I'll be Posting for the A-Z Blogging Challenge

Greetings Bloggy Friends. Beginning Friday April 1, I'll be writing in the A-Z Blogging Challenge. (Not an April Fool joke) This means I'll write a post every day during April (except Sunday) with each day's subject beginning with a letter of the alphabet. A through Z.

Most of the people who have entered are seasoned writers. Do I feel intimidated? Boy, do I ever !!!!!! I've read their slick, published writing and their books. I can't even spell. The phrase that's a new buzz word, "stepping outside the box," that's what I'll be doing. Stepping out of my mushroom cave. Wish me luck, Bloggy Friends and check in on me once in a while.

My theme will be Flamenco. Ole

An Affair to Remember

I was TV surfing and caught the last part of "An Affair to Remember" with Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr (1957). I ran for my box of kleenex and watched the rest. A classic timeless plot of 2 people who meet on a cruise, fall in love and agree to meet in 6 months. (they are both engaged to others). The cruise ship they're on is the SS Constitution. I made 2 trips across the Atlantic in that ship in the early '50's. But not with Cary Grant. Dang!!!

Everyone knows the movie story but I snapped a few photos from the TV (not so good).

Below, C. Grant is picking up the shawl that his deceased Grandmother wanted Deborah to have.

After the 6 months, he's waiting for her as she's rushing in traffic to meet him but she is hit by a car, taken to the hospital and didn't make their rendezvous. She can't walk and is too proud to let him see her in a wheel chair. Since she was a singer, she gets a job teaching music in a school. Below, she's directing a kids choir. (I'm pulling out tissues)

She goes to a concert with the man she was engaged to. They are now just friends. C. Grant is also there with his ex-fiancee, also just friends. They see each other and assume they are both married. (I'm frantically pulling kleenex out of the box now).

C. Grant discovered where she lives and suspects something so he pays her a visit after the concert. She's on the sofa and her wheel chair is out of sight. After some hurt feelings conversation, he opens the door where her chair is and he knows. Picture below, they are telling each other they weren't at the rendezvous meeting so they could save face.

They embrace and kiss. (More tissues, more tissues). OMG it's so sensual !!!!

They are both crying. Hell, I'm crying. She wipes his tears. I have to wipe my own.

The end, the unreal ending. If that were today, he'd probably dump her anyway but it's such a beautiful fantasy. It's the way all little girls want their life to be. That ever-lasting love. Today the movies are into realism. "Sleepless in Seattle" is the closest fairly modern movie I've seen that comes close to a true forever love.

OK, gals, let's wipe eyes and blow noses and get back to reality. C. Grant..... what a hunk. Was he gay? They used to keep that information hidden.

He was married several times but I don't think it ever said in his biography. But I love that man !!!!!

Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread

I love bread but I always try to avoid the kitchen. When we lived in Florida I felt an obligation to volunteer at a homeless shelter called "The Daily Bread." I was willing to chop veggies, serve and do dishes. One day, none of the cooks showed up so I had to do the cooking. ME !!!! I can't cook. No kidding. I was scared out of my mind. We never knew what the menu would be because we were at the mercy of the local merchants who dropped day-old food at the door. We also had a large reserve of food in a walk-in freezer. I had helpers and we struggled to get a meal for 200. We made dirty rice, Ky Fried dropped off chicken, Publix dropped off salad stuff, bread and fruit. A high-five for us and the wonderful merchants. It wasn't "that bad," as I continued to cook for the Daily Bread. One of my life's lessons!!!!!

All my life I've loved mysteries. I always went for the old lady cozy and collected every book written by Agatha Christy. I loaned them to my brother years ago. and recently saw my big box of them sitting in his garage. Oh well, I know where they are!!! Getting a plot for a good mystery is mind boggling. I've tried it many times but they come up trite. Bloggy friend JJ recently launched a new blog with some of his short mysteries. I still feel a sense of evil fore-boding. He's a brilliant writer. JJ Botta Freelance Writer

Do you ever fall in love with a word and want to use it but can't work it in? I want to use jejune but don't quite know how. Think think think. Oh I know, "Cody dog is behaving in a jejune manner as she paces for her breakfast." (Is that right?) So I better get my bum off this computer chair and feed her.

Adios

My Blood Pressure. I Don't Ever Check It

I opened a desk drawer and it looked like Fibber MaGee's closet (If you're under 60, you won't get that remark). I began tossing out stuff and came upon a blood pressure apparatus that I hadn't used in a long time. I put it on my arm (batteries still good) and this was my reading. I'm adding the chart of normal by age BP readings. All my life I've had low BP so I think I'm still low or else I'm already dead. Perhaps some of you medical people know what mine means as I know nothing about allopathic medicine. I just turned 81 but the BP chart only goes to 64. Maybe just outliving charts is good? hummm, scratching my head.... "I just don't know........"

Chart of Normal Blood Pressure Readings by Age

Age 25-29 Minimum 109 (systolic) 76 (diastolic)/ Max. 133-84

Age 30-34 Minimum 110 (systolic) 77 (diastolic)/ Max. 134-85

Age 35-39 Minimum 111 (systolic) 78 (diastolic)/ Max. 135-86

Age 40-44 Minimum 112 (systolic) 79 (diastolic)/Max. 137-87

Age 45-49 Minimum 115 (systolic) 80 (diastolic)/Max. 139-88

Age 50-54 Minimum 116 (systolic) 81 (diastolic)/Max. 142-89

Age 55-59 Minimum 118 (systolic) 82 (diastolic)/Max. 144-90

Age 60-64 Minimum 121 (systolic) 83 (diastolic)/Max. 147-91

If you own a BP apparatus, you most likely already understand these numbers. Even though I have the little thingy that goes on my arm, I don't understand what the numbers mean. In another article, I read that the large number should be one hundred plus your age. For me that would be 181. Sounds high compared to the reading I got of 110, doesn't it? Good luck.

Roll Out The Barrel, We'll Have a Barrel of Fun

Even if you think a Polka is a hick dance, I'll bet you can't listen to one and keep you toes from tapping.

In the beginning of my International Ballroom quest, I was a dance snob. Growing up in Minnesota, Polka-land dance State of the Union, I thought I was beyond polkas and headed for the sophisticated English dance. Imagine a child of the Great Depression being a snob about anything, but I'm ashamed to say I was.

I had several dance partners in my 35 years of ballroom competition but the one I had the longest was a Polish guy from the Baltic ethnic area of NE Minneapolis. He had fantastic rhythm and had won polka contests all over the state before we danced ballroom together. He kept asking me to come Polka dancing for recreational dancing. I kept refusing.

After a couple years, I put on a full skirt, Cuban heels and walked in the door of Czech Hall. OMG.... I've never had such a lively, exhilarating, just plain old good time. People were there in their native Baltic costumes, dancing the Polka most of the night. That did it, no more snob. We continued to dance ballroom, but at least once a week, headed for the Polka spots.

My husband's life was mostly baseball. He refused to dance but encouraged me to pursue my hobby and passion of dance. He'd watch my ballroom but couldn't keep his toes quiet during a polka. Can you?

Aloe Mallo...New Little Plantlings

As I was sitting in the sunshine, looking at my aloe plantlings and contemplating what I liked about my life, it came to me in a flash. What I like best about my life is that I'm healthy. What a boon to life that is.

That health care bill that they quibble about, they could take it, stick it in a rocket and send it to the Moon. Because I won't do drugs, I've never been to an allopathic doctor. But economy needs the cancers of the body. Think of the vast medical community that would be jobless. But for me, I don't want to go that route, so I cleanse, I detox and I expel metals, toxins, parasites, and unwanted cells. That's all cancer is, an accumulation of the above.

The aloe plant is one of my medications. The above are some new ones I just planted. I mix up a little concoction and take a tablespoon before each meal. I'll share my formula with you.

3 or 4 aloe leaves from at least a 5 year plant (350 gr)

organic honey (1.1 lb.)

about 8 tsp. whiskey

Wipe off leaves. Cut off spiny thorns on edges.Cut leaves in pieces and put in blender with honey and whiskey. Blend, put in a dark bottle and store in fridge. It'll cure what ails ya !!! No kidding.

Eeeekks..... the snow is melting and all that's left is brown soggy grass with spots of ice. Today it's raining. Perhaps that will help green up but who am I kidding, we'll have more cold and snow.

I was digging around in the potato bin and found two sweet potato birds. Vegetable art. Hummm.......There's a cauliflower in the fridge. Wonder if that has any possibilities? Got some radishes, too. See what happens when you spend too much time in the house during the winter.

I live a stone's throw from the Mall. I did meander over there yesterday and the casino beckoned me in. Montana has more casinos than people. Most people in Montana gamble when they need a few extra bucks and the drinkers get free booze AND a chance at a few extra bucks. I'm easy for the casino attendants, I don't even drink water. I had $20 in my purse so I stuck it into a keno machine. I always play a buck so that would give me 20 tries and I'm outta there. After 10 tries I hit 6 out of 7 and those lights were really pretty. I cashed out $230, tipped the casino guy my original 20 and I was outta there in less time than I had anticipated. Now I can fill my gas hog SUV a couple of times. Oh joy.

In the face of Japan's disaster, all we ever hear from the media are the glowing reports of how calm and polite the people are. When there are lines, no one pushes to get ahead or no signs of looting. I remember during the Katrina news, people were looting right in front of the TV cameras. Some of the Japanese had no food or water for two days and they were not complaining. When the bombs were dropped on Japan during WW2, I recall the people who were eating the traditional miso could resist the radiation fall out. Perhaps this will be true with the nuclear melt down, too. Many of the older people still adhere to the traditional macrobiotic diet but sadly, the younger people eat just as much junk food as they do in the US.

I've never done musings before. It's kinda Twitterish. Well, Bloggy Friends, that's all that's on my mind so Adios.

I Am The Same Age As Betty Boop

Betty Boop and I were both born in 1930. BUT she's held her age better. Ha I learned to read on Betty Boop books. I bonded with that coy flapper and have used her trademark line..... Boop- Boop-A-Doop. Thank you Betty. Her looks were modeled after Clara Bow, who was one of the first and most famous sex symbols. Happy 81st Birthday Betty.

I'll turn 81 on Tuesday, March 15, The Ides of March. "Beware the Ides of March" and Julius Caesar was killed. A true doomsday to be born but I'm having a terrific life. There's a sharp demarcation between young and old. You're young and smug one day, laughing at old people's jokes and ka-bang, the next day you turn eighty. Now people are laughing at jokes about you. What a blow that was. OK, come on 81, I'm used to it now.

I'm not one for buying a lot of new things that plug into the wall. I was looking at a magazine of "retro appliances." RETRO...... that's what they call my appliances. My toaster, my mix-master, my waffle iron, my vacuum, my clothes iron and even my ironing board...... all retro.

The big blow came when I found out my wedding china is now an antique. Holy Moly, seems like I just got it last week. No that was 62 years ago. A great number of my books have become collector's items. My jewelry is vintage. I do wish I'd kept my cars !!!!!

The one thing that bores me is women's fashion. I've seen styles come and go several times. What more can they do with clothes? The hem goes up, the hem goes down. Add shoulder pads, take em out. Flair the skirt, pencil it. Cap the sleeve, short sleeves, long sleeves..... who cares? I know a gal my age who kept all her clothes in a large room. When the styles change, she just goes shopping in her large closet. To end this clothes subject, I'll just say that Betty looks damn good in hers, vintage or not.

As We Continue with Two Cowboys, Chance and Rooney

Continuation of part 2

Here's what happened when they got to "Al's." It was later described to me at the hospital. Oooppps I'm getting ahead of my story.

Chance went directly to the machines and Rooney plopped that handsome tush at the bar. Sitting next to him was the Professor, a rustic, unshaven redhead from out East. To escape a nasty divorce, he stopped teaching and headed to Montana. Rooney and the Professor began talking and drinking with Rooney's three drinks to one of the Professors.

The evening wore on. Chance ran out of gambling money and said he was going to the truck. He crawled in the back and immediately fell asleep between two large spools of fence wire.

Rooney, still at the bar, was surrounded by local college girls. He kept tossing down drinks and wasn't really listening to the Professor's stories. He was thinking about getting laid, now that he was all liquored up but the Professor was yammering on about his fourteen year old kid who was spending the summer and how he was teaching him to shoot a gun and making a man out of him.

Closing time was announced and people started leaving. The Professor had somehow lost his truck keys but Rooney said they'd give him a ride home.

Out at the truck, the Professor got behind the wheel since Rooney was in no condition to drive. They took off in a typical Montana-bar-closing scene with Chance bouncing around in the truck-bed admid the fencing tools.

When they reached the Professor's trailer, the door was locked and his key was with the lost truck keys. Chance awoke and wondered what the hell was going on as he got out of the pickup. He and the Professor banged on the door but couldn't wake the boy. Rooney was in the drive way puk'n and Chance and the Professor were trying to find an open window. Hurray, they found one small, high-up unlocked window. The only person who would fit in that small opening would be Chance, so the Professor gave him a boost and he disappeared into the darkened room.

Bang........

There was a muffled shot. The next moment chaos reigned supreme. The kid came screaming out the door with the gun in his hand..... "Pa, Pa, someone's trying to break in and I think I shot him." Rooney stopped puking and was suddenly stone sober. Neighbors came rushing from their trailers. "Call an ambulance" someone shouted. Poor little Chance's body lay crumbled on the floor in a bright red pool of blood.

When my phone rang at 3 A.M. I thought, "Rooney's in jail again." I picked it up and all I heard was Rooney's incoherent blubbering. I finally made out that Chance had been shot.

"Is he alive?" I gasped.

"Barely. We're at the hospital."

"I'm on my way." I hung up the phone, slipped into my jeans and ran to my pickup.

When I got to the hospital, Chance was in surgery. We waited a couple of hours with Rooney pacing like a caged mountain cat, spewing prayers and making bargaining promises to God.

Finally a string bean looking doctor in blood-stained scrubs poked his head into the waiting room. He either had the perfect doctor's non-committal countenance or he played a lot of poker. After the usual bla bla bla introduction, he said simply, "he's going to be OK." Rooney broke into tears and I said my silent little prayer of thanks.

Dr. String Bean added, "He's sleeping but come back around noon."

Rooney and I stepped outside as a thin pink band of light showed across the Eastern sky. We buttoned up our jean jackets to ward off the remnants of the cool Montana night.

"Come on. I'll cook breakfast," I said, as we headed for my pickup.

"Yup, looks like it'll be a fine day for fenc'n," chimed in Rooney.

The ever lov'n End

Two Cowboys.....Chance and Rooney

I went up to the ranch today. Fences are sagging, weeds had grown up, it looks sadly abandoned. I guess it really is abandoned, except my neighbor's living there now since his house burned. He keeps the house and yard up but why mend fences when all the critters are gone. Llamas and angora goats used to grace every field and cranny. It was my fiber farm.

Something in my throat wanted to scream but nothing came out. I feel so alone. Everyone is either dead, grown up, moved on or just too busy to visit the ranch. I should have sold it years ago but it's so hard to let go of good memories.

My attention was drawn down the mountain to the network of paddocks, all connected with a thread of fences. Fencing kept my hired hands, Chance and Rooney, doing sweat labor all one summer. Try putting a fence post in solid rock. Good workers, the boys were, but typical for Montana. Work hard all week, get your paycheck, drink or gamble it away and come home broke. It's the cowboy creed.

Where you saw Rooney, you saw Chance. They did rodeoing together, too. Rooney riding the bulls and broncs and Chance being rodeo clown. Chance, with his diminutive stature, stood as high as Rooney's armpit. He'd flash that boyish grin along with his gift of gab and charm the pants off of any gal in the grandstand. The young ladies hung around like bees in a hive but the boys had other vices as priority. I don't mean shades of Brokeback Mountain. Not that. Chance, with a name like that, you know gambling was his. Chance never touched a drop of whisky.

Not so with Rooney. He'd take a bottle over a woman any day. Of course, I didn't say a woman couldn't entice him "with" a bottle. Rooney was so gorgeously handsome, it'd drive the gals into a frenzy of pure lust. Have you ever seen a man so handsome, that your breath stopped somewhere between your throat and your belly button? That was Rooney, with rugged physique to match.

It was one summer on a Friday night when the boys came up to the house for their pay. I knew they were itch'n to get over to "Al's Saloon," the local watering hole. Already that money was burning a hole in their pockets. Not even a small attempt at a scam this time. They usually tried, needing extra cash for a saddle, or a clutch for the pickup, you know scammers. I knew scammers but often I'd go along with them. Pisces are like that. But money was mostly post epso facto, for getting Rooney out of jail for drunk N disorder after a Friday night spree.

Here's what happened when they got to "Al's." It was later described to me at the hospital. Oooppps I'm getting ahead of my story.

To Be Continued

When The Deep Purple Falls .... Over Sleepy Garden Walls

Here's a secret. I sing all the time. Old songs. It's all I know. Here I am singing in my little sauna. It's a neat little infrared (not steam) sauna. I zip up leaving my head and hands out so I can read or take pictures in the mirror.

More than a toy. It eliminates toxins through the pores by sweating and it does get HOT !!!!!! I wear exercise clothes in it, a tank top and tights. First I do floor exercises and then jump in and zip up. I've improved my thyroid temp a couple degrees with this. ......When The Deep Purple Falls ......

I put together a short vid of Granddaughter Ashly washing Cody at the Doggie Wash and singing a song from her new album, "This Town." Song, "Best I've Seen" is written by Ashly and played by her band, "Little Jane and the Pistol Whips.

Fried Green Tomatoes, Thankfully Not Revisited

I was a jerk today. Am I sorry ? I don't know. I'll let you be the judge.

I was going to bop in the Co-op for a couple things but that place being the most popular store in town and having a very small parking lot, I could find no empty spots. I drove the loop twice and on the 3rd go-around, I spotted a place on the end. I was parked by it with my signal on, waiting for a car to pass. It did but a small car with 2 young girls zoomed in from the street and popped into my spot.

I saw shades of "Fried Green Tomatoes" flash before me and felt like ramming the car because although they were younger and prettier, I was older and had more insurance.

Thank God I came to my senses and instead just laid on my horn. When the driver finally looked at me, I motioned with my hand that it was my intention to go in that spot. Much to my surprise, she backed up and drove out but looked straight ahead and very pissed when she passed my car. I could imagine what they were saying.... "Grouchy old Q#*! lady."

As I pulled in the space, a little guilt crept in. I am usually not such a JERK but somehow, the occasion called for it. So I was.

When I went inside and saw lovely produce, I forgot about my being a jerk but I'm thinking about it now. Just when I make up my mind to be kind and loving always, I go and behave like that. Darn!!!!!!