Archive for the ‘ Stories about Mother ’ Category

A DISGUSTING CONVERSATION

Sunday, May 9th, 2010

My brother has just finished telling us about the massive gray polyps in his colon, found with a colonoscopy, polyps that, according to Jim “Had their big heads waving around in there on long skinny stalks.”

My sister Candy, my brother Jim and I are sitting in a booth with our 87 year old mother in a Denny’s Restaurant. We’re having breakfast; a Senior Special, one waffle, eggs and bacon and something that sounds like “Eggs Over Hominy.”

We’ve been ‘enjoying’ Jim’s graphic description of what he had to do to clean his bowel the night before the procedure. I’ll save you from all of it except to say that Jim had to buy his laxative supplies at the drug store and he swears that one of them was called “Move-A-Quick,” or something like that,” and he swears it lived up to it’s name.

My mother, my sister and I start clattering our silverware on the table and making little squeeking noises so Jim abruptly changes course.

“So,” he says, “my daughter told me yesterday that all her friends at school think I’m gay.” (more…)

Blessings Of An Unusual Kind

Tuesday, April 6th, 2010

My mother, who is 87, has been talking lately about the tea kettles.

“The tea kettles are doing this, the tea kettles are doing that.”

It took me awhile to understand that she is talking about the recent American political group, The Tea Party! I had been thinking, ‘Why? Why are tea kettles out doing things?’

My mother and I are sitting on her deck, watching the cars go by on the road on the other side of her wide field. My mother smiles broadly and her white hair glistens in the sun. She’s wearing her little red, dog-hair decorated sweater over her blue, green and purple top with the coffee stains on the front, with hot pink sweat pants and high rider tennis shoes.

“You look good, Mom,” I say. ”I’m glad you stopped that cancer medicine. You don’t look terminal to me.”

This is the medicine that cost $4400.00 (!) a month and caused Mom’s nose to swell to the size of a small potato.

I had come over to visit her after she had been on the medicine for a few days. I kept looking at her face. Something wasn’t right, but what was it? She didn’t look like my Mother. I had studied her, carefully.

“I think your lipstick is wrong,” I said. “It’s going up over your top lip somehow and it seems odd.” (more…)

COLLECTING A LIFE

Friday, September 25th, 2009

A letter comes in the mail. It’s from my daughter Summer and there is a note stuck on the folded letter inside. It says, ‘Mom, Lexi couldn’t sleep last night so she stayed up late, secretly writing this to you. All by herself! It is adorable. XO Summer.’

I unfold the lined paper and read:

“Hi BABA how are you and Bob and Bill. (Bob is the dog and Bill is the Ex-boyfriend. Lexi is my 6 year old granddaughter.)

“I hav sum great plans for October.

“I am going to hav a lot of fun.

“I will hav a lot of fun with you, Bill and Bob of cors. I am gowing to hav a Super dupr jollygood time.

“Here is a poem I made up.’

(Here’s where I get scared. It’s a poem about me, and oh boy, Lexi is always totally honest in her evaluations of people. I have already heard about my hanging flesh and a few other things so I take a deep breath and resolve to take it like a Good Grandmother would. With pleasure, whatever she says.)

‘Yore eyes are brone.

Yore hair is blond.

Yore teeth are wite.

Yore lips are pink.

That was it.’

“See you in October. LoveLexi. (heart, heart, hearts etc)”

Oh my gosh. I breathe relief. What do YOU think that last line could have been? I know what I think and am so glad I don’t stink. Lexi would have told me if I do. (more…)

Mother and the Plumber

Friday, September 11th, 2009

I’m sitting outside on the patio under a leafy tree at my favorite coffee shop, talking with Alan.

Alan is an architect who has been helping my brother Jim with his restaurant project. Alan has long gray/blonde hair that hangs in a messy horse’s tail down his back. He flicks the hot ash from his Camel cigarette and says, “When Jim was at my house one day, the water in the kitchen faucet turned on by itself and I said, ‘What the heck?’

“Then,” he continues, “awhile later another faucet downstairs turns on and starts a flood and again I said, ‘What the heck? Are there spirits around here trying to tell us something?’”

Alan pauses and sucks his white Camel like a doobie.

“I thought, ‘Does this mean this whole project with Jim’s new restaurant is big money down the drain?’”

“Hmmm,” I say.

Jim and Alan, after a year of trying to get a loan and borrowing money from friends and family to build a new restaurant, have been denied. The banks tease but they just won’t loan. Jim is caught up in the collapse of the economy. He’s now at home with the cotton blankets pulled over his head, in the musky dark and in despair.

Alan breathes some smoke and I breathe some smokey air.

We are both silent. Because of his illness and the economy, my brother Art may lose his jewelry shop which is right next door to the coffee shop and the coffee shop itself is teetering on the edge of extinction.

When I go home, I tell my ex, Bill, about Jim.

Bill says, “Sometimes I wake up in the night and I wonder who I am. I wonder where I am. Am I back in my childhood or am I forward in time somewhere? Am I on another planet? It takes me awhile to remember who I am and what part of my life I’m in. It’s hard to get re-oriented, but once I do, I’m OK.” (more…)

MOTHER HAS A PLAN

Saturday, July 11th, 2009

Polly calls.

“We have to do something! Mother got up this morning and there was a big rat swimming around and around in her toilet bowl and she couldn’t get him out and then she did get him out with the toilet brush and then her dog grabbed him and ate him and Mom says that somehow the toilet seat got dismantled and torn up and she feels really bad about the rat getting eaten, he was trying so hard to survive.”

Polly sucks air and goes on. “She has lost her blood pressure pills for three days now and that’s very dangerous and you can’t find anything in that place it’s such a mess and there are vast dangling cobwebs on her windows, have you seen them, her housekeeper is no good but Mom won’t fire her because she likes her and Becky has ripped up all the rugs digging for squirrels under the house and we need to replace the floors with vinyl, Mom agrees and Mom just keeps eating that same crock pot soup that cooks all the time and she never dumps it and starts over and you have to do something and right now, Venus.”

I say, “I’m not coming over there and clean that house. I am not cleaning up all the blood and guts from all the dismembered field creatures that her cat brings in. I am not. ”

I know my abilities and housecleaning is not one of them.

Polly jags off onto another topic about how she, Polly, fired her website person and she is now doing the site herself and how she was talking to so and so this famous person and her grandkids are always over at her place and she can’t get anything done and she keeps jigging and jagging from topic to topic and I can’t stand it. Trying to follow her mind makes me feel crazy and I finally  yell, “Shut up! Shut up!”

“Arrgh?” she says.

“What’s wrong with you, are you ADD?!!  You never stay with one line of thought. I can’t stand it,” I say and I am not kind about it.

And later that day the results from the CAT scan our mother had a week or so, come in. (more…)

Blood In The Wheelbarrow!

Friday, May 22nd, 2009

“I never saw so much blood!” my almost 87 year old mother is telling me. “I was finally feeling good again after 7 months of being sick from that flu shot. I felt so good, I went out to plant my garden and the next thing I remember is being on the ground. I think my ankle gave way.”

I bend forward from my chair to look at the offending ankle. It’s puffed up but it looks good in comparison to some of the rest of her.

Mom and I are sitting on her deck having a cup of tea. One side of her left arm is purple and green and red and the left side of her face is swollen into a large square shape. The skin is mottled purple and red around her mouth, chin and neck. Mom assures me that there is more damage that isn’t showing.

“I bled all over everything!” she says. “Go and look!”

I get up from my garden chair and obediently trot down the deck’s steps to the part of the garden my mom points to. I notice blood splots all along the concrete path.

Mom has parked her wheelbarrow up against a low bricked area. Yep. There’s blood all over the bricks and blood all inside the wheelbarrow. There’s blood on the petunias still in their trays. Yikes. (more…)

Life Is A Round Egg

Thursday, May 14th, 2009

My ex-husband Ken, has given me total permission to say anything I want about him on this blog. Is he crazy? Or, was he drinking when he said it? I can’t remember, so that’s good enough for me, I will just imagine that he said, ‘yes’ while he was in his right and usual mind.

Ken is Summer’s dad. He is also known as Bumpa to our grand kids, Lexi and Loch.

Ken is going to build me a chicken coop. I have it in my mind that I want three red laying hens: Stella, Lolly and maybe Louise.

Ken asks me how soon do I want this coop. I say, “Right now. Immediately. I have already met my new chicken friends at the Diamond D Feed Store.”

We work out the perfect spot on my property. It’s almost under a giant scrub oak tree.

Ken paces out the size, raises one of his arms in the air and says, “The nesting boxes are just past my armpit.”

Then, he goes home.

He emails me several days later. “When I drive by in a few days on my way to my house in the desert, I’ll pick you up and take you to the desert hot springs.”

I email back and say, “No. I have a better idea. When you come by let’s go up to Ransom Brothers hardware store and get all the materials to build the chicken coop. Then we will come back to my house and build it. My chickens are waiting.”

Mother’s Day comes around and Ken is here at my house, babysitting our grand kids while my mother, my daughter Summer and four sisters and a woman friend, lunch and party.

Bumpa takes babysitting seriously. He sits on a chair near the end of the patio and watches the kids make mud pies, just beyond the metal gate. For hours. He watches the kids like an interested guard dog.

Meanwhile, a few drinks into the outdoor brunch, my daughter Summer mentions that another scrub oak’s arms are too far into part of my patio.

“Mom, no one can walk through here. We need to cut those branches out.” (more…)

Wrong Shoe/Right Hat/Spaghetti Breast

Tuesday, March 24th, 2009

“Are you coming up town?”

My ex-boyfriend Bill, the one who lives in my studio apartment, calls me from his work. He’s been at the bank for two hours now and I wonder why he’s asking me if I am coming up town. I’m suspicious and as it turns out, I have a right to be.

“Well,” he continues, “…..I just noticed that I wore two different pairs of shoes to work.”

I’m quiet, soaking in the picture.

“Well, OK, so it happens, ” he says. “I need you to go in my room and find a black shoe with laces. Get the Tom McCan one, I have to match it with the other shoe on my right foot. So, get the left foot, would you?”

I start laughing. And laughing. I snort through the rest of the phone call where I promise to bring him a matching shoe.

I run out to Bill’s place and root around in his shoes. Grabbing the one he wants, I run into my house and find my housekeeper. Isabel doesn’t speak any English but when I pantomime Bills’ trouble and shake the shoe in the air, Isabel gets it. She laughs and laughs as she waves and shakes a blue duster in the air.

On my way up to the bank to salvage Bill’s reputation, I stop to see my mother. I have to tell someone Bill’s hilarious news.

I say, “Guess what Mom! Bill wore two different shoes to work and he didn’t even notice it for two hours!!”

I’m jerking and grinning and giggling and ha ha ha-ing.

Mom looks and me and says thoughtfully, “…..I’ve done that.”

“Oh geez Mom, you would.”

Mom doesn’t see the humor.

“You and Bill are just alike. I don’t know where you two live in your heads.”

I sigh and mumble, “Dang, a good story wasted.”

My mother has recently dropped a heavy load of books on her left foot which has laid her up for days. When my brother in law calls to tell me she’s done this, he shouts, “Do you know what has happened to your mother!!?”

I say, “No. I don’t.”

Ron sounds exasperated and says, ‘I thought not!’ …….and hangs up.

Which leaves me to wonder, ‘what happened to my mother?

I have to call back and have a sister tell me. Ron hadn’t bothered to tell me because once again, Mother hadn’t bothered to mention something of note. She just doesn’t notice things that other people might think are extreme, like strokes and lung cancer, which she has had and which passed by with little comment from her.

Since I’m here at Mom’s we might as well have tea. Mom is in the tea leaf reading ‘biddness’ now. At least, she thinks she is. She is almost 87 years old and has been insisting she needs a job for years now.

A few weeks ago she was asked to read tea leaves at the local Historical Society’s Tea. My sister Barbara helped her pack up her tea pot, leaves and the *tea leaf reading book she wrote, watched her dress in one of her usual odd outfits and drove her to the party.

When I arrived later at the Society, there was Mom, sitting at one of the tables with about six ladies, reading their fortunes in a cup. She was wearing her red velour pants, her blue plastic gardening shoes, a little yellow sweater with spaghetti dried on the breast of it and an old brown jogging jacket. On her head was a magnificent glossy creme colored silk version of a large mixing bowl draped with huge beige flowers, pale netting and pearls.

As I popped into the room, I noticed three tables of women at full attention as Mother was reading one of the guest’s tea cup. The lady appeared to be in her late forties or early fifties, with thick dark hair, full red lips and a giant hatted head full of stuffed spotted birds and colored chiffon.

“Oh…” Mother was saying as she peered intently into the cup, “ummmm…I see a man! He’s a handsome man with dark hair and he has lots of money. I see that you have been going on trips with this man and it’s a very tempestuous, passionate relationship.”

Mother looks up into the woman’s eyes as all the other women gasp delightedly, titter and ‘oh’ and ‘ah.’ The lady in question looks pleased and demure.

Mom stares back into the cup and continues, “yes, he’s very rich and he has a well known position in local  society, and oh my, he’s married!”

The room erupts with startled and happy shrieks and Mother looks pleased. She must be doing a fine job. The guest snatches her cup back and manages a wan smile.

“Let’s read someone else’s cup,” I say as I trot over to Mom.

Everybody wants their cup read. Apparently, Mother has proved herself.

Later, the woman with the married boyfriend asks me if I can bring Mother to read leaves at her next function and someone else from another table tells me she wants my mother to come to her party, too.

Mother is in business. She’s officially in the tea leaf reading business.  Mom tells me later that I am her business agent.

Just what I need. Another job. I can see myself driving an almost 90 year old spaghetti breasted tea leaf reader dressed in gardening shoes and an enormous, flapping, flopping hat, all over the county. Heck, maybe I can get her on Oprah and then I will really have a big job.

*My mother’s book (It’s how to read tea leaves) is “Tea Leaf Tales” by Margaret McWhorter. $10 plus $6.00 Priority Mail.  Mail your request to Margaret at 3601 Main St. Ramona, CA 92065

(You see, I am acting like a business manager, already!)

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TESTIMONIALS from Venus’ Private Phone Sessions:

“Thanks for the time you gave me yesterday. It helped me and has cleared my mind and I feel better and am ready to take the necessary action to move my life.”

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“I did what you told me to do and I let go and let GOD…and today I was accepted for an apartment and I move in on Saturday. Thank you!!! For all your positive energy that you sent me, I believe it had a lot to do with me getting a place to live.”

P.V.

(For my phone rates and how I work, please go to my Home Page. www.godisalwayshappy.com)

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Venus, remember that my wish was to get a new job and get out of debt?

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YOU WALK ON WATER!! Thanks from the bottom of my heart!!

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*Next Tele-Class is APRIL 26TH, 2009  For Wealth, Prosperity and Abundance.

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and ***changes time*** to 1:00 PM Pacific/4 PM Eastern:

Starting April 7th, The Dear Venus Show will air live, every TUESDAY at 1:00 PM Pacific/4 PM Eastern. www.contacttalkradio.com

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The First Show is April 7th, 2009 at 1:00 PM Pacific/4 PM Eastern. See you there???

*THE SHOW CALL IN NUMBER TO TALK TO VENUS FOR THE US AND CANADA IS 1-877-230-3062. International callers, dial your country’s international code for the USA than dial 425 644 5620.

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Offer is valid through March 30th, 2009. After that, null and void

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CUPCAKES, CANDY AND RAT MAN.

Friday, February 20th, 2009

Mother and I are having a glass of wine. We’re sitting inside her home at the ratty round table in her dining area. I have just swept off a pile of really old papers, used napkins, envelopes, pencils, dead flowers and dry cat food. Mother removes her dog Becky’s box of dog cookies, “Which she won’t eat,” my mother says. “She just likes to carry the cookies around the house.”

Mom tells me how her fluffy black cat Josie, the one I found abandoned while out walking, is bringing dead field rabbits into her bedroom almost every day and she and Becky the Dog tear them apart and eat them, just outside Mom’s clothes closet.

This is nothing to be concerned about.

I mention that I have just finished baby sitting my six year old granddaughter Lexi for five days.

“We went to Jimbo’s one day; you know the organic grocery store where everything is so high class and so expensive. Lexi saw some cupcakes in the bakery case and desperately wanted one.”

Mom smiles and nods.

“Well, you know her mom doesn’t let her eat sweets, so it’s a special deal when she gets something like that. Lexi keeps pressing her face to the glass case and gazing at those chocolate cupcakes. And begging me to relent and get one for her.”

Mother says, “Oh, I like chocolate.”

“Yes, and so does Lexi. And these cupcakes are swirled and piled really high with bright pink frosting. Lexi’s beside herself with desire, so finally I say, ‘OK, you can have one.’ She then immediately starts twrilling in the isle and spinning with delight. ‘Oh thank you Baba! Oh thank you Baba!’”

Mom nods again and smiles.

“Well, the nice lady behind the counter pulls out the plate of cupcakes and lets Lexi choose the biggest, most gigantic one with the most frosting. The lady puts it in a special see-through plastic box with a shiny red bow tie. Lexi wants to eat the cupcake right away but I insist we pay for it first!”

“So, it takes about twenty minutes to finish shopping and get to the car and the whole time Lexi is gazing fondly at that cake, smiling and laughing and is so excited she’s practically mad with wanting it.”

Mom is still smiling and nodding. She knows there must be some reason why I am drawing out this really mundane, boring story about a cupcake.

“We get in the car and I tell Lexi, ‘OK, you can eat it now,’ and I turn the car onto the freeway. Next thing I know, Lexi lets loose this outraged screech! I am so startled I almost jack the car over the center line. 

“‘What’s wrong, Lexi?!”

Lexi howls. And howls. And howls. She sounds like a wild cat.

“Lexi, I can’t help you, I’m driving! What is it?”

Lexi is choking with sobs. “The frosting tastes bad, Baba! I hate it. I hate it. It’s bad, Baba.”

She shoves the cupcake over my shoulder. I lean down and take a bite.

Oh my gosh. It’s cream cheese frosting. It’s not that wonderful swirled pile of sugar that Lexi thought she was getting. That mound of sugar that she had begged for, the sugar that she rarely gets. She had been so delighted with her good fortune and now thisthis imposter!

My mother is sympathetic as I continue the story. 

“Lexi just keeps sobbing. She can’t get over being deceived by that cupcake.

I tell her things like, ‘Well, you can’t judge a book by it’s cover.’ Which makes no sense to her, so I try and explain, but that’s futile.

And I say ‘Well this is a lesson that everything that looks good or like gold, isn’t always’. And, ‘There are many disappointments in life.’

Lexi isn’t open to Life Lessons right now. None of this preachy talk has any effect on her emotional disappointment and her wrenching sobs so you know what I have to do. I have to eat that damn cupcake because you can’t waste food, especially anything chocolate. And, Lexi sobs loudly for most of the drive home.”

“Did you give her some chocolate ice cream when you got home?” my mother asks.

“No. I gave her a popsicle. An all natural lime popsicle with no sugar.”

Now, my mother looks disappointed.

Then, she brightens up. “You know,” she says, “I had a big bag of peanut candies and I ate a bunch the other day and I got really, really sick. I’ve had diarrhea before but this was different. It was bad. I was terribly ill.”

I suck air. “You ate peanut candy!? Mom, don’t you know that all these people have been getting salmonella from peanut products because of that filthy plant that had to shut down recently? People are dying from peanut products Mother, old people, especially 86 year old people  and you’re eating peanut candy?”

“Yes,” Mom says. “And, the next day I ate some more.  And I got really, really sick again, so than I threw the bag away.”

I put my head down on the table top. I spend a lot of time putting my head down on table tops because of  my family.

“And, how is Rat Man,” I ask, just to change the subject.

Rat Man is what mother calls the pest control man who was hired to rid her house of ants and spiders and other crawlies. (Dead rabbits and squirrels in the house are OK.)

The last time he was here, I was visiting Mom. She casually mentioned to me that she had had no heat or hot water and the gas stove hadn’t worked either, for more than 24 hours!

“Gads! Mother,” I remember whining, “why don’t you mention these things?”

I run outside and get Rat Man.

“Can you help us, please?” I say. “Would you look at Mom’s water heater and see if the pilot light blew out?”

Rat Man is a young guy and quite amiable about helping old ladies, it turns out.

“Sure,” he says. “Where is it?”

I grab Mother and we waffle and whiffle down the porch steps together in a very strong wind.

The water heater, it turns out, is screwed in behind a metal door on the outside of her metal trailer!

Rat Man looks at the door. There must be fifteen tiny screws in that metal door, screwed tight into that metal trailer.

Eeeh gads. Is this a job for Rat Man? He only kills vermin. But, he has his ego and his honor to think of.

He finds a screw driver in his car and begins to turn the screws. It takes a very long time and did I mention that big, icy cold, stiff, raging wind we three are standing in?

Finally, the door is off and oh my gosh, the webs and spiders. Rat Man will need to add some extra squirts of pestie paste in here.

He leans down and into the mess, looking for the pilot light. It’s a hard find. Mother and I are hanging over his shoulders, one on each side.

Rat Mans find the pilot. Rat Man takes a match out of his poket…did I mention that Raging Wind? And valiantly tries to light the son-of-a-b….

He tries and tries. He finds more matches and strikes more matches. He’s getting red in the neck.

Mom has a question for him. She leans even farther over his shoulder and says to me, “Is this the same man that tried to light my pilot light on the stove last year and got blown clear across the kitchen?”

Eeeegh gads! 

“Mother,” I say, “this is not the time…”

Rat Man sounds like he is whimpering.

“Are you the same man,” my mother persists, “that had the gas explode while he was lighting the stove pilot and it blew him across the kitchen and the lady that was with him started screaming and screaming so loud that I could hear her in my bedroom and I’m profoundly deaf, you know.”

I’m dyin.’ I’m laughing so hard I fall to my knees.

Rat Man jumps straight up and steps on me. “I got it lit!” he says. 

Thank you God.

The question is:

Why do I often wobble home from my Mother’s??

 The answer:

Sometimes it’s the wine we drink or the peanut candy we eat and sometimes it’s the things that happen over there.

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GOOD NEWS! My brother, Arthur, is in complete remission from acute leukemia. He will be on chemo pills for two more years. But, no more talk of bone marrow transplants and stem cells and all of that. We are all elated. Thank you for all your prayers and good wishes. X Venus

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*TELE-CLASS FOR MONEY, PROSPERITY AND ABUNDANCE with Venus and Summer McStravick. MARCH 7, 2009   See www.flowdreaming.com for class information and sign up info.

**IN PERSON!!!   A SPECIAL LIVE IN PERSON “RETREAT WEEKEND” WITH VENUS ANDRECHT AND SUMMER MCSTRAVICK.  Sept. 18-20th 2009 at Asilomar, a California State Park on the coastline in Montery County, California.  This was the setting for Dr. Wayne Dyer’s movie, ‘Ambition To Meaning.’  *EARLY BIRD SPECIAL PRICING IF YOU SIGN BY MARCH 7th, 2009.*

See www.flowdreaming.com for the details and sign up. Look for ‘Flowdreaming Retreat Weekend.’

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*Venus pulls 2 names FOR FREE 15 MINUTE PHONE SESSIONS, EACH TIME SHE DOES A LIVE RADIO SHOW. “The Dear Venus Show”, every other Weds, 9AM Pacific/12 Noon Eastern. Offer is valid for a week so you can catch the show on replay.

(Next live radio show is Weds Feb 25th. “Match Maker Make Me A Match.” More real stories from the dating world and Venus talks about her internet dating experience.)

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2 WINNERS OF A FREE 15 MINUTE PHONE SESSION WITH VENUS:  *Toni-Lynn Beal and *Vaso Williams. Offer valid through Feb 27th, 2009. After that, null and void

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I love to hear from you. If you wish to leave a comment please scroll down to “comments” and click on it.

What Happened At Venus’ Laughing Club Party!

Thursday, February 12th, 2009

 

Everyone's backends. Mom has the white hair. My sister Barbara is in front of the girl in the green t-shirt.

Everyone's backends. Mom has the white hair. My sister Barbara is in front of the girl in the green t-shirt.

My Cousin Laura stands up and says she wants to talk. My Cousin Laura? The ‘quiet’ cousin?

 

This happens after all twenty-five of us ladies have had lots of outstandingly good home-made food and high alcohol percentage wine.

 

My Cousin Laura is in the dark pink shirt and jeans.

My Cousin Laura is in the dark pink shirt and jeans.

 

 

We expected forty people for the party but lots of ladies have suddenly gone down with the Big Flu and they are all livid about missing The Big Event.

My daughter Summer makes each person a name tag as they arrive. They have to identify themselves on the tag. For example, “Betty, Venus’s art friend #1.” “Judy, Venus’ tall friend.” “Nina, I don’t know Venus but I heard about the party.”

The phone rings. It’s Isabel. “Where is your house! I have been driving around for an hour and a half!”

We determine that her husband gave her directions and said I live 6 miles down my road and not the .6 that I put on the invitation. Isabel arrives shortly and she arrives mad. We give her a big glass of red wine.

My Cousin Laura now picks up a big cardboard box and hauls it to the center of what I call My Great Room, which includes the kitchen, sitting room, dining room and living room. 

Laura drops the box on the wooden floor with a thud.

“Well,” she says, “I’m going to show you what my family gets me for Christmas every year. I am very particular and they are afraid of me and my reactions to Christmas presents. They know I like a certain kind of bathrobe. It must have a high collar, and have a belt that is sewn into the back as part of the robe.”

She hauls a light pink robe out of the cardboard box and puts it on, to demonstrate.

“Now, this is my favorite robe and it is just to my specifications. It has the high color, the built in tie and it is the right length and it fits. It’s also the right material.”

Laura turns in a circle to give us the full view. 

“The problem is, it is very old and it’s falling apart. So,” she says, “here is what my husband and two daughters do every year. They try and find me the perfect new robe.”

She leans over and pulls another robe from the box. She puts it on. 

“You see,” she says, “the collar is wrong. It lies flat. And the belt isn’t part of the material. It just won’t do.”

Laura pulls the robe off and hauls another from the box. She puts it on and demonstrates it’s defects. It’s too short, the color is poor and it’s not well made. She throws it back and pulls out another. And another. She puts every robe on that date from at least six or seven Christmases.

“Ah ha,” she finally says, “now look at this one they got me this year. It’s almost right.”

Laura puts on the latest robe. It’s a light pink, it’s the ‘right’ material, the belt is sewn in as part of the robe and the collar stands up around her neck.

“But look!” she says with exasperation. “It hits just below my knees and it zips up from the bottom!”

She zips it up to demonstrate. 

“I hate it!” she says.

Summer shouts, “I’ll take it!”

And another woman hollers, “I bid higher!”

Laura looks at both women with disgust. 

“Watch this,” she says. She starts to walk. The robe is too narrow when it is zipped and she has to take mincing steps like a geisha.

The women roar with laughter.

Laura thrusts all the defective robes back in the box and leaves the ’stage.’

My sister Candy stands up. “OK, she says, “Venus wants me to tell some Grandma Stories. This is our mother’s mother.” She points to our Mom sitting as close as she can to the center of all of us. She can’t hear much, so she tries to read all our lips.

 

Candy is in pink on the left.

Candy is in pink on the left.

 

 

“I never knew Grandma when she was alright. The entire time I knew her, she was basically out of her mind. She had had many strokes. But she was the sweetest, funniest woman. She was very thin and had long white hair that she kept braided into two long braids and then wrapped over her head. She had a ton of wrinkles because she had lived in the desert most of her life. She was in her 80’s when I was a teenager and she and our grandfather, Lancaster lived on the property with our folks. They had their own little cottage, with a porch, right next door to us.”

Candy pauses and looks at our mother.

“Well, Mom was always saying to my brother Art and me, ‘It’s time for you and Art to go over and check on Grandma and Lancaster.’

“Venus started calling our grandfather Lancaster because they lived in lancaster California when Venus was little.”

“We checked on those two in the morning, late morning, afternoon and evening and in between because you never knew what they might be up to. Grandma thought Lancaster had a girlfriend named Billie Jo! She thought that because she found a nightgown of “Billie Jo’s” hanging in their closet. Of course, it was Grandma’s nightgown! But, one night when we went to check on them she had Lancaster cornered in the closet and she was menacing him with a butcher knife because of his relationship with that woman. So you can see why we had to watch things.”

Everybody gasps.

“So, OK, this one time, Art and I go over to see how the old folks are doing. It’s close to noon and Lancaster is sitting on the porch smoking marijuana and watching the cars drive by on the road. Oh, I guess you want to know why he was smoking grass in his 80’s? Because of my brothers, of course. One Christmas they gave him some. They said it would help relax him, which he needed because he lived with Grandma. You see he didn’t realize she wasn’t alright in the head. He just thought she was difficult. Anyway, so we go over to the cottage and we say, ‘Hi Lancaster, where’s Grandma?’

“He says, ‘Oh leave ‘er alone!’  ’Well, where is she?’ we say. Lancaster says “She’s fine. leave her be!’

“OK, so Art and I look at each other and take two seats on the porch. Art lights up some grass with Lancaster. About 15 minutes go by. I say, 

‘I think I should go check on Grandma.’ Lancaster gets irate. ‘Leave her be!!’ ‘No, really,’ I say, ‘ I think I better go see what she’s up to.’

Lancaster snorts.

“Lancaster is a great guy. A lovely man. He was a handsome marine when Grandma met him and he’s still handsome, but gnarled up and stiff with arthritis from a bad car accident a few years back. When referring to his condition he always says, ‘I’m all stove up.’ He and Grandma have had a long and love filled relationship that has lasted well into her dementia, but lately, it is becoming just too much for the man to deal with.

“I get up off the chair and go looking for Grandma. 

“She’s not in the house. That’s odd. 

“I walk out the back door and into Lancaster’s tomato patch and a plot of grass.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe it. There’s a lawn chair, one of those long chaise lounge kind of things, the ones strung with plastic ribbon type bands …and Grandma is FOLDED UP IN IT. It has totally collapsed and all I can see are her two little legs sticking out through the top of it, with those black old lady shoes with laces, her legs and shoes pointing to the sky and waving in the air!

“Lancaster must have seen it happen and he chose to let her hang out here while he took a little rest from her, out on the porch, smoking a doobie.”

The group of women go crazy with laughter, especially after Candy assures them that she unfolded Grandma from the chaise lounge and Grandma had just said, “Well, hello my darling,” with a big smile. 

Then Candy launches into the time when she was a teenager, and so easily embarrassed, when she took Grandma for a little drive. She stopped up town at our local gas station, and you have to remember that our town had maybe 3500 people then and we all knew each other.

“I told Grandma I had to go to the phone booth and make a call and...not… to… get… out.. of… the.. car!

 ”After a few minutes on the phone I turned around and there was Grandma, out of the car and wandering off to somewhere. I dropped the phone and ran after her yelling, ‘Get back in the car! Get back in the car!’ and she started screaming, ‘She’s kidnapping me! Oh, help! She’s kidnapping me!’ and the young guy that pumped the gas was just looking at me and I shouted at him to never mind her, just never mind!!

“I had to drag the woman back to the car and she kicked her heels into the pavement and yelled and made me drag her by the arms and her big old red coat kept falling off and and it was so humiliating for a teenager to have to do this in front of a young good looking guy!”

“I finally got her in the car and locked all the doors and I said, ‘I am never taking you for a drive, again!’ and Grandma looked at me with love and said sweetly, “Where are we going now my darling?”

Everybody is hysterically at the party. Candy tells a few more Grandma stories but than she has to give the floor to Lu.

Lu is in her 70’s. She has white hair that merges abruptly into red. She’s dressed today in a Charger’s football outfit and looks three times bigger than she really is. She lives down the road from me. She says, “Well, I like to do my chores naked. So, this one time I was riding the tractor, naked. I had just finished digging a long deep trench when what do I see but a service man driving up my road in his big truck. He musta’ seen me naked on the tractor..well, I know he did, because all of a sudden he lost control of the truck and drove it right inta’ the ditch! And he couldn’t get it out.”

We are all screaming with delight at this picture, which encourages Lu.

“Another time, I was building a stone wall, and I was naked of course. I like to do all my chores naked. So, I look behind me and here is my neighbor, a man, coming up the drive in his big truck and by golly…he drove into that same ditch and he couldn’t get his truck out either…you know…that neighbor man never comes over anymore.”

Lu looks very satisfied.

A woman named Sally leans over to me and nods her head toward a woman named Diane. Diane lives way down the road from me. She comes from Europe where she was a journalist at the United Nations. She is a big name in our area now as she works for Good Causes. 

Sally whispers, “Did you know that Diane often goes out and moons the marines when they fly over her house in their helicopters? She doesn’t like them coming over her house way out there in nowhere.”

Another friend says, “What is it with you women on this street? You all go naked so much!” She looks pointedly at me.

“Well,” I say, “that is odd isn’t it? And did you know that there used to be a nudist colony right down the road around the bend? It was here when I was a kid and one day they had a big fire over there and the fire planes dropped pink fire retardant and for weeks you could tell who the nudists were!”

The party keeps going like this. One lady tells an awful story about a dead cat and she is shouted down and sent back to her seat.

Finally, late in the afternoon, we seem to be all worn out. Lots of food, lots of wine and lots of laughter and it’s all been done for our good health, of course.

So, we are exhausted but stunningly healthy and we all go home, stuffed with cookies and lasagna and wine and laughter.

 

Venus' art room, where I broadcast my radio shows.

Venus' art room, where I broadcast my radio shows.

 

 

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Remember this SATURDAY’S TELE-CLASS ON VALENTINE’S DAY. I will be working on your WISHES for LOVE  and will send you MY MOTHER’S LOVE MOJO which packs a heavy punch, and sometimes a surprising one! Summer will put you INTO THE FLOW FOR LOVE. There are a few ’seats’ left. Please go to  www.flowdreaming.com to read about the class Feb 14th 2009 and how you can join us. 

*March 7th 2009 we have another Flow Tele-Class for Money, Prosperity and All Good Things.

Some of my art.

Some of my art.

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Just a reminder, I do PRIVATE PHONE SESSIONS. I am telepathic, clairsentient, clairaudient and clairvoyant and I am an empath. I also work with with Good Energies, sent to you from what I call the High Beings…Please go to www.godisalwayshappy.com and look under ’sessions with venus’ to read about what I do and my rates.

*You can also listen to part of a CD on my site, where I transcribe some of what The High Beings have told me. www.godialwayshappy.com

My bedroom.

My bedroom.

****2 WINNERS: *I am now drawing TWO NAMES for free 15 minute sessions, during each Radio Show.  Listen to “Dear Venus”at  Hayhouseradio.com every other Weds 9AM Pacific/12 noon Eastern. The shows are archived and you have one week to find your name  and contact me at tovenus@earthlink.net.

The sitting room in my bedroom.

The sitting room in my bedroom.


****2 MORE WINNERS: *I am now drawing TWO NAMES  from your email addresses, each time I write a blog. The winners this time are:

Sandy Flowers and Anita Mutz. This offer is valid through Feb 18th, 2009. After that, offer is null and void. 

One of my paintings: Blueberry Pie.

One of my paintings: Blueberry Pie.