Fool's Names And Fool's Faces!

How y'all doing? I thought I'd take a little moment from the hustle and bustle of the season and give y'all a laugh. Remember how I told y'all there were just some things I couldn't make up? Well, my oldest melon head found some proof positive that mine and Cat Daddy's rendezvous location wasn't some mythical locale like Camelot. Sometimes even I start to wonder as the years go by if it really did happen. Thanks to my eagle eye son though, I know it was alive and well back in the 70's and if you don't believe me, just take a gander at this Time magazine article. Be sure and look at the date!!!

http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,948679,00.html

SEE!!! Now would I lie to my little honeys???

XOXO

Trash

Rope A Doping

Act III, Scene 3

Making the necessary adjustments and compromises in our marriage was just like the game of "Battleship"...a series of hits and misses. There were skirmishes and major battles, but in the end, a peace treaty was negotiated and a bond formed. Not that it was all smooth sailing or that we never fought again. He and I had some major differences to overcome and we both knew it would take time, but since we had both promised "till death do us part", we knew had plenty of time to get it right...hopefully without ending up on the ten o'clock news.

At the end of the movie, "Sweet Home Alabama", there is a scene where the wedding cake topper is replaced with "Rock 'Em, Sock "Em" robots. We quickly realized that's what should have been on the top of our cake. That would be us for the next 36 years battling it out until one of our heads popped up declaring a victor for that round and then getting to make up where the clinches really mattered. It got to where we didn't even see the arguing as necessarily a bad thing...just another way of communicating. We learned not to bottle things up until it festered into a ugly fight, but just to go ahead and say what was on our minds. This would take years of practice to get right and not be just a means of sucker punching the other, but a real way of expressing our needs. There would, however, have to be unspoken rules involved for it to work. There was never any hitting below the belt or going for the jugular...only constructive jabs to prevent irreparable damage to the marriage with a promise to never go to bed angry. Marriage is a fragile thing, tenuous in its beginning and to deliberately go for the other's vulnerable spots only speeds up the end of it. Cruel words can't be taken back or repaired with a band aid. Another unwritten rule was we never did it in the company of others. Public humiliation would never be forgiven either. If there is no mutual respect there is no marriage. Arguing with just a dash of humor, provided an outlet that kept molehills from becoming mountains. A disagreement is just as private as what goes on in the bedroom and should be treated as respectfully. To maintain a healthy perspective of who's right or wrong....there should never be witnesses to take sides...especially if it's a mother-in-law!

With the Marquess of Queensbury rules in place, the marriage was starting to take shape and we were able to settle into a comfortable routine. One night in early December, I came home a little late for work. He was sitting in his chair waiting on me. I thought he was put out with me for working overtime on a Friday night, but that wasn't the case at all. He was just anxious for me to get home and more than a little concerned about the road conditions. Seems he had gotten off early and had been doing a little shopping. As I sat down on the couch, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a jeweler's box. Talk about a sucker punch...I didn't see that coming at all! He didn't open it...just handed it to me. I opened it to find my rose wedding rings. Seems he had never stopped looking for them...or at me...not even while driving down the road.

(And they lived happily every after!)

THE END

Epilogue: In the 36 years of marriage, those two rings have only left my finger for hospital stays and I have the permanent indention to prove it!

Act III, Scene 2

After waking with a head as big as Texas and a backache from sleeping on the cold, hard floor, I managed to stumble out of the bathroom. He was waiting for me and immediately began apologizing for his lapse in good judgement. Not wanting the trip to be a total bust, I accepted his profuse apologies with his promise it would never happen again. My mother had passed on much of her wisdom through her "pearls" of advice and I remembered her telling me I would have to learn to pick my battles otherwise marriage was just one big fight. I decided this was not the time for a war since I couldn't have won a battle of the wits with my hangover. In the interest of brevity, I caved and forgave him!

When we returned to Dallas, we moved into the strangest little house. It was a rental and not much to look at, but at the time, I thought it had charm. Who cared if a quarter, dropped on the floor, would roll all the way to the back of the house in a minute flat or that all the closets were in the laundry room? That just made it easier to put away clean clothes! It was our first home and I was happy as a pig in sunshine!

I didn't return to school, but got a job instead. Between the two of us, we were bringing home $160 a week and thought we were stepping in high cotton. Neither one of us realized we were just a step above poverty level! I had failed to mention, and he hadn't asked, one little thing...I couldn't cook. Rather than starve, I quickly mastered five meals to get us through the week. I figured on the weekends, we could just eat out. I could make spaghetti, tuna casserole, scrambled eggs, tuna salad and of course, that culinary masterpiece...Wolf Brand Chili! Every week it was the same thing with just a little variance on the chili and every week he ate it without complaining. It was a good thing that I was proficient in other ways to use a dinner table or he might not have been so easy to please!

We quickly learned that in every successful marriage there is a period of adjustment. We're all unique in our daily habits and compromises must be made to get along. He had a hard time understanding my shoe fetish...I didn't understand his need to watch TV while in a prone position. Before marriage, we were out dancing every weekend...after the "I Dos" he didn't...dance that is. Suddenly he was too tired or some other lame excuse not to go. I liked "order" in the house...he thrived on "disorder". I was a night owl and couldn't go to sleep before 11:00 at night. He had to be at work at 6:00 a.m and went to bed no later than nine. I was a chatterbox...he, a man of few words. I loved fishing and being at the lake...he was afraid of the water. He loved dirt track racing...I couldn't wear Candies in the dirt! My daddy had always taken care of things like the garbage, car repairs, mowing, etc....his mother had taken care of everything! That was the biggest adjustment for me. I had to break a lot of bad habits instilled by a mother who thought a man only had to go to work and the woman should do everything else!

Imagine a world where all that was expected of you was to get up in the morning, go to work and on Fridays pick up your check. Your clothes were magically cleaned, pressed and waiting in the closet for you. Your underwear neatly folded in a drawer ready to grace your royal butt. Meals on the table at five o'clock awaiting your return from a hard day of slaving. A refrigerator never empty...seeming to replenish itself on demand. Grass needs mowing? Not to worry...elves would take care of that while you are at work. What garbage...there was never any garbage to be disposed of when you were the king! What? Your mother called and she had made your favorite meal with chocolate pie for dessert. Why by all means, stop by and don't bother to call. As long as it makes you happy...the chili will wait. That's what I'm here for...to make the king of the castle happy!

And so began the first "picked" battle!

(to be continued)

Party Of The First Part

I'd like to start by saying I am including a disclaimer with this post. I want y'all to remember that I was only 22 when I got married and I'm sure y'all did some dumb things when sowing the seeds of youth! Please do not judge me by what you are about to read...I like to think I've matured (and got even) over the years!

Act III, Scene 1

We were on the road early the next morning and when he stopped to fuel up, I was never so glad to see a Shell restroom in my life. Hallelujah, a door and it locked! We drove straight in to Crockett, but he wanted to stop by his uncle's ranch before getting a room. His Uncle Cecil was something out of a John Wayne movie. Picture Ben Johnson and Gabby Hayes all rolled into one. He had worked on a ranch his whole life and he was old! His skin looked like something sold out of jar off the Shell station counter we had stopped at. Bow legged didn't even begin to describe his walk. Too many years in the saddle prevented his knees from ever being on speaking terms again. He wore a beat up old cowboy hat, sweat rings and all, spurs tarnished from years of use. Grizzled and worn, with hands that could take a finish off a table top in 60 seconds flat, he had a smile that said he loved his life more than breathing. Never been married...a confirmed bachelor married to the horses he broke for a living. He was the baby of the family and his older sisters adored him...I did too! He served us up some coffee so strong that it stood on its hind legs and barked. When we told him we couldn't stay long, that we needed to find a room for the night, Uncle Cecil said he wanted to make arrangements for a special dinner that evening so I could meet the rest of the family and with a okay to that, we hit the road again.

This time, my cowboy found a nice modern place to stay for the night and I felt like things were starting to smooth out. Around noon, he said he thought he would run over to a cousin's and see if dinner was still on. He thought I might like a little time by myself to rest and get all spiffed up to meet the family. At one, I was enjoying my solitude, but by four, I was beginning to have my doubts. When five o'clock rolled around, I knew I would be dining out of a vending machine. That's when I noticed he had a "bottle" packed in his suitcase and I thought that would be perfect to wash down a Butterfinger supper...just a few sips to relax me...what would be the harm? By the time six arrived, I could have cared less what time it was or if he was even coming back....party of one in room 126! I had managed to "sip" half that bottle down and was feeling no pain...chocolate and Jack make a really good cocktail!

When he came tooling back around seven, I decided to get even and hide! I went into my favorite room...the one with the lock...and did just that...locked it! When he couldn't find me, he tried the bathroom door. By that time I was half passed out on the floor in front of the door! He couldn't get it to open and I wouldn't unlock it. Even if I could have, I don't think he would have been strong enough to push the door open with my numb body blocking it. He started in apologizing about how time had got away from him. I didn't want to hear it and fell asleep! As he tried to explain it to me the next day, seems that his cousin had just made a pot of butter beans and he stuck around to eat his share. Oh well...Of course I could see how that would take precedence over a honeymoon! Nothing will deflate an ego quicker than playing second fiddle to a legume!

It also seemed that in keeping with the "party theme", ol' Cuz had made a quick trip to the local bootlegger for jugs of shine! Not wanting to appear ungrateful for not joining in the toast to himself, they must have toasted 'til all those mason jars were empty and they weren't!

When I awoke the next morning on the cold hard tile, at first I couldn't quite remember why I was there. Then it all came back!

Looking back now I ask myself two questions. One...I married him why? Two...how did we ever manage to have children?

(to be continued)

No Tell Motel

Act II, Scene 3

In spite of not having the ring of my dreams, everything else seemed to fall into place. Mother wanted me to "borrow" her engagement ring for the ceremony which I was honored to do. So with something new and blue...my dress and something old and borrowed...her ring, I was ready. The day came and I started second guessing myself. I was convinced he had been slipping something in my drinks for the past two months in order to get me to this place in time. What was I thinking? I was only 22...I had only known him three months...was I throwing my life away? Several times I looked at the window longingly, wondering how long it would take to be missed if I just quietly slipped out it. I figured I would have at least an hour's head start before anyone came looking for me! Daddies must come with a second sense when it comes to their little girls because mine told me that it wasn't too late to call it off. He would just send everyone home if that's what I wanted to do, but I think that's what he wanted me to do. It's funny...he had sent me to college to find a rich husband, but when I had found one (albeit a poor one)...he was the one with cold feet!

With the ceremony happening without a hiccup, (for once my cowboy was sober) it was time for photographs, cake cutting and the toast. All of this went off very normal (except for one guest remarking she'd give it 30 days!)which made me a little nervous. Nothing about our relationship had been "normal" and I found this a little disconcerting to say the least. I shouldn't have been too worried though. We still had the honeymoon to get through!

We were married in Plano at my grandparents' home and were just going to take a short trip to East Texas to meet more of his family. We left that evening heading east and at Kaufman, he pulled off the highway into a motel parking lot. If you know your Texas geography, this is only about 45 miles give or take one anxious bridegroom breathing like he'd just run the Boston marathon. Eager? I should say so, but when we walked into the room, I thought I would die right there on the spot! Where there should have been a bathroom door....hung a plastic shower curtain!

My cowboy had ran the rodeo circuit and worked a lot of out of town construction jobs so where they would stay was never an issue. The idea that me, being a woman, would find our accommodations less than thrilling, truly never entered his mind. There was a shower, a sink, a toilet and a bed...what else could I need? A DOOR! I wanted a bathroom door...with a lock! I had never shared a bathroom with a man and I wasn't about to start now. There are just some things between a man and woman...especially newlyweds...that should remain private. On top of the ignominy of no door, my nerves suddenly got the best of me and I knew that bathroom was going to be new my best friend for the next few hours. I used every excuse I could come up with to get him out of that room. I'm hungry...I'm thirsty...I want a Twinkie...I think I left my birth control pills in the truck! Bless his heart, every time I asked for something, he went and got it. I don't think he ever realized what was going on as soon as that door shut behind him! "Oh thank heaven for 7/11" was my personal mantra all night!

Somehow, some way, we made it through that first night without me calling a lawyer and started out for deep East Texas the next morning where more motel fun was waiting. It's kind of sad...that funny little motel is gone from Kaufman now. He likes to say it had to be torn down after one night of us! I like to say it should have been demolished before we ever got there!

(to be continued)

A Rose By Any Other Name

Act II, Scene 2

My last name...oh no, he didn't! There wasn't time to spare to get mad as my parents were coming towards us through the restaurant. I only had a moment to either tell him my last name or to go to hell! I figured I could get angry with him later for not remembering my name. I was pretty sure he had asked and more than certain I had told him...at least I thought I had! I mean, who asks a girl to marry him without knowing her last name? After introductions and dinner with a cocktail for courage, he asked Daddy for my hand in marriage. My sweet daddy was impressed at how earnest he was, but being a father he had to give a lecture on the serious side of marriage. My cowboy told me years later that before our ceremony, Daddy had set him down and informed him that if he ever mistreated me to watch his back! Daddy also told him to never get so full of himself that he hurt me in the process and the last thing Daddy told him was that I would always have a place to come home to if he didn't make me happy! Mother and Daddy really thought I was too young, but they knew I was stubborn and since I was old enough to marry without their permission, they gave us their blessing.

With my family's sorta-kinda blessing, we began to make plans. We decided on a fall wedding in late October. I had never been one of those girls who dreamed of a big wedding with 50 bridesmaids in ugly dresses. A simple ceremony was all I wanted, so a small home wedding was the easiest decision I had to make. We'd have our close friends and relatives as guests and a big reception after we came back from the honeymoon. Since this was late June, I thought I would have plenty of time for such a small affair, but I didn't count on this boy's impetuosity. First he talked me into an earlier October date...then he talked me into late September. Next thing I knew, he was talking about early September. He/we finally agreed on August 10th. I think if I had said~let's just go to the J.P. and straight to look at that toolbox~he'd a jumped on it and me before a cat could lick his tail!

My poor Mother...we were out of the chute like a couple of tornadoes trying to get everything arranged and find the perfect dress for me, while he was on the quest for my wedding rings. Though I had never cared anything about a big folderol wedding, there was one thing I had always dreamed of. Years ago I had seen in a Seventeen magazine an engagement ring setting that looked like an antique rose. I had dreamed of that ring for years and when he asked what kind of ring I wanted...that's the one I told him about. He was still rodeoing during this time and one weekend he drew a really rank horse and was bucked off. He injured his leg and had to use crutches to get around, but that didn't stop him from trying to find that ring. He limped and hobbled around to every jewelry store in Dallas, trying to find that rose for me, but by the time August rolled around...no ring. He never asked me to settle for anything else, just kept looking for what he knew would guarantee him a great wedding night!

Later, when we met with the minister to discuss the wedding details, the preacher man asked us if it was going to be a one ring or two ring ceremony. My cowboy just looked at him and said, "How 'bout a no ring one?"!

Indecent Proposal

A Tale Of The Texas Two Step

by Talking Trash

Act II, Scene 1

"How 'bout it...how 'bout it?"! Good grief...what the heck did that mean? That could be anything from "how about taking a look at that new toolbox now?" to "how about some popcorn from the snack bar?". I must have had a strange look on my face because he told me that I knew what he meant. At that particular moment, I truly didn't and told him so. He was going to have to be a little more articulate for me to understand what he was asking me. Being a man of few words, he seemed to have a hard time putting into words what he wanted to ask. Finally I just asked what was it he was trying to say and he replied, "You and me...how 'bout it?". Huh? You and me what? (My only thought was that he had better be talking about going dancing because that would be the only do-si-doing we'd be doing!) Ducking his head, he replied "Married...how 'bout it?". Stunned would be an understatement. I was flabbergasted. We had only known each other for six weeks and really didn't know a thing about each other except that we seemed to get along. I told him I would have to sleep on it and I would try to give him an answer in a couple of days.

The next week was tense. He wanted an answer and I thought he was rushing things. I didn't see the necessity of messing up the start of a nice relationship, but then a few days later when we were going out to dinner, I had the strangest feeling of being watched. I turned and he was just staring and smiling at me kind of like the Cheshire Cat....while driving down the highway! He'd stop when I would catch him, but the minute I looked away, he'd be doing it again. I just knew he was going to rear end someone. Finally I told him to stop it before we had an accident. He looked so sad when he said he couldn't help it. Right then and there I knew I had to marry him. What's a girl to do? Where would I ever find anyone else who would look at me that way again...as if I were the most beautiful woman in the world ! Later that night when for the umpteenth time he said "how 'bout it?" I replied, "How 'bout yes?"!

There was one other small detail that we had to take care of before officially becoming engaged. I had met his parents, but he hadn't met mine. We arranged to meet Mother and Daddy for dinner at the old El Fenix restaurant in downtown Dallas. As we were sitting at the table waiting for my folks to arrive, he leaned in to me and whispered, "By the way, before your parents get here, what is your last name?"!

(to be continued)