Just Say Uhhhh.

I loved it when Pam worked as a secretary. I would wait for her to come home in the evenings with stories about her boss and co-workers, and sometimes she would tell us a joke she had heard. One in particular was a favorite of hers...of course it became a favorite of mine because I wanted to be just like my big sister. The joke goes something like this...

So there was this guy named Roy who lived in a house in the country. Every day he would come home and sit on the front porch and take off his shoes. He left them out there overnight, and they were there ready for him in the morning. Well one day he came home with a brand new pair of shoes, and showed them to his wife. "Very nice," she said. "But you're not going to leave them out overnight, are you?" "Why not?" he replied. "What could possibly happen to them?"

The next morning, as Roy was getting ready for work, he looked out the window and saw a cat chewing on his shoes! He ran outside screaming and the cat ran away. His shoes were in ruins. Roy had to get out his old shoes to wear to work that day. He told his wife, "You watch out for that cat. Ohhh, if I catch that cat...."

That night while serving dinner, Roy's wife caught site of a cat walking across the yard. So she said........wait for it........."Pardon me Roy. Is that the cat that chewed your new shoes?"

If you really want to make an impact, sing that last line. Mind you, I was way to young to know the song "Chattanooga Choo-Choo," but I would crack up anyway. And I would tell it to my friends, and they would crack up too...it was an "adult" joke, so if you didn't understand it, you couldn't admit it. Now that I think of it, Pam's jokes were always pretty tame...though I do remember one about farting. That's about as risque as she dared to be!

Because I can......

This picture has been in my wallet since

far before my mother was gone.

It's happy to me.

Buttered Roll

Mommy loved Buttered Rolls. Aunt Meg used to comment about how you couldn't get a good buttered roll in Michigan, at least not as good as the ones we have in NY. They're always good. Despite the fact that my parents lived in the middle of nowhere, the deli in "town" made some kick ass buttered rolls. Even when mommy was sick, she could always muster up up enough strength to eat a buttered roll, even if only a few bites.

I stopped at a cart on my way to work to get a roll for breakfast. Skeptical, because it was not the usual cart I'd been going to for the past few years. Subsequently, i found out the roll cost $.25 more. Completely worth it, because this particular roll would have made mom 20 different kinds of happy. Butter, Roll, Perfection.

And That's That!

I remember when I was little, Pammie always used to reminisce about toys she had when she was younger. I did get some hand-me-downs, like her Barbies and Barbie clothes, but because of the age difference, I think that she got rid of many of her things before I was even born. One doll she used to tell me about all the time was "Flatsie." It was kind of a running joke, because Pam was never, um, well endowed. She would sing the little jingle, "Flatsie, Flatsie, she's flat and that's that!"

Flatsies were around in the 60s...basically they were little bendy dolls with long hair and big eyes. I guess they've made a comeback, because Emma and I found some in the Cracker Barrel gift store down the street. I told her that Flatsies were Aunt Pammie's favorite, and she could pick one out to buy. It took a little convincing, because the store has an insane amount of candy at toddler level. When we got the doll home, and found that she came with her own comb and removable shoes, she was sold. She even knows the song, though she sings it like "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." Oh, well. She'll learn!

Wine-O

First post in a long time. Short memory that came to me...

Mommy barely ever drank. Maybe once a year, she'd have half a glass of wine, but that's about it.

When her M.S. headaches started to get worse over the past few years, she realized a little bit of wine would take the edge off.

When I say "a little bit" i mean that to the true extent of the phrase. She rarely ever made it through one minuscule glass.

One day, I must have been home from college, I'd apparently been doing the dishes. My mother had a headache that day, and had had a glass of wine at best.

Outburst #1: It apparently did the job, because next thing i knew, she was picking up handfuls of suds from the sink, and throwing them at me, hysterical laughing. Man, was I angry. One, because i couldn't get her to stop throwing the bubbles, and two, because i couldn't see why it was so f'in funny?

Once she stopped throwing bubbles at me, we watched TV in her bed. Outburst #2 enfolds.

Outburst #2. Out of nowhere, she got out from under the covers, jumped on top of the bed, took both of her socks off, and started singing at the top of her lungs and swinging the socks in the air. I cant quite remember if my father was watching TV with us, or just came to my rescue.
But, wen my father and I tried to subdue her, she would whack us with the socks and laugh

Mommy was a lightweight I suppose, but hysterical to watch, sock smacking, bubble throwing and all.

Talent

Most of the songs that Pam sang and taught me were ones she learned in Girl Scouts. I was also in the scouts in elementary school, but apparently many of the songs had changed by then. One year our troop had a Daddy-Daughter party (maybe for Valentine's Day?) that involved a talent show. Pam evidently thought that the "good old songs" should be resurrected, and she coached me on two of her favorites.

One, of course, was "I Have a Daisy on my Toe," complete with a construction paper daisy taped to my shoe. The other was a perennial favorite at family functions, "Fried Ham, Fried Ham." Now, I was no stranger to performing this song...at a very young age both my mom and my sis would gently shove me from behind towards an audience of cousins, aunts, uncles and/or neighbors and say, "Come on, Meggie-poo. Sing it." I don't believe I ever had any major stage fright, which might explain my choice of occupation (college instructor). The lyrics went like this...

Fried ham, fried ham,
Cheese and bologna.
After the macaroni
We'll have onions,
Pickles, and pretzels.
Then we'll have some more
Fried ham, fried ham, fried ham!

The funny part, though, is what comes next...Same song, same verse. Cowboy language and a whole lot worse. Then you repeat the song in a cowboy accent. I'm guessing I was 7 or 8, and I did cowboy language, monster language, and English accent. I brought down the house, the Daddies loved me.

Pam had this incredible way of instilling confidence in me, even as a little kid. I knew I could do it, because she told me I could.

The Answer Woman

I was talking to Steph yesterday about Pammie. I was saying that I have been thinking about her a lot because a few things have come up in recent weeks that I would have talked to Pammie about. When Eddie and I came home from a few days in North Carolina, Spike greeted us and WOW did he smell! It looked like he has an ear infection, but as it was New Years Eve, there was no Vet to be found. I was wondering what I should do and I thought, I bet Pam would have an idea. Having raised many dogs, she had an answer for every dog situation that I have ever had. She would recount how Atlas or Carol or Gypsy or Michael or etc.., had had that same problem and here is what to do.This week, Eddie was disappointed that he did not make the A team for his 7th grade school basketball team. If I had called Pam, firstly she would have been so upset for Eddie, she loved him! Then, she would have recounted how when Nick was in 7th grade, this happened and then that happened and then everything worked out OK. Or she might have told me about Steph trying out for Varsity tennis in high school and then making the JV team instead (which Steph shared with me). She had a million stories to help you through your problems.

I also miss planning with her. Holidays, trips to Michigan, vacations,birthday celebrations, we would be discussing and planning the year. Now that we will own the camp in Maine, I am sure she would have been planning to spend some time there, since she loved that camp and the time she spent there. The year now stretches out as a series of events that will happen for the first time without Pammie and somehow will not be as fun without her.