October 25, 2013
Here’s the story of a lovely lady, who is bringing up three
very lovely girls, all of them have hair of gold, like their mother, the
youngest one in curls. You get the picture, I sing the Brady Bunch theme song,
once, with the children, as the crew is looking at one another from their
independent boxes. One viewing is plenty. I return the Complete Season Two DVD
to the library, knowing I cannot stomach one more episode. Expected to feel
more nostalgic yet it only made me realize just how ridiculous the series is. I
had a relatively sheltered childhood and the Brady’s seemed so cool.
Jan Brady most likely wouldn’t have walked off with her client’s
house keys in her front pocket. I arrived home, fed the critters, ate a bowl of
vegetable soup, emptied the grocery bags and on my walk with the dog, found her
keys, nestled in the far reaches of my pants pocket. I will be in Mrs. B’s neighborhood
tomorrow night anyway, vying for first place at the Pumpkin Carving Contest
Party around the corner from her place. I have one more opportunity to get a
stencil of sorts from my daughter’s talented hand, to create an image that more
than vaguely resembles something familiar. She and I are grocery shopping in
the afternoon so I will beg for her assistance. It is tough for me to draw
recognizable stick figures, let alone the frightening features of a pumpkin
head. My client feels sorry for me tonight when I moan about my predicament and
suggested I ask her visiting son, Ron (who is older than me, for crying out
loud, not some 7 year old kid,) if he would be kind enough to pencil something out
for me. Of course, I declined in shame. Who can’t carve a pumpkin? OK, me. Perhaps
if I had Marsha or Cindy for a sister, I would be asking them.
No comments:
Post a Comment