Sight Seeing at Home

Yesterday I went to Pop's in Arcadia Oklahoma, home of the world's largest Pop bottle.  Great food.....on Route 66.  They have every conceivable kind of soda pop you can think imagine.  I couldn't resist getting a six pack of Rat Bastard Root Beer!  I can think of a few "Rat Bastards" to give it to starting with my ex-hubbie!



Then we went down the road a 1/2 mile to see the Round Barn.  I can't remember when it was built but it was in the 1800's I believe.  It has been restored and now has a gift shop in the bottom and the loft above is rented out for receptions and parties.  Pretty cool!   All this and it was only a short trip up the highway yet I'd never seen either one.  Fun way to spend a Sunday afternoon!

Round Barn in Arcadia OK on Route 66

Arkansas Patti recently got me to thinking about some of the colorful jobs I have had over the years.  When I was a teenager my dad's pawn shop was located next door to a temporary employment agency.  Every time they had some off the wall temp. job that no one in their right mind wanted....guess who was called in to do it?  Yep...that would be me.  My dad volunteered me for all the bazaar jobs.  I guess I actually started working at around age 12.  I was the neighborhood babysitter and by the time I was 15 I was taking care of kids for an entire weekend while the parents were out of town.  Someone must have thought I was a responsible kid or they were desperate for a break. 

At 16 I was given my first job assignment.  I was to count cars on designated street corners.  I didn't have a driver's license at the time so my mother would take me to my assigned corner (around 6:30 a.m.) where I would stand and count how many cars turned left, how many turned right and how many went straight.  I would be out there until 9:00 a.m. and then return to do the count around 4:30 - 6:30 p.m. 

Now, besides being a mind numbing boring job it was also a little dark that early in the morning.  My mother didn't like leaving me alone on the street corner so she would continue to circle the block keeping an eye on me.  Every time she circled the block I counted her.  That explains the exuberant number of street lights installations that year.

My next temp. job was as a receptionist for a medical office.  I was only filling in for a day and all I was to do was answer the phone and schedule appointments.  I might have been called back if I hadn't scheduled appointments for Saturday and Sunday.

The next job I had I was now 17 and I got this job on my own without the aide of the temp. agency.  I went to work on the night shift at a fishing lure manufacturing company.  I worked alone in the office typing up shipping orders for the next day.  There were about 300 employees and the majority of them were women.  There were the "Dotters", the women who painted the white pupil on the eye of the fish.  All night long they painted the white dot as the fish went by on a conveyor belt. 

Then there were the "hookers".  They put the hooks on the lures and bragged about how they could "hook" over a 1,000 a night.  Often there were fights breaking out on the line between the dotters and the hookers.  I was just so young I adopted the "be seen and not heard" philosophy.  There were some tough women at this place. 

One night an angry gun toting ex-husband showed up about 2:00 a.m. looking for his ex-wife, one of the "hookers".  Seems he thought there was more to her job than fishing hooks.  I climbed under my desk and waited.  I was absolutely terrified.  By the time the police showed up and finally got the ex-hubbie to surrender I had already filled out my notice that I would not be returning!

Working as a teenager was the best preparation for life I could have received.  It was also a great inspiration to stay in school lest I be a hooker and hooking 1,000's a night.  No sir........Not for me!

I woke up this morning about 3:15 and found myself unable to sleep so I started watching television.  The Michael J. Fox special on "The Life of an Incurable Optimist" was on and so I watched.  It was interesting to see that in some ways optimists and pessimists are pre-disposed but that environment can play a part in molding that pre-disposition.  I've always known that I am an optimist.  It is the way I look at the world.  I guess I've also had a slight smugness in  thinking that "my way" of seeing the world is slightly better than "the other way."  That maybe us "optimists" are just happier people all the way around.  What I learned this morning is that the pessimist's brain is wired to think of the worse case scenario in order to better cope.  It gives them the necessary time to plan and prepare which helps them cope with the fear.  They are more productive when they can plan for the worse.  Us optimists on the other hand become less productive when we are hit with "fearful scenarios".  Good thing we are just naturally oblivious I guess.  Pessimists need an opportunity to rehearse for the bad stuff.......whereas  I see that as a waste of good energy.  I'll deal with the bad stuff "if" and "when" it happens and not one minute before.  Pessimists just call that denial.  I call it preserving my energy......and frankly I'm pretty happy just being oblivious to the possibility of everything going wrong!

and then............

OK, I'm just not sure where to begin anymore.  Do I start at the end and work my way back?  Or do I just pick up where I left off?  Here is the Reader's Digest version of the past few days.  

I dog sat
Saw a movie
Opened & closed my eyes on cue a few times.
Worked

Ummmmmmmmmmmm that's about it!

Since my vacation in July I have really been bitten by the travel bug. I have been trying to entice my daughters and their husbands into joining me on a trip to Beaver's Bend.

  Now who wouldn't want to come stay in this cabin in the woods?  It just looks so homey and inviting.
 

 I can just see myself sitting in front of a warm fire (in November) and enjoying the serenity and peacefulness......hmmmmm now why am I wanting my family to go with me?


There will be a Folk Festival & Craft Show the weekend I want to go.  Turn of the Century craft demonstrations, folk music, fall foliage!!!!    I really want to hear "Charlie Buehling & the Skirtlifters".   So........grab your banjos and meet me in Broken Bow, Oklahoma.  I think it would be a knee slappin good time!

and by the way...

Something I forgot to mention in my last post was how as teenagers we had a snooker table set up in our garage. My dad was quite the pool shark and we spent hours trying our best to beat him. The garage floor was painted red and when I had the opportunity to tour the old house I was taken through the garage. The first thing I spotted was the circle on the worn painted floor right where the snooker table had stood. I could almost hear my dad and the sounds of my friends echo through the garage. The new homeowners had been told by former neighbors about the snooker table and my dad so they were happy to hear my first hand account of our games. How nostalgic the tour was and it sure brought back great memories. Everyone should knock on the door of a childhood home. You never know what you will find!

When I was 8 years old my family and I moved to a beautiful new home. Having moved form the modest two-bedroom frame home of my childhood this glorious four- bedroom home felt nothing less than grand. One of the many attributes of the French provincial home was the parquet floor that went throughout.

I lived in this house with my family from age 8 until I was 21 years old. Over time the parquet floors started to show some wear. Some of the parquet had become loose and small pieces of tile could be removed. There were loose tiles all over the house and I decided I would leave hand written notes under them. I’d write my name and age on a small piece of paper along with the date and fold it flat and put them under the tiles. Sometimes I would jot down something about my family or who my boyfriend was at the time. On my wedding day I was in my room getting dressed when my my shoe happened to kick up one of the loose tiles in my closet. I decided to leave one more message.

My parents sold their home in the summer of 1977. Since that time the house has had several owners. Last summer, 41 years after I left home, I was driving past the old neighborhood and noticed there was a garage sale taking place at my parent’s old house. I figured it was a great opportunity to talk to the current owners and tell them I once lived there as a child. Two women were working the sale when I stopped and asked if one of them was the owner of the house. One lady answered saying that she and her husband and 3 children lived there. I immediately told her my connection to the house and I was met with the warmest reception. She was so excited to hear about the house and its original owners and immediately invited me to go inside. I followed her through the familiar entryway.The den was being used as a dining room and walls had been removed and an entire new family room added on to the back of the house. Though things had definitely changed since I lived in the house there were many things that I recognized, from the brick fireplace to the parquet floors.

As we continued to tour the house the next room I was shown was my old bedroom. Though the wallpaper had long since been removed the room was still pink in color and it was now the bedroom of their 8 year old daughter. I told the little girl that the room had been mine when I was just her age. I told her about how I used to line up my stuffed animals in the window box just as she had done. I then asked her if she had every found a loose tile in the closet. Her face lit up with a look of recognition and she replied she had. She then asked if I was the “girl” who had written the note. Then the most amazing thing, she walked across her room and opened her jewelry box and pulled out a small, yellow piece of paper and handed it to me. I opened it and there were my words, “Today is my wedding day, I am leaving this house of my childhood for the last time. August 1, 1969."

I found the neatest sight today it is a station at www.pandora.com that only plays the type of music you want!  It's a lot of fun so check it out.  All you do is select create a station and then you put either the name of a group or favorite song in.  They will automatically select songs or groups that meet your request.  It really is fun.  I put in groups like The New Christy Minstrels and Simon and Garfunkel..............my blast from the past!  So much fun!  I'm having fun rockin out at work!!!!!

Name Change

A good looking man walked into an agent's office in Hollywood and said "I want to be a movie star." Tall,handsome and with experience on Broadway, he had the right credentials. 

The agent asked, "What's your name?"

The guy said, "My name is Penis van Lesbian."

The agent said, "Sir, I hate to tell you, but in order to get into Hollywood, you are going to have to change 
your name."

"I will NOT change my name! The van Lesbian name is centuries old, I will not disrespect my grandfather by changing my name. Not ever."

The agent said, "Sir, I have worked in Hollywood for years... you will NEVER go far in Hollywood with a name like Penis van Lesbian! I'm telling you, you will 
HAVE TO change your name or I will not be able to represent you."

"So be it! I guess we will not do business together" the guy said and he left the agent's office.

FIVE YEARS LATER...... The agent opens an envelope sent to his office. Inside the envelope is a letter and a check for $50,000. The agent is awe-struck, who 
would possibly send him $50,000? He reads the letter enclosed. . .

"Dear Sir, 
Five years ago, I came into your office wanting to become an actor in Hollywood , you told me I needed to change my name. Determined to make it with my God-given birth name, I refused. You told me I would never make it in Hollywood with a name like Penis van Lesbian. After I left your office, I thought about what you said. 

I decided you were right. I had to change my name. I had too much pride to return to your office, so I signed with another agent. I would never have made 
it without changing my name, so the enclosed check is a token of my appreciation.

Thank you for your advice.


Sincerely,

Dick van Dyke

(I don't care who you are, that's funny.)