve lost count of my scars.

My moped was a faithful machine though.  As a matter of fact there were only 2 occasions where my moped died on me.  I still have dreams about those 2 times.

The 2nd time it happened I was where I shouldn’t have been.

In Kodaikanal, there is a beautiful lake in the middle of town.  It is surrounded by thick pines and super tall eucyleptus trees.  There is a narrow road that winds around the entire breadth of the Kodai Lake.  It’s so surreal.  The school I attended was very difficult and trying on me.  Every once in awhile if things got to be too much I would take a detour on my way home and speed down that narrow road.  The smell of the eucy leaves mixed with just a hint of pine.  No sounds except for the soft hum of my moped and the leaves swirling behind me on the road. 

It was the perfect combination for a peaceful drive.  Until I saw him.

He had never been home before.  I knew it was one of his houses, but it always sat empty.  I guess I got so caught up in school that I hadn’t notice the hub-bub of his followers in town. 

His name is Sai Baba.  Actually his name is something else, but at some point in time of his life he decided he was the reincarnation of a holy man called Sai Baba.  Now this man is called ‘lord Sai Baba’.  His followers (“devotees”) praise him, pray to him, and go to him for healing.  He, along with others, come to Kodaikanal to escape the heat.  During the day he sits outside and blesses his devotees.

On this day the road was filled with about 50 of his white-robed followers.  Mostly Europeans looking for peace.  I’m not sure how I didn’t hit any of them.  But the next thing I knew, I was right in front of him and my moped had come to a jerking halt and died.

I just stared at him and he stared back.  I was frightened and getting irritated.  His eyes never changed, but then suddenly he started to smile.  Not a gentle or happy smile.  More like a snarling smile.

Oh boy, that pissed me off.

I broke eye contact and tried to start my moped back up.  Nothing.  Stupid piece of machine!

I had to get away from him before he said something to me or worse yet – touched me.  Still sitting on my moped, I waddle/walked it away, feeling very defeated.

 As soon as I had gone around the bend, I tried the moped again and sure enough it started up with no problems.  I called that stupid bike everything, in every language I could think of and sulked back home.

I see that Sai Baba is still around and he’s already proclaimed that he will live until 2019, then he’ll reincarnate again to some other baby and put a goofy-looking fro wig on him.


 I don’t think I actually fear him.  Instead I fear the feeling that he made me feel.  When I have dreams that conjure up that feeling, his eyes show up.  It’s sad how many people have spent so much money and years looking for peace from things and man, when it’s right there in front of them.  They just need to embrace it.

There was a lady on Oprah just last week who wrote a book about her travels to Italy, India and Bali looking for inner peace, basically.  I actually heard her say that she was in an ashram waiting for the mosquitos to come so she could conquer the need to swat them away!  Sorry, I didn’t realize finding peace meant acquiring malaria!  My bad…..


Gloom, despair and agony on me!

September 21, 2007

I love Hee Haw.  I grew up cracking up laughing at that show…even those “weird” jokes that I really didn’t get, but my folks were laughing so hard that I just KNEW it had to be hilarious so I cracked a rib over it.  My favorite part was when the guys would get together and sing:

Gloom, despair and agony on me.
Deep dark depression, pain and misery….

Somehow, seeing a bunch of hillbillies singing that song is down right funny!  So as I tell you the strange things afoot in the Ozarks, I dedicate this to my fav hillbillies of all time.

So what is afoot you ask?

See this innocent little butterfly…


Well, he ain’t so innocent as he looks.  And yes, I call him, ‘Mr. Butterfly’ for a reason.  I’ve been working in the yard for 2 days….like a bit of a mad woman really.  And I don’t just mean mowing.  I mean, sharpening anything that should be sharp.  Cutting away anything that looks remotely dead.  Trimming up every bush within an 10 mile radius.  I feel like I’m having a bad case of nesting syndrome….I could drop a kid any day now!

Uh, Butterfly, right….so I was sitting on the ground with OldMan discussing the proper way I should sharpen my edger, when Mr. Butterfly decided to pay a visit.  We froze immediately, hoping of all hopes that he would land on one of us.  It took him FOREVER to decide who to land on but in the end I was the honored one.  He actually took a liking to my watch.  (“pretty-pretty, shiney-shiney”)  I got bored and went on sharpening the edger and that bugger wouldn’t leave!  All of a sudden, OldMan said, “Uh, mom?  I think he just peed on you.”  Sure as shootin, there was a tiny bit of cloudy pee on my watch.  Then Mr. Butterfly started jerking around a lot.  I started thinking, “Cloudy pee?  Oh crap…that’s not pee!”  Ewwwww!!!!  What a male thing to do to my watch!  So when it comes time for me to give OldMan the “talk”, it’s going to be about The Butterflies, the Birds, the Bees and the Watch.

You would think that being “inked” was bad enough, but when I say gloom, despair and agony on me…I mean it.  Check these photos out:


Now the pathetic reasons for those babies.  Picture 1 is from…well, I have absolutely no idea.  And it doesn’t hurt a bit!  But isn’t that an odd place for a bruise?!?  Picture 2 is of the back of my right leg-pit.  It’s there because I crossed my leg too long…basically.  I come from a family that couldn’t circulate their own blood to save their lives.  So when I put a crink in it….it lets me know how unhappy it is.  You can imagine what a pain in the butt THAT can be.

And lastly, my mum’s hair has finally all come out (save about 15 pieces of stub).  How has it all come out so quick?  My father has been putting packing tape on her head and ripping it off!!!  They’re such party animals.  Geez, parents are so embarrassing.  But it gets worse.  In honor of her beautifully slick head, she got dad to take a picture of her with a light bulb in her mouth.  Long lives Uncle Festor!!!  I want SO BAD to post this picture as it is probably the most funniest thing I have ever seen, but she won’t let me.  I believe her response was, “Is nothing sacred on your blog?!?!”  No, mum…it’s not.