Saturday, August 17, 2013

Valuable Lessons

Sometimes it’s hard and expensive to learn a valuable lesson. I just learned one today on who to trust and who not to - - - but that’s a story I can’t go into.

 However, I have learned some lessons in my time. Several in particular stand out in my memory. One of the first was when we were staying on the ranch and I was pretty small. My Papa always had a garden and I would help him plant. The rows weren’t always straight, but that didn’t seem to hurt production very much. I loved to go out in the garden and eat tomatoes and cucumbers and turnips – right out of the garden, just shaking the dirt off. I could make a meal going by the fig tree and the grape orchard and the pomegranate bush. My mother knew my habit of eating off every bush and vine – she would laugh at me when I ate off the persimmon tree before the fruit was ripe and it would draw my mouth up into a tight little bow. But my worst mistake came when I didn’t listen about the peppers. I love peppers, but they can be deceiving. Green bell peppers, green banana pepper – even green mild jalapeno peppers – but Lord, help. One day I got ahold of the wrong green pepper.

See, she had a problem with me. Mama would fix me these little meals, properly balanced meals. But after I had went over all the property, grazing as I went, when I came back in, I refused to eat what she had so generously prepared. So, she told me. “Sable, you better watch what you put in your mouth (haha I think about that ever once in a while now) one of these days you are gonna bite off more than you can chew.

 Well, I did.

 I had gone on out to play and one thing led to another and I got a little hungry and instead of going back in and eating my well-balanced meal, I decided to raid the herb garden. Cherry tomatoes were one of my favorites and next to them was this long skinny green pepper, sorta pitiful looking, so I said what the heck! I grabbed me a couple and munched down on them and THEY SET MY MOUTH ON FIRE!!!! It wasn’t just a burn, it was a paralyzing burn. I couldn’t holler, I could scream – all I could do was run. So, I ran back in the house and threw open the refrigerator. I was hunting water or a coke, but I saw neither. There was, however, a big bowl of cold sliced peaches swimming in their own nectar and I landed into it with both hands. I started grabbing and eating peaches and sipping juice out of my hand, all in a vain attempt to alleviate the agony that was incinerating my mouth and lips.

Mother came in and caught me red-handed as I put on this terrible display. She just crossed her arms and looked at me, “Get a hold of something that didn’t sit well, did you?” I nodded, never stopping. Finally she got some ice cubes out of the icemaker and stopped my massacre of the Georgia fruit. I swear to goodness, that fiery little piece of sh*t took the skin off of my tongue to this day.

 Lesson learned – eat my meals off a plate instead of straight off the bush. (Oh god, my pervert is gonna show if I don’t tamp it down. Tamp!)

 Second lesson. This harkens back to my teenage years. I have always loved to read. Before I started dating, my love life took place between the pages of a book (sorta like it does now, haha). I read thousands and thousands of Harlequins and Desires – I mean barrels of them. And the funny part was that I got most of them from very old ladies who were friends of my Nana’s. Now, one of them is long dead, her name was Mrs. Watson, and the other was a great aunt who is now in her mid-nineties. Anyway, I was visting Mrs. Watson, actually I was babysitting her. She had been ill and I had been asked to sit near her just in case she needed something. And to pass the time, I read.

Now, there was this boy. Isn’t there always a boy? We had a bit of a mutual crush on one another, but we never acted on it. He had been hired to mow the lawn. There was a swing on her porch that I loved to sit in and swing and read and fantasize – and swing and read and fantasize. Unfortunately, the day that Mike came to mow Mrs. Watson’s lawn, I was stuck inside holding Mrs. Watson’s ball of yarn while she knitted. But he did come to the door for water, frequently.

Now, little did I know - - but he and one of his buddies had indulged in a bit of horse play on the porch and had wrestled and tumbled and fell over in my beloved swing – and broke it. They literally pulled the chain out of the ceiling. BUT, instead of coming and telling me or Mrs. Watson, they stuck the end of the bolt back up into the ceiling, but there was nothing holding it up there but however it was hanging on a splinter of wood.

Alas. After they had left and I was free, I flounced my chubby little self out the door and tossed myself into the swing.

Now, you’ve all heard about faith. When I used to teach Sunday school, I would illustrate how faith works. When I would try to tell my ladies how to place their faith in God, how to throw their selves upon his mercy and put themselves in the hands of the Almighty, many times I would show them how we place our utter faith and trust in something as simple as a chair. We go to that chair and we literally just let ourselves go - - we plop our butts down with full trust that the chair will hold up our weight. KERSPLAT!

That’s exactly what I did to that swing. I had faith in that swing. I had sat in that swing many, many times. I had thrown myself in that swing and landed with my feet up and crossed and reading lines of damsels being kissed and heroes holding their loves with tenderness.

Only this time, when I launched myself into that swing - - it didn’t react like it always did. Unfortunately, I had my legs under me, and under the swing. And when I put my faith down, the swing didn’t even pretend to hold. It collapsed. It collapsed hard and that heavy old wood swing, combined with my body weight just crushed my legs underneath me. Now they didn’t break – but I thought I was dead. First off, it scared the Bejesus out of me and second it HURT LIKE HELL!!! I cried and hollered and screamed and carried on like a crazy person. Poor Mrs. Watson came toddling out, she thought we had been attacked by the last band of Union Soldiers to come pillaging through the south.

To this day, I have a sore spot on my leg where that swing crushed my wee muscles.

Now, lesson learned here - - be careful who or what you place your trust in. It may look sturdy, but it may be lying.

There – I got that off my chest.

HER MAGIC TOUCH – SWEETER VERSION is out today. Here’s the buy link –

Here’s a lesson learned - - - Don’t tell ‘dick’ jokes when the Baptist preacher is in the house. “I can do it, myself,” Joseph spoke each word in a clipped, terse voice. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate his family’s concern, but enough was enough.
     “I’ll be right out here if you change your mind,” Noah spoke through the closed door, obviously intending to go nowhere until Joseph finished in the bathroom. Aron had spared no expense. The facility was large and everything was easily accessible, but he had no intention of using all of the grip bars, handrails, or fold out seats. There was even a transfer ledge on the big tub, and swear to God, he could roll his entire chair into the huge shower. But in Joseph’s mind, accepting all of this would be the same as admitting defeat. So he sat in front of the sink and wet a wash rag, and began the arduous task of washing his big body with a piece of terry cloth about the size of a postage stamp.
     Turning on the tap, he let the temperature get almost to the boiling point before he put the stopper in and squirted some liquid soap in the hot water. Gingerly, because it was too hot, he dipped the rag in and squeezed it out. Don’t look, he told himself. If you don’t look in the mirror and see the chair, it won’t be real. Rubbing his face and neck, he realized he needed a shave. How was he supposed to shave himself without looking at his reflection? Hell! With a challenging, arrogant stare he finally looked himself in the eye. Why didn’t he look different? How could he be the same? His hair looked the same—a little long and tousled, but the shaggy brown locks were familiar. The eyes, nose, and chin, all of his features were unchanged. So why didn’t he recognize himself? He knew why. Because Joseph Anthony McCoy had died in that accident and what remained behind was just an empty shell.          “Hey are you all right in there? I don’t hear anything. Do you want me to get Libby to help you?” What Noah meant as a joke, Joseph heard as ridicule.
     “Shit, no!” He shouted before he could stop himself. Immediately, he felt ashamed. Noah didn’t deserve his ill temper and Libby certainly had been nothing but supportive. Thinking of Libby, he smiled. “I can handle it,” he snarled in a much less combative tone. He should be more excited that Aron and Libby were going to bring a new life into the world. Instead, all he could think about was that he would never father a child. God, how selfish could he get?
      Noah actually chuckled on the other side of the door. “Just because you’re off your feet for a while doesn’t mean you have to be so damn cranky. You make me think of that bull we used to have. You remember Hannibal?”
      Washing behind his ears and the back of his neck, Joseph actually laughed out loud. “Yea, I remember him. He was a big, grey Brahmin bull. “Yea, he was packin’ so much he almost tripped on it when he walked.” As soon as he said the words, he sobered. Would he ever know what it was like to slide into a woman again?
      “I have that same problem.” Noah was so matter-of-fact he had Joseph laughing again. “When I piss, I have to stand back so I don’t flush it down the toilet.”
      “Yea, right.” Joseph guffawed. “I’ve seen your wee willie. I used to change your diapers, you idiot.”
      “I’ve grown since then.” Noah assured him. “Most men need to walk up to a woman to have sex. Hell, I stick it in and then walk closer.” He was talking so loud Joseph was sure he could be heard in the kitchen. This could be fun.
      They needed some laughs around this place. Nathan had almost been killed a few days before. If it hadn’t been for Jessie Montgomery, their little brother would have drowned. Now Jacob was involved with Jessie, and what was going on between them was a mystery to him. Jessie was several months pregnant with Jacob’s baby, yet they had never laid eyes on one another until just a few days ago. There was something odd going on, mistakes at sperm banks and surrogate parents gone crazy. But Joseph had enough problems of his own without trying to figure out Jacob’s. “That big, huh? How big is it? And talk loud, I can barely hear you.” He snickered at what was about to happen.
      Noah fell for the bait—hook, line and sinker. “My dick is so big, I can run three legged races by myself.”
      He was plenty loud, but in order to attract an audience, he needed to be louder. Joseph re-wet his washcloth and began working on his chest. If any of the family was within earshot, they would be hearing from them soon. “Louder, I’m having trouble hearing you through the thick door.” Noah was way too serious most of the time and this opportunity to coerce him into making a fool out of himself was just too good to pass up.
      “Well, I’m having trouble hearing you through my own thick dick!” Joseph could hear Noah nearly choke on his own bad joke. “Can you hear me now?” Noah was practically yelling.
      “Yeah, that’s good.” Idiot.
      “My dick is sooooo big that it beeps when I pull out.” Just as soon as Noah said the word ‘out’ Joseph heard his bedroom door slam.
      “What in God’s name is your problem, Boy?” Aron was mad! Joseph couldn’t see him, but there was no mistaking that meat-grinder monotone. “Did you know the Baptist preacher is in the kitchen? He’s come to ask after Joseph. And what do we hear in here? Hell! How freakin’ big your limp little dick is?”
      “Sorry, Aron.” Noah didn’t sound contrite. He sounded like he was about to bust a gut.
      By this time, Jacob followed closely by Isaac, had joined Aron. Joseph had the bathroom door open because this was just too good to miss. “Aron,” chided Jacob. “The Baptist preacher just heard you say hell and dick—really loud. And Jessie, my little mermaid, is out there. I’ve just found her, and I don’t want you to run her off with your vulgarity before I get a chance to make a good impression.”
      “The preacher just left and told Jessie and Libby it was a good thing Nathan was still in school and had missed all of the vulgarity.” Isaac was enjoying this. “And Noah….” Isaac grasped his crotch and strutted closer. “My dick is so big, it looks blurry unless you stand WAAYY back.”
      “Will you dumbasses get outta here so I can wash my limp dick?” It felt sorta good to joke about his problem. Maybe, he might make it without going crazy, after all. Thanks for reading Now, I’m off to learn another lesson or two - - yes, you can teach this old dog a new trick or two.


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