A part of my childhood has died with the death of actor George Lindsey. Lindsey is most famously known as Goober Pyle from The Andy Griffith Show and also as cousin to Gomer Pyle. For those of you not familiar with The Andy Griffith Show, it was from a time when there was still innocence in television, not the violence and sex seen today. The show was filmed in black and white during the 1960’s and portrayed the fictional town of Mayberry, North Carolina. It was also the starting point for director and producer Ron Howard, who played Andy’s young son Opie.
Of all the characters on the show, Goober Pyle was my favorite. Goober was the comic relief and always made me laugh. By the time The Andy Griffith Show went off the air I was only three years-old, but I grew up watching reruns. Even though we lived in a small town we were fortunate enough to have cable and I believe we got about 20 channels. This seems hard to believe considering the selection of channels available today. We found plenty of shows to watch though and didn’t miss the zillion other channels that would someday come. I was even one of the lucky ones and had my own black and white television in my bedroom.
I had a wonderful childhood and the best parents that anyone could ask for, but that doesn’t mean that I still didn’t daydream about living the perfect life in Mayberry where everyone was always happy and everyone got along. For those of you wanting to daydream about a slower, happier, and much safer time, The Andy Griffith show is available in instant streaming from Netflix and most local channels will carry it at one time or another. Sometimes if fun to just get lost in the simplicity of it all. Hey Goober, may you rest in peace with your Goober beanie and pencil pocket protector.
Reference: Toffler, E. (Photographer). (2012). George Lindsey, aka Goober Pyle, dies. [Web Photo]. Retrieved from http://www.abc3340.com/story/18157968/george-lindsey-aka-goober-pyle-dies
Have you ever called someone on accident from your cell phone and not realized it? Of course you have, who hasn’t? According to the Urban Dictionary the term butt dial is “to phone a friend accidentally using ones buttocks. Usually this is a result of sitting on the phone” (Urban, 2012). I don’t know how many times someone has called me back because of an accidental call on my part. The majority of the time it is fine, but sometimes the call can have disastrous consequences. Usually this happens when the receiving party hears something they shouldn’t. Just imagine carelessly butt dialing your boss and talking about what a jackass he is? This might have some serious repercussions. Better yet, butt dial your wife while fooling around with someone else. That one would probably get you thrown out of the house.
Now, the offending cell phone doesn’t always have to be in your pants for a butt dial to happen, sometimes it can just be casually lying on the bed. This was the case in one of the most embarrassing butt dials of my life. The hubby and I were in bed watching a movie, just enjoying the evening. One thing led to another and before we knew it, it was nookie time. Unbeknownst to either of us though, Robert’s cell phone was in bed with us. We managed to butt dial the last person he called several times. Unfortunately that person was Grandma.
On the other end of the call, things weren’t so fun for Grandma who is near blind and had no clue who was calling her. The calls were scaring her half to death because she was under the impression that whoever was calling was in the process of murdering someone. Imagine the fright that poor woman must have been feeling! She called for help and of course my Mother-in-law came running over. She calmed Grandma down and convinced her not to call the cops after she realized who the calls had been coming from because of caller id. She didn’t know what was going on either and called us to make sure we were OK. Of course, Robert told her that we never called and it must have been some prank call that didn’t show up on the id.
It wasn’t until the next day that we realized what had happened. Yep, we butt dialed Grandma right in the middle of a little nookie. My husband was mortified and refused to call Granny to explain what had happened, so I got left with the job. Explaining butt dialing and sex to an 85-year-old woman is one of the most humiliating things I have ever done and I can guarantee that it will never happen again. So, the moral of this story it to make sure that your cell phone is locked or off so accidental calls won’t happen. You wouldn’t want butt dialing to be responsible for giving someone a heart attack.
Coniac Publishing. (Photographer). (n.d.). Illustration of a man kissing a woman. [Print Photo]. Retrieved from http://www.freestockphotos.biz/stockphoto/8272
Urban Dictionary. (2012). Buttdial. Retrieved from http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=buttdial
Growing up in a small town has its ups and downs, that’s for sure. While part of me misses small-town living, I couldn’t imagine living there ever again. It’s hard to live somewhere where everyone knows your business. But then again, there is no such thing as a small town any longer with the invention of Facebook and other social media sites. Everybody knows everybody’s business anyhow. However, the point of this blog is to do some reminiscing about a particular man who I saw everyday on my way to work in that small town when I was younger.
There weren’t many choices to grab a cup of coffee or get a pop other than the local gas station. Which was OK, coffee wasn’t exactly fancy back in the 80s, so the gas station would do. In fact, when I am back in town I still get coffee there. Anyhow, back to the Man. He was tall and muscular in his early thirties with long, flowing, dirty blonde hair that never seemed out-of-place. Her wore some kind of construction outfit always wearing plaid shirts, jeans, and work boots. Not the kind of man I am normally interested in, but that didn’t matter, he was just nice to look at. Kind of like looking at the diamond necklace in the jewelry store window, you know you aren’t going to get it, but it’s fun to wish.
He was always quiet, never saying a word, at least not audible enough for me to hear. It went this way for six months before he spoke to me. We standing next to the coffee machine and Fabio Jr. offered to pour me a cup.
“Here, let me get that for you” he said in the squeakiest Mickey Mouse voice you could ever imagine.
I kept my composure and thanked him for the coffee, ran to the counter to pay for it, and then out the door I went to my car. It didn’t take long for the tears of laughter to start rolling down my face. Talking about destroying a wet dream. I never went back to that gas station for many years after that. While I know he couldn’t help sounding like Mickey Mouse, it was than I could bear.
There is a shirt that I absolutely love. It fits great, shows off my cleavage without making me look like an over-aged tramp, and hides the bulges well. I wish that every shirt that I own fit me so smoothly. It is one of kind and I have never found one that I love as much and doubtfully never will. However, there is a problem with this shirt, it is doomed to always have some sort malodorous issue. Basically, there is something that always happens to it to make it smelly.
The first time I had a problem with the shirt I kept walking around work and couldn’t figure out where the terrible smell was coming from. It was hideous! It smelled as if a cat had peed in my work area and there was no way that cat was in the building. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that it was me. We had a young male cat at the time that hadn’t been spayed yet. Apparently he sprayed my shirt to mark his territory while it was sitting on my chair in the bedroom. Thank God one of my friends had an extra shirt at work that I wore the rest of the day. The cat no longer lives with us.
I didn’t wear the shirt for quite some time after that because I was paranoid of being “smelly”. It’s one thing to be a little sweaty after a long day, but to smell like cat pee? I don’t think so. A few months went by and I was brave enough to wear my favorite shirt. As the morning went by at work: I realized then that my shirt was cursed. It smelled like mildew. Apparently the shirt was not completely dry when I hung it in my closet, giving that lovely damp odor. I couldn’t wait to go home at lunch and change.
Why this shirt? Does someone have it out for me, not want me to look semi-attractive in a flowing, feminine blouse? For a long time now the shirt has sat in my laundry room, freshly washed, but never worn. For the record, I use Tide and Bounce for my laundry and natural detergent for my husbands. So everything always smells good. Well, this morning I thought “What the heck”. I had to run to Amber’s and decided to wear it with my sweats. Yep, you guessed it right. By the time I got to Amber’s I realized that something had once again got on the shirt giving it some weird smell. Guess it’s time to finally just put it in the trash where it should of went the first time.
My usual mode of dress to go to Wally World is a pair of sweats, no makeup, and tennis shoes. Sometimes I will upgrade my look with a pair of jeans. Seriously though, what’s the point? This is Wal-mart we are talking about, have you seen the people that shop there? Well, I shop there, so that should tell you something I guess. My point is, no one is trying to make a fashion statement and if they are they are probably dressed like a hooker. The rest of us just go casual.
One day I was doing my usual shopping dressed to the nines this time: best tennis shoes, sweats with no food stains (usually I run to the store because I need something cooking), and even makeup. Not that it mattered, I still looked like Grandma going shopping. Most everyone that was there looked just like me, a middle-aged woman getting groceries or a young Mom with a screaming kid. Except for one man. Now, I don’t make a habit of looking at other men for the most part, they are just not an interest for me. I have been married for a long time and even though my husband and I have had our ups and downs, we are pretty comfortable with each other. Besides, men are incredibly hard to train. I should know, I have been trying to train my husband for almost thirty years and he still doesn’t behave.
Back to the MAN. I turned my head in the electronics department and caught a glimpse of one of the best-looking men I have ever seen. Not only was he gorgeous, but he was wearing a tailored suit, making him look like a Hollywood celebrity. Not the kind of man you see in the electronics department at Wal-mart. The average guy there is wearing a baseball cap and his underwear or his gut are hanging out of his jeans. As he walked by with his manicured hands and smooth, dark hair, I couldn’t help but stare.
As he got a little farther away from me I mumbled under my breath, “Wow, that guy was hot!”
From behind me comes the voice of a little old lady who heard me, “Why yes, honey, it is hot in here”.
I looked at her, smiled, and went about my grocery shopping. I have never learned to look before I speak, but this time it was worth it.
Last night was the first night that a baby has spent the night in my home in 19 years. Talk about stressful. Not for the baby, but for me. My grandbaby Harper stayed with us so Amber and Ed could go to a party. It wasn’t stressful because of Harper, but more fear on my part that something would go wrong. Sounds silly, doesn’t it? I have raised two children, pretty good kids I might add, and never had any issues. Both kids survived my parenting skills and seem well adjusted. No serial killer children in my family from living with a psycho Mom. Don’t most serial killers have issues with their Mothers?
Anyhow, Harper did just fine and fell asleep about midnight, but not me. I didn’t dare take a sleeping pill (I take them for the RLS and also helps with the Fibromyalgia). However, I can still usually get some some sleep without a pill, but not last night. I was too paranoid that something would happen. What if the cat jumped into bed with Harper? What if she had boogers in her nose and couldn’t breath? What if? What if? What if? The things going through my mind were endless, such a precious life was in my hands.
If only I had thought about Uncle Simon. He would have watched over little Harper so I could close my eyes. You see, Uncle Simon is one of our dogs. Now, the dogs had not been introduced very much to Harper yet because she is so tiny and they are extremely rowdy. We have four dogs, a St. Bernard mix, a Pit Bull (not what you think, he is kind and sweet), a grumpy, old poodle mix, and Simon, a I have no idea mix. Of all of the dogs, Simon is the protector, the savour of small animals, and lover of all. Since Amber is technically his sister in our strange pet-filled environement, he is Uncle Simon to Harper.
My husband is a little slow at remodeling and even though Amber had been pregnant for nine months and Harper is now one month old, the new baby room at our house is just in the process of being painted and redone. I would have done it, but Bob is a perfectionist and I don’t work up to his standards, so It takes years sometimes for projects to get done. This one will hopefully be done this week. Cross you fingers. Even though the new crib is set up in our bedroom, Harper and I couldn’t sleep in there since Bob gets up for work at 3:30 in the morning. He works hard for his family and needs his sleep. Otherwise he is grumpy and I get to listen to him whine. So I laid on the couch in the family room with the play pen next to me while Harper slept. Finally! 3:30 arrived and we were able to move to the bedroom. Harper had her bottle and she was ready to get down and party! I kicked the two big dogs out of the bedroom and made them sleep in the family room while Simon and grumpy Mr. Foofers slept with us on the bed. This was not Simon’s first meeting with Harper and I could tell he was overjoyed. You see, Simon has never been around a baby, but has helped raise several litters of kittens. Simon was there when the kittens were born each time and even cleaned them up for the Momma Kitty. As the kittens would get older, Simon would round them up from their sleepping box to come sleep with him. He loved those baby kitties. So, for Uncle Simon, Harper is a big baby kitty that he can help protect. He was devasted this morning when she left and kept looking all over the house and crib for her. Did I mention that Simon has only three legs?
Not everyone was as thrilled as Simon though. Mr. Foofers is a very old dog with a large hernia on his tummy and cataracts on his eyes. His resting place is in my arms most nights, I think it makes him more comfortable as age and senility set in. Foofers was at the foot of the bed when Harper and I were laying down. Foofers walked up to me expecting to be taken into the fold of my arms and get a little snuggle. Not to be Mr. Foofs! In fact, he gave us both a very dirty look through his cataract-encrusted eyes, huffed, then went back to the foot of the bed.
As for the other two dogs, Caesar and Bear, they finally got to meet Harper in the morning while she was in her crib. They were certainly less interested than the other two and immediately went back to roughhousing, only to get kicked out the door to go play. All in all, things went well and I am looking forward to Harper spending the night again.
Often I would go to lunch with the girls from work to a place called the Pizza Parlor in Oakland. It’s a great little restaurant that is worthy of stopping at if you have never visited, the food is awesome. On one particular trip, I went with only Cassidy and Lupe for lunch. It was a pretty normal lunch for us, lots of laughs, including Cassidy trying to stick salt and pepper shakers down my pants, and shoving packets of sugar in my purse. Cassidy would also usually try to dupe me into believing some silly story with my innocent little Lupe backing her up. Sometimes I would believe them, sometimes not. Occasionally they would actually tell me a true story that I refused to believe because it was just too wild.
After a couple of years of this, one would think that my gullibility factor would have improved, but nope, not mine. Maybe it isn’t that I am not so much an easy mark, but just a trusting person. Not often would I get the chance to get even with them, but such opportunity presented itself during that lunch. We all went to the counter to pay with Cassidy leading the pack. She handed her debit card to the waitress who handed it back to Cass because it wasn’t working. Poor Cass turned bright red and asked Lupe to pay for her meal too. Now, in Cassidy’s defense, her card wasn’t working because of a screw up with the bank. Still, she looked mortified because it wouldn’t work and for having to ask Lupe to bail her out.
Standing behind Cass, watching her extreme embarrassment, and bright red cheeks, I knew it was my turn to POUNCE! Time for a little payback baby. I walked up to the counter, paid for my food, then apologized to the waitress for their behavior.
“Children, I can’t take them anywhere in public! They never behave” I bitched at the waitress with a twinkle in my eye. Then turning to Cass and Lupe, I began to scold them. “I can’t wait to get home and tell your Father what you just did! He is going to be so pissed” I fussed at them.
Lupe looked at me and could only say “but Mom!” as I scooted them out of the restaurant and into the car.
I don’t think that we ever laughed as hard as we did that day on our way back to work.
I used to work with a couple of ladies who were slightly crazier than I am, Cassidy and Lupe. Cassidy, of course, was the main culprit, always doing something awful and causing mischief. Lupe, on the other hand, was the quiet one. The only problem with the quiet one is that they can cause even more trouble than the main protagonist.
I always tried to be on the lookout for whatever devilry Cass might be up to, but I was frequently the blunt of her joke. It was OK though, I have a good sense of humor and enjoyed the fun she cooked up (most of the time). She once tricked me into eating a sliver of a Habanero pepper by pretending to put it in her mouth and telling me how good it was. What a load of bull! I thought I was going to hack up a lung it was so hot. Now, you would think that I learned my lesson from this little episode, but once a blonde (even if I have to dye it now) always a blonde.
Friendly, pretty, and innocent little Lupester came up to me one morning not long before lunch with three pieces of red Mike and Ike’s candy for me. I thought she was being so sweet. Since I didn’t want to eat the candy right then, I wrapped them in tissue and put them in my pocket. They would make a great snack for later.
It wasn’t long before Cass came up to me and asked, “didn’t Lupe give you some candy? Was it good?”
So, with great anticipation, I pulled out the candy and unwrapped it from the tissue. They felt a little gooey and the tissue was sticking a bit, but I figured that they just melted a little bit in my pocket and they would be OK. So I cleaned off what I could of the tissue and popped one in my mouth. I was expecting a cinnamony splash of flavor and instead got a taste of ick when I bit into the “candy”. It didn’t take me long to figure out that this wasn’t a Mike and Ikes, oh no, it was something definitely not edible.
I looked over across the break room to see Cass and Lupe in hysterics, looking as if they were getting ready to almost roll on the floor. I knew right then I had been gotten good. It seems they used red wax from the laboratory and rolled it up to resemble candy. Even though I had already been the blunt of many of Cassidy’s jokes over the past couple of years, she knew I was and will always be extremely gullible. After I got over the grody feeling of almost eating wax, it was actually pretty funny. Thank you Cassidy and Lupe for the of the funniest days I have ever had. I miss you guys.
The last few weeks have been hectic and somewhat stressful with the pregnancy of our daughter Amber and the birth of Harper. I spent quite a bit of time staying with Amber while her boyfriend worked and then of course helping her out at the hospital. That is the way it should be though, Mom helping out. She is doing well now and is going to be an awesome Mother. She also has a great support system with her boyfriend Ed, making me super proud of both of them.
However, things were pretty tough on my husband while I was away so many nights. For some reason, men (at least mine) have a difficult time functioning on their own. Even though I made sure that his supper was made and everything was ready for him the next day (breakfast, lunch, clothes laid out), he just about didn’t survive. At least, that is how he felt. I guess that I should be happy that my husband depends on me so much and can’t live without me, but after thirty years together you think I would be able to get him out of the diaper stage.