Love Story

HAPPY
Jack (-O-Lantern) Handey
FRIDAY on a SATURDAY
and
Merry, Merry
Halloween!

Doctored by me photo: original downloaded at waggingtales.com

"SOMEBODY TOLD ME HOW frightening it was how much topsoil we are losing each year, but I told that story around the campfire and nobody got scared."
–Jack-O-Lantern Handey

THE TRUE STORY that follows is more beautiful than

BOOtiful,
but hold onto your hat anyway.

IT WAS TEN YEARS AGO when I was soon to lose

someone very near and dear
to my heart.

OUR NEXT DOOR neighbor’s long-time companion, Brandy, was the most wonderful, loving, "Just look at that face!" ( <— and it will bring a smile to yours) and, OH, sooo huggable dog ever to grace the planet with her arfy self. She was definitely a gift from Above, generously shared by her "mom," Mary Jo, with anyone who wanted to know Brandy and, by golly-God, nobody didn’t NOT want to be included in that magical, bow-wowed circle! ***fondly AND tear stained-remembering, because promises asked said, "Don’t cry for me, Argentina." <––Even at times most difficult, Brandy kept her sense of humour!***

EARLY ON DUBBED Queen of the Road (After acquiring the title, she was frequently heard singing Roger Miller’s "King of the Road," changing up the words to suit herself.), among Royal Highness Brandergirl’s many daily, poochified duties during her ultra-mellow yellow reign (Did I mention? Miss Brandy was a Golden Retriever who was the most laid back "person" to ever rule The Kingdom AKA the little dead end street I call my neighborhood.) was to grab several winks (at least a couple of hours worth) in the middle of the street, while Mary Jo was at work. No worries as everybody and their brother knew to drive around her.

WHEN OUR SLEEPING BEAUTY WASN’T wearing her verbal adjective, she’d be making door-to-door visits, spreading joy and cheery grins here, there, and everywhere! Brandy dripped love... and loved cookies! *** BIG smile follows the tears welling*** I was happy to play doorman whenever her mistress was away, and then, toward the end, give her spoons of warmed dog food and water, and take her outdoors using a sling.

SADLY, THE DAY for good-byes came. The ringing of that particular phone call still haunts me. "Of course I’ll drive," I reassured heart-breaking-in-a-million-little-pieces Mary Jo. Ironically, or so I thought at first, the sun was shining so brightly that all three of us got caught up in the blinkies (which oddly felt like delicious eye-rainbows) as we maneuvered Brandy into the car. MJ and I quietly longed for the day that should have been, the one in which we’d be promised our beloved pal would live forever. Brandy very contently and royally sat in the backseat; it surely was her way of patting our hands in comfort, telling us everything would be alright.

MADE FROM HER FAVORITE BLANKET, Mary Jo and I placed Brandy in a warm nest on the veterinary clinic table. Pet-nurse friends of hers gathered, forming small, inconsolable huddles in the room. I found my place a little back and to the side-- as near as circumstances would allow me to be. I didn’t want to watch her go, but I did because I had to hang on to my friend for as long as possible.

BEFORE THE DOCTOR even had time to finish administering the injection, a see-throughy Brandy sat up from her resting spot like a happy-go-lucky, little puppy! Smiling directly at me, our eyes lovingly locked. Then, instantly and incredibly, she sprang from the counter and lept right through me! In that fraction, Brandy and I shared the same breath and the greatest happiness, amazing like no other, filled me! The moment was more beautiful than anything of this entire world!

(Just imagine the scene from Poltergeist in which Diane Freeling
becomes her daughter Carol Anne’s human sieve, but ten billion
trillion zillion times better.)

NEVER AGAIN WAS I to wonder
if Heaven exists.
NOW GO hug your dog or, or somebody– even a tree!

Trick
-OR-

(This also spells out today’s TWO WORDS.)
treat
wishes to my favourite ‘weeners!
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest peacefully, my Mollo and Brandy.

The Music Goes ‘Round and Around...

Whoa-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho
AND IT comes out

here!

(Hmm, somebody’s ego is definitely inflated.)
is for...

(My all-time favourite, no matter who the warbler be!)

Oldies that are Golden

playing on my radio, soon to be replaced with

a steady feed of red and green AKA Christmas Carols!

LIKE SO MANY other stations, the one I occasionally tune in to, which becomes the one I listen to non-stop during the holidays, switches from it’s regular programming to Ho! Ho! Ho! music beginning Thanksgiving Day. But last year, a

(Rumor had it, he was coming to town.)

new and improved head honcho, who much to my delight just happens to looove Christmas, took the reins of these particular airwaves. So ever since that first bite of November 27, 2008 turkey, I can now count on a continuous stream of Christmas songs starting November 1st! Yeppereehoo! because I basically turn myself inside out singing this time of the year, sometimes even on key!

ONE WORD:

A-wassailing!

Frosty songs target your heart, too!
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest peacefully, my Mollo.

P.S. AND BY THE BY: Need seconds? Maybe thirds? Room for fourths, even? For several more spoons of ABC Wednesday, a weekly alphabet soup (this "go," heavily seasoned with letter number fifteen) "click" the sidebarring button —> after which you’re sure to be dished up more Hump Day broth: samples of other blog buds’ recipes for the afore mentioned, beginning with an "O."

What’s Wrong with This Picture? (Post Toasty No. 6)

***uh-huh happy!***
ONCE AGAIN, TODAY has been set aside for
summing "it" up in one neat, little Post-it note!

FOR A LOOKSEE at more "stickies," click HERE.

TWO WORDS: It’s "toasted"?!

SMOKES: if ya got ‘em, QUIT ‘em. You’ll have more Christmases that way, which means more presents, and who DOESN'T get nearly enough of those?

Already making with the merry!
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest peacefully, my Mollo.

Meryl, Meryl on the Wall...

ONE WORD:
doppelgänger

Merriam-Webster puts it like this:

doppelgänger: [dah-pel-geng-er] Function: noun. Etymology: German Doppelgänger, from doppel- double + -gänger goer, date: 1851.
1 : a ghostly counterpart of a living person
2 : a) double b) alter-ego; c) person who has the same name as the other

I, ON THE OTHER hand, am walking this way:

AS UNBELIEVABLE AS IT MIGHT SOUND, Meryl Streep and I were in all likelihood separated at birth, except I was born five years after her. She and I have always looked like each other, other than that one most recent time:

because I don’t cook.

IN FACT, WHEN I WENT SOLO to the premiere of Silkwood at our local cinema, sporting the same do as Streep’s character in the movie, film-goers after the showing pointed at me and talked in excited, hushed tones as I exited the theater. I actually saw a woman, pen in hand, rifling through her purse for a scrap of paper, in the event she’d get up enough courage to ask me for my autograph. It was great fun, but I had to ask myself, "Why in the world do these people think Meryl Streep would be attending her own movie alone in a small town in Dairyland, U.S.A. of all places?" I half-smiled coyly at them, leaving them with one Streepy, high cheek bone.

SIGNING OFF,

Miss Streep or me?
(OR Memorex?)

THAT'S MERYL, as my glasses are green
and I have better taste in clothes.

I will remember you when I get to Hollywood,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo.

P.S. Blasphemous that it be,

this scene from Silkwood
has always reminded of this

I Love Lucy classic moment!

Whittle While You Work

IF SNOW WHITE’S FAVORITE was the inspiration behind a necklace-able cake soap sculpture, would the finished piece be called "Rope a Dope"?

"I REMEMBER HOW my great-uncle Jerry would sit on the porch and whittle all day long. Once he whittled me a toy boat out of a larger boat I had. It was almost as good as the first one, except now it had bumpy whittle marks all over it. And no paint, because he had whittled off the paint." --Jack Handey

HAPPY

Jack Handey
FRIDAY!

99% pure!

(the perfect role model for today’s youte– may replace Miley)

DURING MY YOUNGEST formative years (I consider myself to be still forming.), my sister, my Catholic, divorcee mother ("Simply scandalous!"cried the Brides of Christ AKA the nuns who taught at my grade school, "Someone get that woman a papal dispensation!") and I lived with Mom's sister and her husband, loving and generous Aunt Mert and Knuckle Matt. Although times were sometimes tough, the "best things about it" ALWAYS outweighed them– today’s in particular: THE ENCYCLOPEDIA (A BIG shout-out to Jiminy Cricket for teaching me how to spell it!).

HINDSIGHTING THE ERRORS of his ways, Matt, who had preferred napping in an oak tree all the live-long to attending school, wanted to afford us girls every educational opportunity that came along, even the ones that literally came knocking. When a door-to-door encyclopedia salesman selling knowledge appeared on our stoop, my uncle was hand over fist-ready with the ca$h. I was thrilled! Although I no longer remember the publishing firm (Was it Britannica? Colliers? RATS! I wish I knew. I’d love to get my hands on a vintage set! Hmm...? Why is it that "antiques" are now from the stuff that made for my yesterdays? THAT'S JUST NOT RIGHT.), I happily recall the book pusher waving one from the additional, free-of-charge Children’s Encyclopedia under my nose, which featured page upon page of

Photo credit: Dimi Dumo
"Ivory Soap Carving Skills 101."
(I’m positive it wasn’t titled that,
but you be getting my drift?)

I’LL NEVER FORGET the day: IT WAS INSANE! (and I loooved it!) Talk about your 1950s "parenting"– there I was at the kitchen table (Formica, of course), a Kindergartener, who wasn’t allowed to cut up her own meat, armed with a paring knife and a bar of Ivory soap! Hours later, I would have made

Photo credit: Dimi Dumo
(Picture this, only more carved-by-a-five-year-oldy.)

my very own pet!

JUST AS I WAS finishing up, Doris Day was crooning "Que Sera, Sera" on my gramma's radio. In my smitch mind, I was certain she was singing, "When I was just a whittle girl..." directly to ME! Magical hardly covers it!

THIS times two.

POSTSCRIPT: A SUMMER LATER, Knuckle Matt, famous for his Ping Pong ball-tossing skills, won me two goldfish at the carnival. Plopping from the plastic bag-carrier to their new pickle ("Don’t you toss that out! It will come in handy someday"–Aunt Myrtle) jar-home, they mouth-bubbled profusely in the process. It was a light bulb moment for me, indeed, as I immediately decided to name them, what else? Proctor and Gamble (who would soon be "buried at sea"– God only knows how long they simmered in that carny water before we claimed them)!

THREE WORDS:

Image courtesy of Ivory

. . .

Keep it sparkling!
SF~~~~~*

Snooze peacefully, my Mollo-- Knuckle Matt, Aunt Mert,

and the pie now in the sky:

Soupy Sales
January 8, 1926 - October 22, 2009

Thank you for everything, Mr. Supman, I love you.

Photo credit: Imdb.com

“Blow Ye Winds, Like the Trumpet Blows But Without That Noise.” --Jack Handey

SHELLEY DUVALL IN HER ROLE of a lifetime as Ma Ingalls
in The Shining, 1980, heading out to help Pa with "chores."

WELCOME TO ANOTHER serving of ABC Wednesday, a weekly alphabet soup, this "go," heavily seasoned with letter number fourteen. (For several more spoons of this "N" broth --samples of other blog buds’ recipes for the afore mentioned-- "click" the sidebarring button —>)

is for...

nights not fit
for man nor

beast!

POSSIBLY, I WAS a nocturnal bipolar polar bear in a former life, since I love bitter-cold, blustery midnights made of frozen flakes that pelt if they want to, targeting even a pajama-ed me in my front yard, a-wassailing them in --yes, neighborhood, light sleepers hate me– head up, then tipped to listen to the like-no-other calm as they pile higher and HIGHER till they nearly reach where they came from, bringing me to the only thing better than ALL of this:

the snow day after!

(Ahhhhh... There’s nothing quite like the rush of a run-on sentence!)

THE NEXT MORNING, the BIG
banks of Plum Creek (<– Sorta close, but no cigar.)

cold-sky manna

have me dreaming The Dream I’ve been entertaining ever since I was a smitch: me throwing up the sash to a window-high mound of snow that I get to ride down! W-what? What? What?! Oh, ALRIGHT. So I’ve made a few changes over the years:

MICHAEL LANDON (October 31, 1936 - July 1, 1991 -- may he rest in peace), who earned the distinction of being my first Hollywood crush within five seconds of me watching him in an episode of Bonanza during its full-steam-ahead televison days, after which I had to be ambulanced to the hospital due to dehydration because I drooled over him the entire fifty minutes of the show, and even though he as

(Truly, is it ANY wonder why green is still my favorite color?)
Little Joe Cartright,

of whom, I would later learn, had never subscribed to the human lasso in the dead of winter in order to get from the house to the Ponderosa horse buildings, arrives as Little House on the Prairie’s Charles Ingalls, offering me a rope that I secure around my waist, which then becomes the lead I follow him out on by way of my second story loft-bedroom window ("Sleeping on a pokey, straw mattress suddenly proves to have been well worth the effort!" I tell myself.) through the deep and snowy to the barn. The thing of it is, I don’t live on a farm and the closest one to me is probably thirty miles or more away. Hmm. Who knows, maybe it’s a verrry long rope. It doesn’t matter, I have my coat and muffler on and I am good to go! I SLIDE! Wheeeee!!!

"Is that the cow lowing,
or are you glad to see me?!"
–Charles, greeting me in the bovine shed

ONE WORD: Moo?

I REMIND "Pa" that we are both married to other people and that he, of course, is dead. With that being agreed upon, we go back to the start, where we spent a lot of time hemping out of the window and down the snow that has drifted to nearly the top of my house.

TWO MORE WORDS:
innocent fun!
. . . . . .

CLASS, WHAT HAVE WE learned from
today’s Farkled head-adventure?
Oh, you didn’t know there was going to be a test?
That’s okay, I’ll let you have the answers:

1. This certainly has been telling.
2. I’m a smitch excessive when it comes to snow.
3. In all likelihood, at some point in my life,
I was bitten by the M. Night Shyamalan Bug.
PROOF POSITIVE:

I see daydream about dead people.
AND
4. How timely is this?
Michael Landon was born on Halloween!

Time to shovel shove off,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo. You, too, Little Joe.

Easy, Breezy, Beautiful Cover Girl? (Post Toasty No. 5)

"BRILLIANT!" I replied upon hearing Adventures of a Wanna-Be Supah Mommy’s ulitimate suggestion: "Why bother spewing verbal vomit when you can sum it all up in one neat little Post-it note?"

(Click the POST-IT, above, for the details, then, to read more of this Tuesday’s join-inners’ "stickies," click the word " POST-IT.")

HERE GOES

Photo credit: Alan Williams
Nuttin’:

DO YOU KNOW what’s getting old?

Getting old.

THANK GOD for that
age-defying makeup

Ellen plugs.

It’s like wood putty for humans. I got hooked on it (I call it The Miracle Worker.) a couple of months ago and just love it! If I knew for sure it would help, I’d even eat it. I’ve actually stockpiled several cartons of the "slather" in the basement, just in case Cover Girl cancels it out before I am. And guess what, the other day, I heard creaking. At first, I thought it was the kitchen door talking, or maybe

our ghost

is back?! OoooOoo! A spooky story about to be shared! What a great blog-write this’ll be! But nooo–- it was just Yours Tah-ruly. ME. Seriously, if I was candy, I’d be peanut brittle. Just kidding– LOL! But if I was a sugar-laden treat, I’d be... I’d be... ENOUGH about me already. If YOU were candy, what would you be? Inquiring minds want to know... NO. No, they don’t. This is a ridiculous "baby" question. The Untold Story: today, I’ve got frozen, mini-Snickers on the brain and I want someone to give me permission to have them for breakfast.

TWO WORDS:
spray starch

APPARENTLY,
the original blog theme dies hard.

Sweet toothy with ironing to do,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest peacefully, my Mollo.

Potty Mouth

Image originally downloaded HERE.

A "PERTINENT" TOPIC came up for discussion at the breakfast
table this morning to which I replied: "You guys do what?!
NOT me. EVER. Nope, not while I’m still sitting there AND
especially NOT on a plane.

ONE WORD:
Flush!

So. What’s the consensus?

"Pah-oomph-shee!" <— That was
my impersonation of a toilet.
What’s yours?
(By the read of this,
someone has too much time on their hands.)

SF~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo.

Ice Capades

October 17th it be,
SIX WORD

Saturdayers!

Jesus Christ lizard walks on water.

(FOR A LOOKSEE at what others are up to today --phrased or sentenced in six words-- click —> SIX WORD Saturday Shout-outs , OR the SWS button in the passenger’s seat —>)

LAST NIGHT’S rain puddles are this mornings ice arenas! Bedroom slippered me literally skated (Yes, as a matter of fact, my house shoes DO have runners. It’s what

living in Wisconsin

is all about.)

down the front path as I was out
the door to fetch the morning paper.

FOUR WORDS (sung Dean Martinny):
Baby, it’s c-c-cold outside!

Photo credit: Talkapet.com
Iguana get back under the covers.

Stay warm,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Sweet dreams, my Mollo.

High Stakes

HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY!

"INSTEAD OF BURNING a guy at the stake, what about burning him at the stilts? It probably lasts longer, plus it moves around." –Jack Handey

E. the Pelvis "Did You Know?" FACTOID: Elvis Presley collected statuettes of Joan of Arc, and also Venus de Milo figurines.

IT WASN’T LIKE I was necessarily on a diet back then, but during the early 70s, I ate a heck of a lot of Figurines. Ya, right. Who am I kidding? Images of Twiggy and other assorted anorexics spawned in the 1960s had long ago been seared into my brain by my "I-can-eat-anything-I-want-and-never-gain-an-ounce-Do–you-really-think-you-need-that-second-Ho-Ho?" cousin’s mental wood burning kit, whose logo read: "Head Games for Life: Hold Still, This Won’t Hurt a Bit." So, no matter what my scale has ever registered at, I’ve always had problems with the numbers. (By the way, at 5' 2" Cousin "Stick" presently weighs in at about 180.)

WHERE WAS I? Oh, yeah. Do you remember Figurines? They were glorified candy bars "diet" bars

Poppin' Fresh, the Pillsbury Dough Boy, came up with to put additional pressure on his wife following the birth of their first batch of crescent rolls, after which she couldn’t drop the baby weight. They were waaay expensy, but, man, I loved them! Although the fake chocolate flavor was something special (not carob, yet distinctive and never again to be duplicated, but definitely not a match for Carnation Breakfast Squares, which were a "nutritional" AM food substitute made around the same time, that were sort of like a brownie but really dry and powder-like and SOOOO good, AND not to forget Pillsbury’s

Space Food Sticks,

Tootsie Rolly-but-not-quite, chewy energy snacks offering great-tasting between-meal nutrition, so we never ever had an excuse to stop eating, but that would be a whole other blog SOMEONE, PLEASE STOP ME!!!), I found the lemon (especially frozen) to be excellent and made it my addiction. But not for me-perpetually-weighing-in reasons alone. You see, I’ve always been a pretender. That’s a lot different than being a liar. I just like playing imagination games is all, which, realistically, has proven to be a valuable AND fun coping mechanism that I’ve cultivated over the years.

IN 1969, WHEN MY MOTHER married my no-better-just-worst stepfather, a raging alcoholic who turned our "normal" inside out, it definitely came in very handy (Handey? Jack?! Were you there all along??? You were hiding behing the couch, weren't you?!). Inside my head, I reinvented my home life in order to be able to "maintain." I imagined I was living in a model home just like the ones real estate agents use as showcases to entice prospective buyers. Super-strangely (<–That’s putting it mildly, eh?), the "artificial" I created for myself was a great comfort and helped me through an extremely difficult time. As a mood-enhancing, special effect, Figurines then became a serious part of my daily menu, since eating them was like chowing stage props or the toy food that came with that tin litho

(In a pinch, Santa shopped from the Western Auo catalog.)
doll house Santa Claus brought me

one wonderblissful Christmas when I was a small smitch. Believe it or not, only good came from this bizarre living arrangement: I was able to endure heavy-duty ugly; I learned that Figurines are d*** yum "eats"; and, if I ever have to, I can easily ingest frosted cardboard. Ahhh, memories... like the corners of my mind!

ONE WORD:
"Tangerine"

(DO YOU RECALL? The Figurines jingle
was sang to the tune of it:

Figurines do a lady proud,

The diet lunch that you can munch out loud!
Figurines help keep you as you are,
With a calorie rate: 138 a bar!

Restoring my life my shape belongs to Figurines!)

. . . . . . .

A PERSON'S GOTTA wonder how things would have measured up if Elvis had shoveled in Figurines, instead of

Photo credit: Worth1000.com
fried peanut butter
and banana sandwiches.

A hunk, a hunk of burning love to you, at the stake, stilts, or otherwise,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo AND The King.