OLD Auntie M...

Ok... I'm going against all my principles and posting a picture of the CURRENT me.

Just remember the 24 year old me... just remember the 24 year old me... just remem... oh the hell with it.

My grand niece in the outfit I gave her. The "I'm with the band" onesie...

I love this picture (even though it isn't her at her best) and even though I look grayer and older than I think I am. I haven't figured out why she always looks a tad nervous when I'm holding her. Maybe she knows my track record with babies ain't all that great (grin).

She's such a cutie I couldn't resist.

So gawk away.

I don't even care!! ; p~~

Waiting... a Nod to Aime....

I have, as many of you know, had a boatload of jobs in my life. My position has always been if I don't like something, or tire of it, it's time to go on to something else. This means, of course, that I have never truly FULFILLED MY POTENTIAL.

Gawd I hate those words.

I think that POTENTIAL is one of the original seven dirty words and that Sweet Georgie Carlin missed it.

I was fed that word on a regular basis most of my life until I learned some really dirty words. Then most people stopped. The word was never used as a positive, but only as an end to the phrase 'YOU'RE NOT LIVING UP TO YOUR...."

But more about that at a later date.... unless I don't live up to it again..

I've gotten off track (surprise!)

I've read some posts by a local waitress on a blog called Serving and Waiting. She's a bright and funny girl and SHOULD WRITE MORE OFTEN (ahem!), but I'm working on that. We've talked a bit and it brought back some memories of one of the types of jobs I loved the most. So today, children, sit yourselves down and we'll discuss:



Waiting tables.
(yeah.. I know it LOOKS like me, but it ain't. Get over it (grin))

The first time I took a shot at this occupation was in Hawaii in 1969 (and for those of you who were not there anytime around THAT time I'm sorry... it was a wonderful time... almost everywhere).

I made a trip there in 1968 for a month in the summer and loved the place. This was because I jumped in with both feet and experienced it all. It may take more posts to talk about my Hawaii. Too much happening.

Anyways, as Al would say, I took a job at the Blue Hawaiian room in one of the big hotels on the ocean.

I loved it. I got to be ME in front of a new audience daily (yet another reason why I love to keep moving when I travel). In 1969, if you lived in the middle of this great country and you took only one trip in your life, it was to Hawaii. It had all the perks: no change in money or language, friendly people, super weather, sun,, sea, surf and beauty. I met some wonderful people and then ... some ... well... let' just say that there were two questions I got the most...

1. "How come you speak English so good?" ... Now I never corrected the grammatical errors in this sentence for people, as I found that showing any signs of superior intelligence frightened them. They were happy with "Georgy Girl" the waitress and NOT so with the teacher. I would explain that a. Hawaii was part of the US and b. I was born in California, which MIGHT have helped with the english part.

2. "Do you live here?".. to which I usually replied "No, I commute.. the travel is a bitch, but the tips are really good"... They meant, of course, in the hotel or on the 'strip', but this question always made us laugh.

Waiting ranks up in the top 3 or 4 of my favorite jobs, for all the reasons listed above. I would take favorite people around the island (in my 69 VW) and show them the 'good stuff' when they tired of the planned travel, and throw myself in the swimming pool (uniform and all) at the end of most days.

If I was your waitress, you had a better time than you would have had, pale and slightly frightened, if you hadn't met me.

But then that's true of almost everyone I've met... We have better times than we would if we had never met...

And that's why I love y'all.

Me... summer of '68. Taken by Big George.. but more about that later. He was 19 (maybe). I was 24.

Button E. Bear..

I don't write poetry very often... I have this little "muse" who dumps on me every once in a while, and I never know when or where it's going to happen. This was the case with Button.

Then, when I started writing to my Mother's friend, while Mom was on a cruise, Button became a happy little thing I could do for her. When she was afraid I wouldn't like her anymore because she didn't want to meet me (long story, and we eventually did meet), Button assured her it didn't matter... in poetry of course. I found Button on my old computer, one of the things NOT lost , and thought I'd share the original Story with you..



THIS IS A FELLOW NAMED BUTTON E. BEAR
HE’S BRAVE AND HE’S TRUE( AND HE HASN’T MUCH HAIR)
I’VE WORN IT ALL OFF, CUZ I’VE LOVED HIM SO HARD
(AND LEFT HIM A COUPLE OF TIMES IN THE YARD)

HIS NAME ONCE WAS TEDDY, BUT MOMMY AND ME
SEWED BILLIONS OF BUTTONS ALL OVER, YOU SEE
HE LOOKS REALLY SPECIAL AND HE’S SPECIALLY MINE
SO BUTTON E. BEAR IS HIS NAME ALL THE TIME

HE SLEEPS WITH ME OFTEN (NOT REALLY AFRAID)
AND SOMETIMES HE’S LEFT IN THE BED WHEN IT’S MADE
HE NEVER COMPLAINS AND HE NEVER IS BAD
AND HE’S ALWAYS RIGHT NEXT TO ME, THERE! WHEN I’M SAD

I’VE HAD HIM FOREVER, SINCE I WAS JUST TWO
AND NOW THAT I’M SIX WE HAVE OODLES TO DO
WE RUN AND WE PLAY AND WE LAUGH AND WE SING
(CUZ BUTTON E. BEAR CAN DO ANYTHING!)

LATER AT NIGHT WHEN WE’RE TUCKED INTO BED
WE WHISPER AND GIGGLE AND CHUCKLE, INSTEAD...
OF GOING TO SLEEP, OF SAYING GOODNIGHT
CUZ BUTTON E. BEAR MAKES EVERYTHING RIGHT!

There were more stories, of course, and his friends and stories made up especially for June (my mother's friend). They traveled and sat and watched the rain and didn't talk if they didn't want to..

I just made the picture today, as there never was a picture of him, but this one looks properly scruffy AND buttoned.

He really was a treasure...

I miss him sometimes...

Not So Fast, Kindle...

I expect the written word (on paper. Hard bound. Paperback. Newspaper.) to cease to be in the not so distant future.

I, hopefully, won't be around to see it's demise. I expect it to take at least another 50 years before ALL books will be found only in 'antique' bookstores. I am glad I'll miss it.

I love the written word. I love reading the written word. I love writing the written word, but, you will notice, I do it on another medium other than paper. I'm part of the problem, just a little bit.

I

Love

Books.

My sister got me a Kindle for Christmas last year. Fortunately for both of us, it was back ordered so far that she could cancel it.

There is something visceral about books that I don't think I will ever be able to abandon.

When I came back from Hawaii in late 1970, I got a temporary job at Campbell's Bookstore in Westwood Village. It was the old fashioned kind of bookstore, with dark wood and a second story and books all neatly put where they belong (have you BEEN to a bookstore lately and looked at the manner in which books are filed? I can only assume that the handlers of books have no idea how to alphabetize or categorize).

No..

Really.

Or maybe even read...

Anyways, back to Campbell's. I was wrapping books for Christmas.

Oh happy happy Joy Joy job!

Not only did I get to handle and wrap almost every book sold that season (and wrapping books is easy and fun and can be made to look extremely expensive for next to nothing), I got to help put away the NEW BOOKS..

Forget your New Car smell, there is NOTHING like the smell of a new, well made book.

sigh...

So there I was, surrounded by books with time on my hands and a DISCOUNT!

and occasionally a visit from Ray Bradbury...

sigh..

I don't think I made any money at all....

But I'll never forget either the job or the place.

So take your Bimble and put it wherever you want...

I'm sticking with books...