Friday, January 30, 2009

Why They Don't Go to Church

Dear Friends,
Writing my grocery list this morning made me think about other lists. I've got to have more on my mind than just eggs, milk and bread these days. Keeping my wits sharp is a full-time job at my age. People expect me to be ditzy but I refuse. I made all A's at the Business School which just goes to show I have brains aplenty.

Remembering several conversations I had with Blooming, the yard man, I realized that he doesn't go to church because he wears a hat. He's got a hat on his head from morning till night. At the dinner table, at the movies, wherever Blooming goes, he's got on some kind of hat usually a baseball cap from one of the garden stores. He's not taking it off. So, he thinks he can't go to church. If he takes his hat off, his bald head shows.

This reminds me of the woman I sat next to when I was doing court watching for the citizens group back in the 90's. The judge came in after the pig call thing the bailiff offers then looked at all of us and told Granny Lane to take off her hat. As if, as you youngsters say. Granny Lane thinks she has bad hair, hadn't been to the hairdresser for two weeks because her check ran out and wasn't about to take off her hat. She looks good in hats anyway. She had on a little cloche type hat which matched her jacket. She would not take it off. The judge badgered her until her sister, Maisy, said, "Mr. Judge Sir, she don't have her hair done, OK?" Looking at all us golden years type ladies glowering at him, the Judge relented.

People don't want to go to church if they have one of those side body bags after intestine surgery. Those bags make noise. In a crowd, who cares about little gurgles but in the quiet of the Sanctuary, a noise matters. It's a shame to give up worship with your church family but for many, the bag makes them stay home.

Then, you have the people who think they can't go to worship because the church is a social club. This is a silly excuse. What they really mean is they are going to isolate themselves from one more social outing. When I say "social" I mean getting together with people. For the lonely, it's just an excuse. I feel so sorry for these people.

I don't feel like getting out everyday but I make myself. If I stop, I may find it easier to stay home from activities tomorrow and if I do that, I may stay home forever. Isolated people have a tough time returning to the world. Thank goodness I don't want to miss anything. I want my gossip first-hand.

People who have piles can't sit in church long. Even with good pew cushions, one's backside gets testy sitting for an hour. I asked Rev. Sweetie about this and she said getting up and down for hymns and such broke up the hour. I don't think so. If your backside hurts, it hurts sitting then sitting down again.

Back in my day, if you didn't have the right clothes, you didn't go to church. I think church ladies were the first recyclers because if you didn't show up for church, we'd take hand-me-down clothing to you for your children and family. Now, people wear everything from beer t-shirts to flip-flops to worship. What you wear isn't an excuse. I suppose some churches expect people to dress up in newish clothing. At my church, the preacher asked the men to not wear suits or sports coats every Sunday just so we'd look friendlier to the community. God does not care if you wear a golf shirt or slacks to worship.

I just had a phone call. Looking at this list, I recall I began with a grocery list. I need to get out to the store if the cat gets off my lap, if I can find my checkbook and if I can change out of this robe. You can't wear a grippy coat to the Jitney. Talk about a dress code!

Aunt Bostick

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

That Nice Young Preacher Lady

Rev. Sweetie surprised me with a visit yesterday. She came to find out when to plant the roses she's seen for sale at the Garden Shop. I told her to wait a few more weeks.

She looked at me seriously then said, "Aunt Bostick, do you have small scissors and tweezers?" Thinking she wanted to use them on the roses, I told her I had both. Before I could mention that you don't need small scissors and tweezers for early rose planting, she blurted out, "your eyebrows need trimming!" Then she blushed.

I love this girl. She's a Methodist and they speak up. I got her the scissors and tweezers and she put me in the good light of the kitchen window and trimmed my eyebrows! Then she started plucking my extra chin hair!

I can't count on the Kut 'n Kurl for anything but a sore noggin permanent. How kind of that young woman to take care the beauty issues I can't see!

She told me she did this for her grandmother and mom. She said she wants to know someone will do this for her when she's older.

As life goes on, hair gets confused and moves around the body. Usual hair thins out, confused hair blooms.

I know Rev. Sweetie likes me because she helps me with something I need done but can't do myself.

Love you all,
Aunt Bostick

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Winn-Dixie, not so winning

Dear Ones,
I had the yard man come over today to help with the flower beds by the back fence. It's cold today, the birdbath froze so I stayed outside for a little while. They pruned some shrubs back with a chain saw. Such a wonder to see fast work on the plants!

Later, I went into town. I ran several errands then on my way home stopped at the Winn-Dixie. I usually shop over by the Jitney but the W-D is right there on Pass Road. My! The prices are so high! The store is clean and stocked with fancy things like olive oil for $21. I don't buy that brand and don't need a big bottle. The young woman checker looked as sour as a lemon. When will these young people understand that their job as checkers, wait staff, fast food handlers are there for them to push the "goods"? Really, I felt that I was just one more intrusion on her day. I asked Miss Lemon, "how's your day going?" She said she was tired. Golly gee! Isn't everyone tired? Aren't most workers tired and not feeling very well? Someone needs to tell these young people to put something of themselves into their work instead of acting as if customers smell bad and want their phone number.

That someone was me. The manager, a young thing with a blank look in her eye, didn't understand me. I said someone should tell checkers to be friendly. She didn't get it.
I gave up. I won't at the Winn-Dixie unless it's an emergency. Every other grocery has friendly staff.

I'm making a pot roast with root vegetables for supper. The Guiden sisters, Wynn and Betsey, are coming tonight.

Aunt Bostick

Saturday, January 17, 2009


Dear Aunt Bostick,
It's great you have a blog now. Why aren't you posting more often?
---A Reader

Dear Reader:
How kind of you to write me! I hope things are going well for you and yours.
Starting a blog is a tad stretch-y for me. I'm busy with my activities here at home. Remembering to sit down to write requires a discipline I've yet to develop.

One of the things I'm thinking about is clean restrooms. When I go to a restaurant, I go to the Ladies to wash my hands before I'm seated at a table. I do this because I want to have clean hands when I eat. If the restroom is messy or dirty, I am bothered. My dictum is " a clean restroom means the kitchen is clean, too." I'd write this in Latin but this morning my head is full of the jumble of Sunday School lessons, cat food bowls and the MLK weekend. Besides, Mrs. Tatum's Latin Class was years ago and here in Beulah, I seldom have an opportunity to burst out with a good Latin phrase.

The Trough, down at the strip mall, serves plentiful, hot country food. It's one of those buffet restaurants where the largest people take every seat. You pay one price and can eat as much as you can carry to your table. Don't try to take your rolls or dessert home in a ziploc bag. The waitresses are trained to spot your hand going into your purse to retrieve a plastic doggy bag. Once, Lally Porter, put a yeast rolls in her hanky to take home "to feed the birds". We all know Lally planned to heat that roll up the next morning for her breakfast. She, like many of us, recalls the Depression, so an untouched roll or pork chop or piece of chicken left on a plate uneaten is verboten. One of the waitresses swooped down and mentioned that Lally might as well take the butter patties on the table, too. Lally reached out to grab the butter patties and the waitress leaned in and said, "We do not allow our food to be taken out!" Lally was so embarrassed that she refuses to go to the Trough again. Or, at least until the waitress takes retirement.

The Trough restaurant has a clean restroom. One of the dishwashers goes in to scrub the lavatories, clean the toilets and put in fresh paper about every hour or so. Like the Cracker Barrel, the restrooms are clean all the time.

Not every place keeps a nice Ladies. I can't eat at Buford's anymore because I believe the bathroom is cleaned once a month. I don't want to name dirty restroom restaurants here because it's better to speak to the manager.

Clean your restaurant, keep your kitchen clean and have kind waitresses. I'd say waiters but the restaurants around here hire women to be the servers. Women are the cooks, too, so I guess the men just get the money.

Writing a blog, for me, means I have to get my kitchen clean, make my bed, straighten up my living room and get my groceries done before I sit down to blog. Clean house means a clean mind for blogging.

Thank you, again, for writing to me. I'm happy to hear from you all.

Aunt Bostick

Friday, January 9, 2009


Reading the paper this morning gave me a chuckle.
We have a subdivision here called "Peyton Place" and a hair salon called "The Total Woman". What? No one checked to see the history of these?

"Peyton Place" was a book about unhappy people made into a television series about unhappy people. "Total Woman" was a anti-feminist manifesto that made me gag everytime I saw plastic wrap for food.

Age gives one perspective and many laughs.

Aunt Bostick

Thursday, January 8, 2009

My Peoples Choice Awards

I watched last night's People's Choice Awards. Who were those people? I didn't know many of them and haven't watched the shows nominated. I try to keep up but TV is not my life.

Here are my Awards:

Favorite Movie: The Sound of Music Julie Andrews is great in this one!

Comedy Movie: Blazing Saddles a tad rude in places but very funny!

Movie Drama: A River Runs Through It

Favorite Independent Movie: All of My Home Movies

Action Movie: Pretty Woman: not a good subject but I like that Julia Roberts

Favorite TV Show: Andy Griffith: solves problems by talking not shooting

Favorite Drama TV Show: The West Wing

Favorite Aunt on TV: Aunt Bee on Andy Griffith

Favorite New Movie Star: Rob Pattison Those Eyes! This is the boy in Twilight!

Favorite Young Woman on TV: Kelly Rippa

Favorite Friend on TV: Regis Philbin

Funniest Man on TV: Jon Stewart rolling those eyes and I crack up!

Favorite Sci-Fi/Fantasy TV: Fox News

Favorite Reality Show: Ophrah

Favorite Singer: Johnny Mathis

Favorite Singer: Luverne Stimpson at Fairway Baptist Church, Opelika AL.

Favorite Cooking Show: watching anyone else doing the cooking

Favorite Radio Show: NPR

You'll love all these too. Better to watch something good for yourself than trash TV, etc.

Friday, January 2, 2009

Maurice at the Kut 'n Kurl

Dear Friends,
I cannot believe it's Friday morning! This week traveled by quickly. Happy New Year to all you young women. Try not to take the world on your shoulders. Jesus handles this, not you. Be happy as you can with what you've got.

Wednesday was my last beauty parlor appointment with Maurice at the Kut n' Kurl. He says his hands are giving out on him after all these years of standing behind women rolling the curlers and putting in perms. He's older than I am so I knew this was coming. It's the end of an era for all of us who see him once a week or twice a month (some women have curl and body in their hair, I don't!) He's been a fine confidant for many years. I learned to tell him only what I wanted broadcast after my second visit. When I first met him, I thought, "Here is a beautician who can listen and not tell." I was right about the first part. He's a beautician. He spreads news better than the local paper.

Over the years, because I like him and how he does my hair, I learned to appreciate how he sifts through what I tell him to pick out the good parts then sends them out on the Maurice News Wire. If I wanted to have help with the Annual Cemetery Clean-up, I didn't say, "I hope more people show up this year to clean up the graves", I'd say, "Maurice, you'd think people would go cut the weeds and freshen up the plastic flowers on the graves of those they say they loved. You wouldn't believe what a mess that cemetery is. Looks like an abandoned hurricane debris pile. I heard someone was stealing the vases right off the graves!" After Maurice cleaned up this message, it would get back to me that people were breaking into graves and stealing jewelry off the dead along with carting off the plastic flowers and vases. When Annual Cemetery Clean-up day arrived, I'd see entire families coming at their dead with rakes, clippers, new flowers and so on. He was that good.

When I heard that Alberta Truett's daughter got pregnant in Birmingham, this was years ago, it bothered me that people would spread this kind of hurtful talk without caring if about the truth.
When Maurice passed this on to me, I said, "Maurice! I wish you'd get to the good part first!" He looked at me funny, he had perm papers and clips in his mouth anyway, and I went on: "Alberta Truett's daughter is horrified at the high living and tacky ways of some Birmingham ladies! She is taking these poor girls into her home to help them even though there are 8 churches between her house and the Piggly Wiggly. She was head cashier there." After Maurice cleared out the clips and perm papers, he got all teary about Alberta's daughter. "She's a lovely young women", he said, "I gave her the first perm she ever had that didn't come from a box. Her mother insisted on using those Tonette perms on that pretty girl until her hair looked like fried wire."

Well, from then on, Alberta Truett's daughter was as close to a Saint as we had back then being Baptist and all.

Got to run. I heard the mailman and I'm expecting my AARP magazine.