Category Archives: Telling stories

What if eve had really big bones?

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My dad was a bit of an odd ball; we shared several peculiar habits.  Once he told me he always counted when he climbed stairs.  I was slicing a cucumber; I had 28 pieces already cut when he began talking, had to stop counting to listen.

I write poetry nearly every day.  I always have.  Every so often something comes out of left field.  Most often irreverent work gets published.  That amuses me.  I thought today I’d share a silly poem because it’s something Daddy would appreciate.

And oh, yeah, it was published.

Eve

 

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Some pictures make it look like Eve wore a Size 6.

I wonder if she did.

I wonder if Adam might have expected more for the precious price of a rib.

     What if Eve wore a 16 or 56?  Would it have mattered to the snake?

Do you think he would have gone all slack-jawed and ended up forked-

tongue-tied?     Or maybe relax and lose the mean streak?

What if he had?

My bet is we’d all still be sitting there in that big old lush garden with

everyone getting email at the same address

     and about a ka-zillion relatives would be killing time in a chat room at

www.thisisallthereis.com

What if Eve wore an 18 or 44?

What in heaven’s name does that mean anyway?

Just for fun let’s imagine Adam coming home from another long day hanging with

the Lord to find his little woman trying on leaves,

   and all because silly old Satan let the C-A-T out of the B-A-G   and got Eve all embarrassed

about so much naked flesh.

I don’t believe much would change in the story If Eve was full figured,

          expect maybe she’d drop the fig leaf      for size banana.

another kitchen failure

 auntbeamephoto

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After some pretty significant health problems the past few years, I’ve spent a great deal of time trying to find a good balance between what I want to do and what I can.  I’m more Fall Chicken than Spring Chicken as an aging Baby Boomer, but my bucket list is still pretty long.  And while I won’t see the Aurora Borealis in person, there are many other goals I’ve made throughout life then set aside for whatever reason seemed pertinent at the time.

There are promises I’ve made myself and then dismissed as too grandiose.  Even worse, from time to time I find I’ve limited myself using the excuses that some of the dreams I dream are selfish or silly.  Just thinking that makes me nauseous because I’m not one who buys into the Selfish Guilt Trip Philosophy society sometimes uses to restrain us from reaching for the stars, rather than keeping our noses to the grindstone, asking no questions.  Also to say a goal is silly is to diminish personal potential and only shows I have more work to do in regards to self-esteem.

dandelion 1

Maybe no one out there knows I’m a somewhat of philosophical rebel; if not, that’s because I haven’t spoken up.  What I have done is share one aspect of my life, keeping the rest under wraps because it’s easier that way.  That’s a back track on my behalf.  In 2000, I quit approaching life from a non-adversarial vantage point, deciding direct attack was a more effective choice.

It was during that particular revolt I changed my perception of the word selfish, exchanging the word with the more gentle term: self-is.

Things got a lot easier for me after shifting that perspective.  By ditching an overused word and altering its definition, I removed the negative implication.  Although a rather simple concept, it was necessary for me to overcome my overwhelming tendency to make choices dependent on pleasing others, rather than considering my own needs and wishes.

Like any habit, practice is involved.

I recently received notice from WordPress it’s time to decide whether or not I want to renew this account.  I’ve given the question a lot of thought and decided, Yes, I do want to continue Aunt Bea Me, but I want to come at it from a different point of view.

It’s almost as drastic as Betty Crocker saying she’s decided to produce shoes.

I have another WordPress site, ittymac, it presents a different side of me; but without realizing it, I seem to have been sharing a tamer side of myself there too.  I think I slipped into such a good place after marrying Richard and experiencing unconditional love, I got a little lazy.

No one likes conflict.  Well, maybe some people do, but I’m not one of them. And as I mentioned before, I waver a bit when it comes to issues of self-esteem.  Even so, I’m stepping out of line and drawing a bit of attention to myself.  I’m not trying to save anyone.  I’m not trying to steal the spotlight either; I’m not trying to do anything.  I’m just opening my mouth and letting all the stuff inside come out.

bee 1

 

 

Sitting with myself….

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Sitting with myself….

OK, so it seemed like a good idea at first…I saw it on Pinterest.  It had worked for the pinner.  How yucky could it really be?

So I sent Rich to Walmart to buy duct tape.  He came back with two rolls…that should be enough, but it was glow-in-the-dark YELLOW!  What-ever.

yellow duct tape

So I dig through my drawers and find the perfect skin tight sleeveless tee shirt…it’s black.  I put it on.  Rich is taking his part in this little project quite seriously; I knew he would, it’s the meticulously compulsive part of his personality.

So now he’s in charge of everything… What-ever.

I’m glad I’m wearing my old lady orthopedic shoes since I have to stand in the same place for a good hour.

“Can you breathe?”

“Of course I can breathe!”  Okay, maybe I snapped a little when he asked, but in my defense, I was trying to stave off this creepy claustrophobic feeling that was building.

When Rich leaves to find a pair of scissors, I inch my way across the room to a mirror.   OMG! I look like the Oscar Meyer Hot Dog Truck.  I’m wrapped chest to hips in glow-in-the-dark YELLOW duct tape, I look ridiculous but how else would I look?

hot dogs

He’s back.  “Okay,” he says, “now comes the tricky part.  Stand still while I cut this down your spine.”

“OH MY LORD! WHAT are you using to cut me out of this electric mummy wrap?”

“A utility knife”, he says, as if it’s EVER okay to cut your wife out of glow-in-the-dark YELLOW duct tape sausage skin with a utility knife.

He looks serious but he’s laughing.  I can’t imagine anything remotely funny at the moment, but I bite none-the-less. “What’s so funny Vincent?”

“Huh?”

“Vincent, Vincent Price.”

vincent

“Oh,  I get it.  Well, it’s just with those black shoulder straps sticking out you sort of look like a bumble bee.”

“Ha. Ha” I say, knowing  it’s true.

“Couldn’t you find the scissors?”

“Yeah, but they’re not gonna cut through three layers of duct tape, honey.  You’ll be okay; I promise.”

The next five minutes were excruciating and twice I felt the tip of that torturous utility knife touch the surface of my skin.  And you’d better believe I made a real show of it!

“All done”, he said, relieved to be leaving the room.

So here’s the story; this is how it began, and why.  I wanted an exact replica of my body to put over a dress form that in no way resembles my body any more.  How can I expect to make clothes that actually fit without a non-subjective method of perceiving the raw truth?

This project wasn’t a decision I made blithely; no, actually I was quite terrified.  Through the years I’ve grown comfy with looking at myself from the chin up…all the other parts seem woefully unimportant to me these days.  But sewing patterns aren’t what they used to be.  They never match actual dress sizes, so I had to find a way to start.

I can sew accurately for anyone but myself. Everything I make to wear is either pixie tiny or circus- big-top.  Repeatedly I fail self-perception, miserably. I think I need a precision aid to help find my way across my bountiful ego into the brutally difficult realm of reality.

So now I’m sitting with myself, literally, in the sewing room.  I shift uncomfortably in the chair.  Headless mannequin stares straight ahead wearing a long sleeve tee.  When I find the courage, I’ll stuff one of her arms till it matches the scary dimensions of one of my own.  (I’ll have to involve Rich in that measurement process, because I tend to cheat.)

blobby dress form

I breathe in deeply through my nose, exhale purposefully from my mouth.  Silence fills my brain until my head feels stuffy and light at the same time, like a cranium crammed full of popcorn.

“Far out”, I whisper.

“That’s an old lady in front of me.  Whoo-eeeeeeeee.”  Slowly the sound of my voice disappears in the void the sewing room has become.

I can’t say how much time passed, but I found myself smiling at the nonmistable me across the room.  And feeling a real kinship.

“Can you remember”, I asked, “climbing those trees with Sue and Dale when we were a little kid?  Their legs were longer than we were tall”….Then I remembered dancing with a nice variety of young men, my hair trailing in the air as I swirled in ever widening circles.

girl climbing tree

In time I was walking down the aisle in the church chapel, Father at my side, my heart pounding so loudly I could barely hear the organ playing.

And now I’m having one baby and then another, and there is so much love I can barely breathe.

I can see myself playing in the park with my daughters, experience the radiance of their bright, beautiful shining faces; and remember how I knew from the inside out that nothing would ever be more important to me than they were, and that the cycles and patterns of all my life would shift around their own, and that in the end, after having had children of their own, they would share the same amazing feelings as me.

mom and daughters

Even the darkness, as it came, was surreally beautiful, divorce and tragedy, death and endings, because the silver lining was quick on its tail, whisking tears away, replacing them with understanding and peace.

Then Rich was before the two of us, and all the joy he brought to our lives burst in brilliant colors, and when I laughed aloud, I wondered if mannequin me had laughed too.  Then each of the grandchildren, my siblings and parents all walked into the room, but before I could say anything I was tubing down the river with my children.

There was fishing in the Gulf of Mexico and bursts of wonder at the fourth of July fireworks over Clear Lake.  There were friends and amazing relationships.  And the paunchy body across the room had shared all of this with me, each perfect step juxtaposed serious gravity while time took its toll on human flesh.

What a beautiful evolution my life has been, and how many more miles I plan on walking, or skipping.  How many days I plan to hug my grown daughters and marvel at the good work they’ve done.  How many more times will I hear a grandchild ask for Nonnie?

Oh, this was an excellent project.  It healed scrapes and scratches I acquired along the journe, although that wasn’t the reason I’d done it.

profile dress form

All I wanted was a decent fitting blouse,

and yet, I got so much more.

Waiting for Leisure to Begin

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Waiting for Leisure to Begin

I never saw Aunt Bea in a pair of fuzzy pink slippers but I’ve got to believe she owned one.  Here in domestic Nirvana, I’ve given mine a real workout of late.  These slippers are not the dainty feathery type with pointy, sharp heels, (I’m no Elizabeth Taylor), or the casual flip flop summer variety, but more an over the ankle combat boot lined with molten hot flannel wrapped in thick batting, and finished in a flurry of heavy duty fleece.

As I pad along creaking oak floors in these beauties, I’m also wearing hefty wool socks patterned with stripes, plaids, little yellow ducks,( the print doesn’t matter), because its effectiveness I’m looking for.  What I really want is a compact pair of energy efficient ovens for cold, arthritic feet, but I can’t find any anywhere in retail.

boots meant for walking

I generally love frosty weather, but this year my brain seems to have dropped the ball because my body never got the message.  As a result, I’m moving through the house with the silhouette of a Green Bay Packer, (undershirts, long johns, sweater on sweater), muddling through work that suddenly is more chore, less delight, and the sheer weight of heavy clothing is getting me down.  Now add grey, overcast sky and ice with an attitude and you can see where I am. We’ve had so many ice storms this year, I’m tempted to throw away every piece of crystal in the entire house just to get rid of any reminder of the brutes outside beating up the shrubbery, torturing naked trees, and mauling finicky power lines.

Then there’s the fact that I blew out a tire in a couple of appliances and the budget isn’t having anything at all to do with my sobbing pleas to replace them; as a result, I’ve found myself grounded to a complete halt on the frozen surface of the proverbial creek.  I might have a good case for self-pity:

Blues, despair, agony on me,   Deep, dark depression,    excessive misery.   If it weren’t for bad luck,    I’d have no luck at all.     Blues, despair,    agony on me,  (Lyrics courtesy of Buck Owens and Roy Clark for this verse of their little jingle  from Hee-Haw, circa 1969 – 1992), but I don’t think so.  If Aunt Bea wasn’t already ‘homesteading’ in earnest, she is now.

The problem with actually living life means there isn’t as much time to write about living life, so from time to time in passing, I smile at the computer, wiping a near-tear away with designer cleaning gloves, as my furry combat slippers carry me from one chore to another.

Dietary news is much brighter than what comes out of Maintenance these days, what with dark, heavy skies and flurries of flurries, I am inspired.  Soups, stews and rich warm casseroles have found their way through last season’s maze of light entrees and green salads, kicking ass and taking names.

winter squash

The cabbage looks a little droopy in the market so Rich gets a well-deserved break, but the aisles are literally bursting with colorful, mysterious looking varieties of winter squash and root vegetables!  Aunt Bea Me has tried them all, some more successfully than others, but each a winner in its own humble way.

With Rich’s A1C level hovering safely around 6, it’s good to go at our house, and both of us are eagerly awaiting the lull we plan to transform into a virtual festival of rest and relaxation!   The puzzle boxes are stacked neatly on a corner game table and the remote control is properly situated between the two sections of a double recliner we share.

puzzles boxwd

Yes, Mission Control is a-buzz with anticipation as these two old space cadets giddily wait for leisure to begin.

mission control

Unfortunately, to this point, by the time the day’s work is semi-complete, neither has the energy for lift-off.  And although it’s not exactly the scenario either had imagined, it still beats the pants off anything we had before we teamed up.

hands holding hands

Happy New Year, my friends, and may the Force be with you. 

Victorious and Bragging after Yesterday’s Yard Sale Marathon!

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salt and pepper has its consequences

 

Need I say more?

This is my favorite find from yesterday’s Yard Sale Adventure!  A family argument immortalized in salt and pepper ceramic art!  I think it’s classic, and I’m counting on it to elevate my small salt and pepper shaker collection to near-great status.

On another note, Aunt-Bea-Me received a nomination from the Empathy Queen today for the Versatile Blogger Award! Many thanks to her Empathetic Highness for the gracious nod.  ( I  hear IttyMac is celebrating at her house too since she’s been nominated for the same award!)

Now just a note to the follower who asked for my Mexican Black Bean and Corn Relish Recipe:  Thanks for asking!  I took it as a compliment!    I have to say, Aunt-Bea-Me is very bad about writing down the ingredients she is using when she’s caught up in her own creative juices, but I think she remembers this one!

Ingredients needed:

1 can of black beans, drained and rinsed * 3-4 small cloves of shallot, finely minced * 1 ear fresh, uncooked corn, cut from the cob * freshly chopped Cilantro, 2 teaspoons, or to taste * juice of one fresh lime to bring it all together.  (You may substitute 2 teaspoons of bottled lime juice if needed) Start with 2 teaspoons but add a 3rd if needed *

Mix all ingredients together, letting them sit in a bowl or serving dish for a minimum of a half an hour ensuring the flavors meld well.  May be served at room temperature or chilled.  (Aunt Bea prefers it chilled.)  This Mexican Black Bean and Corn Relish is great with baked tortilla triangles, baked pita strips or baked flat bread, and sliced avocado.

Well, I’m rolling down my garters and putting my feet up while I enjoy a nice cup of Camomile and Lavender hot tea on the deck!  Here on the mountain, it’s a delightful 70 degrees today!  Aunt-Bea is in paradise, for sure.

happy face