© Les Becker, 2010
Taken November 21, 2010 with Nokia N97 Smartphone
When Ruby was a young girl, her school in Northland had a fair once a year, in the spring. It offered the usual school fair “stuff” of the era; games of chance, 4H projects, etc., and students could show off (and sell) their needlework and baked goods.
One year, Ruby won a needlepoint contest – got a trophy and everything. Another year, she and her sister Joycie entered a singing contest. They won 10 cents each for climbing up on the back of a hay wagon and singing “The Little Shirt My Mother Made for Me.”
The real killer year for Ruby, though, was The Year of the $5 School Cake.
She and her sisters each baked up something to sell at the school bake table every year. This year, Ruby had baked a chocolate layer cake. It was a beautiful cake and she was really proud of it.
On the walk to the fair, Ruby fell behind a little, walking veeeerrrryyy carefully to make sure her cake survived the journey intact. She was just coming to the edge of the fairground, far behind her sisters, when a stumbling drunk guy comes reeling towards her, and stops her.
“Hey,” says the drunk. “Whad’ya got there?”
Ruby tells him she’s got a chocolate cake to put on the school bake table.
The drunk says, “Yeah? I’ll give you $5 for it.”
Ruby, not being stupid, promptly handed him the cake. $5 richer, she went wandering around the fair grounds until she found her father at the ice cream stand.
Her father loved ice cream. He looked forward to the school fair every year, just so he could get an ice cream cone. He also loved children, and every year, he bought every kid that came along an ice cream cone too.
When Ruby found him, he asked, “Did you sell your cake?
Ruby said, “Yup,” and told him about the drunk, and showed him the $5.
Now, Ruby’s dad had probably just blown (at 5 cents a cone over 20 or 30 kids) around a buck and a quarter. Ruby, on the other hand, had just gained $5 by scalping her own school cake. All her father could think of to do was laugh.
Ruby has no memory of what she might have spent that $5 on, and it drives her crazy that she can’t remember.
“That was an awful lot of money back then,” she says.
All I can picture when she tells this story, is the drunk – stumbling through the woods and across fields carrying a chocolate layer cake…
Not-So-Random Song-for-the-Day: “The Little Shirt My Mother Made for Me” – Marty Robbins
Taken November 14th, 2010 with Nokia N97 Smartphone
Random Song-for-the-Day: “Love the Way You Lie” – Eminem – featuring Rihanna
Is it Any Wonder I Can’t Sleep at Night?!
My immediate surroundings are a little on the macabre side. I’m speaking here of my space, my attic loft, my Belfry – where I tend to hibernate.
It’s a cool space – to a degree. I don’t mind having a secret panel in the wall – that part of things is pretty frickin’ groovy, but the bloody handprints on the walls have got to go.
My own little Narnia wardrobe…
Same with the mod green rope lights.
And the staples. Thousands of staples. Why for they’re there I don’t know, but they gotta go, too.
I’m gonna need paint. Lots and lots of paint. I’m going to put a base coat of plain white on all the wall panels, and go from there as far as a colour scheme, but before I can do that I have to take down about 200 feet of rope lights that are screw-nailed into the walls.
And then I gotta pull all those F-ing staples out.
I’ve tightly scheduled in time next Friday and Saturday to get the walls “paint-ready”. A pair of pliers, a bottle of rum, and about 4 hours oughtta do the trick…
I’ll keep you posted.
Random Song-for-the-Day: “Please Don’t Go” – Mike Posner
Holy $60 Cellophane Halloweén Costume, Batman
Seriously. SIXTY. DOLLARS. I mean, really: Holy shit!
I had to remind myself (repeatedly) through Halloweén week of my recently adopted “Zen” Attitude. Throughout the scrubbing of ketchup and peeling of chewed-up chewing gum from doorknobs (actually, I thought that was hilarious, but that’s just because Ky, AKA Robin, was the one to turn the knob and gross out), to the near-heart attack over the SIXTY. DOLLAR. CELLOPHANE. SUPER-HERO COSTUME (!!!), to the broken tooth (yes, Karma for the ill-gotten gains swiped sneakily from Robin’s treat-bag), I’ve “Ohm”ed and “Zen”ed my way into a whole ‘nother plane of existence.
I’m Zen, baby.
I think I just like saying the word “Zen”. It just sounds , well… “Zen”, doesn’t it? If ever a word embodies its definition phonetically (now there’s a turn of phrase for you – I just made that up!), it’s “Zen”.
And I think I’ve just proven that just saying “Zen” often enough will make you stoned. Now, that’s “Zen”, right there.
Anyway, that’s been my only recent excitement of late. Behind the scenes now, I’ve been busyish with this new space. I’ve been methodically stealing posts from the old blog, “Where the Walls are Soft”, over to here – particularly The Landlady stories, and The Father Chronicles. Once I’ve got them all moved, I’ll actually begin to post untold stories.
And speaking of untold stories, I’ve been posting chapters of my novella, “Magic” here. They’re not “live” yet, cuz I’ve lost my nerve again. Workin’ on that…
Not-So-Random Song-for-the-Day: “Batman” Theme Song – 70’s