Sheer Madness

I just got my hair cut in a retro look--longer in front and shorter in back--like a bubble head Barbie from the 60's.  It is a haircut I really wanted the first time it was popular when I was in 6th grade.  Instead, my five sisters and I got the Scotch Tape treatment. Tape was laid on horizontally across one's bangs. ('fringe' to my British friends)  Mothers would cut the hair straight across under the tape.  Our mom, presumably to make this chore only come around every 6 months, would cut ABOVE the tape.  One inch bangs were NOT in style.


So, while our mom and dad were gone one night,  my sister Jackie (12) and I (11) decided to give the cool new bubble hairdo to our sister Betsy (7).  Trustingly naive, she climbed up on a high stool; Jackie started in with the scissors on one side and I on the other... we met in two different places in back.  "No problem," I said, and ran to get the electric clippers. (Used by my dad to give my brother the 'Army Recruit' look when all other males had the 'Jesus' look)  Explaining that I would feather the back, I attached a long comb to the clippers. Holding them at the wrong angle, with the first swipe I gave the lower back of Betsy's head a quarter sized bald spot.  My solution was to shave off a one inch band across the whole back of her head...which became a two inch band when we tried to feather again.  We ditched that idea and blunt cut her thick hair above so it sat like a horizontal shelf overlooking a wasteland of stubble. Betsy walked around for at least a month with shoulders scrunched and head tilted up. Boys at school came up behind and said, "Betsy Buzz Buzzzzzzzzzzz!!!"
Naturally, siblings were equally wicked.


With 7 kids, I don't believe our mom and dad even noticed.  Betsy grew up without therapy and is currently sporting the same hairdo we had attempted to give her in 1968. This time, it looks good.
©6/2011  Jana B Patrick

No Accounting for Taste

Steve was craving a fried pork sandwich as we drove through the backwoods of eastern Iowa one summer. We settled into a corner booth in a mom and pop café in a sleepy town that couldn't have stretched half a mile.  The meal I ordered would be coming with a bread roll, so I asked for some olive oil to dip it into.  The matronly waitress gave me an odd look and said she’d see what she could do. Later she shuffled back carrying two plates and a cereal bowl.  Steve was well pleased with his fried pork sandwich.  She set my plate down with some unremembered food and a plain, pasty white dinner roll.
Looking at me skeptically she said, “We don’t got olive oil, just the corn oil,” and set down the cereal bowl sloshing to the brim with the clear, slippery substance.  
As soon as she was out of earshot we cracked up laughing.  It was a win-win humor fest because the kitchen staff was probably laughing at me.  Can’t you hear the waitress?  “Hey  Clem!  Some lady wants to dip her dinner roll in OIL.” 

“MOTOR OIL??!!”  

“No, you idiot, this stuff!” she says as she starts pouring the Wesson.  “I never heard of such a thing, how much you think I give her?”

Clem replies, “Well fill ‘er up--she might want to dip it all the way in.  No accounting for some folks.  Must be Minnesotans.”
©6/2011  Jana B Patrick

Paging Mike to Lingerie!

I wrote a blog about bursting my JC Penney  bra while in 7th grade: http://janasrandomwriting.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-i-burst-my-bra-or-big-bust.html 
Below is an email sent from my friend, Mike, in response to that blog:


Ok...so here is my JC Penney bra story:   I was assistant store manager several years ago. We were doing Bra Fit Week, and I jokingly said at the morning store meeting that if that department gets swamped..call me and I'll help out. 

Lo and behold I got a call to come to the Lingerie Department about 10:15 a.m.       I arrived and was told a man with "breasts" wanted to have a fitting and was serious.  I didn't ask him too many questions because of privacy concerns and was a little fearful that this was a "setup" from some activist movement testing to see if we would "accommodate". (Not sure if  there is an activist movement on mens bra fittings!!) 
He filled out a bra fit card with name, address and phone number and under 'comments' his biggest problem with his bra was "chaffing around the shoulder straps".  Our biggest problem was do we let him use the womens fitting room or walk him over to the mens. I said let him use the womens and keep everyone else out--which we did. He left buying 3 bras and spent $85. I still remember he was a skinny guy but he measured a 34 B  which to me was impressive!!!

hahahaha

Mike      ©2011

You Put Your Right Hand In; She Puts Your Right Hand Out--and You Shake it All About

I asked 'Nell' about whether her parents were worried about her moving to Chicago when she was 18 in 1943.  A mother can never worry enough, and Nell's wanted her daughter well prepared for the 'city of the big shoulders.'  She told her, "You're going to the doctor today, and he's going to explain sex to you."

Nervously, she waited alone in the doctor's office.  He strode in and said sternly, “Let me tell you about these guys; If you let them start in on you upstairs, (pointing to his chest) then they’re gonna wanna go downstairs, (pointing to his crotch).  If that happens you will go crazy and end up in a mental institution."  And he walked out of the room.

Nell moved to the Windy City likely sporting high buttoned blouses and tightly cinched belts. She recalls one of her neighbors being very upset one night.  She told Nell that, while she and a fellow were dancing, they tripped and fell on top of each other.  The gal was worried she was now pregnant.

I asked Nell when she got the real story on sex, and she remembered a friend explaining it at a gathering.  One of the gals declared, "Well, my parents would NEVER do that!"

Most women of that era played the Hokey Pokey for the first time on their wedding night. The young Mrs. was often heard to comment, "So that's what it's all about."

©6/07/2011  Jana B Patrick

 Happy Birthday, 'Nell!'     "Chicago," by Carl Sandburg, 1916
                                                      Hog butcher for the world,
                                                      Tool maker, stacker of wheat,
                                                      Player with railroads and the nation's freight handler;
                                                      Stormy, husky, brawling,
                                                      City of the big shoulders.

Pants on the Ground

In  the British Commonwealth and surrounding locales,  the word ‘bugger’ is used as in ‘bugger off!’  which would be similar to our  “F” word. Here, 'bugger' is more a form of endearment.  Darren and Arlene, from Northern Ireland, visited a few summers ago, and their eyes grew wide with astonishment when I introduced our nine month old grandson,  “This is John, isn’t he a cute little bugger?”

A memorable ‘Lost in the Translation’ conversation I had was with Darren who first visited us as an 11 year old back in the 1990’s. We had been told that, because of Northern Ireland’s cool climate, kids weren't used to wearing shorts, so we might have to coax him into putting them on in our hot, humid Minnesota summer weather.  Well, no one told me the word ‘pants’ means ‘underwear’ over there, so one very hot morning Darren had on his long pants or should I say,‘trousers...’
“Oh Darren,”  I smiled, “maybe you should put on some shorts; NO ONE wears pants here in the summer—I don’t wear pants, Steve doesn't wear pants, the kids don’t wear pants—Pants are just WAY TOO HOT!!!”  His crimson face should have been the give-away, and thinking back, I don’t recall ever having to launder any underwear that long, sweltering summer…              
©2011, Jana B. Patrick 

P.S. Arlene, that bear in Wisconsin is STILL dead...
(In an ice cream shop, Alana had pointed out a taxidermied bear, "Arlene, Look at that bear behind you."   Arlene turned and screamed and almost hit the ceiling. ) 
Arlene recently wrote:  "our anniversary is the 3rd of june, we are heading up to Bangor to stay on a wee farm in the country for a few days-- am really excited-- no bears tho, lol. everytime i eat ice cream i still think about that-- was soooooo funny lol."
Happy First Anniversary, Darren and Arlene!
PPS-  Arlene just reminded me;  I use the word 'Nook'  (a brand) or nookie to mean a baby's pacifier--I guess it also means sex.  Here's her comment today:- Jana, I'll also never forget you saying to that man in the harbour (in Northern Ireland) that wee boy has lost his nookie-- my face near hit the ground!