Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Little Red Ridin' Hood

(I took a writing class many years ago from Dee Pace. Once of the assignments was to take a classic fairy tale and make it contemporary. You can tell from this piece when I wrote this. It's not meant to be a political statement, I just have a warped sense of humour....and it just sort of flowed. It's been awhile, so hopefully all the innuendoes are still recognizable.  Enjoy!)

Once upon a time in the land of freedom and opportunity, a mother prepared her daughter who had reached the age of assent, to go out into the cruel world of harsh reality.  For mother knew there to be many who were powerful, whom she likened to wolves because they would prey under the guise of goodness upon the innocent.  With these admonishments, mother sent daughter into the world, dressed in a patriotic, nautical dress.  Adding the perfect touch, she topped the dress with a smart beret perched slightly to the left upon her daughter's head; enhancing thick dark locks, while displaying big blues eyes, robust cheeks and a toothy grin.  Mother sent along a basket of goodies to be shared only with those possessing grandmother's teachings–that of being worthy.  With a basket overflowing in wisdom, charm and self,  daughter left mother's home listening to one last caution, "Do not go down the avenue named after the train state, and do not go near that big white house. . .because there lurks the power that consumes."
The young lady enjoyed her freedom and found a few worthy of the gifts she carried in her basket.  Little by little, she began to share her gifts, using her grandmother's teaching.  Surely her mother was mistaken; she had yet to find power--a wolf disguised in promises with disturbing consequences of broken vows.  With this assurance, the young lady found herself upon the doorstep of that big white house.  Giving in to temptation, she knocked.
A very large, giant of a man opened the door.  His smile quite large, with eyes quite leering, he clapped his hands in glee.  "Oh, my, young lady, have you come to my aid?"  Remembering her mother's warning, she feared this man might very well be that wolf disguised in powerful clothing. 
Smiling again, he asked, "And what is your name?"
"Lou Ann, sir," 
"And your last name?"  He rubbed his hands together and smacked his lips, while watching her intently through hooded eyes.
"Ski," Lou Ann softly answered.
"What a nice moniker, Lou Ann Ski."  The man couldn't hinder the shining gleam of lust radiating from his eyes.  "Please come in and let me look through that quite attractive basket you are carrying so closely to your chest."
"Oh, sir, there is no way I could come in.  I am not supposed to be here.”  Lou Ann clutched her basket closer and turned to leave.
“Ms. Lou Ann Ski.”  The man grinned.  “Oh, I love that name.  Do you mind if I use it all together?  It seems to roll so fluently over my tongue and out of my mouth.  Please, my dear. Come in my office, its oval, you know . . . and we shall discuss this fear you have of power.”
Not able to dissuade this man and so sure she could change his evil ways, she marched behind him--straight into his office.
While he talked, she couldn’t help but notice certain things.  Stopping in midstream, he asked her if, perhaps, she had a problem?
“Oh, no sir.  I just noticed what big eyes you have.”
“Oh, my dear Ms. Lou Ann Ski, all the better to see you--”
“And what big teeth you have--”
“All the better to--”
As he attempted to finish the sentence and grab her by the shoulders, a much harried, angry lady burst forth into the room.  Her flushed face clashed angrily with her dress.  Too bad, because she looked so pretty in pink.
“Stop this now, I say!”  The lady seemed wicked as a witch.
“Who are you, ma’am?”  Lou Ann asked.
“I am from the west wing.”  The lady answered testily.
“How did you know I was here?”  Lou Ann asked in her innocence.
“You won’t believe this, but I was led here by a star, but not from the East . . . I think from Texas.  I am trying to stop the injustice of power over innocence before this goes too far.”
The man moved to say something, perhaps in apology, to the witch.  She stopped him cold with a withering look and a condescending, “Zip it, I don’t want anything out of you.”
Amazingly, this seemingly powerful giant stepped back, and Ms. Lou Ann Ski realized who truly held the power within the big white house on the street named after the state with trains.  Leaving as quickly as she could, she thanked her lucky star--the one from Texas--for saving her from more embarrassment for not seeing sooner, the wolf dressed in powerful clothing.

Monday, July 25, 2011

Seeing eye front seat driver???

A Dollar’s Worth
By Alisa Dollar

Prof told me I had the makings of a good country song when I was telling her about driving husband’s pickup while he was driving me nuts. Before I finished the tale, she was laughing.

I decided to write an article instead.

Disclaimer to men who can’t laugh at themselves….stop reading here; women, you’ll be nodding furiously in agreement.

It started when husband had his eyes checked. I had a dental appointment to have my teeth cleaned. The two offices are within a mile of the other across town. Husband decided I’d drive after his appointment because his eyes would be dilated. Unlike some, it takes quite awhile for him to look normal, not like a wild person.

Everything went well until I had to drive. He is very protective of his pickup and more so when I am driving said pickup.

Remember, he can’t see.

I will admit upfront I feel as though I’m driving a bus which in and of itself is bad enough; but to have a front seat passenger side wild-eyed helper makes for a very irritating afternoon.

That’s the good part.

The bad part is that Mr. Wild-Eye Know-it-All Can’t See Husband decides I don’t know which lane to get into in order to turn. Then, I must not know this pickup is different to park than my 4-door Taurus.  What? Like I don’t know I’m driving a tank?

And the last and most indefensible thing he said to me “What if you had to parallel park, what would happen? Huh?”

As calmly as I could I replied that was a mute point as there were no parallel parking spaces available and that most likely I would ram whatever was in front and back of me like I did all those years ago when I took my driving test.

“I’ll bet you didn’t pass either!” he grumped while still telling me that I needed to back up and retry because I was too close to the car next to us.

I refused to tell him I had to retake the test.

As much as I don’t like to go to the dentist, I was happy to get in that office and catch my breath.

Maybe I will write a song--I was driving my husband’s pickup while was driving me nuts.

It really does have a ring to it.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Patience......DID YOU HEAR ME???? :-)

A Dollar’s Worth
By Alisa Dollar

Have you ever wondered why the love verses in 1 Corinthians start with “love is patient”? All you have to do is be married 42 years—or 5 minutes.

We celebrate 42 patient years together this week. Son’s marrying this week to a lovely young lady.

While talking about the upcoming nuptials, he laughed at something I said about his dad. I reminded him his life as a single, only think and/or take care of yourself days are numbered.

He informed me that he’d lost that when they committed to marriage.

I laughed because idealistically he truly believes himself. When reality hits for both of them, they’ll understand my laughter.

Marriage is a wonderful institution. I took vows knowing I would do my best to keep them. What I didn’t know was how hard it is to keep them!

I really thought I’d be June Cleaver in sweats, barefoot, sans pearls. I thought hubby would be Ward in a button down oxford shirt, jeans and boots. We’d have two perfect children and live happily ever after.


I suppose there are those that have a perfect, pearly, clean house, three hot meals marriage.

That is truly wonderful. I wouldn’t be able to stand the quiet. Think about it. Did Ward ever yell at June? Did June scream at Ward or Beaver and Wally? No. She put her hands on her hips and shook her head and said in even tones how things needed to be.

I’m a believer in letting it all out, get it over with, hug, kiss, and as that TV comedian says “Git’r done!” By the way, I don’t really understand that guy, but that’s another column.

After visiting with son, I thought of things just this weekend that would reiterate love is patient.

The time changed Saturday night. Husband says aren’t you going to bed, remember we have church and communion at nine. Of course I know all that, but I don’t say anything. Love is patient.

Sunday morning ten minutes before time to leave, I hear “Do you know what time it is?” Love is patient.

Sunday afternoon I’m cleaning my closet to put winter in and summer out. “Are you going to clean this mess up?” Love is patient.

Those are just a few. Husband has a list as well.

I know why this is first. Marriages wouldn’t last without patience.

Love is patient.