Bye Bye Birdie

Max-sleeping on the warm keyboard

I like animals as much as the next person does . . . as long as they belong to someone else. However, I was fond of my brother’s parakeet, Max. You couldn’t help but love a bird that said, “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” with more clarity than a three-year-old human.

Today, Max flew out an open window.

 

GOD HELP ME, but after hearing the news . . . all I could picture was this

                                                                                                                                           

and then the twisted part of me saw . . .

Don’t judge me. You were thinking it, too.

Grandma Knows Best

The @JustClancy twitter side of my brain forced me to create this cartoon. Happy Easter!

 

Irish Shades of Grey

Julius Caesar’s Brother Was Abraham Lincoln

It never hurts to have well-known family connections within your chosen craft. Unfortunately, the closest my family ever came to celebrity status was by naming their children after famous dead people. My great-grandfather was Julius Caesar Labadie and he had six brothers–George Washington, Constantine the Great, Benjamin Franklin, Abraham Lincoln, Alexander the Great, and Thomas Jefferson. AWOOGA. AWOOGA. This stuff is too crazy to make up. I’m just grateful the tradition wasn’t passed down or I may very well be writing a blog under the name Martha Washington Sorensen or Cleopatra VII Thea Philopator Sorensen.

The Labadie’s were entrepreneurs, resided in gold country, Forbestown, California, but never struck it rich. On the plus side, I bet no one ever said, “Hey, you . . . what-ever-your-name-is.”

Forbestown-located in the foothills of the Sierra Mountains in California.

Without a famous family to help my status on Facebook, Twitter, and Word Press, I’m forced to make internet friends on my own. My new friends drink Starbucks coffee, listen to music, and post so many motivational messages that I wonder why they spend their day connected to Facebook.

Because the so-called experts say to include pretty pictures in postings (evidently, we’ve reverted to reading picture books) I created mock photos of The Taste of Orange book jackets. Not having a photographer in my family no longer matters with free websites like www.ribbet.com and www.superlame.com.

 Magical looking picture, but doesn’t fit the storyline.

 A bit too generic.

A reality check for those that starve themselves to look like Barbie. Go eat a cookie.

Runner-up photo because, Clancy, needs all the luck she can get. Can you spot the four-leaf clover?

Perfect. Clancy, fears lightning more than death.

I miss the days of working on my manuscript, fourteen hours straight, which brings me to the reason for posting this blog. No matter what I write in the future, the dedication page will stay the same.

P.S. I couldn’t find a four-leaf clover, either.

It’s Not About The Money

IF TRUTH BE TOLD.

Say It Like It Is!

As a child, I wondered what the magic age was when I’d know everything and stop making mistakes. Now I’m middle-aged and wonder how old I’ll be when I can say it like it is.

Popular Chinese Fortunes Are Fun In Bed.

Chinese takeout isn’t my favorite, but you can’t complain when your husband offers to pick up dinner and you tell him to surprise you. It was Oscar night and even though I haven’t watched a movie in a theatre since “Pretty Woman” I listened to the Red Carpet chatter while choking down squares of pink colored meat.

“I’m not as hungry as I thought,” I said, cracking my fortune cookie while hoping my husband, Mark, believed me.

“ . . . in bed.”

I immediately started laughing. “Did you say in bed?”

“I said I’m exhausted and can’t wait to crawl in bed. Why was that funny?”

“I just finished reading my fortune when I heard you say in bed. Listen to this and add . . . in bed. A thrilling time is in your immediate future.”

“In bed.”

“I bet it works on all the Chinese fortunes. Read yours.”

“You have a friendly heart and are well admired,” Mark said, “in bed.”

“You made my night by surprising me with Chinese,” I said.

“You’re welcome. You deserved a break. You’re always burning the candle on both ends.

“It works on clichés, too. My brain will be adding “in bed” to everything.”

Mark smiled and put down his fork. “Let’s head upstairs. You’re like a kid in a candy store . . .”

I was right. Adding “in bed” significantly improves these popular Chinese fortunes.

“Do not fear what you don’t know . . . in bed.”

“The object of your desire comes closer . . . in bed.”

“You will have a pleasant surprise . . . in bed.”

“All progress occurs because people dare to be different . . . in bed.”

“May life throw you a pleasant curve . . . in bed.”

“Don’t ask, don’t say. Everything lies in silence . . . in bed.”

“Look for new outlets for your own creative abilities . . . in bed.”

“Be prepared to accept a wondrous opportunity in the days ahead. . . in bed.”

“Fame, riches and romance are yours for the asking . . . in bed.”

“Good luck is the result of good planning . . . in bed.”

“Good things are being said about you . . . in bed.”

“Your attention to detail is both a blessing and a curse . . . in bed.”

“You will have a very pleasant experience . . . in bed.”

“Smiling often can make you look and feel younger . . . in bed.”

“The time is right to make new friends . . . in bed.”

“Generosity and perfection are your everlasting goals . . . in bed.”

“If your desires are not extravagant they will be granted . . . in bed.”

“A friend asks only for your time, not your money . . . in bed.”

“Your greatest fortune is in the large number of friends you have . . . in bed.”

“He who laughs at himself never runs out of things to laugh at . . . in bed.”

“Failure is a chance to do better next time . . . in bed.”

“In order to take, one must first give . . . in bed.”

“Love lights up the world . . . in bed.”

“Practice makes perfect . . . in bed.”

“The harder you work, the luckier you get . . . in bed.”

“Those who care will make the effort . . . in bed.”

“You are generous to an extreme and always think of the other fellow . . . in bed.”

“You have a yearning for perfection . . . in bed.”

“Your ability is appreciated . . . in bed.”

Buzzard-Picked

Found this photo of myself while rummaging through an old steamer trunk. Snapshot gives a new meaning to the phrase “It’s all in the delivery.”

A Discombobulated Mind

I’m excited to visit my son and his family in Chicago. However, the holidays put me behind in my domestic chores. The clock was ticking and I could no longer stave off the inevitable.

I woke up at 5:45 a.m., turned on the coffee pot, and then relaxed while staring at the Christmas tree. I knew it’d only take a couple of hours to dismantle the tree and put away the ornaments, but there had to be a quicker solution. I grabbed a stack of construction paper, cut out thirty humongous sized colored hearts, and Scotch taped them over the Christmas ornaments. Voilà! I’d just made my first Valentine tree. Now all I had to do was plug in the lights, but as I bent over to grab the cord, I noticed a warning label—lights to be used for indoor and outdoor use only. Where else would I put them?

While contemplating the meaning of the warning label it suddenly occurred to me that if a person had a Valentine tree they needed to buy Valentine cards. This is especially true when you have thirteen grandchildren and will be in Chicago on February 14.

Thirty minutes later, with Valentine cards in hand, I noticed a sale on light bulbs. I threw two containers in a basket while pondering why eggs and light bulbs are packaged in flimsy cardboard boxes. Because there are no stupid questions I thought about asking a sales clerk if the light bulb manufactures were as careless in shipping their product as they were in the packaging, but then wondered what kind of questions do stupid people ask?

I continued down the aisle and overheard a group of adolescents complaining about their parents. By the time I reached the checkout line I had a solution for the disgruntled teenagers. They should move out of their parents’ house and get a job while they still know everything.

There was only one cashier so I waited patiently and entertained myself by reading a rag magazine. Hum . . . one of Justin Bieber’s favorite sayings is “Never say never.” Isn’t that an oxymoron?

While leaving the store I couldn’t help but notice all the people on their cell phones and I began wondering if the term “dialing a number” was technically correct since the call wasn’t made on a rotary phone. From now on I was going to say, “Do a number.”

I raced across town, but slowed down when I saw the deer crossing sign. Why are there deer crossing warnings? Everyone knows deer never cross the road. California White-tailed deer walk down the middle of the road with their heads held high.

As I approached my house, I was nearly sideswiped by a car driven by an elderly man leaving the nursing home parking lot. He rolled down his window, swore, and held up his middle finger to remind me that I was number one in his life. I glanced in my rearview mirror as he drove down the hill while questioning if I should toot my horn in response to the “Honk if you love, God” sticker on his bumper.

After stuffing the cards with candy, I headed upstairs to gather the laundry. I picked up my husband’s pants and threw them in the hamper while questioning why we call pants “a pair” of pants when it’s only one item. This made me think of glasses because if there is a blizzard in Chicago the sun will reflect off the snow and I will need “a pair” of sunglasses.

While checking to make sure the sunglass (what I now prefer to call them) were safely tucked in my purse, I noticed a handful of loose tictacs at the bottom of my clutch, but since they are a dime a dozen I threw them in the trash can while wondering what the amount is for a baker’s dozen.

The thought of a baker’s dozen made me hungry and as I made my way to the kitchen I began to realize that this day resembled the popular children’s book, “If You Give a Pig a Pancake,” by Laura Numeroff. I wondered if the author would sue me for copyright infringements if I posted this snippet on my blog, but questioned if there is no such thing as bad publicity then why do I care. . .

As I washed down my cheese and crackers with wine, I thought of a question stupid people ask and I had a solution. The next time the phone rang and woke me from an afternoon nap, I wasn’t going to answer the phone in a groggy voice and wait until the person asked, “Were you sleeping?” Nope, not me. I’m going to answer the phone and say, “I’m wide awake.”

I finished my snack, and then turned on my Valentine tree lights while wondering if that homemaker in Yorkshire, England was really raised by wild monkeys.

Dead Tales

Lately, I’ve posted more about my life’s journey than The Taste of Orange journey. I apologize to my followers, but I must post one more unrelated topic because the dead cannot speak. That’s why it’s important as a funeral director’s daughter to dispel the myths. Below are the questions I’ve been asked throughout the years and the honest, undisputable answers.

 

I once heard that a casket flew out the back of a hearse, causing the corpse to roll onto the road. Does this happen often?

It boggles my mind how often this happens. That’s why it’s imperative to turn your headlights on during the funeral procession-visibility is everything.

 

Why is embalming fluid pink?

The main ingredient is Pepto Bismol.

 

Is it true that all funeral directors and their families reside in the funeral home?

Yes, at night the embalming room functions as the family room. Just typing the word embalming makes me crave popcorn. Pass the butter.

 

On television, they show people eating in the embalming room. Does this really happen?

Every day. However, funeral directors never eat tuna sandwiches in the embalming room. The combination of tuna vapors and embalming fluid fumes cause toxic gas. Roast beef is preferred.

 

Have you ever touched a dead person? If so, what did their skin feel like?

A hairless cat.

 

I’ve heard that everyone takes one last breath forty-eight hours after death.

Yes, that’s why the nostrils are stuffed with cotton and the mouth glued shut within the first six hours of death.

 

Is it true that hair and nails continue to grow after death?

Absolutely. The lock and seal on the casket is so that years later the accumulation of hair doesn’t pop the lid off. Nails become brittle after death and snap off at the nail beds once they reach fourteen feet in length—the average length of a casket is eighty-four inches.

 

I’ve heard that bodies actually sit up days after death.

It’s true and has freaked me out more than once.

 

Did you ever lie down in a casket?

Yes, but they are not as soft as they appear . . . they are softer. I rest my head on a casket pillow every night. They’re awesome for neck support. Ask your local funeral director if he/she can give you a good deal on their copper casket brand pillows. Nothing says “home” like a crushed velvet pillow.

 

What happens when you get ‘scared to death’ twice?

The funeral director takes two nice vacations instead of one.

 

Just the sight of a hearse creeps me out. Did you ever ride in a hearse?

Yes. The fragrance of carnations always reminds me of the scent inside a hearse.

 

Why do people appear heavy after death?

It’s the same principle as photos and television adding ten pounds, except death adds thirty. Shame on those that thought I’d fall for that dead weight cliché.

 

What is the difference between funeral homes and mortuaries?

The services at funeral homes cost twice as much as they do at mortuaries. Funeral homes employ funeral directors whereas mortuaries hire mere morticians.

 

Do funeral directors have long happy marriages?

Yes, my mother passed away four years ago, but my parents were happily married just shy of sixty years.

 

Do you have to go to school to become a funeral director?

Yes, but only those with a genius I.Q. gain acceptance into the Mortuary Science Program. If you couldn’t answer thirteen out of fifteen of these questions, you should pick an easier profession like a lawyer, doctor, or reality star. After all, funeral directors are post-mortem cardiovascular surgeons!

 

Always remember that no matter how evil you are on earth, nothing sends you straight to heaven like a copper casket.

In closing . . . pass the butter, but don’t drink the Pepto Bismol!