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Monthly Archives: January 2014

Rambo at the School Dinner

28 Tuesday Jan 2014

Posted by dmswriter in Updates

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Tags

humor, kids helping, odd stories, Rambo, school dinner, writing

Our school holds a fundraising dinner every spring, a well-organized event that has hummed along, unchanged, for decades. Every now and then, someone from the new generation will attempt to modernize or somehow change the order of operations, but those efforts are thwarted by the organizing committee much like sea walls blocking the oncoming tide. Laminated Lists of recipes, menus and coffee maker procedures are held up, their glossy surfaces mocking anyone who even dared to dream that a change could be for the better.

to-do lists sometimes cause anguishLast year’s event hummed along like all the others – guests sat along either side of the dining tables, their places set by the kindergarten group under the mostly watchful eye of their teacher. Plates of ham left the kitchen, followed by bowls of steaming corn and mounds of mashed potatoes. Everyone had their assigned duty – greeter, ticket taker, ham slicer, apple pie disher-upper, and my favorite, the cart pushers. The kindergarten kids, who because of their age and unawareness, were given double duty in the form of manning this contraption. Four or five of them wobbled it down each aisle, one child slowly pouring juice that splatted on his shirt or shoes, while another carefully carried the cup to each recipient.

I watched this with amused detachment from the kitchen, where I was assigned plate scraping duty. It’s not for the faint of heart – gobs of ham and leftover potatoes get scraped unceremoniously into old coffee cans, taken home by one of the farmers who promptly tosses the mess into his pig pen.

“How do you stand that?” my mother asked, mouth puckering, one eyebrow arched over her glasses.

It wasn’t something I could get out of – the Laminated List had decided, months earlier, that this was my lot in life for the afternoon. I was sliding a leftover mess into a coffee can when Rambo appeared.

Sometimes, school dinners don't always go as planned...Decked out in a tennis-style headband, grey sweatsuit stretched tightly over his round belly, he was apparently expecting to dash madly from table to table, or possibly lead a post-dinner aerobics class. Bear in mind that normally, he’s attired in some form of polyester – jacket, pants, synthetic-fiber shirt – so these casual duds shocked. I suspected I might see thickly-knobbed knees and hairy legs if I leaned far enough over the counter.

“What should I do?” Rambo asked eagerly, looking to my mother for guidance, his eyes peering brightly from behind thick lenses.

Caught between a bray of laughter and total bewilderment, she stared mutely.

“Make something up,” I hissed.

Lame, but I was stumped. Without access to the Laminated List, I could only assume that Rambo knew his duties. I turned behind me for support, and met the eyes of a Ladies’ Service Club member, who stood, dish towel in one hand, dripping plate in the other, staring at the unfolding scene.

“Oh, for gawd’s sake,” she said.

We froze, waiting for someone, anyone, to materialize with the Laminated List and save us from uncertainty. Seconds ticket by, and I realized it was now or never.

“Why don’t you just start clearing tables,” I plunged ahead lamely.

This got a snort from my mom and an eye roll from the Ladies’ Service Club grandma, but it did the trick – Rambo headed for the tables, where the kindergarten kids stopped wobbling the juice cart long enough to let him pass, flotsam in his wake.

In the kitchen, we exchanged wary glances, wondering who among us would be brave enough to approach the organizing committee with a change to next year’s Laminated List…

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Weird Word Wednesday is Out the Door…Or is it?

22 Wednesday Jan 2014

Posted by dmswriter in Updates

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Tags

conge, creative writing, family differences, humor, impatience, marriage, writing

The Horologicon and The Little Black Book of Writers' WisdomOne of the coolest gifts I received this Christmas were two books from a dear friend of mine. We met for breakfast to exchange presents, where I unwrapped The Little Black Book of Writers’ Wisdom, edited by Steven D. Price, and The Horologicon: A Day’s Jaunt Through the Lost Words of the English Language by Mark Forsyth. It was a great gift that I was very thankful for, and my friend said she hoped the second book would provide inspiration for my Weird Word Wednesdays.

Indeed, it has. Today is the first WWW post inspired by The Horologicon, and I even get to pick on myself while I do it – what a deal!

Today’s word is conge, pronounced kon-zhey. According to The Horologicon, this wonderful word means “a formal preparation to depart.” Dictionary.com defines it as “leave-taking; farewell.”

We’ve all been there. It’s time to leave your in-laws, that office party, the fundraising dinner, and let’s face it – some events are easier to leave than others.

On a more personal note, conge differs from family to family. My husband comes from a family who is more direct – when it’s time to go, there isn’t much hee-hawing around. Jackets get put on, goodbyes said, and they head for the car.

Not so much in my family. Early in our marriage, we stopped at my parents for a visit. When I thought it was time to go, I looked at hubby and said “well, we should get going.” Conge time!

Sometimes it's hard to wait for others, especially when they're running lateHe headed for the door and waited…and waited…and waited…

You see, in my family, conge takes time. We say we’re going to go, but we really don’t mean it. Not yet, anyway.

We need to jaw a little longer, catch up on just one more thing. It’s like the weatherman announcing a storm watch – conditions are right for leaving, but we haven’t quite reached the critical mass needed to walk out the door.

This habit sometimes exasperated my man until he got used to it. Thankfully, he’s a patient guy, someone who goes with the flow.

Compared to my friend’s family, though, ours fairly dashes to the door. Jen’s father is known for lengthy departures, a really prolonged conge! At one gathering, he stood in the doorway for 45 minutes after announcing he was going to leave, yakking to beat the band!

After almost 20 years of this, I’m used to my husband’s family taking their leave with little fanfare. And hubby’s got a system, too – after the third time I announce “well, I think it’s time to go…” he knows he can put on his jacket.

Just think – conge won’t be a problem 30 years from now – it’ll just be the two of us, nowhere to go, nothing to do, just sittin’ and waitin’…

old-couple

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It’s a Miffy, Squiffy Weird Word Wednesday

08 Wednesday Jan 2014

Posted by dmswriter in Updates

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Benjamin Franklin, creative writing, Downton Abbey, history, humor, Jane Franklin, miffy, patience, squiffy, weird word, writing

Book of Ages chronicles the letters Jane Franklin wrote to her brother, Benjamin

Book of Ages

Over the holidays, I spent a lot of time reading. Thanks to a suggestion by Paul Huard, blogger at “The Shout Heard ‘Round the World,” I read Book of Ages: The Life and Opinions of Jane Franklin by Jill Lepore. Jane was Benjamin Franklin’s sister, mother of 12 children, and writer of many letters to her famous sibling.

When Jane wasn’t busy making soap, avoiding a revolution, or raising her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, she poured out ideas on paper, giving us a wealth of information about her life as it unfolded.

Not all her children reached adulthood, and as Jane aged, she became the caretaker of several. Her husband, Edward Mecom, was a saddler who left the family financially broke. Two of Jane’s sons went insane, and later, Jane took in boarders to make ends meet.

Isn’t it understandable if Jane became a little cranky sometimes?

When Josiah Flagg, one of Jane’s grandsons, contacted his famous great-uncle Benjamin, hoping for some help establishing a career, Jane, according to Lepore, was mortified.

“Tho he is my Grandson & I wish him well settled to something he can git his Living by I am Angry with him for his Audacity in writing to you on such an Acount,” Jane wrote to Benjamin. She accused Josiah of having “too Proud a Spirit to conform to the occupation he was Taught” and refused to recommend him.

Lepore said Jane was “uncharacteristically uncharitable.” Later Jane relented, writing apologetically to Benjamin:

“I am sorry you are as it were forced to bare the Burden of soporting my whol Famely,” Jane said. “He is the son of a Dear worthy Child; his sister was Remarkably Dutyfull & affectionat to me & I wish him well but should never consented to his throwing himself upon you.”

Lepore said Jane “regretted having been so hard on (Josiah), in her first, and miffiest letter.”

What a wonderful word! According to dictionary.com, miffy means “touchy; inclined to take offense.”

Who hasn’t been a little miffy from time to time, especially where errant children are concerned?

Let’s meet miffy’s partner for today, squiffy.

Downton Abbey is a popular PBS show about an aristocratic English family

Alfred (r) as the bus approaches…

We have the wildly popular PBS TV show Downton Abbey to thank for this gem. In Series Three, Episode Eight, Lord Grantham waves the authorities off his property by throwing his footman, Alfred, under the bus, albeit in very upper crust tones.

“I’m very much afraid to say he was a bit squiffy, weren’t you, Alfred?” Lord Grantham says, one regal eye on the authorities, the other on hapless Alfred, who is forced to nod in mute agreement.

Squiffy means “slightly drunk,” and in this case, Alfred was nothing of the sort, even though he manfully shoulders the blame without flinching. One would think he’d have a right to feel miffy about this turn of events, but wasn’t.

As Benjamin Franklin said, “He that can have patience can have what he will.”

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