May 31, 2005

Civil War Whore

a lot of people in my family have the gift helps...we produce many doctors and nurses and teachers and such in our family tree. i asked my grandmother about her desire to be a nurse, and well, working in general way back in the day. she told me she always had strong desire to go to nursing school but her father was deadset against it. really, i prodded...why? according to my grandma, her father, Roscoe Fort (yep, that's me great grandpappy's name), and her uncle Battle Fort, both held a strong attitude that nursing was a deviant profession. not only would such sick minded women be prone to eyeballing the privates of strangers..but it was also common knowledge that the nurses slept with all the soldiers during the civil war. no daughter of his was going to service the servicemen. grandmother finally went to nursing school when she was 42. She still had three youngins at home, but her desire to reach that goal never dimmed. She is the sweetest soul you could ever hope to have in your presence, especially if you were under the weather....and she can make a mickey mouse shaped pancake as well.

Posted by shoe at 09:17 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Flacid Fellow on a saturday night

man, this is one of those things that you wish you could be blogging as it's happening. One of those oh shit moments when you desire to take it to the world at lightening speed and beg the question, WHAT THE FUCK?

while much too inebriated to drive, i was convinced to take ole jay, my new hungry buddy to the McDonald's at two a.m. ...people, hello, McD's doesn't stay open til dawn in tiny towns, why didn't i know that?

the rain that knocked out the show was still coming down. on the way back from the closed burger joint, we missed our exit...i asked, but the frisky stranger in the passenger seat swore he knew where to go... it was ten miles to the next turn around, and ten miles back to camp central. i was already sick of his shit...

then out of nowhere he dropped his pants. he was saying to pull over and touch it! i gave a sideways glance, come on, doesn't happen every day, and his one eyed winky was fast asleep on his thigh. say it with me....what the fuck?

now, i am a girl that loves a challenge, but you got grab my interest or piss me off (i'm irish like that). a dead peeper does not turn me on. i said, "come on dude, what is up over there?"

"touch it" he begged and said, "why you want to make me feel weird like that? pull over"

"you feel weird?" i queried. "really, that's interesting...hmm, i wonder why you feel so weird? maybe it would help if you covered him up, he looks pretty humiliated...and cold"

truth was, besides the flacid fellow there was the whole age gap. why did i feel like michael jackson instead of misses robinson? i don't know, but i never gave it a serious thought...

Posted by shoe at 01:10 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 30, 2005

And the home of the BRAVE

Happy Memorial Day..

CW was a west texas country boy. raised on a farm in turkey, texas, he went to school in quitiqua in the shadows of caprock canyon (pronounced: kitty-quay, farners). that was the big town in the middle of nowhere. CW met his bride one day shopping in downtown quitiqua. Jo took one look at him in that convertible and all sense flew out the window.

They married in august of 1942. What visual images does that strike up for you? CW was 20 years old and fresh out of navy boot camp. He had longed to be a marine but his sight wasn't good enough. He had so many science and pre med courses at Texas Tech that the Navy snatched him up and trained him to be a medic. The same month they married, he shipped out...he signed up to see the world, and what did he see? He saw the Sea...

Here's an oddball twist of fate: at the time, the navy provided medics for the marines, so when CW shipped out to the Pacific for the first time in august '42, he went to join the marines at Guadal Canal.

So what was he? A sailor or a marine? grandmother jo said when he was with the marines, he was a marine (dressed as a marine), serving with marines, and the same when he was with the navy. overall he was an american, doing his part when his country called, and which uniform he wore made no difference.

The Army had been there (Guadal Canal) awhile when the marines came in. CW saw the war's horrors on his first days in the line of fire. The japanese were sniping them from the coconut trees. the troops were stuck in foxholes that they were constantly having to dig anew, because the spread of jaundice and disease was so pervasive in the foxholes. At one point after serving over a year, CW while on tour with the corp, had not had a bath, nor a change of clothes in 30 days. He caught pneumonia and got jaundice pretty bad. he was discharged as "unfit for combat in the pacific" and went home.

When CW returned home, his first born son, Paul, was 13 months old. He had wanted to take a leave to see his son born but the captain told him "hell no, they just need you to lay the keel, they can launch it without you." The way of life he fought to protect was in fact blooming at home without him, but because of him, the captain was right.

CW, though supposedly unfit for combat, was called back up three months later. They were short of medics, always. He served out his four year term in various spots in the Pacific. He received two bronze stars that no one in our family knew about until a grandson started writing a school paper about him in the early 90's. Typical CW, never had room for pride.

No wonder i grew up wondering just what branch of service my grandfather was in. I was born on november 10th, and my grandfather made sure i knew how meaningful that was. My grandfather was WWII vet, a sailor on deck and a marine at heart. he left his medical aspirations in the Pacific Ocean, and became a cattleman instead.

God Bless all the soldiers who stake their lives on our freedom. What a legacy for our country, and definately our way of life.. My hat is off to you and my heart goes out to yours. THANK YOU!!

update: when i called my grandma to ask her a few details she asked about my trip to new york. i told her it was great, but that i left as fleet week was starting and i would have loved to have been there for that. She told me, "..oh no, sailors just have one thing on their minds when they reach the shore...that's one thing i'm sure that is still true today, i'm glad you're home"

Posted by shoe at 09:25 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 29, 2005

who am i?

i sure as fuck don't know...

last night i met a few friends at phil's firehouse in comfort. Jon Dee Graham played a magnificent set outside under these enormous oak trees. fabulous. when the rain started coming down, it just made it more beautiful...we were safe under the tree canopy and those love songs curdling through the rain was something, people.

until set two, the gusts became hurricanelike in nature. the band of entirely ordinary gentlemen ran for safety. the gig was rained out completely. i sought shelter in the firehouse, which has a bar and three ten pin bowling lanes. kids at the end in a bunker have to manually re set the pins. it's a nice step back in time.

whilst avoiding the rain, my friends all fled. i was parked pretty far so i just sat at a table. before long i was entrenched in a memorial day camping party fest. about 12 people. we drank and laughed and i went back to their campsite. they giggled and gambled and told inside stories on each other all night. it was a really good time. i enjoyed the scene.

always nice to leave your persona at the city limits, don't ya think? nice to be unknown sometimes, makes life interesting...

Posted by shoe at 08:35 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 26, 2005

the final fuck-off

dog gone it, i love words. they wow me, they thrill me, they stumble me... apparantly the bush gene that spawns such monsters as "strategery" skipped a gene pool to get to me. guilty on all counts. my mind mixes up words with such regularity that it actually scares me to speak sometimes. i don't know what might come out, but the reaction is always the same... it stuns me. what the fuck did i just say? then i get mired in the mess of it and pretty soon i don't know what the fuck i was talking about to begin with. it's not just words either, i have communication failure on many fronts. you would think, as someone who loves to read, that writing would be a natural extension of speaking. that's always been my writing style. i speak and type to keep up. i figure the free flow sounds just like me.

well when you tend to butcher all languages indiscriminantly, maybe you should think twice about train of thought rambling, eh?

recently, i have had a barrage of communication breakdown via email. i send an email, i'm like laughing while i type it, and think it's the funniest shit on the planet and invariably i get a response like "i don't like your tone" or "you sound angry". it's like my humor doesn't translate into the written form. wtf?

i guess i should know by now. i've seen enough mouths gape open at what i say face to should be no surprise that i offend so easily when my words stain paper.

when will we learn, people?

Posted by shoe at 06:25 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 25, 2005

Kid Logic: I Want to Be Number Two

Today true won an award for reading the second most books in the entire kindergarten class of his elementary school. They only gave two reading awards per grade. as mother of the freaking year, i don't want to sound smug, BUT, might i add he had to learn to read and then outread everbody else? not bad, my boy, not bad t'all.

in fact, smugness ran rampant in this post toddles competition du death. Ms. Petty was quick to point out that true outread 5 teacher's kids that are also in his kindergarten class.

True was pretty self absorbed by the time i picked him up from school. I told him i was so proud and asked if he knew why.

He ventured a guess, "Cause i'm the true-meister?"


"Because I outread everybody in my kindergarten class?"

"Well, actually, i think someone else read more books and you got second place. But you still outread 100 other kids, that's awesome. Who was the kid who outread you?"

"Tristan was there...but he was one, i got the two...since two is twice as much as one i thought i read twice as many books as him. i thought i was the best"

Cripes, motherhood is so jampacked with beautiful inconsistencies. true, for being a crumb off the ole cracker, you are the best!

Posted by shoe at 10:57 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

More Kid Logic: Getting Even

Reminded me of my favorite true story... Earlier this year i visited true's kindergarden class and was a guest reader. i had to read a book about different families, and i gotta say, it was trying. The book was about families that look different because of divorce, or remarriage, or adoption. nothing extreme, like johnny has two mommies, but i digress. my point was it's tough to read anything to 20 six year olds without laughing inappropriately at the stuff they will say.

anyway, true can't keep his mouth shut. he's all, "I know, I know"...waving his hand and begging out loud "pick me, pick me" it's funny to hear a screaming subconcious. the whole time i'm reading he's blurting out things. finally i had enough.

True, "I can spell my name, it's T-R-U-E-T-T"

Me, "Ms. Petty, did you hear that? true has tee tee in his name! giggle, giggle (used to be uncle dave's private joke)

Ms. Petty, "did you hear that, class? true has tee tee in his name"

The class erupts into laughter and giggles and mass kinder mayhem. dead pan serious true stares down his teacher and levels her with one sentence...

"So does Ms. Petty"

Touche, my boy. good war of the wits

Posted by shoe at 09:47 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 22, 2005

New York Stories

what can one say? here is the best i heard all weekend... a friend of mine, who shall remain nameless, told me this STONE COLD SOBER as we were walking down Fifth Avenue on our way to grand central station....too freakin funny, i can't believe i didn't have to liquor him up to hear it... "joe" had recently moved to a new city in a new state. being single and knowing no one, he got involved in some sort of-- prolly kinkyish- aol chat room..

he soon found himself chatting it up with a lovely lady from a fair southern state. they started with instant messenger, and then progressed to a few racy phone calls. before long they were sharing pics, some nudey shots as well. things were starting to cook and, god, nothing else seemed to...

being that he was getting nowhere in the local night life and that their relationship was now a still fire-hot two month long affair, he decided to bite the bullet and fly his honey home. He sprang for a flight on short notice, and it cost him $450...but he justified it thinking it would be a romantic getaway, or at least a fuck-a-thon.

Testosterone at dangerous levels, he rushed to the airport to retrieve his email order bride...

She was 350 pounds, if one ounce...and my friend, freaking devastated. he said the face was from the pictures but the body was long gone if not forgotten completely.

oh it's not over.... quick on his feet, he told her he was in love with another and that he just wasn't feeling the chemistry, in fact their lack of chemistry only made him realize how truly in love he was with another...

"as long as we're coming clean," she said..."i'm married"... and the only reason she could come that weekend was cause hubby was out of town...

AGAIN, this story was shared with me in broad daylight without any substance abuse must be the anonymity of the big city...

fuck that, i'm posting this shit with these well known words: BUYER BEWARE


Posted by shoe at 09:22 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 17, 2005

You were always home to me

well, time is ticking away... this time tomorrow i will be standing mouth agape at the World Trade Center remains where i stood 7 short years ago in completely different skin.

My mind has been swimming at my desk all morning...i'm having to write my little speech for the other 50 suits attending the meeting. The topic is the secret to my success...and as i told you before, that is damn difficult when you don't feel successful. part is the "i'm never good enough" drive that actually is at the root of my success. The more important ingredient is each of you.

Whether you believe in destiny or not, know that i do, very strongly...

You see, I firmly believe every relationship and experience to be a part of a master plan...I think all my hard experiences in Illinois trained me singularly, almost exquisitely, for the challenges I face here. I am confident in my ability to help people. I am passionate in my desire to do so. But most of all, i am so thankful for the relationships.

St. Louey gal, you saved my life. When I was down, you were a screaming success. When i was going through my divorce, you had been there. You were an inspiration to me at a time when i was functioning, but just barely. You are wired so different from me, yet such a beacon of self reliance.

In short (as if, right?) all of you are the secret of my success. Role models, mothers, nurses, teachers, students, entrepeneurs every one...Being close to you, affected by you, involved with you....for the last 30 been the formulation of me. THANK YOU, EACH OF YOU, FOR MY SUCCESS.

Damn, I love you people...reunion time? how about a family weekend in the hill country?...a little troop 606 reunion tour? Louisianna, you bring the cheetos!!

My door is open and the light is on,

Posted by shoe at 12:06 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 04, 2005

Love In Pictures

ah being a mommy ain't so bad some times. in alley cat's class, they all drew pics of their mommies and their teachers afixed a little typewritten block with the child's description. They are all up in the kid's window, but the teacher's won't tell who's who. it's funny, it looks like the same giant headed stick figure lady posed for all of their pics. it was tough, but i found me, and this is how the alley cat describes his number one fan: *my mommy takes me to the store and buys me toys

*my mommy is never sad
*my mommy is pretty

what can i say? guilty, those little boogers are so worth the headaches. sure, if your male, you gotta be between the ages of 4 and 6 to be in my fan club, but at least some one gets me.

i'm scooting into town for mom's day. if anyone's available give me a call. my cell phone being newly replaced is empty so consider your number lost at present.

i'll be at dizey's, the number hasn't changed since 1973.

love to all of you and happy mother's day!


Posted by shoe at 08:09 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

May 01, 2005

Mayday! ramblings for both sides of the mason dixon line

Y' an effort to bridge the gap between the north and south, I offer this When I lived in Illinois for seven long and wonderful years, I learned two wonderful things about these so called "yankees" and their yankee ways... 1> First, these people love Mayday. Every year I recieved flowers at my home and office...they are delivered surprise style. A knock at your door or a ring of the bell, and you open it, there's no one there??....but fresh spring flowers sitting in a cone shaped homemade door knob hanger!! Damn, those yankees are classy people...I loved it. But the first mayday I experienced I was so confused...WTF, people? Mayday?? huh?? I went to work and told my secretary that I was prankcalled at my front door, but they left flowers!! Really, May first is a holiday? We didn't have that in Houston growing up. I guess what a waste right? You leave flowers on someone's door in Houston on mayday in the 105 degree morning heat, and you ain't exactly winning friends and influencing people.. 2> And since, I'm on the subject of appreciating our neighbors to the north. I've got to say, they LOVE a freaking parade. I counted one year and we had more than 16 parades in our town (again, sorry, but many for occasions the rest of us wouldn't celebrate, much less throw down a parade for), including a revolutionary war reenactment kids were scared shitless. Here come all these sweating soldiers rolling down the coblestones in woolen costumes, with muskets and drums solemnly tapping their way as they overtook our small town. Both my boys cried and begged to go home and it was the only parade of the year where they threw no candy. Damn, but they do love a parade, and for that they are due my respect

I guess it was the heat, too, but i don't remember seeing any parades in Houston either. I do remember being in a few for school....NONE of us ever knew how to do a parade because NONE of us had seen or participated in one before....


Posted by shoe at 12:07 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack