memoir

The Afternoon video – If you are sitting there saying to yourself – I’m too old to do that!

Wow!

Dirty Trick

lbeth1950's avatarNutsrok

As we walked across the Walmart parking lot this afternoon, my husband of forty-five years, Bud, pointed out my loose bootlace. I had no intention of bending over in the parking lot to tie it, so replied, “I have a backache.  I’ll tie it later.”

Bud couldn’t deal with the idea of the flopping shoelace, so he rolled his eyes and grumped,  “You can’t walk around like that.  You’ll break your danged neck.  Stand still.  I’ll tie it!”

With that, he dropped down on one knee to tie it, just as a couple of guys walked by, obviously wondering what was going on.

I couldn’t pass up this opportunity, spouting,  “No, I won’t marry you!  Now get up!”

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Payback is Hell

lbeth1950's avatarNutsrok

dead batTurning the tables on a kid who’s spent most of his life (I am being intentionally ambiguous here so neither of my kids feels neglected) creating embarrassing situations is refreshing.  We went out of town for a few days, leaving our college-aged son home, after specifically asking him not to have guests over.  He was certainly old enough to be responsible, for what that’s worth, but we just didn’t want to deal with any problems on our return.

Needless to say, he had friends over.  I probably would have never known, had one of his lady-friends not gone to the freezer for ice.  I got this phone call.

Him: “Mom, what in the world are that frozen bat and squirrel doing in the freezer?”

Me:  “Oh, I forgot I put those in there.  Just leave them alone.  They aren’t hurting a thing.”

Him: “But why are they in there?”

Me: …

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Travels With Mother (Part 5)

lbeth1950's avatarNutsrok

https://nutsrok.wordpress.com/2016/01/05/the-low-down-on-lunch-with-mother/

Travels With Mother (Part 2)

The Most Fun You’ll Never Have, Kathleen’s Amazing Bathroom Tour!

It’s Not What You Tank!

 

Continuation

Once we’d gone enough miles it was unlikely we would be apprehended with bathroom destruction with malice aforethought, I pulled into a nice looking station/store.  This one looked like it was progressive enough to have excellent bathroom facilities, which we sorely in needed by now, since Mother was the only one who got to use the restroom at the last stop.  For neck she generously, encouraged her daughters to go first, which we lived to regret. I’d have loved to have laid the blame at her door for what we found. Marilyn, my youngest sister, rushed in to relieve her agonized bladder.  In three seconds, she rushed out, “Oh, my gosh!  You’ve got to see this!” 

She obviously hadn’t had time to take care of any business. As mother of…

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It’s Not What You Tank!

lbeth1950's avatarNutsrok

 

 –https://nutsrok.wordpress.com/2016/01/11/the-most-fun-youll-never-have-kathleens-amazing-bathroom-tour/

If you haven’t read the first story, The most fun you’ll never have…please follow link above and read first.

When I left you, the infuriated man had just escorted Mother in the convenience store, had a long conversation with her about how much he missed his sainted mother, bought her coffee and a snack, and made sure she knew where the bathroom was. Not a word in my defense dropped from her quivering lips, nor did she explain the situation.  I guess it was on a need to know basis and he knew just exactly what she wanted him to know.  I wish he’d hung around for the bathroom catastrophe she initiated next.

As I mentioned earlier, Mother’s bathroom stops are leisurely affairs, involving meditation, warm conversation with new friends From the bathroom, and meticulous hand washing. Afterwards she digs lotion from her bag and admires herself…

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The Red Bra

Joliesattic's avatarjoliesattic

woolworthsSeveral years ago, my sweet sister came up to Alabama to help me care for my mother who had Alzheimer’s.  It was a difficult time for me and there were times, I thought I would surely die before she did.

You see, mother not only had Alzheimer’s but she was a bi-polar schizophrenic with Alzheimer’s!

When my step father died, I had asked her doctor for some meds to keep her manageable, which he was kind enough to provide me.  The problem however was getting her to take them.  Getting her to take them resulted in me getting a black eye, which had my brother not seen it coming and blocked it would have resulted in a far worse shiner than it was.  It was still bad.  Mother had not handled the death of her husband well and I had noticed a marked difference in her behavior afterward. Understandably of…

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Dear Auntie Linda

lbeth1950's avatarNutsrok

Auntie Linda

Dear Auntie Linda, I was out to dinner with a group of friends from work when John, an old boyfriend, spotted me and stopped by our table. We were a couple for a few months until I realized he was a narcissist and I realized I needed out. I don’t know why I ever went out with him to start with since he had three ex-wives and four children. We remained on vaguely friendly terms, so I wasn’t surprised he stopped off speak to me. me. Part of the reason we broke up was because I found out he cheated with old girlfriends the whole time I thought we were in a committed relationship. That, and the fact the he became more critical and more manipulative the whole time we were together. I am now happily married with a new baby., now, and want nothing to do with him. One…

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The Most Fun You’ll Never Have, Kathleen’s Amazing Bathroom Tour!

lbeth1950's avatarNutsrok

 

imageKathleen Swain and her daughters

Upper Left, Linda Swain Bethea, Right, Phyllis Swain Barrington

First Row Left, Kathleen Holdaway Swain (see how deceptively nice she looks)  Connie Swain Miller, Marilyn Grisham
It’s discouraging writing about my mother, Kathleen Holdaway Swain.  Despite my long, rich history of complaining endlessly about the trials of dealing with her, she keeps getting the best of me.  It’s made worse because I tower over her, outweigh her, and am much more physically imposing, but then, who isn’t?  I do my best to take care of her, and should I exhibit the slightest impatience, onlookers treat me like I am maligning a saint.  Granted, she is tiny, far less than five feet tall, has a squeaky Minnie Mouse voice, and looks like a delightful little old church-lady.  Though she smiles and greets every soul she meets, inwardly she is malicious and conniving, constantly plotting to…

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Charley’s Tale Part 2

Early on, Charley loved school.  Because she was bright, friendly, and excelled at games, she had no shortage of playmates.  She grew up in a time when girls didn’t wear pants to school.    Cora dressed her in good, serviceable styles that didn’t get in the way of fun since  she had no interest in frilly dresses or fussy hair. The minute she flew in the door, she skinned out of her dresses and into her pants.  None of the family focused on her clothes, figuring the girls had been through enough.  Little Ginny, her greatest admirer, was always waiting expectantly for Charley on the front porch or at the front window.  Ginny was as feminine as her mother, though their differences were not an issue for the girls.

Naturally, Cora bathed the girls together and Charley had remarked on their differences, to which Cora replied, “If everbody was just alike, it would be a mighty dull world.”

Charley accepted that, remarking, “Ginny’s plain and I’m fancy!”

“You’re just a little different, that’s all.  Just like your hair is red and Ginny’s is white, but don’t say nothing to make her feel bad.  It’s all good.” Cora answered.

Satisfied with Cora’s explanation, Charley gave their differing anatomies no further thought, going back to her soap and bubbles.

In her comfortable  world, Charley hadn’t dealt with gender confusion, cruelty, or peer pressure.  Then hormones kicked in.  Charley was among the tallest in the class, so not surprisingly, she showed early breast development, for which she received unwelcome attention.  One day, she was groped as she played football.  “Hey, Charley’s got titties!”  A boy jeered. She kicked him and strode off, furious and humiliated.Her peers and her body left her feeling alienated, mortified that a familiar game had turned mean.  The rules were changing.  Charley, of course knew women had breasts, but had never considered the the calamity of having them sprout on her flat chest.  Horns or hooves would have been more welcome.