Beam Me Up, Scottie...

                        
One year ago today,  my father had minor surgery-- followed by a 2-week stay in rehab for physical therapy.  At the time, Siobhan and I both thought the hospital staff seemed a little strange--





  But then again, compared to our family--maybe not...





In spite of the unconventional staff, Dad's surgery went off without a hitch.  But a few days later, we ran into a small snag... The hospital released Dad a day early, and the rehab center had nowhere to put him on their physical therapy floor--at least, not until the following day.  The nice admin folks kindly offered to give him a temporary room elsewhere--in the wing for mental patients...




YIKES.  Needless to say, Siobhan and I both were a little freaked out-- my father is probably the only person in our family that DOESN'T belong in a mental ward.  But it was the only bed available, and it was only for one night...so we finally gave in.   I mean, how bad could it be?!



 We soon were to find out...

Our little adventure began with the ambulance ride from hell.  The smiling EMTs cheerfully tossed my father into the back of a transport ambulance, slammed the doors shut, and burnt rubber out of the parking lot.  Siobhan and I jumped into her car, and took off after them...Thirty miles of twisting winding roads lay between the hospital and the rehab center, and Siobhan stuck to that ambulance

like the proverbial white-on-rice... 

 

 

Finally we all came to a screeching halt.  The still-smiling EMT hustled Dad out of the ambulance and into a waiting wheelchair.  He turned him over to a grim-looking woman standing by an even grimmer-looking building, and with tires squealing, he left...



 Siobhan and I followed the wheelchair as Nurse Ratchett rolled Dad into the  old building, down corridors and up halls, in and out of elevators until finally...through a double doorway.    The heavy industrial doors locked ominously behind us as we entered the mental patients' wing. (Gulp.)



  We walked past a deserted nurses' station on the left, and a small waiting area on the right, where a young woman sat quietly reading in an easy chair...Dad's room was the next door.  Surprisingly, his room looked normal enough--no padding or anything.  Siobhan and I stayed with Dad until visiting hours ended, then we took our leave to go.  We quietly walked back up the hallway, past the still-deserted nurses' station, past the lady still reading in her chair, and came to a stop in front of the still-locked double doors.  I looked helplessly at Siobhan--not a nurse in sight. 




Suddenly the woman with the book spoke up.  "You don't need a nurse to open that door--just wave your hand in front of it, and it'll open.  Here, like THIS!"  and she waved her hand in a Star Trek kind of motion. 



 I hesitated for a moment as Siobhan chuckled softly by my side... Book Lady spoke louder "Go ahead and wave your hand--like I told you!!"  Siobhan chuckled louder, and with a big sigh, I did my best Star Trek wave--and...Nothing Happened.  Nada. Zilch.  Siobhan collapsed on the floor, helpless with laughter.  Book Lady yelled "Do It Again!!"  I gritted my teeth and waved again...still Nothing.  Siobhan's laughter was fast approaching Hysteria.  Reader Lady screamed "Again!!"   In desperation I waved one last time...




This time something DID happen...An irate little nurse with a Jamaican accent walked briskly up behind me, and with hands on hips, she said "And what are you doing to my door?!  You can't open it like that--you have to have a key!!!"   With what little pride I could muster, I quietly replied "That's not what that lady over there said."  The nurse rolled her eyes and looked at me with scorn.  As she unlocked the doors, she said "She's a patient in a mental institution, and you're going to believe HER?!"  



Siobhan and I both were laughing now, and we couldn't get out of there fast enough.  Just as we got to the elevator, Siobhan jumped in front of me and said "Wait, Mum.  Let me get that for you!"  And of course she had to do the Star Trek wave in front of the elevator door.  And the exit door.  And the car door.  And all the way home.

                                            Beam me up, Scottie...



*********************************************************************



Live Long And Prosper.
















***










 

Let Me Tell You About My Honeymoon...

Today is our wedding anniversary, Liam's and mine--and while I have pleasant enough memories of that long-ago day, my favorite memories are from shortly after.  Let Me Tell You About Our Honeymoon...

Liam surprised me with a honeymoon in the mountains of Tennessee.  Five glorious days in a private mountaintop chalet, on the outskirts of Gatlinburg... 




With the wedding behind us, we drove to our destination in high spirits.  The view of the mountains on the drive was breath-taking; the chalet itself was beautiful--built of weathered logs and time-worn stone, and surrounded by a riotous garden of native wild flowers. A small goldfish pond graced the front garden, while a cozy deck with a hot tub completed the back.  Lovely. 

At first glance, the chalet's interior was just as lovely--shabby chic/French country décor, plush carpets of mauve and grey, a huge stone fireplace just begging to be lit, a quaint kitchen with copper pots hanging from an iron pot rack...Wonderful! 



The rest of the chalet was a little less "lovely" and a little more "strange".  The master bedroom was dark, decorated in shades of burgundy, the only furniture in it a waterbed.  Not just any waterbed-- the Original Waterbed (meaning the first one ever made), with NO baffles and not nearly enough water in it.  The 2nd bedroom was microscopic, decorated in faded pink and drab grey; it had an ancient bed, bigger than a "twin", smaller than a "full", with an depressingly saggy mattress.  Oh well.  It was only for a few nights... The only remaining room was the bath, which had a blushing pink toilet hiding shyly in one corner, and a gaudy pink heart-shaped tub sitting in the center of the floor... but NO sink.  And NO shower. And for whatever reason, an industrial-type drain was built into the floor.  Even stranger...



Ever the optimists, Liam and I  stowed away our luggage in the quirky little cottage, and headed into town for groceries and a little sight-seeing.  (Gatlinburg is a resort town with a lot of shops and restaurants, as well as scenic mountain views.)  Gatlinburg has  trolleys for conveniently getting around town, and we had great fun, jumping on and off whenever something caught our eye.  The fun screeched to a halt when the skies opened up and torrents of rain proceeded to drench everything in sight.   Dripping and laughing, Liam and I jumped off at the next trolley stop--and our car was nowhere in sight.  Wrong street.  When we finally found the car, we were soaked to the skin... 



With teeth chattering, we drove back to the chalet-- only to find that the heat system was disconnected.  Geez Louise! While I sloshed around putting up our groceries, Liam opened the damper and proceeded to build a roaring fire in the fireplace. (Thank goodness they had dry firewood!)  Suddenly the air was filled with thick, billowing smoke, filling the rooms from the ceiling to  a foot above the floor.  Coughing, I crawled on hands and knees to the front door, where I found Liam gasping and waiting...




Apparently the lunatic that built the fireplace didn't build the chimney tall enough to draw the smoke out.  Sheesh!  Poor Liam had to grab a pail of water from the goldfish pond, cover his face with his tee shirt, run in and douse the fire.  Then he opened all the doors and windows, and stood shivering outside until the smoke cleared.  Cold, wet, and covered with smoke and ash, we finally went back inside.

 Kindly, Liam suggested I grab a hot shower first, as there was no other way to get warm.  But wait--No Shower.  Settling for a hot bath instead, I grimaced at the lurid pink tub, cut the hot water on, and waited for the tub to fill.  Minutes later, as I was sorting through clean clothing, water suddenly covered my feet.  Yikes!  The tacky tub was leaking all over the floor.  Well, that explains the DRAIN!



I broke the news to Liam, who then suggested maybe we could just wash the worst of the soot and grime off in the hot tub in back.  (The rain had stopped by now.)  So we gathered up towels and  traipsed outside to the hot tub....Guess what?!  The Hot Tub was COLD.  Not just cold-- icy mountain stream cold...Bummer.  Poor Liam blew his top.  "The hot tub is cold, the fireplace won't work, and the tub is 'working' all over the damn floor!  What next?!"



I guess those  two words are never harbingers of anything good.  Cold, exhausted, and still very dirty, we decided just to call it a day...Bedraggled, we headed for what we thought was the lesser of the two evils-- the waterbed. ( Keep in mind that Liam weighed 225, and I weighed 114. And that the low-water bed had no baffles.)  To put it mildly, we tossed and turned a lot.  Liam turned--I tossed.  Every time Liam turned over, a giant tsunami wave of water bore me up and tossed me over the side.  I kept waking up in mid-air, shrieking, and then slamming onto the floor. It was like trying to sleep on a roller coaster that kept derailing...



Finally we gave up and tried the other bed.  Worse disaster.  It seems Ol' Saggy had a giant hole in the center...Every time Liam turned over, I fell in that Mattress Vortex and couldn't get out.  Seriously.  Leaving me with a long-lasting fear of mattress suffocation, or Sealy Suffocation Syndrome...



The next morning, bleary-eyed and yawning, Liam and I stood waiting in line for a helicopter tour of Gatlinburg.  So what if I was afraid of heights?  After the night we had?  Piece Of Cake.

        

A Family Freak Show Funeral

 

 

It has now been one month since my sweet Father passed away...I still miss him terribly, but enough time has since passed that I can tell you about our Family Freak Show Funeral...

From the start, it was obvious that my crazy mother had been planning my father's funeral for years.   Much like young girls plan their "dream wedding".  But who plans a "Dream Funeral"--and for SOMEONE ELSE?!  (Is it just me--or is that seriously creepy?! )




The Freak Show proceeded as usual.  "Creepy" was quickly replaced by "Crazy" when we arrived at the funeral home.  Mother had chosen quite a few old photos for a slide show tribute--which sounds innocent enough, doesn't it?  Trouble was, most of the snapshots featured a much younger Mom, smiling and flaunting her cleavage in various bathing suits.  (At this point, the Freak Show was starting to look like a Peep Show.)  Where was my poor Father in all these photos?   Usually somewhere in the background.  For the next two hours, the slideshow played on and on...Siobhan blushed, I rolled my eyes, Saphrona snickered, Liam was oblivious, and Eamon the Pervert Mama's Boy beamed with pride.  But then, he's "not right" anyway.





Things were just as strange the following day at the funeral...It began when Mother insisted that we all meet at her house and ride to the funeral together in the funeral home's rented limo.  Saphrona dug her heels in and refused to ride in the " Death Car", and a huge fight ensued.

 Mother won.  Grumbling, Saphrona took an extra muscle relaxer to tide her over, and we dashed through the pouring rain to the car.  Which turned out to be a Stretch Limo, causing Saphrona to snort loudly and say "Oh, great!  The "death car" is a PARTY CAR!"  Elbow in her ribs.  "SOMEbody must think we're going to a party--how damn ridiculous can She be?!"  Siobhan turned to the window and tried desperately not to laugh; I gave my sister another elbow in her ribs.




Apparently the muscle relaxers heightened Saphrona's sense of awareness, because suddenly she realized Mother had over-booked--there were more Freaks standing around, getting wet in the drive, than there were seats in the car.  Hmmm.  Now the Freak Show was threatening to turn into a circus--soggy Freaks stuffed in a limo, silly clowns stuffed in a clown car...not much difference, really. (Similar nose, similar clothes.)





We managed to sort out the seating dilemma, putting elderly Uncle William up front with the limo driver.  Uncle William is a certified Freak himself; his latest hobby is shuffling around, photographing old tombstones.   On the way to the funeral, he turned to the driver and asked, "Go to many cemeteries?" Total silence ensued.  (Really, Uncle Will?  The guy works for a FUNERAL HOME.)

Miracle of all miracles, we arrived safely and on time--even though the rain was still coming down in torrents. We all managed to wade to the church steps, where we were handed  the customary funeral service bulletins...but wait!  I couldn't believe my eyes--there on the cover was my parents' Wedding Picture.  (My father died--not their marriage.  According to Mother, THAT died years ago.)  She just HAD to get in the picture, didn't she?! What the hell is it with Mother and photographs?!




The funeral service was short and bitter-sweet.. Mother never cried;. Saphrona, Siobhan, and I did. When the service ended, the Extended Freak Show piled back in the pseudo-clown car for the ride to the grave site.  Did I mention it was RAINING?!  As we walked across the cemetery, poor Siobhan's heels kept sinking in the mud, causing her to lurch from side to side--like a drunkard on a ship-- grasping at fellow mourners like  damp black lifelines.  ("Oops!  Sorry!  Eek!  Sorry!")  All the while, rain water poured down both our backs from a huge umbrella some old gentleman thoughtfully tried--without success--to hold over our heads.



The wind continued to blow and the rain continued to fall throughout the graveside service.  Nonetheless, the military honors were done beautifully--especially the heart-breakingly sweet  sound of "Taps" piercing the rain...My father would have loved that..  




Finally all the umbrellas turned and started toward the drive.  As we sloshed across the cemetery, my mother was heard to complain, "WHY didn't they shoot the guns?  I thought they would shoot the guns!!" ( Good thing they didn't.  Ol' Eamon is a convicted felon, and he isn't supposed to be near a gun.  Ever.  Get a grip, Mother, before one of The Freaks goes all "postal" and shoots YOU!!)

And so ended another chapter in the Freak Show annals.  Until next time.

     




    

 

Even The Heavens Weep Today...

Even the heavens weep today...













Rest in Peace, Dearest Father.
We love you, Now and Forever.

IN Loving Memory Of My Father

My heart is heavy, my soul is weary, on this, the darkest day I have known...Today I lost my  Father.

Would that you could have known him!  My father was a  good man--kind and gentle, filled with compassion; a man with an easy manner, a quick intelligence, and a quiet confidence.  A man slow to anger, and quick to forgive.  Throughout my storm-filled  childhood, my sainted father was the rock I clung to in the wake of Mama's rages.  He was my comforter, my salvation, my  friend.       

My father in his younger years was a true jack-of-all trades; even now, I marvel at the scope of his abilities.  He could roof a house or repair a radiator with equal ease; he could paint walls or plow a field, cut the lawn or lay a tile floor.  He could fix an engine, bake a cake, build a barn, and throw a horseshoe.  He could repair TVs and radios.  There was nothing my father could not do; he was always my hero.

My father was a good provider and a generous man.  He worked two jobs for most of my childhood, so that we could have all that we needed and most of what we wanted.  Many times I saw him take the last two dollars from his wallet and hand it to a stranger in need.  He was a very giving man; he gave freely and from the heart.

 One of the best gifts I ever received came from my father, and it was the following advice:

"Never let anybody tell you that you can't do something because you're a girl.  You can learn to do anything you want,  if you want it bad enough.  You might not be the best at it--nobody can be the best at everything--but if you try hard enough and long enough, you can learn to do anything well. Everything you learn is yours forever--nobody can take that away from you; so learn all that you can!"        

My father was a wise man, and  I took his words to heart. I learned to draw and to sew, to do algebra and to diagram sentences.  I learned to saw and hammer and paint.  I learned to cook and to can, to farm and to fish, to ride a horse and to paddle a kayak. I learned to make baskets and to build barns, to cut lawns and to fix holes in radiators. Some of my knowledge came from books, some was acquired from strangers; the most important things were taught to me by my wonderful father.  I learned to love unconditionally.  I learned to laugh often, at life and at myself.  I learned to forgive the unforgivable.

 The ever-growing  tapestry of my life is woven with varied and vibrant colors; each thread is something I have read, or learned to do, or experienced  along the way.   My life has been so much richer, so much fuller than it might have been, had I not been given that advice.  And it came from the  greatest gift of all--my  Father.

Easter Greetings From Just2Gypsies And The Freak Show...

Easter Greetings!

WE'RE BAAAACK!



At this very moment, Siobhan and I are elbow-deep in our own Easter traditions--boiling and dying Easter eggs; filling candy baskets ( for each other and for Liam); eating Peeps and Peeps and more Peeps...
 I'm washing mine down with glasses (pleural) of  Dennis Vineyards Spring Muskadine Wine.  (You can order your own at:  www.dennisvineyards.com)


 Siobhan is washing hers down with multiple (also pleural) peep-tinis (recipe to follow).

Ingredients

1.5oz Sobieski Lemon Meringue Vodka

0.5oz white chocolate liqueur

1oz cream

sugar, for rim

Peep, for garnish

Directions

Dip rim of chilled martini glass into sugar to coat. Add Sobieski Lemon Meringue Vodka, white chocolate liquor and cream in a cocktail shaker with ice. Shake and strain into sugar coated martini glass. Garnish with a Peep and serve. Tip: you can cut a slit in the bottom of the Peep to help it stay on the rim of the glass!

The fact that Siobhan's recipe calls for marshmallow rabbits led to a lengthy discussion on Peeps.  Being the senior authority on Peep anatomy, type, genus, sub-genus, etc, I contend that only chick-shaped Peeps are true Peeps.  All the others--rabbits, jack-o-lanterns, and snowmen--are not legitimate Peeps, and are therefore Bastard Peeps. Siobhan obviously doesn't agree with this theory, as she is snorting with laughter, and Peep-tini is coming out her nose.  Regardless of my daughter's Spraying Fountain act, I assure you it's true-- all of the  non-chick peeps are commonly known as Little Bastards. These should always be eaten first, just to put them out of their misery.

As to Peep anatomy--they all have a bad case of Gone-Ass (flat bottoms), and no legs at all.  The least said, the better.




Another common Easter misconception concerns chocolate rabbits.  Most folks assume the ears are the best place to begin eating one.  Well, that is just Wrong.  The kindest way is to whack his entire head off with a meat cleaver, and after waiting 20-30 minutes, eat the whole thing.

As I look around our kitchen, I realize that all Easter candy is either an animal or an animal by-product (lambs, chicks, rabbits, eggs). Which kinda raises a whole new set of questions...What kind of candy do vegetarians put in their children's baskets? Do they have candy bean sprouts and marshmallow soy beans?  Chocolate tofu?   Do they dye their boiled potatoes? Hmmm...After a few more glasses of wine, I might call up a few and ask them.  Meanwhile...

Happy Easter!