The Nearest Book Meme

Miss Elizabeth tagged me a while back and I have been very lazy about getting around to doing anything about it.

1..Pick up the nearest book.
2.Open to page 123.
3.Locate the fifth sentence.
4.Post the next three sentences on your blog and in so doing...
5.Tag five people, and acknowledge who tagged me.

As the reading material closest at hand is "Principles Of ICD-9-CM Coding", I had to trot to the bedroom.


Thomas Pynchon, V.


‘The stories, by the time Profane heard them, were pretty much apocryphal and more fantasy than the record itself warranted. At no point in the twenty or so years the legend had been handed on did it occur to anyone to question the old priest’s sanity. It is this way with sewer stories, they just are, truth or falsity don’t apply.”


Let’s see now, I wonder what Taterbug is reading, and anything Al happens to be perusing ought to be interesting. Tony may still be working on Balzac, we’ll see, and Jeff ought to have something interesting going on. And I am sure my dear Wills is reading something highly enlightening at the moment..

For my Mary Poppins friend.

Who is indeed practically perfect in every way, with the glaring exception of a dislike of Bono.. I expect you'll miss neither the sentiment nor my typically perverse sense of humor. Mainly because you love me in spite of myself.




We're both right dear.. Don't just listen, hear me too.


And love is not the easy thing
The only baggage that you can bring...
And love is not the easy thing...
The only baggage you can bring
Is all that you can't leave behind

And if the darkness is to keep us apart
And if the daylight feels like it's a long way off
And if your glass heart should crack
And for a second you turn back
Oh no, be strong

Walk on, walk on
What you got they can't steal it
No they can't even feel it
Walk on, walk on...
Stay safe tonight

You're packing a suitcase for a place none of us has been
A place that has to be believed to be seen
You could have flown away
A singing bird in an open cage
Who will only fly, only fly for freedom

Walk on, walk on
What you've got they can't deny it
Can't sell it, or buy it
Walk on, walk on
Stay safe tonight

And I know it aches
And your heart it breaks
And you can only take so much
Walk on, walk on

Home... hard to know what it is if you've never had one
Home... I can't say where it is but I know I'm going home
That's where the hurt is

I know it aches
How your heart it breaks
And you can only take so much
Walk on, walk on

Leave it behind
You got to leave it behind
All that you fashion
All that you make
All that you build
All that you break
All that you measure
All that you feel
All this you can leave behind
All that you reason
All that you sense
All that you speak
All you dress-up
All that you scheme...

I'm considering Hermit as my next career..

Assumptions often annoy me. Not that y’all actually care, but a few encounters last weekend reminded me of how utterly irritating people can be when traveling. And I’m also mainly posting something so Tater will stop whining..

When I travel I tend to try and make as nice as possible with the locals. Not only is this simply common politeness, it is their home after all, but truthfully people tend to be nicer to you if you’re not behaving like a jerk. I really wish some people would return the favor.

Memorial Day weekend reminded me of why I generally hole up on the mountain and try not to venture forth unless absolutely necessary on holidays. The entire people driving like maniacs thing being one reason. I’m spoiled by living out here, as most folks generally are fairly polite drivers. You cut me off and try and kill me to get to the gas pump first, I don’t have to check your license plate honey, and I know damn well you’re not from around here.

What started this anti social rant you ask? OK, you didn’t, but I’m going to tell you anyway. Ice. Yes, a simple bag of ice. I realized that I had indeed neglected to lay in extra ice for the traditional weekend cookout. Cursing myself I get in the car and head on down the hill to the local market/gas station. On weekends it tends to get a little crazy down there as it’s right off the interstate, but holiday weekends are a real pain.

I digress.. So I park the car, get my ice and head for the counter to check out. There was a woman in front of me who was apparently lost. Carol, the very nice lady at the register, is obviously not getting through and the line is backing up so she sweetly asks if I can provide this person with directions. Sure, no problem. The woman states her destination is Washington. I inquire “Washington D.C. or Washington VA?” She looks at me as if I have two heads and then proceeds to speak to me as if I am a complete moron. Well I consider this a fairly simple question as, given the location, it could be either.. Virginia it is.. fine. I try and give her the fairly simple, straightforward directions and she keeps interrupting me and asking “Are you sure?” Lady, I have lived here sixteen years, yes I am quite sure. Not deterred she continues to be as rude and condescending as humanly possible. Finally I give up and give her the rest of the directions in French and walk away.

The moral of the story? If I hear, a Jersey accent, I am not going to automatically assume you’re an asshole. Don’t assume I’m some sort of inbred morn because I have a bit of an accent myself sister.. I don’t exactly sound like a bit character from Deliverance or something. At least I don’t think so.

Anyway, the point being bigoted assumptions are not confined to gender, race or sexual preference. There are plenty of people that assume the moment they cross the Mason-Dixon line that we’re all a bunch of stupid rednecks. And I’m not saying there aren’t any, but I don’t presume the minute I head north everyone is a rude, ill-mannered asshole- kindly return the favor.

Let the whining commence!!

Well since two of my very favorite people are off having fun in NY without me, I’ll just pout all weekend, thank you very much. And on top of that my computer is acting all freaky on me. I had this very amusing video for my Taterbug and Tony, damn thing keeps crashing the machine, then I tried to email them a verbal Bon Voyage, ditto.. and if you guys did get 52 identical emails from me- I'm really sorry, I swear!!!! I’m getting very, very irritated.

I hope you have a fabulous time boys, and don't do anything that would land you on the cover of the Times. or in the hospital.. Perhaps it's all for the best, let's face it, I'd have kind of stuck out on Bear Hill after all. Let me know you made it home safe and sound, and I expect lots and lots of pictures!!!

I'm retiring back to the swooning couch to sob my little heart out again..

Happy Mother's Day!

To all you Mothers, and to all you children- have yourselves a lovely day.

I give you the Divine Miss Billie and the always amazing and suave Count Basie. Because Mamma adored them both and some of her happiest memories were seeing them both play in numerous venues. Some of my happiest memories are recalling how her face lit up when she told me the tales of her adventures club hopping with Daddy.

The Mother and Child Reunion.

The Mother and child relationship is frequently fraught with many a complication that simply doesn’t fit on your standard greeting card. Mother’s Day tends to bring up a lot of emotion, some good, some bad. For those that have a rocky relationship with their mother, it’s perhaps a time to try and step back and appreciate that she did the best she could under the circumstances. For those with an untenable relationship, a sad day wishing for a connection they might never have. For those that have lost a mother, it can be a day of both sadness and happy memories. I vote you go with the happy personally.

My relationship with Mamma was one of huge ups, and equally huge downs. The gory bits of which I shan’t get into for one simple reason- many years ago I made my peace with her and realized she did the best she could with what she had to work with. And all things considered, she really was a good mother, and in spite of my contrary nature and the fact that the universe conspired to rain undue amounts of ill fortune on her head- she loved us all, really and truly and gave it her best shot.

I like to think that trying to recall the good parts, as opposed to the ones that hurt me or made me angry isn’t denial. It happens to be my acceptance that life sometimes is wonderful and sometimes it just flat out sucks.. And sometimes, shit just happens and there’s nothing you can do about it. So for this Mother’s Day, I choose to remember the happy moments, and the things I really loved about her that made the unpleasant bits easier to dismiss as an adult.

Mamma was raised in a time and place that was a bit peculiar. She was to be polite, ladylike, marry well and be a perfect lady.. Yet her family tree was heavily littered with that near stereotype of southern woman that pulled a Scarlett and did whatever the hell she wanted..

She played sports, she went to real college, as opposed to a “school for young ladies”, she married for love, owned a business, modeled when it wasn’t something proper married women did, but did it all with such style that she was still “socially acceptable”. But I think she gave up a lot when she married Daddy, and even more when she had the four of us.

She was a piece of work, plain and simple. Watching her work the dining room was an education- she would swan into the room and you couldn't help but look. No denying she really was a genuinely beautiful woman, but it was more than that, when she turned it on there was a charisma that simply couldn't be denied. It was her element, every guest that walked into their restaurant would be subject to her personal attention, plumber or First Lady, it did not matter. Her staff both loved and feared her truthfully. She had a very discreet series of gestures for summoning and if you missed it, woe be unto you later.. trust me- I was on the tail end of that more than once.

But I think one of my favorite memories has to be when I was in junior high school- it was career day. Everyone else had their Dad come in. In strolls Mamma in this fabulous Pucci print dress and scarf with these huge Jackie shades. The entire class just sort of went “Huh?” She proceeded to explain the joys of killing yourself by being in the restaurant business for about five minutes. Then she launches into a lovely lecture about finding what really makes you happy. I totally had the coolest Mom in junior high school that day..

I think one of the hardest things for her to reconcile was being taken seriously. The most often heard comment at her funeral was “She was the most beautiful woman I ever knew”. Hey, she totally worked it, and she sure as hell used it to her advantage. Ok, it is what it is. But she was a beautiful woman that was also really smart, and very kind and she had about the most generous heart a human has the capacity to expand to. And I often wonder if her life might have been terribly different had she not been the beauty of the family. I always found it ironic that her sister wondered as well.. After mamma died her sister said to me “You know, I really think that if she’d have been a little plainer, her life would have taken a very different path “ I expect there's a lot of truth in that.

Perfect? No. Mother of the year? Probably not. But Mamma, you tried your best, you were a hell of a lot of fun during the good times, and you did always apologize, after a fashion, for the bad ones, and you had phenomenal taste and being your size was always a good thing!

As my dear friend Buddy likes to say “you roll the dice, you take your chances- and then you walk away.”

Or the one saying I always come up with that irritates the hell out of my kids "Sometimes it really just is what it is"

A Cautionary Tale-

Under no circumstances should two men, a bull dozer and a twelve pack be left home alone while you run to town to take care of a few things..













Don't say I never warned you.