Author: lbeth1950

lbeth1950https://nutsrok.wordpress.comNow that I'm done with the bothersome business of workday world, I am free to pursue my passion, capturing the stories I've loved all my life. The ones you'll read on my blog are good old Southern stories, a real pleasure to relay. Here in the South, we are proud of our wacky folks. I've preyed shamelessly on my family, living and dead, friends, neighbors, and acquaintances, often changing the names to protect the innocent and not so innocent. My mother illustrates my blog. I come from a rollicking family of nuts, hence the name of the blog Nutsrok Enjoy.
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Tips for Brightening White Towels: My Experience

Bud says I am stubborn.  It’s true.  Once an idea occurs to me, I can’t get rid of it! Since the kids are long gone, I decided to treat myself to some white fluffy towels a couple of years ago. No problem since I would be totally in control.  These towels would never languish on the floor, under the bed, or touch mascara or muddy shoes.  They’d never wash a car or wipe spaghetti sauce off the sofa.  Time passed.  They got dingy.  I didn’t like them anymore.  I started sneaking into Bud’s bathroom to get his luscious green ones, but  I couldn’t get the white ones off my mind.  Surely, I could fix them. They couldn’t be bleached, so I tried non-chlorine bleach.  That didn’t brighten them at all, so I decided to bleach them, anyway.  What did I have to lose?

So I bleached them. They went from dingy gray to a dull hen poo poo muffledy dun.  Those towels were disgusting, sort of like they had been wiping shoes, smearing mascara, washing the car, and wiping up dog vomit with.  I tolerated them for a while, then checked the internet for a solution.  I needed to boil them in a solution of dishwasher detergent, vinegar, borax and detergent.  Sounded like a lot of trouble, but I really wanted them white again. I mixed the concoction right up and put my towels on to boil.  I boiled them for about thirty minutes, frequently punching them down.  I believe this was the high-tech method used up until folks got washing machines.  The water turned an ugly brown.  It must be working!

 

                 

Eventually, I finished them up in the washer.  Meanwhile, I’d made a real mess of the kitchen.  The sink was full of pots, the stove a sloppy mess, and the floor tracked up.  It didn’t look like I’d done a deep cleaning just yesterday.  It only took an hour to get back to where it was.  My back still hurts.

            

In the picture on the right, you can see the result of all my hard work.  Aren’t those colors bizarre?  Some of the towels remained plain dingy gray.  Others took on an ugly, rusty hue.  The big surprise was, some turned a pale pink. I am partial to dingy gray, but that’s just me.  Does anybody out there need some ugly towels?  They’ll be perfect to  wash the car and wipe mud off the dog.

Wait!  I just saw two more things to try.  Laundry bluing is supposed to brighten dingy clothes up.  Sunshine bleaches!  Bud is going to have to put up a clothes line!

 

 

Miss Laura Mae’s House Part 2

https://wordpress.com/post/nutsrok.wordpress.com/9332

Be sure to go back and read part 1

houseMiss Laura Mae’s stories always held my interest, though they certainly weren’t intended for my ears.
“The twins come about a month after Floyd left. To tell the truth, I was kind of glad he wasn’t there to get me “that way” again right off the bat like he done before. They was a few weeks early, so I was up all hours of the day and night a’nursing ‘em. Floyd’s mama, Miz Barker was gittin’ kind of childish, so I brung her to come stay so I didn’t have to try to watch her, too. Turns out, she was purty good help, a’rockin’ one of them babies all the time instead o’ tryin’ to run off all the time. Seems like it kind of settled her. She was a sweet ol’ lady.

The garden was a’comin’ in an’ we had plenty to eat without buyin’ much groceries. Miz Barker, Floyd’s mama told me I could git her pressure cooker to do the cannin’ and that shore helped, not havin’ to worry about my beans and tomaters goin’ bad no more. I had got a check or two, so I was able to get a kerosene stove and git rid of that ol’ wood stove. I got Joe Smith to set it up out in the yard so I could do my cannin’ on it. It shore was better not heatin’ the house up.

I had always took in ironin’ at a nickel a piece to help us over times when Floyd was drinkin’. I was real careful to go straight an’ pay on my grocery bill soon as I got paid so Floyd couldn’ git in my ironin’ money. Sometimes that was all that was comin’ in. I got Betty Lou, Myrt, and Glomie started ironin’ as soon as they was tall enough. I tried to let’em keep a quarter a week of the ironin’ money when I could. I’d let ‘em play about an hour after school, then soon as they was through with their homework, put ‘em to ironin’. We’d all listen to the radio while we was ironing long as the batteries lasted. Purty soon, they was savin’ their part of the ironin’ money for batteries.

Things was good till Jody got burnt. He follered Jimmy out to burn to trash and caught his clothes on fire. He was burned bad all over his back, big ol’ blisters everwhere. Doctor Garnett come out to see him and gave me some salve and pain syrup and told me to keep them burns covered. He couldn’t say if Jimmy’d make it or not. It was right in the heat of the summer. Pore little Jimmy suffered so. I had all I could do takin’ care of him and them babies. I don’t know what I’d a done without Miz Barker a’rockin ‘em like she done. With Jimmy so sick, I couldn’t nurse ‘em all the time like I needed to, so I got ‘em on the bottle some to help out. Mr. Jones down at the store let me run my bill up purty high a time or two when I had to keep Carnation Milk without complainin’ a bit. The girls kept right up with the ironin’, never passin’ a word when I couldn’ give ‘em nothing.

My sisters Oly and Ory helped the boys keep the garden goin’ and when it come in, they done most of the cannin’, leavin’ me to take care of Jimmy and the babies. Bessie an’ Joe Smith took to milkin’ the cow in the mornin’ so I didn’t have to get up before daylight after being up so much at night. I don’t know how I’d a’made it if I hadn’ had all that help. In a month or so, Jody was doin’ purty good. By that time, I had them babies purty much on the bottle, and I was able to pick my work back up. I don’t know what I’d a’done without good neighbors, but I was so glad when I could pick my ironin’ and my garden back up and take care of my own young’uns. I was proud for the help, but ever’body needs to make their own way and not be worryin’ other folks.

To be continued

Maggotty Mayhem

See my sister’s camper. It comes with all the niceties, great queen-size bed, comfortable furnishings, plush carpeting, lots of storage, and great appliances. After her last trip out, she unpacked her clothes, and after ensuring the camper was hooked to power, left her freezer stocked for the next trip. She’d need all those things next time for sure.

imageAs she packed for this trip and opened the freezer to put in some more goodies, she discovered the tragic aftermath of a power outage leaving her with the putrid remains of her previously frozen food mounded up with writhing maggots. The frisky, fat maggots seized the opportunity to leap for freedom all down the front of her shirt, leaving her awash in foul juices and previous generations of incarcerated maggots.  When her son called in the middle of the fiasco, he was appalled to learn such valuable fishing bait had been Continue reading →

DIY Kitchen Window Squirrel Feeder: A Step-by-Step Guide

Squirrel Friend

Bud made this feeding shelf for my kitchen window. I load it with sunflower seeds for the critters. This young squirrel is the first of his clan bold enough to take advantage of it. I was glad he tolerated my presence well enough to get this picture. Of course, it was built with birds in mind but I like squirrels, too.

The tray is 9×14 “ with a 3/4 ledge wrapped around. It is anchored by a strap cut from a milk jug that runs from base of tray. The other end is wrapped and stapled around a dowel rod that extends inside window. Closing the window on strap with the dowel inside holds it securely. Bud intends to go back today and add additional support.

Admiration

What is something others do that sparks your admiration?

I admire grace. When I see dancers, gymnasts, or skaters move fluidly, I envision myself moving effortlessly. That is total fantasy. Sometimes, I bump into furniture as I cross a room. I have no athletic skill, whatsoever.

Miss Laura Mae’s House Part 1

houseMiss Laura Mae’s kids were long gone. I loved tagging along with Mother to visit her since she always took time to talk to me a little before offering me a buttered biscuit and glass of milk. I loved the biscuit, but refused the milk, repulsed by the thick layer of cream atop the fresh cow’s milk in the glass jar in her refrigerator. I thought the thick cream looked like snot as she carefully spooned it into her coffee. Most of Mother’s friends had a houseful of kids and shooed me out before pouring coffee. “The kids are out back.”

Sometimes I got a hint of gossip, though Mother always ran me out as soon as I got my biscuit. “Now, stay on the steps and don’t let that ol’ hound dog git your biscuit!” Miss Laura Mae always reminded me as I closed the screen door behind me. I knew from experience that if I didn’t stand on the top step and hold my biscuit out of his reach, Ol’ Boots would help himself and claw mw in the process.
jar of milk

From my vantage point, I listened in as Miss Laura Mae launched into her story. “Floyd was pretty good to me, but he never did hold a job long. I don’t know what we’d a done if we hadn’t lived in that old house on his Mama’s place. He always did plow and put a good garden in or we’d a’gone hungry. He’d work a little pretty good for a while, but then he’d go off on a toot and get fired. The only thing he was good at was knocking me up. I had six youngun’s in eight years. Seem’s like I got another one ever’ time he hung his britches on the bed post.

Times was just gittin’ harder and harder, and Floyd got mad the last couple of times I told him I was that way. You’d a’thought them babies was all my doing, but Lord knows more babies was the last thing on my mind when I couldn’t hardly feed the ones I already had. We couldn’t even keep ‘em in shoe leather. I had Berry in 1941 just before World War II started and nursed her long as I could, hoping I wouldn’t get pregnant, but sure enough, when she was about eight months old, my milk dried up an’ I felt a baby kicking under my apron. I kept hopin’ it was just gas, but then I started blowin’ up and I knew it was another youngun’ on the way.
I dreaded tellin’ Floyd, knowin’ he was gonna git mad. Sure enough, soon as I told him, he lit out a drinkin’. That was on a Monday night. I waited till then on purpose. He got paid on Fridays and I didn’t want him to go off a’drinkin’ before I got my groceries on Saturday. Sure enough, he got mad, just like l was a’plottin against him and took straight off. I didn’t see him again till Wednesday evenin’ and was feelin’ purty low about the fix I was in, a man that didn’t work steady, six kids and another one on the way, stuck livin’ in a shack on his mama’s place. When he came draggin’ in, he looked kind’a hangdog and I figured he’d got fired again while he was layin’ out drunk.”

“Well, Laura Mae, I got something I got to tell you I know you ain’t gonna like,” he started, looking down at his raggedy boots.

“It don’t take no genius to see you got fired,” I told him.

“No, that ain’t it.” He went on. “I was a’ drinkin’ with some of the fellers and they was on their way to enlist in the army. I wasn’t thinkin’ straight and I went right along and enlisted with ‘em. I just got time to get my stuff.”

Miss Laura Mae paused a moment, saying more to herself than to Mother, “Turned out that was the best piece of luck I ever had. The army was the first steady pay Floyd ever made. He was put in the paratroopers. Right off I was gittin’ a regular check. Paratrooper was extra pay, and he got extra for the young’uns. The first month, I got shoes for all the kids. The next month, I paid down on a stove. The one in his mama’s house didn’t have but two burners. Inside of a year, I had saved enough to pay down on this house. This is the first place I ever had a’ my own. Floyd didn’t get home for four years. I mean to tell you, it was good not to be pregnant all the time. I must ‘a been going through the change, ‘cause I didn’t have but one more after he got home, and I was ready for another one by then. Things was better with Floyd workin’ more regular after that. Seems like having a home kind’a gave him a lift. You’d a’thought he done it all hisself.”

The New York Post

Florida dog ‘Trooper’ tied to fence during Hurricane Milton finds his forever home — while cruel ex-owner awaits court date

By 

Richard Pollina

Published Dec. 5, 2024, 2:21 a.m. ET163

The young bull terrier discovered tied to a fence and left for dead as Hurricane Milton made landfall in Florida earlier this year has found his forever home on Monday — while his allegedly abusive former owner awaits his court date for the cruel act.

The pup, named “Trooper,” was adopted by a loving couple who have cared for bull terriers for over three decades, according to a Facebook post from the Leon County Humane Society.

Frank and Carla Spina said their hearts broke when they heard about Trooper’s story following the catastrophic storm that killed 32 across the southern US in October.

I am so glad this sweet dog was rescued and the man who abandoned him caught.

Weather Predicting Cat

We had a wonderful yellow cat for quite a few years. He was an indoor/ outdoor cat by choice. Nearly grown when he came to us, he made his own decisions. We fed him indoors, hoping he’d accommodate us into his plans. Though he was polite enough not to eat and run, after a good meal and nap, he made it clear he had business outdoors as evening approached. His habits didn’t alter

even when he did. He was quite a hunter, bringing us gifts of mice, moles, and other small critters regularly. Because he refused our efforts domesticity, I didn’t feel the big fe, nor wishing to aid and abet him in their slaughter. As h aged, he spent more and more time outdoors. We did come to rely on his weather reports. Without fail, he’d come in before storms and bitter weather. Taking his ease on a pillow near the fire, he’d visit for the duration, taking his leave when the weather improved. He was always polite and friendly, but always made it clear his visits were that and nothing more.

Christmas Nightmare with Evil Larry

christmas-santa-boy-define-goodMy brother just called to remind me of his troubles with our cousin Larry, the bane of his existence. Larry was probably the only reason I had to be glad I wasn’t a boy when I was a kid. Thanks for that, Larry. Larry was fifteen months younger than me, falling right between me and Bill in age. Back then, our families had lots of overnight visits. Poor Bill was stuck sleeping with our cousins Larry and Tory, both power bedwetters. Though it was remarkable that Bill hadn’t wet the bed since he was a baby, when Larry and Tory visited, they both arose in the morning accusing him of drenching them. Naturally, they both helped themselves to Billy’s clean underwear in the morning. He still recounts the horrible sensation of sleeping between them, feeling that initial warm, then slightly stinging feeling that quickly cooled to the shock of awakening in a puddle. It must have been awful for kids who wet the bed to have to sleep over in the days before protective pants. Thank goodness for the advances that saves kids’ precious dignity and pride today.

However, Bill’s major complaints weren’t about the innocent concern of Larry’s bedwetting. He was a malicious kid, who reminded me of nothing more than a rat. First of all, no one wanted him around. Secondly, his personality revolved around his urinary habits. Not only did he wet the bed, he ran around with his pants unzipped so he could sneak up and pee on other kids. The fastest kid around, he normally escaped before we could catch and mutilate him. I learned to anticipate him and beat the crap out of him if he got close to one of my younger siblings. I recently saw him after fifty years. He told me he was so scared of me when we were kids. I assured him that was the plan.

He didn’t seem to need friends, his social needs seemingly satisfied by his constant meanness. We used to joke that he would wind up on the Pea-Farm, the local penitententiary, which he certainly did.

One Christmas, Bill managed to slip into Mother’s walk-in closet and discover his major Christmas gift, a magnificient electronically controlled car. It was huge, probably more than two feet long. He’d turned on the light and was quietly playing with it in the closet when Mother sought him out and caught him in the act. She played out her big guilt act, “I hope you enjoyed yourself, because you’ve just ruined my Christmas. I am taking that car back tomorrow!”

Of course, Bill was just sick with guilt and loss, like he was supposed to be. On Christmas day, he was overjoyed to find the wonderful toy sitting under the tree, after all. Since Christmas fell on a Sunday that year, the kids couldn’t miss church that day of all days. He didn’t get to play with it then, just admired it and put it away till after church. Mother stayed home to get Christmas dinner going. Daddy stayed to make sure she did it right. The invading hoard of relatives descended before we got back. Though we had carefully locked all our loot away, the evil Larry had gotten a hair pin and picked the lock on Bill’s door. He found his precious car apparently just as he’d left it, except, when he tried to run it, nothing happened. When he turned it over, all the wires had been snatched loose from their connections. The only time he’d gotten to play with it were those few guilt ridden minutes in the closet.

More about the evil Larry later. There’s far too much to end it here.