Fruit Cake Lady! by Julianna Rowe aka Diane Ogden

 

My helper and I arrive at my Psychiatrist Client's home around noon. Upon arrival, we see she is home which never happens. You see we have never met her, she hired me sight unseen.
So in we go.... After all the greetings and more salutations, we comment on the wonderful aroma in the air. The psychiatrist says, "Mother is visiting (age 90) and making her famous fruitcake. If you are lucky you will leave with one, and if you are not you won't."  

My helper and I finished our work, all the time believing we might get to share the physical sense of said aroma. As I silently watched Grandma sitting in her rocking chair reading, and secretly wondering why she hadn't gotten up to wrap up those two mini fruitcake loaves for us. But there was time. Then I made it a point to tell her I was going to finish up the foyer on my way out. She said it was nice meeting us and we responded likewise. We left and quietly walked to my car....still in great hopes the old lady would hail us back to retrieve two wonderful fruit cakes. Instead, I looked at my helper and said. 

"I guess we aren't lucky huh?" 

My helper said. 

"Guess not!"  

All the time I was thinking about what a weird and wrong thing for a psychiatrist to say to us. Just in case Grand Mommie Dearest did not give us a fruitcake, which in fact happened! 

I know we are lucky anyway.... just thought the comment interesting. What would the shrinks shrink say was her reason? Wait a minute....you don't think that unlucky thing had anything to do with me forgetting to rinse the pan I made my ham and cheese omelet in this morning, do you? I took one bite and tasted Dawn dish soap. The dog wouldn't even eat it!  Yeh, that was a stretch.

Or, I better speak to that unlucky stream of words someone sent me and erase it from my Facebook just in case! No more losing fruitcakes for me. My guard is up! 

People can be so interesting!  One cannot take anything personally! Lucky me.

Observe Dont Absorb by Julianna Rowe, aka Diane Ogden

About thirty-some-odd years ago, I gave my heart to pull a family back together.

My mentor always told me to be an observer and not a participant! Obviously, I didn't listen. It doesn't matter the reason the family was torn apart, but it was. I forgave, gave, pulled, plugged, and lost most of myself on that darn journey, only to discover they wouldn't change at anything I did. Nope, not, nadda. Incredibly stubborn Germans and Norwegians, and then add some of the "dead people" generational cells that LOVE to carry on the crap....and that they do with magnificence. (Wouldnt want to give them too much glory) 

There came a time back then when I decided to divorce my emotions from all of them before my heart took a dive, and one of my kinfolks might try for the last win and bury me in the dirt vs. cremation as I had requested. That particular kin fed me things I was allergic to, so why wouldn't that specific person bury me in the dirt? That person would so that they could have a big luncheon dealie to show off. That's what Lutherans do, you know.  Big luncheons for the living after the dying.

Back to my point. D I V O R C E.....where is George Jones's wife when I need her! What was her name? It starts with L...no a T, Tammy Wynette.  D I V O R C E. Even though my divorce was a divorce of emotions, it still stood for a legal and final separation. My mentor told me that I should maintain decency and kindness when I got divorced.  She said, "Treat it like you would treat the Grocery Store Checker Boy!" With decency and kindness.  Most people can barely do that in everyday family situations.

I say dysfunctional families are more like an egg. They "start out ass-es," and they stay ass-es. If you read my blog posts, you know how I dislike the raw egg laying in the pan with that white milky umbilical cord waiting for me to eat it. I don't, and I won't! Family is the same! We start with the umbilical cord, and someone cuts it, but the spiritual milky cloudy (ghosts) still try to hang on and hang out! Some can let them go, some cannot, and some try to work around the darn things. (The Ghosts, I mean) I did that, and it didn't work. I did do something wrong. I tried too hard. I should have OBSERVED only and saved myself.

Today was another should have OBSERVED only day. I wanted to play like Marie Osmond and drive up the coast (we have no coast) until there was no end or I ran out of gas. It was a long day—lots of "Stinkin Thinkin" and a lot of Drama from the Mama like a soap opera. (Obviously, I absorbed) I like creativity, not so much drama.  I had a lifetime of it, and enough is enough.

I’m emotionally ready for:  "Paper or Plastic?" Easy peasy. 

It's a new day, a good day, because I learned to observe not absorb. 

Which Dating Site? by Julianna Rowe aka Diane Ogden

 Which Dating Site?  by Julianna Rowe, aka Diane Ogden

 My sister-in-law urged me to join a dating site, so I did.  She once told me to get a job selling insurance, so I did, and I was very successful.  She tells me all the time that I am not in charge. God is. Her Dad tells her that, so she passes it on to me. Not sure why because I know that.  Back to match.com, Silver Singles, E Harmony, and or OurTime.  So I filled out the questionnaire and answered everything as truthfully as possible without scaring anyone off, then submitted nine photos. 

The main photo is me with my hair in rollers.  I just had to do it.  The good pics were only a click away if the prospective man could handle the rollers.  And so, they did click away, that is. 

I met up with one fellow, certainly not a "gentleman," as he asked me what I would like, and I said, "Ice Tea," which, after two hours, I had never received.  No manners!  I almost forgot; one of the first things he said to me was, "Do you have to wear those glasses?" RED FLAG! Need I say more? And he wanted me to go snowshoeing in the woods.  I could borrow his sister's snow shoes.  Seriously?  No, thank you... If I couldn't get ice tea out of him, I am liable not to get back out of the woods with any help from him what-so-ever.  And fishing?  Nope, he should have friends by now, men who like to be quiet and watch a string hang in the water for hours.  I would be working on my 25,000 woman words a day and scaring the fish away!  

The next guy never stopped talking about the roller photo.  He didn't understand why I would do such a thing. First of all, he had no sense of humor. If he got 220 emails, he would also put up an ugly one first. But of course, I didn’t want to say that. He then told me I must not like adoration. So yes, I looked it up.  

Adoration: The act of paying honor, as to a divine being; worship. Reverent homage. Fervent and devoted love. And after ten emails with him, it was still under discussion, so, I deleted the "pretty boy."

I haven't given up, but so far, 85% of them want a slender, athletic body-toned woman.  Yet they look like they are about to deliver.  Twins that is.  Men!  They just don't care about what's under the boob....its all about the boobs.  I am not fat, and I have boobs and a heart under one of 'em that will continue looking for a nice fellow that will go fishing without me.  I'm just not that into it.  And the more I think about it, I might not be that into this dating site crap either.  Sorry sister-in-law, this is like too much work.       

But I am keeping the door open for a fellow who would like good conversation, laughter, a dance in the kitchen, wandering around the grocery store together,  dinner out on occasion, and a road trip to anywhere.   Rollers not included. 

The Cleaning Lady...... Will Never Tell! by Julianna Rowe

 I have a business called "A Green Experience," which means my clients choose to have their homes cleaned using all natural Green (cleaning) supplies. I have seen everything from "erp," and I don't mean Wyatt, in bathroom trash containers, to enough dog hair from one cleaning to make forty wigs. OK, so four wigs. But I'll never tell.

The other day, one of my clients approached my daughter, who occasionally worked with me, and asked her if she could clean the Green cleaner off his toilet seat after cleaning it with said Green cleaner.

She said, "Sure, but why?" He said, "Because I got stuck to it!"

I couldn't stop laughing because I wanted so badly to say, "No, it is not the Green Cleaner. It's that you sit too long, sir!

You have stacks of magazines, crossword puzzles, and pens, heck it looks like an office next to the toilet. My Grandpa used to say, "Either sit there and think or sit there and stink." Sorry, but he was an old Farmer, and when I was just old enough to read, I saw that written (a tad differently) on the outhouse wall.

There was an old Sears Catalog in Pa's outhouse for the purpose of wiping. I crumpled the pages and rubbed them together to soften them for obvious reasons. I was six years old!! If you have never wiped with a piece of paper, you have missed out on a piece of life. But then, I have never used a leaf, and I don't figure I have missed out on a darn thing.

OK, so back to what I have seen. Sweat so thick on walking machines it is yellow; no, I won't clean that up! I have seen closets I wouldn't let the cleaning lady see. Now I know why my friends always cleaned up before the cleaning lady came. I love seeing a beautiful black flat stove top someone used like they were cooking over a campfire. And I am supposed to figure out how to get a quarter of an inch of black crust off it. But I'll never tell. How about teenager's rooms where you can't see the floor for the clothes and glasses of water and bowls and trash and SPIDERS? One of my clients tells me I forgot to dust off the top of the furnace regulator. Yet the inside of the closet looks like a trash bin. But I'll never tell. Once, I even got fired for cleaning the cat's water fountain, which was unfit for carp... You have to laugh at that one.

Then there are those people who have been blessed financially but don't take care of what they were blessed with...I am speaking of the tangible items their money buys them. I am in awe of the number of shoes people have, the organic foods, the pottery and artwork, the remodeling, the closets bigger than my bedroom, the seven bathrooms, and so on, but I'll never tell. I don't mind, I get to people watch, which is one of my favorite pass times, and I get paid for it. I keep in mind that I nurture a home, which is my job. Whatever they do with it beyond that, I can only watch for the humor of it all.

The above Photo is not of me! Don't you wish, and so do I! And note that this bottom picture was a bad day after the toilet went over and down the steps! Cute socks, huh?

Cardboard Coffins, Amarillo. Coming out soon on Amazon. by Julianna Rowe

 

Boobs That Speak! by Julianna Rowe, aka Diane Ogden

 Boobs That Speak............... by Julianna Rowe, aka Diane Ogden

Okay, so don't you think the boobs on this page are speaking? They are Madonna-type boobs.  And Oh-eM- Gee, look at those girdles.  God said to gird up your loins, and some designers totally misunderstood.  Not sure what the good book says about boobs...  oh yeah.. in Solomon:

Your breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle.  Your neck is like an ivory tower. Your eyes are the pools of Heshbon by the gate of Bath Rabbim. Your nose is like the tower of Lebanon, looking toward Damascus.  Your head crowns you like Mount Carmel. Your hair is like a royal tapestry; its tresses hold the king captive.  How beautiful and pleasing you are, O love, with your delights!  Your stature is like the palm, and your breasts are like fruit clusters.  I said, "I will climb the palm tree and take hold of its fruit." So may your breasts be like the clusters of the vine. The fragrance of your breath is like apples.

Well, let me say those breasts inside that armor do not appear like fawns, or twins of a gazelle, or clusters of the vine.  You think?  I wore a bra similar to that in high school, and I wore a girdle, but it had separate leg openings. In fact, I wore it to Prom, where it was not removed sometime after midnight like most other girls' girdles were.  Or am I lying?  I can’t imagine getting that thing off anyway  in the back seat of a 57 Chevy.  If I remember correctly, it looks or feels like putting your trying to put your hand into a single-finger cot.  Or like trying to put your car in the dryer...for lack of a better "splainatory." You could get one leg in and then forget about getting the other one in.  It had to be two at a time, and then pull up with all your might.  I know that is what caused my back issues. LOL.   

 And check out the price.  $7.50.  Nothing costs $7.50 anymore. I can't buy a pair of socks for that price.   Or a dozen organic eggs.  Or a bar of good chocolate. 

Whoever came up with such nonsense for us women.  Who? Who said it was okay to truss women like a workhorse?  A good bra (brassier) is one thing, but bullet shooters an altogether a different deal.  I am surprised Christian Grey didn't use these girdles and brasseries on Anastasia Steele in 50 Shades of Grey.  That is how I view them.  Like painful equipment before sex.  Yup......just like Prom for millions of girls back in the '50s.

 I was searching for some photos from the 40's (I wasn't born then). Yes, you were. Okay, so it was the LATE 40s, and I ran across these two pictures I knew I would have to save for a blog post.  And here it is.

 At least the latest in girdles are not painful.  They are called SPANX...  hum, back to the 50 Shades of Grey again!   I seem to have hit on something.  Yes, I read the book and watched the movie. 

Notice the caption under the photo below:  "YOURS FOR A GLORIFIED LIFETIME.”  L O L  And then under that line, it says:  With LIFE'S magic fit, all the way.   I am laughing silly at how they put these words together. Keywords are just like on the internet now in 2023!  MAGIC, ALL THE WAY (back in the 50's, when a person heard "all the way," it meant sex.  Hey, did you guys "go all the way?"  It meant intercourse.  No, that is the truth.  Cross my heart.  Funny me, that's the name of a brassier.  Wait, it's Cross Your Heart—more keywords tuned for more significant sales. How about one called, Cross Your Fawns?  I better not be making funnies about the Bible.  Erase Erase

Until next time, be safe, be happy, and get rich so you can buy Spanx.  They don't hurt.

Later's

The Hitchhiker By Julianna Rowe

 Coming Soon: