Molly Goatwax

Are we in Kansas?

Nope, not this time. It seems that this humorous attempt at exploiting the intelligent design controversy by Wasatch Beers has been targeted by the lawmakers in Utah. Why? State Senator Chris Buttars says "he is concerned about children learning human evolution as fact". From a beer bottle lable? Hasn't this whole issue gotten out of hand?

The latest thrilling installment

Oh, the tired feeling is right down to my bones. It must have something to do with the cold snap. I mean, besides the day job and the houses and running to Mars for two large cans of yams on the way to school because the kid just whipped out the announcement of charitable giving whose deadline was this morning...and of course there was the drinking of copious amounts of good cold beer while meeting new and interesting people last night at the blogger's happy hour. I had a really good time. I had such a good time that I mismatched my shoes this morning and posted a blogroll of the people I met at the public house site. They all seem to have had a good time too. Mom was much more lucid tonight. She asked me if I wanted a ride. After some other pleasantries she asked me if  I shouldn't call for a ride to get us home. I reminded her that I had learned how to drive and asked if she wanted me to take her in my convertible. Then the phone rang and she told me I'd better get it, it might be Dad. Good thing it wasn't. Now I must change the cat box and put out the bulk trash. And I may as well eat a large bowl of broccoli while I'm at it.

I'd rather live in Baltimore

Here's the headline: Polygamous town will stay dry.  And here's a quote: "Council members were concerned about morals, drunkenness and creating an atmosphere of concern in the community."  So. Alcohol, which is legal, has been banned from this community because the local government is concerned about propriety, but bigamy, which is a felony, is just fine by them? And speaking about turning a blind eye against these felons, not only should this Judge be dismissed, he should be disbarred and sent to jail. Do I get to choose which laws I can break with impunity in my private life? Do you?

Moving blues

Zooming in on the photos contained in an appraisal of a nicely kept, but fairly modest rowhome, I espied in the kitchen a large cassarole with the foil cover bent open. I wondered to myself what has Jacinta* been cooking? Then I see one or two very small chairs and I wonder about the family who lives in the house valuated. And it's not just these appraisals but driving by picture windows, homes with four chimneys or moms loading kids into vans in the driveways or waiting by the bus stop with a stroller that make me wonder about how every family lives their lives. I guess I feel lonely for a settled-into house. A settled-into life. As my home gets dismantled, packed and put into storage, I wonder how our next home will work for us. I'd like to cook a big dinner again, soon. 

*Her name rhymes with this.

I really needed to laugh

Stolen from GodTumor at Fark.

Short Fuse

Sometimes I feel as if I am in one of those miniature glass balls that you shake up, but instead of wax flake snow, what is flying all about me is six generations of stuff. Hand blown glass, tea towels, brittle photographs of small boys in lace collars, a diamond that was on the hand of a great grandmother as she rode in a train across North Dakota when the bridge underneath was blown up and was then returned to the family some years later, another great grandfather's watercolors and a chair that Buffalo Bill sat in. Not to mention the stuffed toucan that has been lying on its back in the same round cabinet for over a hundred and twenty years...oy...in the midst of all this the nine year old asks; "Have you ever tooken a sled..."

"What! What! Have I what?"...

"Have you ever tooken a..."

"No! I ain't never tooken nothin' nowhere!"

"Oh! Have you ever sledded down a hill on a piece of cardboard?"

"Oh! Well! I may have done that."

Defenestration

It came up again today. The cousin was telling her brother the cousin how the youngest sister went out the third floor window sometime before 1970. The first time this subject surfaced in general family discussion was in the early 'nineties and there was some argument and lots of dispute about what actually happened, and here is near 'bout what I recall; Numbers three, four (that's me)and five daughters were sent to the third floor play room by an exhausted and harried mother who may have been trying to cook dinner in the first floor kitchen. Number five, who was 4 or 5 years old at the time, thought she might try flying out the attic window. Me 'n Number three, who were old enough to know better, actively encouraged her to try flying out the window. So she jumped. In a suspended state of disbelief and guilt, I stuck my head out the window to see my younger sister pick herself up off the alley bed and walk towards the back door. Amid much yelling by my mother (who was displeased that she was on the ground floor but had no idea how she had arrived) she came back upstairs to the third floor playroom. I think we washed up her knees and snuck to the second floor for band-aids. Number two sister, who was not home at the time, has always disputed-hotly, that it happened at all. Number three's memory failed her on her part in this conspiracy,  So for years Number two had us all on mock trials during family gatherings in search of the truth. The truth is, is that we all got tired of discussing it. Further, the generation after us has won prizes writing about this epic dispute. So when the episode was aired again today in Mother's hospital room, she grimaced and we all clammed up.

Bloggers at my door

The first time I frequented the bar that would eventually become Molly's, I had just purchased a house around the corner (my first!) and I was just getting to know the neighborhood. When my eyes adjusted to the dim and smokey atmosphere I discerned a bunch of older than middle-aged white men playing poker machines and drinking Bud. I took a seat and ordered, and the vet I sat beside asked me if I was wearing a costume. As you can imagine, he must not have seen too many young women wearing thrift store furs, longjohns for tights and with purple hair peaking out from beneath their colorful Norwegian knit ear-flap hats. All the scantily clad models featured on the promotional materials passing for decor must have skewed his perpective. I did not find the environment very hospitable or inviting and I had no idea that one day I would be the catalyst for its change. Last night I arrived to a more diverse crowd drinking Ozzy, Fat Angel, Rolling Rock and Stella, and watching the sci-fi channel. Nobody commented on my wearing sandals with socks and I felt at home. Of course I did. It's my bar. Next Wednesday, the 16th, this fellow is hosting the November Blogger's Happy Hour at Molly's. He's a regular, but I don't think I've met him yet and I look forward to it. I also look forward to meeting you and you and you! I have already met Mr. Snay, and hope he can take off the shift, I would also like to meet you and you and you and you.......I will be there.

momma's girl

The nine year old asked me why I don't pick her up after school anymore. (Hubby's been a'fetching her.) I told her that I had been seeing mother in the evenings. "Every day?", she asked..."Yes. If you were all scared and lonely in the hospital wouldn't you want me to come see you every day?" Yes, she would. And so I did when they kept her in a box for two months. And so did Mother for me, first bringing farm animals for the crib in which I awaited my first surgery*, and on and on...peanut butter cups at nine, ice cream at twelve, different models of portable music players, a jones-for cup of coffee ...gosh, I've had a lot of surgeries...And being the best hospital in the country and all that, can't they do something about all those people crying in the elevators? I mean, can't they have seperate but equal elevators- crying-non crying conveyances? Every day, either I'm looking at the floor trying not to intrude or the other passengers are doing it to me. Let's have some decency here! But wait! Do I see a pudding on the horizon? Do I hear The William Tell Overture? Oh, that will jolly things up for a bit.

* I remember them! They were the best thing ever. I put up a farm right away.

The trouble with batchelors

Many of the clients who use our firm's financial services are busy, on-the-go professionals. In a recent case, a client whose file we closed last week is arranging for a new transaction as he travels between the Atlantic and the Pacific coasts. The banker responsible for his portfolio has been particularly anxious to ensure that the proceedings go smoothly and e-mailed me to alert him as soon as a package from his customer arrives. To this missive I responded today, "Well, we did get an overnight package from Mr. B. today, but it contained only items of soiled laundry. Mr. D. will be speaking to him on your behalf." My tone suggested that our banker was responsible for causing us to be pranked-or worse. Mr. B just got his lables mixed up, but who FedExes their dirty underwear home?