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!
Love,
Aunt Bostick
Showing posts with label Correspondence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Correspondence. Show all posts
Friday, January 30, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Correspondence
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.
Gratefully,
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.
Gratefully,
Aunt Bostick
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