You know how at sleepovers someone gets out that heinous oijah board? Well, get a bunch of older geezer girls together and someone has to break out the glucosometer.. yeah the thing that sticks fingers and shows you how much blood sugar you’re harboring..
Ok I started this day that would end up with my possibly looking the holy trinity in the eyeballs and having to explain my ‘little south of plumb’ life to ‘the great ones on most everyone’s lips’.. not mine, but that would be another part of the explanation. Something like, “DUDES!! I heard about ya, didn’t ring my chimes, but .. well, you know.. So, how’s it hangin?”
But I digress..
Ok, my friend’s husband, Jim, whipped out the ‘stabby finger’ thing.. and said, “who’s first?” well, since I’ve not been stabbed (by a little blood letting machine, anyway) in a couple of years, I heaved a deep sigh and held out my hand.. he held my ‘flip off’ finger, squeezed it and STAB!!!! Crap!!! OW!!! Then he squeezed more and let the blood slide into this machine.. we waited til the numbers came up like a one armed bandit.. 353..
“HOLY SHIT! Said both Jim and Sally. “HOLY CRAP!!!” said Lois, because she hardly ever says ‘shit’.. and I said, ‘Why, what’s up?”
“You’re near death, girl!! It shouldn’t be over 100 !!!”
“YIKES!” I thought.. and my heart started racing and I felt faint.. then on the inside I’m yelling to myself, “Don’t give IN to it, Girl.. Don’t give in!”
So, I regaled what I’d eaten the days before.. Barbeque with SWEET sauce, SWEET potato, SWEET Slaw and SWEET tea..’ and I said, “YA THINK?? “ CRAP!
Once I got home I IM'd my friend who’s a doctor.. and said, “Hey, what do you think?”
All of a sudden I got an IM back.. “GET YOURSELF TO THE HOSPITAL NOW!!!! You could go into a coma and never wake back up.”
Now, anyone who knows me knows that I live a life of comfort and joy. Like the Christmas Carol. And rousting myself out of the house to go and sit for a decade in the emergency room.. nah, thanks, I’ll pass.. but I WAS genuinely spooked. And the thought that I’ve probably lived like this for a couple of years didn’t do all that much to calm me down.
So, that night brought much awareness to me.. so much so, that I laid there thinking, “holy crap! If I croak in the night, and the parameds come in the morning when my ex-husband finds me (we do lunch and a movies most Saturdays.. yeah, interesting! Really nice guy and we see each other more now than when we were married when I worked days and he works nights, he still works nights), I needed to make sure my dishes are done.. so after thrashing about and imagining I was feeling the sugar course evilly through my veins, I got up at 2.30AM and did the dishes and futzed around the kitchen tidying up. Then went back to bed..
Then thought “holy crap! The tub needs scrubbed!” so I sprayed this lung-infecting stuff all over the tub and tile surround, waited til it got to working and scrubbed it at 4AM.
After that, I thought.. “what the hell.. what do *I* care about what they’ll say after I’m gone?”.. so then I was worried that I would be following everyone around as a spector and not have the energy that Patrick Swayze tried to achieve by flicking the bottle cap to MY not being able to smack people on the back of the head if a discouraging word was ever said about me and my housekeeping.. because, to know me is to love ME, not the way I keep my house. And as a ghost I was ready to enforce that anyway I could, even if it was by moaning and finding a chain to rattle or flick the lights on and off.. and on top of that, I had no subway to go to to find that odd looking guy to show me how. The only subways we have in florida are the footlong for $5 kind.
About 6 am, I was settling down a bit.. but when I threw off the covers I thought, “oh heck, the parameds will come in and see my naked butt.. and hopefully not walk into a mess where my bowels had released.. dang, do I have an enema bag around, just in case I need to Pre-cleanse?
I had NO idea the stress there was with knowing perhaps that death could be near.. sheesh! Remind me to remember all of this in case I NEED to start digging for the big dirt nap. This is a LOT of work!
So, my Saturday Date called me at 10a and I answered the phone.. there seemed to be a relieved sigh.. not sure if he was happy I answered and he didn’t have to come in and hope there was no decomp scent yet.. or he really wanted to see the movie and didn’t want to go alone.. toss up here.. LOL
I asked him to go ½ way down the driveway and I’d jog down to the car and get in and go from ther, then we ate Mediterranean food then and .. it was cool running again! I nearly forgot how! And when we came back, he let me out ½ way down on the way back and I jogged to where he parked.
After he left, my doc friend came over bringing his diagnostic gear.. took my blood, came back on Monday and took my fasting blood and it had dropped considerably to 298.. so, at that time he determined that I’m a Type 2 Diabetic, which means my crap can be controlled w diet and exercise..
At this point, my little hitler Athletic Trainer daughter decided I need to do 30 minutes of cardio every day.. well, that’s good if I were up to 20 minutes. That would be good if I were all the way up to 5 minutes at any given stretch. Right now I’m up to about 2 minutes many times a day, that maybe all adds up to the 30 minutes that she’s requesting of me.. but not able to accurately do math on this earth, maybe I’m rounding up.
I went and did a bunch of laps and burned my buns at the pool Tuesday, but every night (for a while now) I do 30 toe touches and then 30 squats right after that and my friend wants the health rider out of her little tiny apartment, so it’s coming to roost here at BekkiWorld, a tiny bit larger than HER tiny place.
I also feel amazing! And when I ran that day, my torso felt so sveldt and sleek! Just a start.. I’m not missing bread, fruit or sugar of any kind.. even tho Easter is coming and it’s row after row of peeps, carmel and chocolate eggs.. and as I go past the deli where I can smell the fresh bread baking.. past the chips and crackers.. landing in the veggie aisle where I can grab some avacados, lettuce (which worked well when I ate at my friend’s house and she’d made tuna/egg salad and I wrapped it in a lettuce leaf!), celery, cucumbers.. nice munchy stuff!
Anyway.. life is good and fun again! And this is totally beat-able and I’m gonna beat it!!!!
And P.S. did you know that if you go into a restaurant and order a burger, you can corder it without the bun? Yup, you can.. not sure if you can do that at drive through but I’ll get back to you on that!
I’ll keep anyone who wants to know, posted! Just E me! bekkihere@gmail.com
Friday, April 1, 2011
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
A Path Not Taken
40 years ago, when I was 20, my dad and I spent a week in Kansas City, Missouri. Dad and I went there to a place called “Calvin Productions”.. according to Wikipedia: “The Calvin Company was a Kansas City, Missouri-based educational and industrial film production company that for nearly half a century was the largest and most successful film producer of its type in the United States.”
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calvin_Company)
There was a Star Trek once that has stuck w me for years.. where Worff came back from a contest and his little travel ship hit a bump, which caused an anomaly and every time he was around Jordi’s eye thing, he’d be living another of his lives. At the end of the show, he looked out the wind shield of the Enterprise and there were a thousand other ships facing them, all with one of his lives being lived in them.
That’s sort of been what my life has been like.. I have see the branch in the trail and have physically set my steps to go onto one of them.
This branch has always haunted me.
When we were in school, we all went someplace to go eat (remember, this is about 40 years ago, I’m 61 now and I find it hard to remember what I ate for lunch, so remembering exact details about that week so long ago sort of escapes me..) and I somehow always got to sit next to Courtney. He was a bright red-headed kid with big dreams and I loved listening to him, looking at his bright eyes and his lush red beard and sparkling white teeth.
We got very close in that week.. I don’t think I ever went to his room w him, as my dad would have spun in his grave with thinking that I might be ‘doing something’ on his dime.. LOL.. But Courtney and I got pretty close. And after that, when he’d gotten back home, there were phone calls, him wanting me to come and be with him and see where he lived and each time, I’d wimp out.
Oh, yeah, after reading the rest of my memoirs, I DID have some ‘wimp out’ moments. This, sadly, was a major one.
I've gone on with my living paycheck to paycheck, blah work, unrewarding work.. my doing nothing to make a mark or help someone or something make the world better and that continues today.
Being brought into the lives of 3 amazing photographers and artists, you’d think something great would rub off on me. Now, two of them have died this year alone.. Bob Shephard, who brought me back to photography about 6 years ago. He and my good friend Bob Stoner and I (all of us w the initals B.S.. so I called us “B.S. to the third power” and I would load up in Bob Stoner’s van and go around the city shooting sunsets on the water.. they were beautiful. Bob Shephard also set up a website for me to feature my photos on.. although now, I can’t get into it and the $3,000 program that he installed on my one computer is long gone since that computer crashed, never to be revived again. He had big dreams, would get a lot of people excited about them and then just wander off. He was also very ill and ended up dying in Washington state several months ago. He passed on 9/15/10.. Courtney passed at the end of August.. they were just days apart with their departures. Here is his beautiful and amazing website.. please consider purchasing one of his calendars.. they’re amazing.. http://www.courtneymilne.com/
Courtney roamed the world taking amazing photos, having many causes that he championed and lived a life of freedom and beauty. Bob did the same, with the exception of having to be more circumspect with his activities because of his unhealthy heart. The last B.S. guy is my Dad... Bob Shanklin, 86, photographer extraordinaire.. and thank heaven he's still here. Still producing amazing work and I hope to follow in his footsteps and make him proud.
Here is all about Courtney’s life:
Courtney Milne
October 3, 1943 – August 29, 2010
Courtney Milne, cherished by so many, passed peacefully at home surrounded by nature. He was renowned for his photography and for his passionate spirit, recorded in 12 books and numerous slide sound presentations and exhibitions. After photographing on all seven continents, he came home to his acreage in Grandora and discovered the whole world reflected in his pool, which he called The Pool of Possibilities. This work will be featured in a solo exhibition at the Mendel Art Gallery in the summer of 2011.
Courtney was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma in 2009, becoming paraplegic as a result of the disease in his spine. But this did not slow him down – it gave him an opportunity to continue working with thousands of images, creating some of his most stunning new work. The loving and skilled care of his Home Care team fostered his ability to continue his work and to love his life. He spent every day with grace and verve, sharing his exuberance with everyone who came his way. Lung and brain complications interfered with continuing this passion. Courtney was truly an ambassador of the land, inviting everyone to find their own sacred place in nature, to feel a connection with the Divine Mystery; a place to honor and care for, whether in your own back yard, in the park down the street, or a piece of wilderness.
It is unfathomable to think of a world without Courtney: he is monumentally missed by his wife Sherrill Miller, sister Bonnie, sisters-in-law Lorraine and Evelyne, brothers-in -law Eric, Bill and Dennis, precious nieces, nephews, cousins and hundreds of friends, students and colleagues.
Please consider a donation in his name to Meewasin Valley Authority, caretakers of Courtney's beloved riverbank in Saskatoon; or to SaskAbilities -- for many years Courtney donated his images for their fundraising projects, which came full circle when they provided everything he needed to live with a disability. Or, share a year of inspiration with a subscription to the Pool of Possibilities ecalendar -- and keep the beauty he created and his spirit and wisdom alive and circulating around the world. He would be so delighted to know that people are experiencing the world anew through his eyes and heart -- see the Gift Shop
A joyful Tribute to Courtney will be held Saturday, October 2, 2010 at 1:30 pm, St Anne’s Catholic Church, 217 Lenore Drive, Saskatoon.
CBC News Saskatoon Star Phoenix
Listen to Courtney on the Pool of Possibilities
...This, I believe, is my core ideology — to reveal life’s unfolding mystery — not to try to solve it. In so doing, I not only help myself but also others to connect to their joy and passion. I believe that for each of us, the presence of our being is the greatest gift we can give. Truly accepting and loving ourselves has a ripple effect beyond comprehension...
He was the spirit that I live today, with all the thoughts, love of art and nature and desires for adventure to bring beauty to the world and the back up and push to get it to the world.
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calvin_Company)
There was a Star Trek once that has stuck w me for years.. where Worff came back from a contest and his little travel ship hit a bump, which caused an anomaly and every time he was around Jordi’s eye thing, he’d be living another of his lives. At the end of the show, he looked out the wind shield of the Enterprise and there were a thousand other ships facing them, all with one of his lives being lived in them.
That’s sort of been what my life has been like.. I have see the branch in the trail and have physically set my steps to go onto one of them.
This branch has always haunted me.
When we were in school, we all went someplace to go eat (remember, this is about 40 years ago, I’m 61 now and I find it hard to remember what I ate for lunch, so remembering exact details about that week so long ago sort of escapes me..) and I somehow always got to sit next to Courtney. He was a bright red-headed kid with big dreams and I loved listening to him, looking at his bright eyes and his lush red beard and sparkling white teeth.
We got very close in that week.. I don’t think I ever went to his room w him, as my dad would have spun in his grave with thinking that I might be ‘doing something’ on his dime.. LOL.. But Courtney and I got pretty close. And after that, when he’d gotten back home, there were phone calls, him wanting me to come and be with him and see where he lived and each time, I’d wimp out.
Oh, yeah, after reading the rest of my memoirs, I DID have some ‘wimp out’ moments. This, sadly, was a major one.
I've gone on with my living paycheck to paycheck, blah work, unrewarding work.. my doing nothing to make a mark or help someone or something make the world better and that continues today.
Being brought into the lives of 3 amazing photographers and artists, you’d think something great would rub off on me. Now, two of them have died this year alone.. Bob Shephard, who brought me back to photography about 6 years ago. He and my good friend Bob Stoner and I (all of us w the initals B.S.. so I called us “B.S. to the third power” and I would load up in Bob Stoner’s van and go around the city shooting sunsets on the water.. they were beautiful. Bob Shephard also set up a website for me to feature my photos on.. although now, I can’t get into it and the $3,000 program that he installed on my one computer is long gone since that computer crashed, never to be revived again. He had big dreams, would get a lot of people excited about them and then just wander off. He was also very ill and ended up dying in Washington state several months ago. He passed on 9/15/10.. Courtney passed at the end of August.. they were just days apart with their departures. Here is his beautiful and amazing website.. please consider purchasing one of his calendars.. they’re amazing.. http://www.courtneymilne.com/
Courtney roamed the world taking amazing photos, having many causes that he championed and lived a life of freedom and beauty. Bob did the same, with the exception of having to be more circumspect with his activities because of his unhealthy heart. The last B.S. guy is my Dad... Bob Shanklin, 86, photographer extraordinaire.. and thank heaven he's still here. Still producing amazing work and I hope to follow in his footsteps and make him proud.
Here is all about Courtney’s life:
Courtney Milne
October 3, 1943 – August 29, 2010
Courtney Milne, cherished by so many, passed peacefully at home surrounded by nature. He was renowned for his photography and for his passionate spirit, recorded in 12 books and numerous slide sound presentations and exhibitions. After photographing on all seven continents, he came home to his acreage in Grandora and discovered the whole world reflected in his pool, which he called The Pool of Possibilities. This work will be featured in a solo exhibition at the Mendel Art Gallery in the summer of 2011.
Courtney was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma in 2009, becoming paraplegic as a result of the disease in his spine. But this did not slow him down – it gave him an opportunity to continue working with thousands of images, creating some of his most stunning new work. The loving and skilled care of his Home Care team fostered his ability to continue his work and to love his life. He spent every day with grace and verve, sharing his exuberance with everyone who came his way. Lung and brain complications interfered with continuing this passion. Courtney was truly an ambassador of the land, inviting everyone to find their own sacred place in nature, to feel a connection with the Divine Mystery; a place to honor and care for, whether in your own back yard, in the park down the street, or a piece of wilderness.
It is unfathomable to think of a world without Courtney: he is monumentally missed by his wife Sherrill Miller, sister Bonnie, sisters-in-law Lorraine and Evelyne, brothers-in -law Eric, Bill and Dennis, precious nieces, nephews, cousins and hundreds of friends, students and colleagues.
Please consider a donation in his name to Meewasin Valley Authority, caretakers of Courtney's beloved riverbank in Saskatoon; or to SaskAbilities -- for many years Courtney donated his images for their fundraising projects, which came full circle when they provided everything he needed to live with a disability. Or, share a year of inspiration with a subscription to the Pool of Possibilities ecalendar -- and keep the beauty he created and his spirit and wisdom alive and circulating around the world. He would be so delighted to know that people are experiencing the world anew through his eyes and heart -- see the Gift Shop
A joyful Tribute to Courtney will be held Saturday, October 2, 2010 at 1:30 pm, St Anne’s Catholic Church, 217 Lenore Drive, Saskatoon.
CBC News Saskatoon Star Phoenix
Listen to Courtney on the Pool of Possibilities
...This, I believe, is my core ideology — to reveal life’s unfolding mystery — not to try to solve it. In so doing, I not only help myself but also others to connect to their joy and passion. I believe that for each of us, the presence of our being is the greatest gift we can give. Truly accepting and loving ourselves has a ripple effect beyond comprehension...
He was the spirit that I live today, with all the thoughts, love of art and nature and desires for adventure to bring beauty to the world and the back up and push to get it to the world.
Monday, October 12, 2009
I got my hair cut today..
I got my hair cut today..
For years.. ok, we’re talking decades upon decades (I’m VERY Old), I’ve been cutting my own hair.. ‘ahhh, that answers a lot’ I hear many of you say.. thanks..
Anyway, occasionally I’ve gotten a good friend of mine try to ‘patch up’ the spaces I’ve left when my attention wanders and suddenly I actually feel my naked scalp. OOPS.. She’s very patient and just shakes her head and does the best she can with what she has left to work with..
Today on the news, I saw that there were TONS of stylists gathering to earn money for helping those with hair loss from cancer/chemo get hair cuts.. it was called “The Annual Cut-a-thon” and there were more than 100 stylists that participated. All proceeds for the event helped raise money for ‘Couture for Cancer,’ a Florida organization that supplies hair systems (not off the shelf wigs, but specifically and personally fit head gear of real hair for Chemo therapy patients.)
For just a $15 donation, I got a haircut from a Redken Salon Professional, a cookbook and for another $5 I got a raffle ticket.. I didn’t win, but it went to help someone, so I DID win! And I took a couple of cans of soup for the Harry Chapin Food Bank. A very good day!
Anyway, I went, took my cans of soup and $20 and was lead to this great girl. The girl that lead me to her had VERY short hair in the back and longer hair in the front.. of all the hair styles running around, I loved that! So when we got to my stylist, I said, “I WANT HER HAIR!! Ok, but maybe NOT that short in the back.. and no gel or spray, but JUST like hers!” (my guess is that that alone drives stylists nuts, so I was on the right track immediately! Heh. Heh. Heh.)
So, my stylist, Michelle asked, “What salon are you using now?” (she had a stick-on tag right on her left breast that was at eye level every time she was trimming the left side of my hair, so, with nothing else to look at or read, I read her tag. A lot.) (**see Michelle's contact info at bottom of story)
My reply was that I am my own salon. When I get up at 3 a.m. and something is sticking out, I generally just cut it off.. I saw her visibly pale and blanch.. I said, “yeah, I know, girl. Sadly, you’ll be correcting my sleepless nights..” She said that luckily I wanted the back really short and verified that the part where I’d originally been able to see scalp had, indeed, sort of grown out enough to be able to not be noticed now. Whew.. Then I realized that she was thinking about suggesting to me that a law suit would be in order for the shape my hair was in.. if only.. LOL
A stylist standing beside her suddenly started paying attention to my head. I noticed in the mirror that I was holding, watching the progress, that she tightened her lips and looked sympathetically at Michelle. I sighed and just hoped all would be well. Heck, she could only 'sort of' put things in order back there, right?
Then she mentioned I needed coloring. I told her that I blended my own. More paleness of her face.. she was looking rather like a Kabuki dancer by that time. I told her I used a blend of 5 colors from ash blond to bright copper and it blends out as a discontinued color red by “Nice’n’Easy” that I always loved. And that tonight was my ‘maintenance’ evening while watching the American Music Awards. She gulped and said I was very brave..(ha! She has NO idea.. mine are as big as Kansas and made of solid gold! .. ‘Danger is no stranger to me! Cha-cha-cha!’ and I LAUGH in the face of danger.. and stupidity.. ha-ha!)
But anyway, I got a hair style that wasn’t far off from what I usually wear, but it’s short in the back so I can mousse it or spray it and it will stick out, porcupine-like but very hip. I love it! And I gave her my card to contact me, incase she changes salons, and will actually hunt her out to try to correct my insomniac hair-whacking in the future. I’ll see if I can find her again. If not and I can’t sleep, the world will have to suffer with my hair in case I again let my mind wander while I hear my scissors snip and it brings me back to realization that I was in the middle of a beautification procedure.
**Contact the very brave and VERY GOOD Michelle at April's Hair Design, 15201 N. Cleveland Ave, (Merchant's Crossing Shopping Center, next to Sears), 239.656.6400 ask for THE GODDESS (what *I* call her) Michelle. Thanks, Girl! Bekki
Copyright 2007. Bekki Shanklin, from her Thinking All The Time series
For years.. ok, we’re talking decades upon decades (I’m VERY Old), I’ve been cutting my own hair.. ‘ahhh, that answers a lot’ I hear many of you say.. thanks..
Anyway, occasionally I’ve gotten a good friend of mine try to ‘patch up’ the spaces I’ve left when my attention wanders and suddenly I actually feel my naked scalp. OOPS.. She’s very patient and just shakes her head and does the best she can with what she has left to work with..
Today on the news, I saw that there were TONS of stylists gathering to earn money for helping those with hair loss from cancer/chemo get hair cuts.. it was called “The Annual Cut-a-thon” and there were more than 100 stylists that participated. All proceeds for the event helped raise money for ‘Couture for Cancer,’ a Florida organization that supplies hair systems (not off the shelf wigs, but specifically and personally fit head gear of real hair for Chemo therapy patients.)
For just a $15 donation, I got a haircut from a Redken Salon Professional, a cookbook and for another $5 I got a raffle ticket.. I didn’t win, but it went to help someone, so I DID win! And I took a couple of cans of soup for the Harry Chapin Food Bank. A very good day!
Anyway, I went, took my cans of soup and $20 and was lead to this great girl. The girl that lead me to her had VERY short hair in the back and longer hair in the front.. of all the hair styles running around, I loved that! So when we got to my stylist, I said, “I WANT HER HAIR!! Ok, but maybe NOT that short in the back.. and no gel or spray, but JUST like hers!” (my guess is that that alone drives stylists nuts, so I was on the right track immediately! Heh. Heh. Heh.)
So, my stylist, Michelle asked, “What salon are you using now?” (she had a stick-on tag right on her left breast that was at eye level every time she was trimming the left side of my hair, so, with nothing else to look at or read, I read her tag. A lot.) (**see Michelle's contact info at bottom of story)
My reply was that I am my own salon. When I get up at 3 a.m. and something is sticking out, I generally just cut it off.. I saw her visibly pale and blanch.. I said, “yeah, I know, girl. Sadly, you’ll be correcting my sleepless nights..” She said that luckily I wanted the back really short and verified that the part where I’d originally been able to see scalp had, indeed, sort of grown out enough to be able to not be noticed now. Whew.. Then I realized that she was thinking about suggesting to me that a law suit would be in order for the shape my hair was in.. if only.. LOL
A stylist standing beside her suddenly started paying attention to my head. I noticed in the mirror that I was holding, watching the progress, that she tightened her lips and looked sympathetically at Michelle. I sighed and just hoped all would be well. Heck, she could only 'sort of' put things in order back there, right?
Then she mentioned I needed coloring. I told her that I blended my own. More paleness of her face.. she was looking rather like a Kabuki dancer by that time. I told her I used a blend of 5 colors from ash blond to bright copper and it blends out as a discontinued color red by “Nice’n’Easy” that I always loved. And that tonight was my ‘maintenance’ evening while watching the American Music Awards. She gulped and said I was very brave..(ha! She has NO idea.. mine are as big as Kansas and made of solid gold! .. ‘Danger is no stranger to me! Cha-cha-cha!’ and I LAUGH in the face of danger.. and stupidity.. ha-ha!)
But anyway, I got a hair style that wasn’t far off from what I usually wear, but it’s short in the back so I can mousse it or spray it and it will stick out, porcupine-like but very hip. I love it! And I gave her my card to contact me, incase she changes salons, and will actually hunt her out to try to correct my insomniac hair-whacking in the future. I’ll see if I can find her again. If not and I can’t sleep, the world will have to suffer with my hair in case I again let my mind wander while I hear my scissors snip and it brings me back to realization that I was in the middle of a beautification procedure.
**Contact the very brave and VERY GOOD Michelle at April's Hair Design, 15201 N. Cleveland Ave, (Merchant's Crossing Shopping Center, next to Sears), 239.656.6400 ask for THE GODDESS (what *I* call her) Michelle. Thanks, Girl! Bekki
Copyright 2007. Bekki Shanklin, from her Thinking All The Time series
Kids driving cars.. been there, done that..!
Kids driving cars.. been there, done that..!
I just read that a little 6-year-old kid decided he was hungry and decided to drive to Applebys. He took the booster seat out of the back of the car, put it on the driver's seat and proceeded to back about 75 feet till he came to a stop. Several things cross my mind at this point. One, that's either a very hungry child, or a very precocious one who will go far in the world someday.. even farther than 75 feet! Or two, he'll be doing jail time for boosting cars in a booster seat. And three.. been there, gone through that..
This story brings me back to when my beautiful daughter who is now 26, was just a 4-year-old and decided that she'd waited long enough for me to run in to see my parents and she was going to go ahead and drive home and meet me there. I had a big blue extended van, so here she was, a little bit of a thing, standing up with one hand on a steering wheel that was about as tall as she wasand her other hand took the van out of gear. Fortunately, I'd had the foresight to turn the darned thing off.. Unfortunately, I forgot to set the emergency brake.
I head merrily out the door, waving goodbye to my parents and turn my head from them to the carport. What the...???? My huge van was gone and so was my little girl kid! HOLY CRAP! My parent's carport was set on a slope and when my babygirl brought the gear shift down, the van the size of the state of florida rolled gently down the slope, across a thankfully empty street and through the neighbor across the street's wooden fence. Luckily the fence wasn't actually built yet, but the posts had been set.
The van backed over a fence post and came to rest in the sparcely-landscaped yard. Ok, there was no grass there, just scrub green stuff, but they were trying to get an actual yard going. We're lucky that that dream hadn't happened yet in some ways, as we'd have had to replace elegant landscaping. AAA when they came to get me off the post..umm, not so lucky.
After looking right and left and not seeing my van anywhere, or my daughter, the thought struck me that both were stolen. Not having very bright street lights on that street at the time, it took me a second after I scared the years off my mom and dad with my screaming and jumping up and down in fright, to look across the street and see the van. I ran down the slope, across the street and jerked the door open. My daughter was there, hanging onto the steering wheel for dear life. Hysterical and hiccuppy, tears were streaming down her little adorable face. I grabbed her to me and cried as well.
I held her away from me and wiped her little face. "What were you DOING?" I asked.
"I wanted to drive." she said. Visions of backing into a car, a bike rider, a mom with a stroller, a family of five out for a jog, all danced through my head. I quickly looked under the van to see if, indeed, one or two of the latter were pinned under the runaway vehicle. Whew.. we were lucky this time.
The saga continues: I got my girl out of the van and into my dad's arms and started up the van and prepared to drive back up the slope, park back in the car port and go to the bathroom, which, lucky for me, hadn't been an involuntary function with all the shocks of the previous 5 minutes. I pushed on the gas and the tires spun and the van went nowhere. I backed up and tried again.. THUNK and it stopped. Oh, crap, now what?
I bent over straight-legged (back in the day when I COULD do that) and saw that fence post was up against my gas tank. Double crap. Calling AAA, I went back in with my folks and my girl.. and went to the bathroom, at last. About 30 minutes later, the wrecker came to help me off the post.
Remember how I said that they were TRYING to have a yard? Well, the wrecker guy knelt down in the grass and started moaning and spouting some words that made me glad that my daughter was in the house with the folks.. turned out that the yard they were growing was all sand burrs and his knees were in them to the hilt. He hopped up and his jeans were nailed to his knees with the burrs. Yikes.. I apologized and backed a little farther away from him rather that right in the 'Hey, I'll help you' zone. He pulled on the material of his jeans and they unstuck from his knees, but man, I'll bet they burned like all get out.. he quietly picked the burrs off the jeans and kept shooting looks at me between picking them off and trying to get them unstuck off of his fingers to hurl them away from him. I smiled, shakily, refraining from asking if I could help.. I'm such a helping type of woman.
I don't remember how he actually got my van lifted up enough to jettison it off and over the fence post, but I do know that the post knocked a tiny crack in my gas tank. For the next year, every time I got into the van to go anywhere, I had to kneel down and rub a bar of soap on that little crack to keep the gas from flowing out. Apparently, soap is a great 'stopper of thing that leak'. Unimpressed with a little gas the soap doesn't break down with the fluidity of the gas. Who knew? Another thing I learned was that I went through a lot more gas during rainy season when I'd run through a puddle and have to quickly crawl under the van on the wet street to soap my tank or I'd never make it home AND have gas in the van.
A year or so later, I ran into the wrecker guy and he asked me out. I asked him how his knees were. THEN he suddenly remembered who I was and pointing down past his shorts, I saw the little scars from the sand burrs that had imbedded into his knees. When I looked up, he was backing away telling me to have a good day and I guessed at that point, our prospective date was already over. Ah well, hasta la pasta to Wrecker Man.
My girl grew up and did learn how to drive. Not with all that much confidence but we did learn quickly that she had no rhythm for the fine art of a standard shift. And to this day she hates driving so much that subconsciously, her vast intelligence with her being in dual enrollment, the Gifted group, Dean's list, incredible grades all through school and college, able to take three chemistry classes at the same time, etc., is totally fueled by the fact that she wants a job that will afford her a chauffer to drive her around so she doesn't have to do it herself. Personally, I'm behind her on that one. But she has turned out to not be a bad driver at all. But I'm going to enjoy her having someone to drive her around as well. She needs the break.. heck, she's been driving since she was FOUR!
Copyright 2007, from Bekki Shanklin's 'Thinking all the time' series
I just read that a little 6-year-old kid decided he was hungry and decided to drive to Applebys. He took the booster seat out of the back of the car, put it on the driver's seat and proceeded to back about 75 feet till he came to a stop. Several things cross my mind at this point. One, that's either a very hungry child, or a very precocious one who will go far in the world someday.. even farther than 75 feet! Or two, he'll be doing jail time for boosting cars in a booster seat. And three.. been there, gone through that..
This story brings me back to when my beautiful daughter who is now 26, was just a 4-year-old and decided that she'd waited long enough for me to run in to see my parents and she was going to go ahead and drive home and meet me there. I had a big blue extended van, so here she was, a little bit of a thing, standing up with one hand on a steering wheel that was about as tall as she wasand her other hand took the van out of gear. Fortunately, I'd had the foresight to turn the darned thing off.. Unfortunately, I forgot to set the emergency brake.
I head merrily out the door, waving goodbye to my parents and turn my head from them to the carport. What the...???? My huge van was gone and so was my little girl kid! HOLY CRAP! My parent's carport was set on a slope and when my babygirl brought the gear shift down, the van the size of the state of florida rolled gently down the slope, across a thankfully empty street and through the neighbor across the street's wooden fence. Luckily the fence wasn't actually built yet, but the posts had been set.
The van backed over a fence post and came to rest in the sparcely-landscaped yard. Ok, there was no grass there, just scrub green stuff, but they were trying to get an actual yard going. We're lucky that that dream hadn't happened yet in some ways, as we'd have had to replace elegant landscaping. AAA when they came to get me off the post..umm, not so lucky.
After looking right and left and not seeing my van anywhere, or my daughter, the thought struck me that both were stolen. Not having very bright street lights on that street at the time, it took me a second after I scared the years off my mom and dad with my screaming and jumping up and down in fright, to look across the street and see the van. I ran down the slope, across the street and jerked the door open. My daughter was there, hanging onto the steering wheel for dear life. Hysterical and hiccuppy, tears were streaming down her little adorable face. I grabbed her to me and cried as well.
I held her away from me and wiped her little face. "What were you DOING?" I asked.
"I wanted to drive." she said. Visions of backing into a car, a bike rider, a mom with a stroller, a family of five out for a jog, all danced through my head. I quickly looked under the van to see if, indeed, one or two of the latter were pinned under the runaway vehicle. Whew.. we were lucky this time.
The saga continues: I got my girl out of the van and into my dad's arms and started up the van and prepared to drive back up the slope, park back in the car port and go to the bathroom, which, lucky for me, hadn't been an involuntary function with all the shocks of the previous 5 minutes. I pushed on the gas and the tires spun and the van went nowhere. I backed up and tried again.. THUNK and it stopped. Oh, crap, now what?
I bent over straight-legged (back in the day when I COULD do that) and saw that fence post was up against my gas tank. Double crap. Calling AAA, I went back in with my folks and my girl.. and went to the bathroom, at last. About 30 minutes later, the wrecker came to help me off the post.
Remember how I said that they were TRYING to have a yard? Well, the wrecker guy knelt down in the grass and started moaning and spouting some words that made me glad that my daughter was in the house with the folks.. turned out that the yard they were growing was all sand burrs and his knees were in them to the hilt. He hopped up and his jeans were nailed to his knees with the burrs. Yikes.. I apologized and backed a little farther away from him rather that right in the 'Hey, I'll help you' zone. He pulled on the material of his jeans and they unstuck from his knees, but man, I'll bet they burned like all get out.. he quietly picked the burrs off the jeans and kept shooting looks at me between picking them off and trying to get them unstuck off of his fingers to hurl them away from him. I smiled, shakily, refraining from asking if I could help.. I'm such a helping type of woman.
I don't remember how he actually got my van lifted up enough to jettison it off and over the fence post, but I do know that the post knocked a tiny crack in my gas tank. For the next year, every time I got into the van to go anywhere, I had to kneel down and rub a bar of soap on that little crack to keep the gas from flowing out. Apparently, soap is a great 'stopper of thing that leak'. Unimpressed with a little gas the soap doesn't break down with the fluidity of the gas. Who knew? Another thing I learned was that I went through a lot more gas during rainy season when I'd run through a puddle and have to quickly crawl under the van on the wet street to soap my tank or I'd never make it home AND have gas in the van.
A year or so later, I ran into the wrecker guy and he asked me out. I asked him how his knees were. THEN he suddenly remembered who I was and pointing down past his shorts, I saw the little scars from the sand burrs that had imbedded into his knees. When I looked up, he was backing away telling me to have a good day and I guessed at that point, our prospective date was already over. Ah well, hasta la pasta to Wrecker Man.
My girl grew up and did learn how to drive. Not with all that much confidence but we did learn quickly that she had no rhythm for the fine art of a standard shift. And to this day she hates driving so much that subconsciously, her vast intelligence with her being in dual enrollment, the Gifted group, Dean's list, incredible grades all through school and college, able to take three chemistry classes at the same time, etc., is totally fueled by the fact that she wants a job that will afford her a chauffer to drive her around so she doesn't have to do it herself. Personally, I'm behind her on that one. But she has turned out to not be a bad driver at all. But I'm going to enjoy her having someone to drive her around as well. She needs the break.. heck, she's been driving since she was FOUR!
Copyright 2007, from Bekki Shanklin's 'Thinking all the time' series
The Bikini Wax or, When age overthrows Wisdom..
The Bikini Wax or, When age overthrows Wisdom..
You know when you get older and have a desire for that one last sprint into youth? Well, I had it today and decided I wanted to try a bikini wax. A great good friend of mine, Bev, is a professional esthetician and very good at her job, I must say. She does waxing, permanent makeup, facials and all sorts of cool things that people line up all day to get her to do to them. (**Her contact info available below )
Another of my great lady friends, Linda (also known as the owner of the finally finished backyard pool, discussed as Strousness Monster and the Ceement Pond) came over and we had a waxing party.. NEVER to be confused with doing the floors or wood furniture, this did not entail any energy or effort on OUR part, but we wore poor Bev out with clearing the acreage, weed whacking, or however you want to describe it. What was an effort for her with me is that I have some pretty hairy genes.
My daughter who is a beautiful girl of 24 who would lean against the door of the bathroom and her grimace would get more and more pronounced as she watched my morning ablutions. After using my comic timing for a perfect period of time, I’d then, with an evil grin say, “Guess what, at the age of 40, your coach will turn back into a pumpkin and we’ll look like twins. Heh. Heh. Heh. POUFFE!! No more gorgeous little tiny hard body.. you’ll not only grow a full beard, but you WILL become Sasquatchette and have thighs and saddle bags that would have made the Lone Ranger proud.. and maybe more Chins than a Chinese phone book..” Then I would give the evil mad scientist laugh: BBouuaaaahhhhaaahhhaaahhhhaa.. and rub my palms together in delight. I’m really surprised that my baby girl never just gave up, collapse into a corner and remained there to this day. But she didn’t, and I digress…
Here I am, lying on my bed, she’s putting warm wax on places I can’t even see and haven’t seen for like .. EVER. And then Bev’s telling me, ‘this is going to hurt a bit.’ I was thinking to myself, ‘Danger is no stranger to ME, cha-cha-cha’ and then thinking.. ‘hey, this ain’t so bad after all.’ Then RRRRIiiipppp!!!! HOLY MOTHER OF PEARL!!!!!! EEEYOOOWWWZZERZZ!! Hey, wait.. there’s not the pain that I anticipated, like when we went to see ‘The 40 Year Old Virgin’ and he had his chest waxed. He yelled for a LONG time! And watching that made my eyes water.. Hmm.. this isn’t bad at all.. not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. And then my sleeping skin woke up and said, “What the flaming heck was THAT???? I am NOT amused!” And then it all went back to sleep again until the next patch of skin was rudely awakened and then passed out with a sigh of relief.
Realizing that all three of us ladies have had children, this is NOTHING! Zip.. a mere finger-snap in time.. And Linda got her arm pits done too.. ok, I couldn’t even look at that one. Yikes.. But, she just kept right on talking like we were at The Rose Tea Room and were nibbling on crumpets .. whatever they are.. or, to put it in a perspective I can actually understand, at Arby’s tossing back those cream cheese-filled jalapenos and some Ruben sandwiches chasing it all with a jamoca shake. Sheesh, pits of steel, Linda .. my hero!
Then Bev was telling me that I was going to be walking like a cowboy that had been herding recalcitrant calves all over the state of Wyoming. Hhmm.. let me get THAT picture in my mind for a minute.. and time will tell.. morning and having to actually wear clothes will come soon.. best head to bed, relax and figure out what I can wear to work tomorrow that won’t actually touch any of my personal person.. I’ll get back with you on how it goes from here.. and if I like it.. look out.. I’ll be back! Get back in line there, little doggie!
**To contact Bev Morris, her website is BEAUTEMARX so click on the underlined word!
Copyright 2007. Bekki Shanklin, from her Thinking All The Time series
You know when you get older and have a desire for that one last sprint into youth? Well, I had it today and decided I wanted to try a bikini wax. A great good friend of mine, Bev, is a professional esthetician and very good at her job, I must say. She does waxing, permanent makeup, facials and all sorts of cool things that people line up all day to get her to do to them. (**Her contact info available below )
Another of my great lady friends, Linda (also known as the owner of the finally finished backyard pool, discussed as Strousness Monster and the Ceement Pond) came over and we had a waxing party.. NEVER to be confused with doing the floors or wood furniture, this did not entail any energy or effort on OUR part, but we wore poor Bev out with clearing the acreage, weed whacking, or however you want to describe it. What was an effort for her with me is that I have some pretty hairy genes.
My daughter who is a beautiful girl of 24 who would lean against the door of the bathroom and her grimace would get more and more pronounced as she watched my morning ablutions. After using my comic timing for a perfect period of time, I’d then, with an evil grin say, “Guess what, at the age of 40, your coach will turn back into a pumpkin and we’ll look like twins. Heh. Heh. Heh. POUFFE!! No more gorgeous little tiny hard body.. you’ll not only grow a full beard, but you WILL become Sasquatchette and have thighs and saddle bags that would have made the Lone Ranger proud.. and maybe more Chins than a Chinese phone book..” Then I would give the evil mad scientist laugh: BBouuaaaahhhhaaahhhaaahhhhaa.. and rub my palms together in delight. I’m really surprised that my baby girl never just gave up, collapse into a corner and remained there to this day. But she didn’t, and I digress…
Here I am, lying on my bed, she’s putting warm wax on places I can’t even see and haven’t seen for like .. EVER. And then Bev’s telling me, ‘this is going to hurt a bit.’ I was thinking to myself, ‘Danger is no stranger to ME, cha-cha-cha’ and then thinking.. ‘hey, this ain’t so bad after all.’ Then RRRRIiiipppp!!!! HOLY MOTHER OF PEARL!!!!!! EEEYOOOWWWZZERZZ!! Hey, wait.. there’s not the pain that I anticipated, like when we went to see ‘The 40 Year Old Virgin’ and he had his chest waxed. He yelled for a LONG time! And watching that made my eyes water.. Hmm.. this isn’t bad at all.. not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. And then my sleeping skin woke up and said, “What the flaming heck was THAT???? I am NOT amused!” And then it all went back to sleep again until the next patch of skin was rudely awakened and then passed out with a sigh of relief.
Realizing that all three of us ladies have had children, this is NOTHING! Zip.. a mere finger-snap in time.. And Linda got her arm pits done too.. ok, I couldn’t even look at that one. Yikes.. But, she just kept right on talking like we were at The Rose Tea Room and were nibbling on crumpets .. whatever they are.. or, to put it in a perspective I can actually understand, at Arby’s tossing back those cream cheese-filled jalapenos and some Ruben sandwiches chasing it all with a jamoca shake. Sheesh, pits of steel, Linda .. my hero!
Then Bev was telling me that I was going to be walking like a cowboy that had been herding recalcitrant calves all over the state of Wyoming. Hhmm.. let me get THAT picture in my mind for a minute.. and time will tell.. morning and having to actually wear clothes will come soon.. best head to bed, relax and figure out what I can wear to work tomorrow that won’t actually touch any of my personal person.. I’ll get back with you on how it goes from here.. and if I like it.. look out.. I’ll be back! Get back in line there, little doggie!
**To contact Bev Morris, her website is BEAUTEMARX so click on the underlined word!
Copyright 2007. Bekki Shanklin, from her Thinking All The Time series
A Week of Awareness.. Or.. 'Doh!' Moments NEVER Go Away, They Only Rest For Awhile
A Week of Awareness.. Or.. 'Doh!' Moments NEVER Go Away, They Only Rest For Awhile
You know, every time I think I’ve become all that AND a bag of chips, I do something that levels my own playing field that brings me into a very humble attitude.. and I also laugh at myself so much, I actually look for a place with a big sale on Depends.
Ok, some back-story, I drove myself, in labor, to have my totally beautiful daughter. I worked hard to bring her up on my own and finally married when she was 9 because I fell in love and the by-product of that was I was able to get some help raising my girl! Win-win situation!
When she was little, my dad and I installed window drapes in condos with no previous knowledge of how to do what we needed to do. When I was married, I decided to publish a magazine (again, of course, having no previous knowledge of how to produce one, I figured having my daughter with no prior thought of how to do it worked out ok, yes?) . Well, since no one told me I couldn’t, I did. With the help of my great friend, Vera, we struck out, unencumbered by any clue as to how to do it, and we did it perfectly well for years!
I have learned to take apart, repair and put together again, computers and laptops. I teach beginning computer, I build websites. I’m an award-winning wildlife artist, musician and vocalist with a 4-octave range. I CAN DRIVE A STICK-SHIFT!!!! I’m pretty darned clever most all the time! Well read on, intrepid traveler.. I will disprove this theory, big time!
At the age of 16, I was tested and was shown to have an IQ of 132.. I am thoroughly convinced that it comes in waves and when the tide is out, so is my common sense. Watch as the story of this weekend unfolds..
My dad’s 82nd birthday celebration took place up in the panhandle of Florida this last weekend. I come from a hearty stock of “If you want to do something, figure it out and get it done!”. My brother, who is a musician, incredible chef, computer guru, recording studio maven and artist as well, and his wife decided to put a musical tribute together for Dad. I said I’d drive up and film the event (cause he’s cooking and I love the area and he offers a fabulous place to stay that’s breath-taking.. yeah, I’d not turn that down AND I get to see Dad and the rest of the family as well!).
The day of the party dawned warm, perfect and exciting. Musicians who promised to show up said they’d be there about 3 pm and were! My brother, Robin, of course had started cooking a night or two before and the cooking smells were worth just standing around breathing, but we did have work to do. A friend of his came over and helped him move his entire drum set out to the pool area and I was getting ready to film the monumental event for posterity.
Everyone started showing up, I was meeting and greeting and then the first of the musicians came and set up. OK!!! I’m READY!!!!! I get my digi vid cam out and opened the little viewing door on the side. I started the cam and O GOD! O GOD! O GOD!!!! There was NO picture!!!!! I went inside and Robin’s wife, Lori, was in the kitchen (Lori is a Deputy Sheriff who weighs about a pound, is totally gorgeous, and can take down a giant in two moves, and her thinking is quick and turns on a dime.. Fab Lady!) I wandered casually inside and was talking to her and CASUALLY entered into conversation with her.. CASUALLY I began looking over my camera to see what could be horribly wrong and HOLY CRAP!!!! The lens cover was on!!! (Lori promised not to tell anyone and totally kept her word, but of course, I had to blow my own cover.. pun intended.. a true “DOH!” moment..). The rest of the day filmed perfectly and with much fun and great views of the event. (ok, some of the views were of people’s butts who decided to stand in front of the camera.. I call parts of the film the “Posteriors for Posterity Tour” ~ not sure who’s posterity, but the posteriors were frequent and in full view many times..)
But wait, it gets better…
Yesterday afternoon (and back home after the Family Fun Fest), my cell phone battery ran low and the phone shut off.. WHAT??? I’ve never had it off before! YIKES! Well, I had no phone on my long trek home. I got home and plugged it in and could look at the screen really close and barely see the little battery icon on the dark screen re-charging. I push each of the parts that I thought would turn it on, but it didn’t.. O GOD! O GOD! O GOD!!!! What if I have to buy a new battery, a new phone, is my service off? No, I just paid the bill .. O GOD! O GOD! O GOD!!!!.. what if there’s an accident (not of my own creation or involvement of course..) and how can I help someone else?? .. on and on and on.. (keeping the paper bag ready to over throw hyperventilation) Then in a fit of pique, I just said, “Ok, you stupid phone, you mean NOTHING to me.” And I ignored it for the rest of the day.
So, I got off work early, found the telephone store, read my book for an hour while I waited for my name to be called and when it was, the lady who’d sold me the phone the first of the year was there for me again (she’s totally beautiful, a writer, got great hair and was wearing FABULOUS shoes!). I told her something was wrong with my phone.. O GOD! O GOD! O GOD!!!!
She looked at the phone, did something to it and said, “Hmm.. nothing seems to be wrong with it. What’s it not doing?” “Uh, coming on? It’s dead.” She then turned the screen to me and there it was.. ON.. What the…? “It was just turned off.” Well, HOLY CRAP… Was my face red.. Ok, well, not really. I’m sort of used to Numb-nut moments. She then patiently told me how to work my own phone, especially the on and off part. Sheesh.
So, now I’m back in action with my phone. I’ve learned where the on/off button is on it and I’ve been reminded to check the lens-cap on my camera. It’s been a great week of getting back to simple basics. It seems that having all that technical stuff in my brain really doesn’t leave room for little, simple things any more. Of course, those two very simple things will stand out in my brain for a while.. maybe.
You can see my comedy and singing on youtube.. check it out.. http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=bekki+shanklin&search_type=&aq=f
Bekki Shanklin, copyright 2007, from her “Thinking All The Time” series
You know, every time I think I’ve become all that AND a bag of chips, I do something that levels my own playing field that brings me into a very humble attitude.. and I also laugh at myself so much, I actually look for a place with a big sale on Depends.
Ok, some back-story, I drove myself, in labor, to have my totally beautiful daughter. I worked hard to bring her up on my own and finally married when she was 9 because I fell in love and the by-product of that was I was able to get some help raising my girl! Win-win situation!
When she was little, my dad and I installed window drapes in condos with no previous knowledge of how to do what we needed to do. When I was married, I decided to publish a magazine (again, of course, having no previous knowledge of how to produce one, I figured having my daughter with no prior thought of how to do it worked out ok, yes?) . Well, since no one told me I couldn’t, I did. With the help of my great friend, Vera, we struck out, unencumbered by any clue as to how to do it, and we did it perfectly well for years!
I have learned to take apart, repair and put together again, computers and laptops. I teach beginning computer, I build websites. I’m an award-winning wildlife artist, musician and vocalist with a 4-octave range. I CAN DRIVE A STICK-SHIFT!!!! I’m pretty darned clever most all the time! Well read on, intrepid traveler.. I will disprove this theory, big time!
At the age of 16, I was tested and was shown to have an IQ of 132.. I am thoroughly convinced that it comes in waves and when the tide is out, so is my common sense. Watch as the story of this weekend unfolds..
My dad’s 82nd birthday celebration took place up in the panhandle of Florida this last weekend. I come from a hearty stock of “If you want to do something, figure it out and get it done!”. My brother, who is a musician, incredible chef, computer guru, recording studio maven and artist as well, and his wife decided to put a musical tribute together for Dad. I said I’d drive up and film the event (cause he’s cooking and I love the area and he offers a fabulous place to stay that’s breath-taking.. yeah, I’d not turn that down AND I get to see Dad and the rest of the family as well!).
The day of the party dawned warm, perfect and exciting. Musicians who promised to show up said they’d be there about 3 pm and were! My brother, Robin, of course had started cooking a night or two before and the cooking smells were worth just standing around breathing, but we did have work to do. A friend of his came over and helped him move his entire drum set out to the pool area and I was getting ready to film the monumental event for posterity.
Everyone started showing up, I was meeting and greeting and then the first of the musicians came and set up. OK!!! I’m READY!!!!! I get my digi vid cam out and opened the little viewing door on the side. I started the cam and O GOD! O GOD! O GOD!!!! There was NO picture!!!!! I went inside and Robin’s wife, Lori, was in the kitchen (Lori is a Deputy Sheriff who weighs about a pound, is totally gorgeous, and can take down a giant in two moves, and her thinking is quick and turns on a dime.. Fab Lady!) I wandered casually inside and was talking to her and CASUALLY entered into conversation with her.. CASUALLY I began looking over my camera to see what could be horribly wrong and HOLY CRAP!!!! The lens cover was on!!! (Lori promised not to tell anyone and totally kept her word, but of course, I had to blow my own cover.. pun intended.. a true “DOH!” moment..). The rest of the day filmed perfectly and with much fun and great views of the event. (ok, some of the views were of people’s butts who decided to stand in front of the camera.. I call parts of the film the “Posteriors for Posterity Tour” ~ not sure who’s posterity, but the posteriors were frequent and in full view many times..)
But wait, it gets better…
Yesterday afternoon (and back home after the Family Fun Fest), my cell phone battery ran low and the phone shut off.. WHAT??? I’ve never had it off before! YIKES! Well, I had no phone on my long trek home. I got home and plugged it in and could look at the screen really close and barely see the little battery icon on the dark screen re-charging. I push each of the parts that I thought would turn it on, but it didn’t.. O GOD! O GOD! O GOD!!!! What if I have to buy a new battery, a new phone, is my service off? No, I just paid the bill .. O GOD! O GOD! O GOD!!!!.. what if there’s an accident (not of my own creation or involvement of course..) and how can I help someone else?? .. on and on and on.. (keeping the paper bag ready to over throw hyperventilation) Then in a fit of pique, I just said, “Ok, you stupid phone, you mean NOTHING to me.” And I ignored it for the rest of the day.
So, I got off work early, found the telephone store, read my book for an hour while I waited for my name to be called and when it was, the lady who’d sold me the phone the first of the year was there for me again (she’s totally beautiful, a writer, got great hair and was wearing FABULOUS shoes!). I told her something was wrong with my phone.. O GOD! O GOD! O GOD!!!!
She looked at the phone, did something to it and said, “Hmm.. nothing seems to be wrong with it. What’s it not doing?” “Uh, coming on? It’s dead.” She then turned the screen to me and there it was.. ON.. What the…? “It was just turned off.” Well, HOLY CRAP… Was my face red.. Ok, well, not really. I’m sort of used to Numb-nut moments. She then patiently told me how to work my own phone, especially the on and off part. Sheesh.
So, now I’m back in action with my phone. I’ve learned where the on/off button is on it and I’ve been reminded to check the lens-cap on my camera. It’s been a great week of getting back to simple basics. It seems that having all that technical stuff in my brain really doesn’t leave room for little, simple things any more. Of course, those two very simple things will stand out in my brain for a while.. maybe.
You can see my comedy and singing on youtube.. check it out.. http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=bekki+shanklin&search_type=&aq=f
Bekki Shanklin, copyright 2007, from her “Thinking All The Time” series
Running away from home
Running away from home..
There’s a very cute commercial on TV right now. (‘Advert’ for our British fans..) It’s a little bitty boy with bright red hair, pacing with purpose down a sidewalk, teddy bear under one arm and a tiny suitcase in his other hand. Behind him, driving very slowly is his mom. And the voice-over is talking about his mom being there when he’s tired of running away to the circus.
I thought back to my daughter’s growing up. She is away in school and I miss her terribly. But I digress.. I was thinking back on our growing up together and I didn’t remember her ever running away from home. When I was small, I packed my little suitcase.. it was one of those cardboard ones with, I think, Barbie on it.. I know my arms were loaded down, but have no real recollection of what they were loaded with. I do know that, since I wasn’t allowed to cross the street, I sat cross-legged at the end of the sidewalk for what seemed like hours (Mom said it was about 15 minutes.. but it’s all perception, yes? LOL) and then standing up, dragging it all back in and that was the end of it.
I then called my Chicklette and asked her if she ever ran away. She said, “Sure I did! I was seven and I moved out.”
WHAT??? Where the heck was *I*????
She then went on to tell me that she moved under the stairs outside of our apartment (it was inside stairs, so she wasn’t left to the elements.. probably just dust). She hauled her Cabbage Patch Big Wheels down there (maybe for a fast get-away, incase she wanted to see more of the world on her own), took some sheets and a blanket and made a bed and hung out down there. Again, where the heck was *I*??
She went into some detail, reminding me of the guy and girl that lived across the hall that babysat her occasionally. Amazing.. I can’t believe how much I remember that I apprise her of, but I’m always stunned at what she comes up with on her own for memories. What an amazing, beautiful and brilliant girl she is.. I’m so blessed with having her in my life. Or within 3 hours of my actual life..
Well, let me hop into the ‘way back machine to other times when my littlest brother and I ventured off into the wild blue yonder as little kids..
I was born and raised in laid back, quiet, safe Iowa and we lived next door to an old Jewish cemetery. It was beautiful and so peaceful and I’d take my Nancy Drew books over and lay on a headstone and read the afternoon away.. I used to eat the berries that grew on all the fences (Until Dad told me that most of the ‘inmates’ of the property weren’t buried in coffins and probably their.. uh.. pieces-parts were fertilizing the berries.. I thought of all the weeks and years that I’d sated myself, wiped the berry juice off my chin and it was full of DEAD GUYS!?!?!?! Oh, GAK! Double GAK.. Double GAK and a half!!! )
Anyway, digressing again.. Here I am sitting on my favorite headstone, reading Nancy Drew’s latest adventure, a lap full of gooseberries, black berries and raspberries (BEFORE I learned that I was eating DEAD GUYS), and watching a bunch of people coming to my house and then leaving again.. Shrugging, I went back to reading and eating (Dead Guy Berries, remember?).
Finishing the (dead guy) berries.. (still shuddering just to think about that), I sighed and closed the book and sashayed back to the house. My mom screamed, ran over grabbed me up and hugged me and then paddled my butt.. HUH? That was a confusing set of moves.. Turns out, I was lost for a long time. Hmmm.. *I* knew where I was! What’s the big deal? So, after the tears of joy from my mom and the tears of, ‘What the heck?’ from me, we decided that in the future, I’d mention that I was going over to read and dine on DEAD GUY berries. (Remember, I still wasn’t apprised of the fertilizer situation in the cemetery). All was well after that.. with me..
But then, came the situation with my littlest brother.. Revisit me in the cemetery, reading, eating and enjoying the day.. I look up to see people coming and going again and hopped down, stuffed the rest of the Dead Guy berries into my mouth and wandering home. This time, Mom wasn’t looking for me.. it was my second little brother, Robin, she was looking for.. he was about four or five at the time. So, I volunteered to ride my cool bike all over the neighborhood to look for him.
My other brother was two years younger than me and had a red bike. My bike was a girl’s bike and it had a bell and basket. The nut the held the handle bars to the bike said ANDROCK.. no idea why I remember that except that when I hit a fence post, I felt it was branded into my pubic bone for weeks.. yikes, that hurt. But yet AGAIN, I digress..
I hopped on my brother’s camel our bikes had many personalities and names and characteristics of many heroes and means of travel. His was red and FAST! Mine was blue and had a basket and bell. He was cool with my thieving his bike if he could ring the bell on mine and put all his sports stuff in the basket) and road all over the area calling my little brother’s name. Well, that worked wonderfully up until I passed the little local store (wood floors, ceiling fans, no air conditioning ~ it was ancient times, remember, before we ever knew of a/c) and I had a dime.. suddenly, it was ‘what brother?’.. What? Where? Who? IT WAS TIME FOR A SMOKE!!!!!!
Back then I could get a handy, flip-top pack of candy cigarettes for a nickel. Or I could get a package of those little wax soda bottles that housed some of the raunchiest, sweet flavor on the planet and my girlfriends and I LOVED them! (course it left our teeth the same color as whatever heinous stuff was in it.. but, again, I digress). OR.. I could get some waxed red lips.. wow, the tension was maddening.. so I decided to save half of my fortune and grab the ‘smokes’ while I looked for my brother.. oh, yeah, MY BROTHER!!!!! He could be out there in danger.. wild dogs, bears, my girl friends putting their mother’s make-up on him and dressing him like a little doll .. who even knew! It was the 50s, it didn’t seem as dangerous back then, but in my mind, Nancy Drew and I were on the trail.
I stood up and pedaled my little legs as if they were pistons and Nancy and I needed find that kid! But wait.. I needed a smoke first. Pulling over to the side of the road, I chewed up a cig and relaxed. Refreshed, I pedaled my wares on the road and went back on duty. Having only gone a whole block (this was Iowa, these were long blocks), I realized I was thirsty after all the cig-chewing and went back home for water.
While I was slurping down the water, I happened to spill it all over my shirt.. you remember those cute matching shirt and shorts outfits worn with TOTALLY pristine white sneakers and ruffle-dy socks? Well, I had to change. Walking so my long pony tail whipped back and forth (I mastered that walk.. have no idea how it’s done now). I heaved a HUGE sigh and I went to my closet (ok my sister’s and my closet) .. a sort of large, walk-in sort (that was then, probably today, it’s probably a regular size linen closet without the shelving.. but back then, it was HUGE.. especially when I had to clean it out on a regular basis). And I stepped over my little brother who was sound asleep on all my teddy bears.
HOLD THE PHONE! Here he was!!!! What a little rat! I was out there smoking myself into a frazzle and sweating and ruining my cool outfit and the little twerp (ya’ll remember that work, my old friends?) was sound-eyed asleep on my bears!
I stomped out to the living room where my mom was pacing and promising everything to who ever the almighty is to allow her son to live. Righteously, I pulled myself up tall, adjusted my glasses that kept sliding down my hot and sweaty face, moved my shoulders so my pony tail went back down my back, and said, “HE”S ASLEEP ON MY BEARS!!!” With that declaration, my mom rushed to the closet, swept him up and hugged and kissed him awake.
HOLD THE PHONE AGAIN!!! Where was all the bottom spanking? *I* got a whoopin’ and all he got was hugs!?!?!?! LIFE IS NOT FAIR!! Well, PFFT! Where is the justice? Well, there was only one recourse: Back on the bike, pedal to the store, buy the wax lips with my last nickel and once back home, hop off the bike while it was still going about 3400 miles an hour and watch it hit the garage and fall over (wasn’t MY bike, right?), get old Nancy Drew, and stomp off to the cemetery and smoke and chew up my wax lips..
The quiet peace of the afternoon (and the silence of the ‘inmates’) helped assuage my indignation and Nancy Drew ‘drew’ me into danger and the solving of mysteries, the cigs and wax lips got me through the rest of the afternoon and all was right with the world again.
And then there was the time that my little sister, Heidi, and Stevie, the next-door neighbor kid decided that they’d go see the horse that lived at the end of the street.. I was sitting on a head stone, reading Nancy Drew and still didn’t know I was eating Dead Guy berries….
Copyright 2007. Bekki Shanklin, from her Thinking All The Time series.
There’s a very cute commercial on TV right now. (‘Advert’ for our British fans..) It’s a little bitty boy with bright red hair, pacing with purpose down a sidewalk, teddy bear under one arm and a tiny suitcase in his other hand. Behind him, driving very slowly is his mom. And the voice-over is talking about his mom being there when he’s tired of running away to the circus.
I thought back to my daughter’s growing up. She is away in school and I miss her terribly. But I digress.. I was thinking back on our growing up together and I didn’t remember her ever running away from home. When I was small, I packed my little suitcase.. it was one of those cardboard ones with, I think, Barbie on it.. I know my arms were loaded down, but have no real recollection of what they were loaded with. I do know that, since I wasn’t allowed to cross the street, I sat cross-legged at the end of the sidewalk for what seemed like hours (Mom said it was about 15 minutes.. but it’s all perception, yes? LOL) and then standing up, dragging it all back in and that was the end of it.
I then called my Chicklette and asked her if she ever ran away. She said, “Sure I did! I was seven and I moved out.”
WHAT??? Where the heck was *I*????
She then went on to tell me that she moved under the stairs outside of our apartment (it was inside stairs, so she wasn’t left to the elements.. probably just dust). She hauled her Cabbage Patch Big Wheels down there (maybe for a fast get-away, incase she wanted to see more of the world on her own), took some sheets and a blanket and made a bed and hung out down there. Again, where the heck was *I*??
She went into some detail, reminding me of the guy and girl that lived across the hall that babysat her occasionally. Amazing.. I can’t believe how much I remember that I apprise her of, but I’m always stunned at what she comes up with on her own for memories. What an amazing, beautiful and brilliant girl she is.. I’m so blessed with having her in my life. Or within 3 hours of my actual life..
Well, let me hop into the ‘way back machine to other times when my littlest brother and I ventured off into the wild blue yonder as little kids..
I was born and raised in laid back, quiet, safe Iowa and we lived next door to an old Jewish cemetery. It was beautiful and so peaceful and I’d take my Nancy Drew books over and lay on a headstone and read the afternoon away.. I used to eat the berries that grew on all the fences (Until Dad told me that most of the ‘inmates’ of the property weren’t buried in coffins and probably their.. uh.. pieces-parts were fertilizing the berries.. I thought of all the weeks and years that I’d sated myself, wiped the berry juice off my chin and it was full of DEAD GUYS!?!?!?! Oh, GAK! Double GAK.. Double GAK and a half!!! )
Anyway, digressing again.. Here I am sitting on my favorite headstone, reading Nancy Drew’s latest adventure, a lap full of gooseberries, black berries and raspberries (BEFORE I learned that I was eating DEAD GUYS), and watching a bunch of people coming to my house and then leaving again.. Shrugging, I went back to reading and eating (Dead Guy Berries, remember?).
Finishing the (dead guy) berries.. (still shuddering just to think about that), I sighed and closed the book and sashayed back to the house. My mom screamed, ran over grabbed me up and hugged me and then paddled my butt.. HUH? That was a confusing set of moves.. Turns out, I was lost for a long time. Hmmm.. *I* knew where I was! What’s the big deal? So, after the tears of joy from my mom and the tears of, ‘What the heck?’ from me, we decided that in the future, I’d mention that I was going over to read and dine on DEAD GUY berries. (Remember, I still wasn’t apprised of the fertilizer situation in the cemetery). All was well after that.. with me..
But then, came the situation with my littlest brother.. Revisit me in the cemetery, reading, eating and enjoying the day.. I look up to see people coming and going again and hopped down, stuffed the rest of the Dead Guy berries into my mouth and wandering home. This time, Mom wasn’t looking for me.. it was my second little brother, Robin, she was looking for.. he was about four or five at the time. So, I volunteered to ride my cool bike all over the neighborhood to look for him.
My other brother was two years younger than me and had a red bike. My bike was a girl’s bike and it had a bell and basket. The nut the held the handle bars to the bike said ANDROCK.. no idea why I remember that except that when I hit a fence post, I felt it was branded into my pubic bone for weeks.. yikes, that hurt. But yet AGAIN, I digress..
I hopped on my brother’s camel our bikes had many personalities and names and characteristics of many heroes and means of travel. His was red and FAST! Mine was blue and had a basket and bell. He was cool with my thieving his bike if he could ring the bell on mine and put all his sports stuff in the basket) and road all over the area calling my little brother’s name. Well, that worked wonderfully up until I passed the little local store (wood floors, ceiling fans, no air conditioning ~ it was ancient times, remember, before we ever knew of a/c) and I had a dime.. suddenly, it was ‘what brother?’.. What? Where? Who? IT WAS TIME FOR A SMOKE!!!!!!
Back then I could get a handy, flip-top pack of candy cigarettes for a nickel. Or I could get a package of those little wax soda bottles that housed some of the raunchiest, sweet flavor on the planet and my girlfriends and I LOVED them! (course it left our teeth the same color as whatever heinous stuff was in it.. but, again, I digress). OR.. I could get some waxed red lips.. wow, the tension was maddening.. so I decided to save half of my fortune and grab the ‘smokes’ while I looked for my brother.. oh, yeah, MY BROTHER!!!!! He could be out there in danger.. wild dogs, bears, my girl friends putting their mother’s make-up on him and dressing him like a little doll .. who even knew! It was the 50s, it didn’t seem as dangerous back then, but in my mind, Nancy Drew and I were on the trail.
I stood up and pedaled my little legs as if they were pistons and Nancy and I needed find that kid! But wait.. I needed a smoke first. Pulling over to the side of the road, I chewed up a cig and relaxed. Refreshed, I pedaled my wares on the road and went back on duty. Having only gone a whole block (this was Iowa, these were long blocks), I realized I was thirsty after all the cig-chewing and went back home for water.
While I was slurping down the water, I happened to spill it all over my shirt.. you remember those cute matching shirt and shorts outfits worn with TOTALLY pristine white sneakers and ruffle-dy socks? Well, I had to change. Walking so my long pony tail whipped back and forth (I mastered that walk.. have no idea how it’s done now). I heaved a HUGE sigh and I went to my closet (ok my sister’s and my closet) .. a sort of large, walk-in sort (that was then, probably today, it’s probably a regular size linen closet without the shelving.. but back then, it was HUGE.. especially when I had to clean it out on a regular basis). And I stepped over my little brother who was sound asleep on all my teddy bears.
HOLD THE PHONE! Here he was!!!! What a little rat! I was out there smoking myself into a frazzle and sweating and ruining my cool outfit and the little twerp (ya’ll remember that work, my old friends?) was sound-eyed asleep on my bears!
I stomped out to the living room where my mom was pacing and promising everything to who ever the almighty is to allow her son to live. Righteously, I pulled myself up tall, adjusted my glasses that kept sliding down my hot and sweaty face, moved my shoulders so my pony tail went back down my back, and said, “HE”S ASLEEP ON MY BEARS!!!” With that declaration, my mom rushed to the closet, swept him up and hugged and kissed him awake.
HOLD THE PHONE AGAIN!!! Where was all the bottom spanking? *I* got a whoopin’ and all he got was hugs!?!?!?! LIFE IS NOT FAIR!! Well, PFFT! Where is the justice? Well, there was only one recourse: Back on the bike, pedal to the store, buy the wax lips with my last nickel and once back home, hop off the bike while it was still going about 3400 miles an hour and watch it hit the garage and fall over (wasn’t MY bike, right?), get old Nancy Drew, and stomp off to the cemetery and smoke and chew up my wax lips..
The quiet peace of the afternoon (and the silence of the ‘inmates’) helped assuage my indignation and Nancy Drew ‘drew’ me into danger and the solving of mysteries, the cigs and wax lips got me through the rest of the afternoon and all was right with the world again.
And then there was the time that my little sister, Heidi, and Stevie, the next-door neighbor kid decided that they’d go see the horse that lived at the end of the street.. I was sitting on a head stone, reading Nancy Drew and still didn’t know I was eating Dead Guy berries….
Copyright 2007. Bekki Shanklin, from her Thinking All The Time series.
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