Well folks, It's been quite an eventful year. The Girls have been busy with their family and friends and assorted activities. Hmmm. Where should I start?
Well, Char started a new career this fall. She was getting bored as a teacher and felt she needed to open herself up to new horizons. Seizing the rare opportunity to snap up this multi-talented SuperWoman, The Roselawn-Thayer Tabernacle Choir offered her big buckeroos to be their fearless leader. Never one to run in the face of a challenge (plus she could use the paycheck), she took the job. This gave her a chance to actually get to handle the conductor's little baton-thingy. This has always been a subject of fascination for her, since she played trombone in the DeMotte High School band.
If you'll remember, last year Char had that accident at the Greased Pig Nationals in beautiful Minot, ND. After hitting her head she suddenly took on a Tourette's-like verbalization of clucking and crowing like a chicken. Luckily the effects have subsided for most of the time except when under extreme times of stress. Pip shared with me in confidence that Char's been heard clucking soprano under her breath lately. Which is a big improvement as before she was a clucking contralto.
Pip? Well, Pip has taken up a new hobby since retiring from her job. She started making festive homemade candles out of ear wax. She loves the moldability of the substance and says that it is "eco-friendly" as well as clean burning. She accepts donations and will even pay for shipping (library rate) if you offer her your extra cerumen. She says the pungent aroma of the candles is reminiscent of the scent of the goat barn at the Jasper County Fair and evokes pleasant memories from her childhood. She won't, however accept wax from anyone west of the Continental Divide. There's been a known ear fungus there for years and people from over that way tend to give off spores. Researchers have tried to treat it for years and even the folks from The Society to Heal and Prevent Ear Boogers has given up on it.
Oh, on another note, if you donate, please make sure it is hair-free. If you have have copious ear hair, it's best you keep your cerumen to yourself, thank you.
Cis has had a tough time this year. She was jailed after a fight at the American Legion Friday Night Fish Fry. It seems her and some of the kitchen help got their noses out of joint over God-knows-what. One of the cooks took a large, battered filet and whacked her square across the gums with it, breaking her front tooth. Well now, nobody whacks Cis in the bazoo with a wet fish. NOBODY. The war was on. She let her temper get the best of her and she took a flying leap over the coleslaw at the guy. She managed to get him by the hair of the head and face plant his sorry mug into the egg and milk wash. It was said the guy almost sneezed himself to death after she mashed his face into the corn meal (white, not yellow) coating. After she finished with the guy, he was begging for mercy and crying for his maw-maw. It was rumored later that the egg, milk, and cornmeal facial left his skin lustrous and smooth. Cis however, sued him for injuries received and got a new front gold tooth out of the deal. She did, however, have to wear an ankle bracelet for the next six months. She said it was a small price to pay for the satisfaction of putting that sorry sucker in his place. Plus she was able to start her own skin care line that she sells online.
This year, Peg decided to embrace an alternative lifestyle. She left town and moved to the outskirts of Milwaukee and set up a pup tent over by the West Allis dump. She wanted to leave the rat race behind and take her cats with her. She hauled off in her trusty 1960 Pontiac Tempest with a bedroll, a frying pan, matches and 23 cats. And the tent. Big enough for two people (and that's stretching it). She moved over by the dump because, in her reasoning, (faulty if you ask me but who am I to judge?) she felt people would stay away due to the acrid stench. She also thought her cats could forage to supplement their diet of cooked pig brains and Morroccan couscous. Being out in the great outdoors a litter box would not be needed cause they could do their deed in the dirt just like she would.
She made mention that she had saved up most of her past earnings so she'd have plenty of sustenance while she lived out yonder. Honestly, just 'tween me and you, Peg had always lived simply. She was a "no frills" kinda gal. The only times that she got a little lavish was when she got a little too much liquor in her (on just a few holidays a year, such as International Show Me Your Mole Day, Ex-Lax Awareness Day, Mondays, and the 14th of every other month). Then she'd take out her charge card (Visa) and go nuts. The upside to these little jaunts was that she accrued air miles from the card at an astonishing rate. The downside is, she'd have to hope she kept all the receipts so she knew where all the merchandise was bought. That way she could take it all back the next day.
Peg stayed in her outside paradise only a week and a half. That's when her daughter, Lori, kidnapped her and took her home. It seems Peg had been severely under medicated for some time and we just attributed it to the "late-in-life crazies". I guess instead it was the "forgot to take my meds crazies". So, that was the high point for Peg this year.
Barb had an exciting year (for an old lady). Marv finally talked her into them getting a brand-spankin' new motorcycle. and not just any ol' cycle, but a black crotch rocket with orange flames down the sides. Once the decision was made, Barb embraced it whole-hog, like a crazy woman. They went out and got matching leathers. Next they joined a motorcycle gang. No, not like Hells Angels. It was a senior citizen gang sponsored by Butch's Funeral Service and Assisted Living Facility. It was so cute to see Barb and Marv getting excited about the outings. They made advance plans for Bike Weeks in Daytona and Sturgis. A little birdie told me they enjoyed the vino just a little too much at a weinie roast in Sturgis. Ended up going to bed at 6:30 that night. A whole 2 hours earlier than normal. Life in the fast lane proved a bit much for them on that trip.
At Daytona, they made the decision to get their first ink. And second, third, and fourth. I've always heard it's addicting. They certainly proved that right. Barb got a tramp stamp first thing. It was a Colt 45 surrounded by the words "Obey yo Mama". Then they both got tatts of each other's faces that covered the entire surface of their backs. Marv's pic on Barb's back was spot on. Marv wasn't so lucky. Marv's tattoo "artist" this time around couldn't draw his way out of out of a paper bag. I hate to say it, but if I'm lying, I'm dyin'. PLUS he was blind in one eye and couldn't see out the other. The tattoo of "Barb" on Marv's back turned out looking like Janet Reno without her glasses. Oh, and his pen slipped and gave her a scar above her left cheek. (He said no one would notice.) Barb didn't want Marv to be disappointed at the NOW PERMANENT HUGE UGLY tattoo on his back so she told everyone to remark to him how wonderful it was and what a great likeness of her it is. He probably won't ever see it since it's on his back anyway. That is, unless some nimnul takes a pic and shows him. Barb DID take the "artist" outside and told him she'd put a contract out on him if he charged her for that crapfest of a thing. He had heard she was from the Chicago area. She kinda gave him the impression (ok, she lied) that she was Rahm Emmanuel's mother and could have his whole shop blown to smithereens tomorrow. He said "N-n-n- nooooo ppprroblem, lady!" and excused himself to go to the bathroom...
So far, Marv hasn't got a clue, but Barb as put the kahbosh to any more tatts. Now then, don't a one of you be a moron and tell Marv about this, hear? She'll hunt you down like a beagle on a jackrabbit and knock you into next week. Plus, you'll be on Santa's Naughty List.
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