the devil in the deep blue sea.........



to begin i must tell you how much i love and appreciate the comments that you lovely, lovely people take the time to write. they are like those little love heart candies to me.  i read the message and then ingest it. remember, you don't have to say nice things about me, you could tell me about your day, your problems, items you have for sale. well, maybe not that. you can even say bad things about me because at least you're talking to me and i'm sure we can work it out. that said, i was mildly alarmed by the commenters on my last post that thought i might be sad. jesus, i don't want anyone worried i'm sitting around about to stick a fork in my eye. this is the thing, after mom went home it was like when the circus leaves town. you have entertained the likes of tigers and elephants and now the in-house talent is just not cutting the mustard. but real life is starting to reclaim its territory because after all the show must go on. so with that said. here's a tiny tale....

last fall, when i was visiting my ancestral home by the sea, my little family was spending a quiet afternoon going through bureau drawers. mom was sorting through 40 years of saved greeting cards  while i was assessing  her extensive plastic, swizzle stick collection. then my daughter pulled out a bunch of things i had made when i was young. valentines, colouring - that sort of thing.  i saw a drawing and suddenly i remembered.

me: it's a devil picture
mom: god yes, you drew those all the time.
me: i wonder why
mom:  who knows why you did anything.

the drawing was a typical one for about a five or six year old. a house, my family, a giant sun. green grass, flowers and then under the ground a devil. the devil looked like a typical devil. red clothes, horns, tail. i remember i always put him on the left side of a picture, near the bottom. he usually sat in a round hole with a path that led up to the grass or under the house. the devil was always happy, his smile as big as my those plastered on my stick family. i remember drawing him. i remember being so careful. i remember putting him in every picture. i don't remember why.

our family was religious in the most vague sort of way. i don't think i encountered satan on sunday in church. ours was not that kind of get together. but i know that he showed up in all my artwork for about 3 years. my lucifer worship period. i drew no angels, no white gods on fluffy clouds. just that little red pecker and his pitchfork.

me: didn't you think it was weird that i drew the devil all the time
mom: no, why would i worry about that.
me: i don't know why i put him in every picture
mom: well i guess you liked him

do you suppose that's true?  what comfort did devil bring me. the pictures were all happy. i even placed him under the ocean when is drew boats. i can't decide what is odder? the fact he's there in the first place or the fact i drew careful paths for him to reach ground level. i think he disappeared from my drawing sometime around third grade. i remember vividly drawing myself , my cat and him in miss perry's second grade classroom. i can't imagine what would happen now if a child repeatedly placed a happy devil under the ground in all her artwork.. did anyone ask me why he was there? did i have an answer?

bev

in the absence of oars.........

i wish i had something to tell you. nothing has happened since mom left. she, like a giant, ancient glacier scraped my soul to the bone. that was harsh. that poor, old woman, she doesn't deserve that. ok, so she scraped my soul nearly to the bone. it's actually quite hard to get anywhere near my bones these days. i seem to be building a rather wobbly but nonetheless thick protective layer. middle age sucks. well i'm sure old age and death suck more but i want to feel bad for myself right now. what is this new found padding for? that is the question. is it because i haven't prepared for retirement and this is what i'm supposed to live on? and what, oh what is the purpose of an ass this size. all i know is i awake in the morning to find pockets of chub where the night before there was sinewy, taunt flesh. ok, maybe not that but something like that.  jesus, i'm getting jowls and if my breasts droop any lower they may be mistaken for testicles. It seems that after a couple of burritos’and babies I changed. that is a god damn lie, i don't even like burritos', i just couldn't think of a food that started with b and one of my children was adopted so i have no real reason for the downfall. not that I ever was a tiny slip of a thing. when i was younger my mother used to say – yes, we're back to her.  she used to say to people. “feel her, just feel her. you think that's she's fat but she's not. she’s solid.” the “she” of course was me. growing up by the ocean, swimming and endless rowing had produced a body that could rival any east german female wrestler.



 i loved to row. to feel a boat pull through the water underneath you is something akin to joy. i had a small green rowboat or punt as it was called.  my friends and i would be in that boat every day that was fit to be on the water. recently, one of those friends introduced me to someone and said, "this is beverly, she's the one who told us what to play when we were little."  that was me, the imagination bully. when you played with me i decided what was going to be played, i supplied the plot, your lines and your fate. when we in the boat, i rowed and i was captain, we were either pirates, detectives or survivors of a shipwreck. even when we were just fishing, it had to be some sort of drama... we had to catch fish or we would be put to death by our fief holder or something along that line.  one of the girls was quite pretty so she was always the maiden and thus would sit in the bow and sing, the other girl being always jolly would sit in the stern and bail and the smallest girl would do the dangerous bits because she expendable. she was the one to go overboard to retrieve the bail can or untangle fishing line. she would sit wherever there was a spot.  there we were, out on the vast atlantic ocean, far from shore with no fear or life jackets. just me and my unfailing belief that i could control the universe.

i could use that girl that girl today. that girl with the oars. the one who was often heard saying,  “don't worry. i know everything there is to know.”

bev

elder encounters - a field guide........

god, they look innocent enough. sweet, docile, fragile.....but don't be fooled, they will take you out.

well, the visit is over and i survived. sure, there are parts of my self-esteem i may never have feeling in again but the important part is i'm alive.

 42 days of observation and inspection. 42 days my answers never matching what i'm thinking. 42 days of internal laughter. 6 of those days were golden. my susan came all the way from the sea to visit and accompany mom home.

susan and i planned a little trip to canadian rockies. we set off much like we did when we were teenagers. a destination in mind but no firm plans. just drive and enjoy each other's company. and to keep us out of trouble my 13 year old daughter in the backseat.

mom was a bit put out about not going on the trip to the mountains. she didn't want to go because as she says "once you've seen them, the mountains all look the same". but the fact that people were off having a laugh and a look left her pissy. she predicted terrible weather and our demise. the trip was lovely, everything a mini break should be. loud music, beautiful scenery, talking and laughing and laughing and laughing. upon returning i had to give mom a detailed report of our actions. i was ready. my mother loves counting things. she's a kind of geriatric, lady rain man. i had numbers for her. the number of times i filled the gas tank, the price of the chalet, the price of bottled water, the number of kilometers i put on the car and so on and so on but the pride of my report was my animal report. i thought i am going to impress the women with these numbers. big mistake.

me: we saw 3 black bears, 5 elk, 3 deer, mountain 1 mountain sheep, 15 mountain goats and a grizzly bear

mom; that's nothing, do you know what walter and barb saw when they went last week?

me: (quickly deflating) no what?

mom: they saw 4 wolf puppies playing on the side of the road

in my head i thinking wolf puppies, are you f**king  kidding me. they saw 4 god damn wild wolf puppies frolicking in the ditch. jesus, jesus, jesus.

out loud i said... cool

never let them see you sweat.

in the end getting my charge to the airport proved to be a bit of a challenge. the weather was wicked - torrential rain, lightning, tornado warnings. mom was nervous and fretting which equals cranky. i felt bad but i was very tired.

me:  it will be alright mom. i'm sure the storm will be over before your plane goes out

mom:  well, could you tell me when you became a weatherman. you don't anything about when this storm will be over

me: we'll get to the airport mom

(what i'm really saying is we'll get to the airport if i have to body surf the whole way with you on my back)

mom: i guess we'll see about that. i'm not going anywhere if it's not safe.

me: hmmm mom, do you have any of your little yellow pills in your purse.

mom: why would you think i need a pill. i'm fine. it's you that might need a pill, you have to drive.

me: mom i'm going to make you a cup of sweet tea.

mom: that's what i'm saying, i need a cup of tea.

now i don't recommend people do this at home. don't judge me - the situation warranted some intervention.

so i got busy making the brew and i ground up a tylenol 3 and put it in the tea with the sugar. i know drugs are bad and you shouldn't drug other people but i was walking a thin line between exhaustion and hysteria.

me: here's your tea mom

mom: well, it's about time

fast forward to the airport.

i am assisting mom at the check in counter.

mom: i need a wheelchair

me: i will get you a wheel chair - right now i'm getting you a seat.

mom: i want a bulkhead seat

me: they are full.

mom: full, i need one. where is my wheel chair.

me: you don't need a wheelchair yet. we not moving. you can go sit down on the bench if you're tired.

mom: sit on the bench. if i go sit over there you'll have me sitting at the back of the plane. i want a wheelchair

me: fine.

go get wheelchair

me: better

mom: well i'd like to know how long it takes to get a seat on that plane.

move to security

security guy: do you have any laptops or tablets

mom: what is he saying.

me: no (to the security guy)

me: he's asking if you have a computer.

mom: a computer, why would i have a computer i'm 87 years old. i have a boarding pass.(waving it around)

security guy: do you have any liquids

mom: what's he saying

me: no ( to security guy)

me: he's asking if you have any liquids

mom: liquids, i have to buy water if you don't mind. i can't bring my own water because they think i might be a terrorist. i have my boarding pass ( waving it around)

in my head i'm starting to think this is getting a bit absurd. i feel like i'm in a comedy routine and

it's about this time that it dawns on me that mom is stoned.  jesus, i have gotten my mother high. well this changes everything, i have a slight bit of panic but then i think christ if my mom can handle chemotherapy surely one tylenol 3 will be ok.

security guy: you can only accompany your mother to the red line. from there a airline escort will see her safely onto the plane.

me: excellent

security guy: your mother can either be physically searched in the wheel chair or if she's able she can walk through the scanner.

mom: well i guess, i can walk,

she springs up out of that chair like a Olympic gymnast. the security guy and i exchange a look usually reserved for indulgent parents. i hand mom her coat

mom: i've got to go. i had a nice time. i love you dear

me: i had a nice time to and i love you too.

and off she trotted. i looked over and saw that susan had cleared security and she and the airline attendant were closing in on mom. my mom was holding her boarding pass like a flag bearer and asking where her wheel chair was. i turned and walked away.

mother and i parted on good terms but we were both weary. her from the weight of her winning gold medal. me from the thankless job of hosting the games.  there was no elaborate closing ceremony, no soppy good bye. a hurried hug at security with no backward glances. our eyes instead focused on the exit. both of us realize that we do better apart. long distance love.

bev

and it's hard to dance with a monkey on your back..........

i'm exhausted, drained, void of funny.

fine, fine, fine - she's beating me. and if you didn't know it was a contest, well it is. and if you don't know who i'm talking, it's my mother. maybe if it wasn't so hot i'd be able to compete. she told me a couple of days ago that old people can take the heat. i'm sure that's not true, she's just playing with my mind. that's what she does -it's called offense.



so i'm going to tell you something about her. why hold back? i'm pretty sure i've tipped the "no going back blog scale" already. i'm not going to be able to explain away any of this shit, so why not go for volume. terri this bit for you



my mother has many names for her lady bits. it's curious that someone that old would find it necessary but she does. most of her names are nautical in theme; this i assume is because we come from the sea. but for the last while she has been calling her nether regions -  monkey. now, this comes up in the morning, usually after tea." well", she says," i must go wash my monkey" i think yes, yes for christ sake get in there and wash that thing. the children laugh and say "oh, grandma" and then we all try to go about our business and not think about what's going on in the bathroom. except we can't because as i've mentioned my mother is fantastically old and she often is a bit sketchy when it comes to recalling hand towel protocol. our family is extremely paranoid about where those towels have been and what they have been drying. nobody wants to end up with old lady monkey on their hands.



there i've let the monkey out of the bag. now, that feels better. nothing says freedom like exposing embarrassing family secrets.



i am not my mother's favorite child. in fact it is fair to say i am my mother's least favorite child. she told me. not in a roundabout way, not in such a way as to cause confusion. just lobbed it out there a hanging curve ball. here's the play by play of a fable told oft in our home



mom: that fact is beverly, i had my family when i got pregnant with you

me: yes mom, i know



mom: i had my boy and girl. i really didn't want anymore

me: yes mom, i know



mom: and you nearly killed me, you were so big and you were a girl

me: yes mom, i know



mom: your father named you, he was so damn happy

me: yes mom, i know



mom: you were so queer, always sticking things up your nose and you chewed the varnish right off the windowsills. and you never shut your mouth you talked and talked

me: yes mom, i know



mom: but i guess it all turned out. i love you but i can't say i ever was all that fussy about having you

me: yes mom, i know

as mom gets older she and i have this exact same conversation more often. for mom i think it like confession time. Not that she any sense of guilt, it more of the" let's get a few things straight" talk. for me this talk is comforting, it confirms and reaffirms everything i have known since childhood. the information is strangely freeing. there are no expectations placed on me. i am free to come and go as i please.

my mother has spent a lifetime fretting and worrying over my brother and sister. now in her 80's she has turned her attention to me. i have become a novelty act. i am now the favorite by virtue of being the child she thought about the least. she is forgetting all the wonderful things my siblings did growing up and is left with the memories of me. all the odd, quirky, queer, instances that punctuated her relationship with me.

this sounds oh so pitiful and sad but it's not. my mother loves me and i her. this new found focus on me. allows two people who have always been wary of her other to share their common history

now off you go to wash that monkey of yours

bev

ps. 2nd best line of the visit

mom: you're not much entertainment

me: i know

sweet humped back jesus..........

i know, i know. it's not much of a crown and it doesn't scream miss canada but what can i say - you do what you're told. jesus, i'm getting ahead of myself. as it turns out, i've been asked to represent canada in the miss universe pageant. so here i am in my evening wear that is meant to represent the ethnic traditions of my country and people. well, i guess nothing says canada quite like a horny woman.

miss dee over at http://modmombeyondindiedom.blogspot.ca/ presented me a blog award - so out came all my crowns, scepters and shit. i realize that some people think blog awards are trivial, annoying trinkets but not me. well, i'll admit i first thought the sisterhood of the world bloggers award was being presented by a group of women with ungroomed ladybit hair. but i love any and all attention and i'll take whatever is being passed out and cherish it with all the dignity and honour my position on the pageant circuit dictates. all joking aside - i love it

so once again as with any title there comes the weight of the crown. the duties. the talent portion, the interview questions.

The requirements:

1. Thank the person who gave you the award and link back to their blog.

2. Answer 7 questions about yourself.

3. Provide 10 random factoids about yourself.

4. Hand the award to 7 deserving others

........so thank you very much dee over there at http://modmombeyondindiedom.blogspot.ca/ without you this entire post would not be possible. you are a rockstar.

.........the envelope please. the 7 deserving others are people who have visited my blog and left nice comments about me. no, i'm just joking. they all have lovely blogs and most of them said nice things about me. check them out - give them some love

http://redrose-vintage.blogspot.ca/
http://graceful-disaster.blogspot.ca/
http://greeneggsnhamm.blogspot.ca/
http://citygirlgoneranchmama.blogspot.ca/
http://jo-annemotherandnanna.blogspot.ca/
http://whitfieldawesome.blogspot.ca/
http://www.lovekate.me/

(talent portion of the show - me (front - right) hooping my ass off. that's miss belguim in the back. she is such a slut. she has no underpants on beneath that thing she calls a dress. i tried to give her a pair of mine but she was determined to put on a show)

10 things about me

- i am not inspired by rainbows

- i love to tell people what to do

- i only recently learned how ducks have sex

- i love sweet tarts

- i have a secret desire to write fake testimonials

- i think that everyone is my friend

- i often over-estimate by abilities

- i dated a man with 3 toes missing off one foot.

- i was kicked out of sunday school
- i love a good story

the interview .......jim parry, the spokesman for the wwpp (world wide pageant programing) was brought in to once again do the interview. the kreative blog award have prepared questions but as spokesmen, jim is at liberty to use his discretion

jim: good evening. haven't we met before
me: jesus christ jim, it's me bev

jim: sorry deb, let's begin
bev: fine, so that's the way it's gonna be ted

jim: what is your favourite song bev
bev: well on a good day my favorite song is "Birds" by kate nash. the chorus goes like this
"birds fly so high and they shit on your head
they almost fly into your eye and make you feel so scared
but when look at them and you see they're beautiful -
that's how i feel about you"
but on a bad day it's "on fire" by eminem

jim: what's your favorite dessert, bev and let's try and keep your answers short
bev: great hard hitting journalism jim. my favorite dessert is warm blueberry grunt served in a pool of 35% MF whipping cream.

jim: what do you do when you're upset, bev
bev: honest to god jim, do you not remember asking me that last week. do you have anything else?

jim: (sigh) what do you when someone gets angry with you, bev
bev: ok, great question. usually when someone gets angry with me, i laugh. it could be hysterics but i don't think so. a lady once became so incensed after i laughed at her she threw a ukulele at me, now that's a story. there is a possibly that i could in fact, die laughing

jim: what's your favorite pet, bev
bev: hmmmm. well here on the farm we have had a wide variety of pets - cows, horses, goats, sheep, ducks, llamas, pigs, cats, dogs, fish, rabbits...... my children will ride, comb the hair of or put clothes on anything that will stand still long enough. but probably cats - i don't remember ever not having a cat.

jim: which do you prefer - white or whole wheat, bev
bev: i can tell we're probably not going to be discussing world peace. neither jim, i'm a biscuit girl.

jim: what's your biggest fear, bev
bev: firstly, if you took your god damn hand off my thigh you might realize you've already asked me that. but my absolute greatest fear is that i 'll go to heaven and i'll have to fly there in an airplane and that airplane will be piloted by a clown and upon arriving in heaven, jesus will hit on me and my mother and god will be paging me on paradise intercom, asking me to come to the office.

jim: what is your attitude mostly, bev
bev: well jim, i spend a large part of my day trying to be serious, to pay attention and focus on the task at hand. i fail most days because i can't keep the smile off my face.

.........................

thanks bev

ps - i truly love and appreciate all the followers and comments. it all makes me feel slightly stoned and god knows i love that feeling.

the maternal fault finding mission......

.
have i mentioned to you that my mom hand washes her underwear and then dries them on my furnace vents. no, i have probably not mentioned that. why i wonder. well, then none of you would want to be my friend. but it's quite a sight to see. huge - old lady panties, billowing like sails, anchored firmly in place by sturdy knick knacks. it looks like a god damn yacht club.

i tell you this, not to bring attention to my plight but rather to point out my patience and overall goodness. when i look around and see all those unfurled underpinnings, i don't get angry. i instead think "jesus, is someone recording this"

                     

that's how it is with my mother. you can't get mad at her. firstly she's so damn old. secondly, my entertainment bar is set so low that when mom is here i am in a state of constant amusement. i grant you constant amusement is like being on the spinning tea cups at a county fair. fun the first 8 times


i tell you i'm exhausted.

my mother has several basic rules of engagement. she is like a game of battleship.



forward operations (the gauntlet toss)

this is designed to assess the target. the tip of the spear if you will. this was the opening volley at the airport. i had spent $35 to park close to the arrival gate exit.
it is important to remain neutral in the exchange. i feel my nerve endings throughout my body yelling "hold the line". you must remember there is no right answer and you must not engage.

mom: i like to know where this car is parked

me: it's right over here mom, in special parking

mom: well if i had known it was this far i would have gotten a wheelchair.

me: it's right in front of you mom

mom: this is what i'm saying about these big airports, they have free parking close to the door for seniors..



ground offensive (the commentary)

this is the shock and awe part. there are no words to describe it. it’s just mind-numbing verbal banter. no viewers were injured in the following enactment.

mom: do you actually read the back of the movie box or do you just go by the picture on the front.

me: this movie is supposed to be good

mom: could you tell me why no one is doing anything. doesn't one of these people have a gun.

me: they're on a plane mom. no guns

mom: do you mean to say there's not a first aid kit somewhere. this is what i'm saying, there should be a first aid kit on the plane.

me: the plane has crashed mom. it's on fire.

mom: am i supposed to believe that's a wolf. i have never seen a wolf that big

me: that's a wolf, mom

mom: well are they just going give up, where are the guns from the plane ............................................................................and on and on



friendly fire and collateral damage

these are the unexpected gems that usually happen at public places or neighbors BBQ's. the target is not you but nonetheless you're part of the action. it's best to try to contain the incident and minimize the carnage. the following training exercise took place in a walmart check-out line

mom: that man's an albino. look over there

me: there are no albinos here

mom: i guess he is an albino; look at his hair.

me: shhhh

(man turns around and is not an albino, but angry)

me: i'm sorry, sir

mom: what are you saying sorry for. i never said he was an albino, i said he looked like one.



we're 2 weeks in. resistance is futile. 21 days to go.

best one liner so far
mom: you eat more than any woman i know
me: thank you

bev
ps bless you all for following and commenting

what the hell......

you like me, you really like me..... well maybe. it could be pity. so i have been granted 3 blog awards. yes 3, you crazy people. and as reigning miss canada i have duties to fulfill.firstly, i have to do all this technical stuff like explain the awards - i'm going to try and cut and paste that .secondly, i have to bestow these honors onto fellow bloggers. and then as part of one of the awards i get to tell you 7 things about myself. ok, that is going to be the best bit because i have always wanted to be interviewed and that dream is unlikely to happen in the real world. so i'm going to use this opportunity to have a faux interview with let's say jim parry from the miss canada pageant. i'll go find a picture of him for the purpose of the interview. but let's get the business done first.

the awards





the above 2 have the same set of rules – I need to tell you seven things about myself and then nominate seven recipients.
1. Thank the person that nominated you and link back to their blog. Thanks Elosie!http://emcmemoir.wordpress.com
2. Tell everyone seven things about yourself.
3. Nominate seven fellow bloggers and let them know.  i'm nominating the following for both awards
www.inaroomofmyown.wordpress.com
http://samantha-stacia.blogspot.ca/
http://www.annieboreson.com/
http://www.pixiecd.com/
http://oebooks.blogspot.ca/
http://www.ancientwiserwoman.blogspot.ca/
http://mother-effer.blogspot.ca/  (content warning - think eminem but funny)




The Liebster Blog Award is an award for blogs with under 200 followers. Apparently Liebster is German for “beloved” and a blog nominated for this award is “worth watching”.
There are 5 rules attached to this award:
1. If you are nominated for the award and accept it, then you have won!
2. Link back to the person who presented the award to you.  thanks edith
www.inaroomofmyown.wordpress.com
3. Nominate 5 blogs with less than 200 followers who you feel deserve the award.
http://workinwithwhativegot.wordpress.com/
http://oedbooks.blogspot.ca
http://www.annieboreson.com
http://theintrinsicwriter.blogspot.ca
/http://emmacarlson.wordpress.com/
4. Let the nominees know by leaving a comment on their blog.
5. Attach the Liebster award badge to your site.


ok on with the interview

hi, i'm jim parry former host of the miss canada pageant and i'll be the man with the questions

JIM: tell us where you hail from bev
ME:  thank you jim, it's nice to meet you too. i come from a tiny fishing village in nova scotia but now reside in alberta

JIM:  are you a fame whore bev
ME:  maybe a bit jim, but after all isn't that what we all want

JIM: what is your favourite book bev
ME:  good question jim. i would have to say  "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter"

JIM:  do you have a dream job bev
ME:  i would like to be  housekeeper for amy sedaris

JIM: what is your greatest fear bev
ME: well, jim i'm fraught with fear but my biggest fear is that i'll end up going to heaven. followed closely by my mother finding this blog.

JIM: what do you do when someone tips your happy bucket over bev
ME:  well jim, first i have a rage and then i read  david sedaris' "Parade" a story about mike tyson and his kitten called "pity ting"

JIM:  in closing do you have any words of wisdom bev
ME: hmmmm yes jim i do - "what does not kill you, will probably hurt like hell"

thanks for all the applause
bev