YOU CAN TAKE THE GIRL OUT OF THE COUNTRY

I grew up in a small town in Indiana. My father’s family had lived in that same town for many years. I even had some of the same teachers that taught my dad. Many of my friends were children of my father’s schoolmates. You can’t get away with too much in a small town when you have aunts and uncles on every corner. It was a great place to grow up.

It wasn’t until I got married and moved to Florida that I realized just how sheltered my life had been. I’ve lived in South Florida for almost 29 years now and there are still times when I feel like “Ellie Mae Clampett goes to the city.”

Friends make fun of me for saying things like, “You can’t get blood from a turnip.” Apparently big city folk say, “You can’t get blood from a stone.” I still say, “down the road a piece” and “might as well, can’t dance and it’s too wet to plow.”

We didn’t go out much when I was growing up. Entertainment was found by visiting with friends and just hanging out. Our little town didn’t have a movie theatre, a bowling ally, or even a real restaurant. We NEVER went out to dinner. The only time we ate out was when we were traveling. I should probably say that not everyone in my hometown was as naive and sheltered as I was in the ways of the world. My first clue that I needed to expand my horizons came after Spring break 1978.

My best friend, Beauty and her sister, the Brain and I drove to Florida sans parental units. (For more info on our spring break antics and why I’m still grounded for life click: here.) We met some boys on the strip in Ft. Lauderdale one night. One of the boys asked if we were coming to the beach the next day. We said, “Of course, that’s what we’re here for.” We complained about how hard it was to find parking on the beach. He said that he worked at the Bahia Mar and though he wasn’t working the following day, we could mention his name and park at the hotel. “Just tell the guy at the gate that Paul, the valet parker, said you could park there.” It wasn’t until a few years later that I realized the boy’s name wasn’t Paul duValet Parker but instead his vocation. I had no idea what valet parking was or that it even existed. For Pete’s sake, who needs someone else to park their car? Don’t be judgin’, people. Tractors drive down Main Street in my home town. Now stop laughing, I’m trying to tell a story here.

The town paper came out once a week and reported on local current events such as, “Mr. & Mrs. Jones were the guests of Mr. & Mrs. Smith for dinner on Sunday afternoon. Roast beef with mashed potatoes was served. Coffee and cake were enjoyed after dinner. A good time was had by all.” There was also a section called Backward Glances. This is where you could read about how 10 years ago Mr. & Mrs. Jones hosted Mr. & Mrs. Smith for dinner. My grandmother was a big contributor to this column and I always took great pleasure to read my name in the paper even if it was just to say that I went to Grandma’s for dinner and ate ham.

I remember a headline that read, “Half the police force quits!” It was three people.

We never locked our doors. Daddy was always worried that someone might need to borrow something and wouldn’t be able to get in. It was quite common after returning from a day trip or a week’s vacation to find friends watching tv and enjoying snacks in our living room awaiting our arrival.

When I was twelve, one of our two banks in town was robbed. It was a Friday around 6pm in January. My mother had stopped on her way home from work at the newstand to pay the water bill (That’s where you paid the water bill as we didn’t have a town hall at that time) and while there, she bought a magazine. She left the newstand and started walking to the bank to deposit her paycheck. She was leafing thru the magazine and not really paying much attention to her surroundings. As she approached the bank, she noticed a man standing just outside the bank wearing a ski mask. She didn’t recognize the man but it’s a small town and she figured that she did know whoever it was underneath the mask. She was just about to say, “It’s not that cold.”, (Did you think I got this Smart Mouth on my own?) when she noticed the gun in his hand. She quickly did an about face and attempted to walk to the grocery across the parking lot. The bank robber put his gun in my mother’s back and forced her into the bank. No one was harmed inside the bank. However one of the town’s police officers was shot as they escaped.

The FBI was at our house several times that summer. It was all very exciting to me. Mom was the only customer from the bank that testified at the trial. It never occurred to me until many years later how traumatic this was for my mother. She was scared stiff to be alone at night and I never knew it. The doors were always locked after that if Mom was home alone.

I married My Harley Stud at the tender age of 19. I have to laugh now when I see how crazy people get with wedding plans. Our wedding was planned in six weeks. My dress was bought off the rack and altered. I did my own make-up and my mom french braided my hair into tucked up pigtails underneath my veil. Oh.yes.she.did.

We were married by the Reverend Xen Harvey (who also officiated at James Dean’s funeral) . Xen was very special to me. I still smile when I remember how he always referred to his beloved wife as Betty Harvey. I don’t think I ever heard him say just Betty. And he looked a lot like Captain Kangaroo. How can you not smile at a memory like that?

Xen Harvey rode a motorcycle too. It wasn’t long after Daddy showed me how to ride his Kawasaki 400 that I pulled up to Xen’s house and asked his grown son if Xen was home and would like to go riding with me. He wasn’t at home but later told me that he couldn’t have gone anyway. He said, “Can you imagine the tongues of the little old ladies at church waggin’ about me riding with some pretty young thing!”

Xen got a great kick out of telling that story at every gathering of which I was a part. I heard it at my rehearsal dinner, The Saint and the Biker Nazi’s rehearsal dinner and many times over the years. I was honored to be there for Xen’s funeral and his son mentioned to me how much pleasure Xen got from telling that story. Me? I really didn’t see the big deal and never understood why he couldn’t have gone.

My 30 year class reunion is coming up soon. I’ll be travelling back to my hometown this summer. Simpler times in a quieter place keep running thru my mind. Thanks for coming along for the ride.

What takes you back?

CONVERSATION WITH A BIKER NAZI

I mentioned a few days ago that The Biker Nazi's family, The Saint, Son #1 and Son #2, headed for home without him on Jan. 2^nd. LEAVING.HIM.HERE.WITH.ME! In all honesty, I have enjoyed his stay but to tell him that would just hurt too much. You see if you haven't heard already, my whole relationship with The Biker Nazi is based on seeing who can antagonize the other the most. We've been friends (and I use the term loosely here) for as long as I can remember. He is MHS's best friend. He was best man in our wedding. I love him to death but treat him like he is the bug in the middle of the faceshield on my helmet. Always in my way. Always an annoyance. It's how we've always been. What can I say? It works.

The following conversation was held across the dinner table a few evenings ago:

BN: "Smart Mouth, I think your cooking is going to make me fat."

Me: "Why are being so nice to me? What do you want?"

BN: (said to MHS) "Does she cook like this every night?"

MHS: nods and goes back to eating his meal.

Me: " I know that The Saint cooks for you every night. I don't know why you're making such a big deal."

BN: "All I know is your cooking makes me sleepy. Every time I eat here, I just want to lay myself down and take a nap."

Me: "That's the arsenic."

Today I made a plane reservation for The Biker Nazi to return home to Indiana. I think I'm going to miss the old goat. I mean, how can you not love a face like this:

BUSINESS MEETINGS – Who’d a thunk it?

I'm a woman of the new millennium. I'm fairly techno-savvy. I can make my fingers fly on my laptop and produce the desired results most of the time. I can program my TiVo dvr with ease. I have a Blackberry which provides me with email, internet and my new fascination, Twitter, from anywhere in the world. The point I'm trying to make is that even though I'm up to speed with mainstream technology, the realization of how far we've come is not lost on me. When I think about where we were, technologically speaking, when I was a kid and where we are now; I am in AWE!

My father worked for and retired from General Motors. I can remember him telling me about a new office machine when I was a teenager. He was working with some visiting GM employees from Japan. He spoke of a machine that could copy an image and send it over telephone lines to be reproduced at the receiving end as an exact duplicate. Yes, we know that now as the fax machine. I was amazed. A few years later, after being told the arrival of D2 would be earlier than planned, we used that very same technology to get a letter from my physician quickly to my parents so they could change their flight plans without additional cost. Of course, I had to go to a friend's house that had a home-based business and fax it to my hometown telephone company. My mother road her bicycle to the telephone company to retrieve the letter. Oh, yes, we are very hi-tech in my family.

I often think that if my grandparents were alive today they would be amazed by all that technology has to offer. Like for instance, try explaining to someone who doesn't live in the today's world that you can go into a public restroom, run your hand under the faucet and water magically flows. Or that I can wave my hand in front of a paper towel holder and the darn thing says to itself, "Gee, Smart Mouth wants a paper towel, here, let me get that for you." Presto….paper towel. WOW!

While I have embraced modern technology, I have had to drag MHS kicking and screaming into this new techno world. A few years ago, a company where he worked bought all new computers and a new software program to run their business. It took months to get all the staff trained on the software and the transition was anything but well-received. There were several snags and the switch took much longer than expected. However the entire staff (except MHS) was thrilled to discover FreeCell. One day while passing his employer's office, MHS made the comment, "Wouldn't it have been cheaper to just buy everyone a deck of cards?" I guess I'm not the only smart mouth in the family. *wink*

Fast forward a few more years. MHS has a home-based business. He uses computers, online services, CNC technology and produces CAD drawings. He also has a cell phone to which he downloaded a weather program that we've all come to depend on for regular updates. (A blog story in itself) MHS's best friend, the Biker Nazi, also has his own business and relies heavily on his cell phone. The Biker Nazi has a real aversion to computers in general but slowly and surely is being dragged into the techno-world too. So it probably shouldn't have struck me as funny as it did…….. but it did. I was recently going over the photos on my laptop and trying to organize my photo albums. I came across several pictures that just made me smile because when I consider the subjects………..Who'd a thunk it!

MHS is a businessman who is outstanding in his field. HAHA. Get it?

But sometimes it takes longer and he has to sit. (This call doesn't look like it's going so well)

The Biker Nazi takes a call from a customer roadside in Wyoming

Thanks to mobile technology, we can even work while on vacation.

The Biker Nazi just can't get a break!

THE ROADTRIP: PART I

Note: While on the road, I tried to post this but the pictures didn't load. I didn't have time to fix it then so I deleted and re-posted it today with some revisions. My apologies to all and thanks to Jan who pointed out to me that once it's posted, it stays in the reader even if you delete.

As usual, we got off to a rocky start. Sleep deprived and packed like sardines into MHS’s truck, we set off at 4:30am last Tuesday. The original plan to leave the night before was scrapped upon the realization that we wouldn’t be ready to leave until 11:30pm. JackASS and I had one of those lovely little marital spats so it was a VERY quiet ride. There’s something about a roadtrip that drives his stress levels through the roof and I have little to no tolerance for it. (I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that he is solely responsible for loading and securing the bike into the truck, packing D1’s three truckloads of STUFF into one truck and dealing with all the STUFF I require on a lengthy trip. What’s the big deal, right? Easy for me to say…) We were back on speaking terms and holding hands like the lovebirds we are by the time we arrived at my dad’s at around 9:00am. We placed D1’s dog into Daisy’s capable hands, had some refreshments and set off again on our trek to North Carolina. MHS had to drive the entire trip because the truck was packed so full and in such a way that if we moved the driver’s seat up so that my short little legs would reach the pedals, the whole tower of boxes would fall and we would never get them back into place to put the seat back again. I was elated because that meant I was able to read blogs on my blackberry, (which is still working beautifully on day 12) twitter, receive your well wishing comments by email, read a book, and nap felt really bad for him.

Doesn't this look cozy?

We reached our friend’s home in Charlotte around 5pm. Note to self: Plan trips to Charlotte to avoid rush hour traffic. The place is booming with new construction, new homes, shopping centers, and office buildings but the roads have not kept up with the pace of the city’s growth.

It was great to see our friends, who we will call the Half-Backs. Half-Back, is you’re not familiar with the term is used for people who originally lived up north, migrated to Florida for better weather and realized Paradise isn’t all it’s cracked up to be and moved again, this time to North or South Carolina, Georgia, Tennessee, etc… which is…..half way back; hence Half-Backs. They have lived in NC about a year and a half and have a beautiful and very large home. Both travel extensively for business. I’m currently developing a plan with MHS that we could sell our home, move into theirs and as long as we’re careful and keep moving, they would never know we were there.

We weren’t the Half-Back’s only visitors, Mr. HB’s father and his girlfriend and were there visiting from Florida as well as their 20 year old son, Handsome. They also have a daughter who is D1’s age who lives with them. They grilled out and we had the most relaxing and wonderful time sitting outdoors in the cool evening, eating, drinking and catching up on the happenings in everyone’s lives. Then Cutie, their daughter, introduced me to Sweet Tea Vodka, apparently a South Carolina specialty. This caused a great deal of discussion about if it was tea flavored vodka or a mix of mostly tea with a little bit of vodka. I decided a taste test was in order. Cutie served me a large glass of the stuff and after one sip; I knew it was definitely sweet tea flavored vodka and NOT tea with a bit of vodka. However, I kept sipping and drank the whole glass. I think my knees wobbled a bit when I stood to leave. I wish I’d had the presence of mind to take a picture of the bottle for reference this post.

This is Handsome enjoying some of his mom's specialty: ice cream pudding.

Unbeknownst to me, Cutie made a call to D1 to tell her that she was giving me the 12oz. “taste test”. D1 was concerned knowing I normally stick to beer or wine. My, how the tables have turned. Aren’t they cute to worry about us!

The hour was getting late and we still had to travel another hour north to MHS’s brother’s, Hammerhead, where D1 is staying. It’s so hard to leave good friends when you know you won’t see them for quite awhile and you’ve only had a few hours to catch up. Alas, we had to leave.

Everyone was asleep when we arrived at Hammerhead’s. The next morning, I awoke early to visit with D1 while she got ready for school. Of course, I’ve seen her get ready for school for years but this was the first time knowing she was a teacher and not a student. Hammerhead left for work and D1 and my niece, Fireball, left for school. Fireball is a student at the school where D1 teaches. MHS and I ventured further north for a business luncheon where midlife crises were the topic of the day. And I thought it was just me.

We finished lunch just in time to make it back to visit D1’s last class of the day. It was fun to observe her in her professional element. I’m sure every mother and father would feel this way but we were really quite impressed by her teaching skills and the way she was able to control the classroom. She gave a quiz on weather and climate and insisted that MHS and I take it too. You’ll be happy to know that I passed the 6^th grade social studies quiz with 100% but missed the bonus question. Oh, and MHS missed one but got the bonus question right, if you’re wondering. He will be so pleased when he finds out that I shared that with you.

This is D1's favorite student.

When the school day ended, we assisted D1 with her parent pick-up duties and then helped her redecorate her classroom. Fireball was at volleyball practice in the gymnasium. We were just kicking into high gear decorating and desk moving when a student came to the door announcing Fireball had been hurt during practice and D1’s presence was requested there. Moments later, upon our arrival in the gym, the coach told us, it didn’t look good and it was probably broken…..again. Fireball had this same injury last year during volleyball season and I’m told it happened the same way. Fireball is an amazing athlete but apparently a little slow in the “learning from your mistakes” department. Sorry, kiddo.

We got her home and resting comfortably. Once her dad was home, we left to take D1 out to dinner. We had a great time harassing the waiter in a way that only D1, (D2) and I can do. I think we embarrass MHS but he just smiles and remains silent. Did you know that in the state of North Carolina you can’t get a burger cooked anything less than medium-well? Some crazy law about wanting to protect the public from e coli. D1 winked at him and we got it Medium. It pays to have pretty daughters.

We left the next morning before Fireball had her doctor’s appointment. We found out later that it wasn't broken but ligament damage instead. She has been instructed to stay off it for a week and then be re-evaluated. We're all hoping and praying that she won't need surgery and will be able to play again before the season is over but that might just be wishful thinking.

Oh and they have this new, very cute puppy named Daisy. I wanted to put her in my suitcase.

Stay tuned for Roadtrip Part II.