Being Martha Louise Hunter

Being Martha Louise Hunter also appears on Wordpress as www.beingmarthalouisehunter.com

 

marching saints

 
saints go marching

i read the newspaper every morning. sit in bed next to my dog bitsey & sip my coffee. the crazy stuff in there blows my mind. 

did you know there was this man who lived with his mom in this teeny-tiny town, came home to find her dead of natural causes, then went around town with a rifle & killed 6 of his cousins? like the bates hotel meets american sniper or something...  

i also saw an article about the "brisket bandit " who loads his grocery basket full of beef in the HEB meat department while his old lady waits out front in a yellow, souped-up buick le sabre. there was also one about someone's jumbo meat-smoker being ripped-off.

wonder if anyone made the connection but me. 

i read the obits every morning, too. maybe it sounds backwards, but some of them make me feel happy -- like the ones where a woman lived to be 100 & her photo is of her at age 19. i really love those --  it's how they'll be remembered & i think that's nice. 

it's why i tuck them away inside my bedside drawer. when i look at them someday, let's just say that i look forward to remembering them when i do.

hey, maybe it's just me, but do you think it's weird when people put happy birthday messages to their deceased loved ones in the obits? as if that's where the person's going to be looking, or something?

you know those obits that are 9 miles long & take up 3 columns that include a huge list of the person's career & education accomplishments? the ones that list the prominent social clubs & country clubs a person belonged to always make me cringe. this might be odd, but it always goes through my mind how difficult & time-consuming they must've been to write, & i wonder who it was that wrote them.

lots of people write their own obits. i bet you've known someone like that. completely obsessed with it -- & i'm not saying that's a bad thing. they just want to leave a precise record of the important things they did while they were on earth. 

i wonder if right before they took their last breath, they'd scratch it all out & start over. to tell the things that were really important.

i remember when my father died. i drove down the highway as fast as i could. found my mother & my dad's sister sitting at the kitchen table working on his piece for the newspaper.

i gave it a look. very short. i remember thinking, that's all my dad's worth -- a short couple of paragraphs, when there's so much more to say about this man i worshipped?  i spoke up, & said, don't you want to put something in there about him that's personal? who answered, my mom or my aunt, i really can't recall, but, "people who really knew him already know those things," is what i heard.

i didn't like that answer much, but maybe when it's my time to bury my husband or my brother, God forbid, i'll have a different perspective than i did that day, i don't know, but i remember telling my mother something really important. something my dad had told me years & years before.

"what do you want your funeral to be like, daddy?" strange question, i guess, but i really wanted to know.

there was a friend of his who had one of those big, beautiful baritone voices. mike sargent, was his name. my dad said he wanted the man to sing, "when the saints go marching in."

i think that's really beautiful, don't you?

mr. sargent predeceased my dad, so, to close the service, the whole congregation belted it out  instead.

Oh when the Saints go marching in
When the Saints go marching in
O Lord, I want to be in that number
When the Saints go marching in

the organist was really getting into it -- cranking it up & adlibbing some jazzy riffs.

what an incredible send-off for my dad. zippy & upbeat. the tears became tears of joy.

if i know my dad, & i do, he was smiling. & laughing, too, i'll bet.

how in the world did i get off on all of that? i'm writing about the brisket bandit, & next thing you know, i'm writing about a funeral.

doesn't matter, i guess. but, if you want to steal my dad's idea, go right ahead.

me, i've already put in my order -- it's what i want my friends & family to be singing at mine.

TTFN    ta-ta for now.

 

hey, forest - give me a piece of chocolate

 

       do you ever feel like you're in the right place @ the right time? like kind of strangely in the right place @ the right time? i do, & lately, it's been happening a lot because i've begun doing things differently. mama's got a brand new bag.

it's not a big deal. nothing more than following the things that are put in front of me -- no stopping to question them or falling into familiar analyze-mode. being in the moment is the key, really. with non-resistance. when you start trying, when you start thinking, that's when it becomes hard.

don't think? that's a new one, isn't it? then, how will you figure out what to do? that's the point. there is no figuring out. it's easy. be open to new things, old things - it's not important. just follow what's in front of you.

i'll say it again: in the moment. no thinking, with non-resistance.

the cool thing is that it moves you out of your comfort zone. maybe i should tell you what mine feels like -- it's super soft & cuddly, like a warm, snuggly bed that i really, really, really don't want to get out of. but this new way of doing things, that cozy comfort zone, wiggly stage fright or whatever else you want to call it becomes rearview-mirror.

this leads to that, that leads to this -- just follow the bread crumbs & next thing you know... the right place @ the right time.

you have arrived.

&, now here's a nifty little treat in the box -- you find yourself looking at things in a different way because there's an exciting new orbit you're operating in. & i truly hate dull, don't you?

i understand your reservations -- i get it, because it does take a little practice. here's a little tip to help you know what to follow. it's usually so damn obvious you could trip over it, but have you ever gotten the same message more than once? as if everyone seems to be saying the same thing, until it's practically being screamed in your ear with a megaphone? that's a good indication.

sometimes, it's just plain, old gut-instinct. just be aware.

no thinking. in the moment with non-resistance.

you'll know.

TTFN

 

the makeup artist

 
the makeup artist

a good friend of mine is one - a makeup artist. she's got a resume long as your arm - movies, mini-series, politicians on tv, all of that cool stuff, & she knows dishy gossip galore ...

celebs tell you a lot while you're an inch from their face, knowing that you're in charge of whether they look hellish or heavenly in front of the camera & they better not piss you off.

anyway, maybe i'm weird, but it's just that another meaning for the term "makeup artist" popped into my head when my friend & i were @ dinner last week.

wait a minute -- you're wanting to know if she's done johnny depp, right? dunno. i'll ask her & get back with you.

his makeup. get your mind out of the gutter.

so, anyway -- i was thinking that, couldn't a makeup artist be someone who's realllly good at making up after a fight?

like, within my dysfunctional family of origin, here's how it works. the only way you know someone's mad at you is when you get the silent treatment. the quiet game. whatever you want to call it, the phone doesn't ring.

until, one day...

hello? that's me.

how are you? pretend that's my sister. chipper tone. it’s been 3 months since we’ve spoken -- highly unusual because we talk all the time.

i'm good me again. neutral tone. notice how I didn’t say something snarky like, "oh, so we're talking now?" that would be poor form.

well, that's good. my sister again. see how she doesn't say, “i've been being a shit-turd,” or, heaven forbid, "i was wrong?"

guess what? still her.

you're absolutely NOT gonna believe it. it's her breathless, secret-confidential-gossipy, voice. the one i just love.

tell me. hear the smile in my voice? -- it's as if we simply set the phone down for a minute & we're picking up the same conversation we've had a million times before. & my sister & i are buds again.

she's the makeup artist.

& it's kind of messed-up, don't you think? but, that's how it's always been done. especially the part where there's no, "i'm sorry." but, maybe that's okay. i mean, we were taught to never tell a lie. if george washington would've chopped down the cherry tree in our front yard, you wouldn't want to be on the premises, trust me.

but, how about addressing the problem, talking things out -- you know, like a constructive, grown-up conversation? oh, hell no! nowadays, parents say, "use your words," which i find totally annoying & i want to pinch their ninny little heads off... but, you see, no one in my family is confrontational. what we had was more like a hit & run protocol. probably sounds strange, but then, maybe it doesn't -- you decide.

&, something else -- in all these years, it's always my sister who initiates these makeup calls. she's kind of a hot-head, & i'm what you'd call the roll-over type, but you probably figured that out already, but here's the thing -- when we're finally talking again, neither of us wants to spoil it. bringing up the reason we haven't been talking opens the possibility of another 3-month silent period, so where's the sense in that? besides, saying ugly words to each other is off limits -- it's our sister-code. ugly words, we reserve those for our mother. not the really bad ones we'd whisper to each other in our bathroom when we were growing up -- i mean, come on -- it's kind of lousy to say things like that about a white-haired, 5-foot-tall octogenarian.

anyway, i'd like to say my sister calls when it finally gets to the point where she misses me more than she's mad at me, which sounds all warm & fuzzy, but deep down, i know the true reason.

without me around, it'd be just her & our mom.

god, i love my sister.

you're wondering something, aren't you? who's older? it might surprise you.

TTFN

 

casino a-go-go

 
0casino

gambling makes no sense, but these places are packed, i'm telling you.

i've heard they pump casinos with oxygen to cause subtle mind control. i looked it up  online to see if that's true.

the answers were mixed. a couple of sites say no, but ask.com says they do it to keep people awake so they won't wander off to bed in the early hours of the morning.

even if it's not true, SOMETHING'S going on & it's working.

here's what happens: you sit down at the slot machines -- the one-armed-bandits. you load in your dinero & keep pulling down the handle even though you're losing your ass. but, I've just GOT to win, you think. I've already lost so much that it's only fair.

now, repeat after me: nothing @ the casinos is fair.

i mean, come on! everything is rigged. how could they afford to have a million tuxedoed blackjack dealers & scantily-clad cocktail waitresses swarming the place, otherwise, not to mention those rows and rows of flashing slot machines?

here was my personal low-point of the weekend.

oh, sorry -- i was @ a schmancy casino in lake charles, louisiana & i forgot to tell you that part.

i plopped down in front of "pharaoh's fortune." there was another machine called "kitty glitter" -- like kitty litter, get it? a little casino humor there.

& about those scantily-cocktail waitresses -- you have to feel sorry for them, forced to dress like a bunch of hookers in head-to-toe gold sequins with 4 inches of cleavage & their belly buttons hanging out, because they're really sweet people & don't deserve that. i became BFF's with a few of them while i was losing my ass, but I'm getting ahead of myself, here.

i finally won $200 with one pull of the handle. old pharaoh threw me a bone.

woo-hoo, i thought, but like a total doofus, instead of taking my golden tokens to the money cage, cashing in & calling it a night, i kept going until i lost every cent.

so, why is that considered fun?

must be the risk. like jumping out of an airplane.

or maybe it's not oxygen that's pumped into the air, but stupid-elixir.

or it could be plain old peer pressure -- you are surrounded by masses of idiots, after all.

and, we sure had a good time.

TTFN

 

my faith in humanity is restored

 
idiot neighbors

have you ever had something that bugs the wahoola out of you? sure you have, & if not, you must be either totally zen, brain dead.

or maybe you're just a nicer person than i am, which is a distinct possibility. okay -- so here's the deal. & this was a big one because it had to do with where i live.

specifically, the livestock that live across the street, like 6 "mother-may-I" steps from the end of my driveway. that's 3 goats, don't know how many chickens, a goose & huge pig. & this is in a pretty decent neighborhood in the middle of a big city, i might add.

& it drives me absolutely nuts, i'm not going to lie.

not only did my neighbor tell me to jump in the lake when i suggested he move the livestock pen across from his front door instead of mine, but my own mother turned on me. not that she thinks it's peachy-keen either, but she told me to get over it, because nothing i was going to do would change it, so i should just take a big old chill-pill.

well, i tried, but i couldn't get it to go down. it got stuck in my throat, or my craw... suffice it to say that it was a gargantuan bur under my saddle.

then, the strangest thing happened this morning. my neighbor said he wanted my input on the new fence & rock wall he's putting up.

no way! seriously?

it sounds like it's going to be pretty nice, too. so there you are.

so, what's the moral of this story? good things come to those who wait? miracles happen? the sun will come out tomorrow?

all i know is that i'm tickled to death, & yes -- my faith in humanity is restored.

does anybody want to join me in doing the endzone dance?

TTFN .... & for anybody who didn't read my post about the grumpy guy @ the liquor store, & you know who you are, TTFN is tigger-speak for ta-ta for now.

so, TTFN!

 

that piña colada song

 
pina colada

what do you want to hear about today? more body language, more miley cyrus, more dear abby?

okay, dear abby it is.

i keep a stack of the stupid ones around here, so let's see what i have.

&, incidentally, i don't read abby's response before writing mine, just to keep everyone honest.

okay. the letter is signed, "second to a screen name."

woman has been married for 7 years with 2 kids. husband has what she describes as an "internet addiction."  he's online all night long from the time she goes to bed to when she wakes up to take the kids to school. (this couldn't be going anywhere good.)  okay, let's see what else... 

uh-oh. she did some digging & discovered he's got lots of different profiles of lots of different dating sites. (well, you saw THAT one coming.)  when she confronted him, he said he has no interest in having an affair, that he's been depressed for some time & that it's his way of escaping. she told him he needs a therapist & he said she shouldn't be hurt because it's only "make believe."

their relationship has taken a serious dive. she doesn't trust him on the computer anymore, doesn't find him attractive anymore & no longer feels attractive herself & says she doesn't know how to be supportive when he won't admit he has a problem.

ahhhhhh, "second to a screen name".....  what to do, oh what to do.

okay. here's what i'd tell her:

he’s a freak, & hell, yes, he’s having an affair. & be supportive? are you kidding? instead of being in bed with you all kissy-face & huggy-body, he’s trolling the internet & if you think he’s just on “dating sites,” well, girl -- you're more cut off from reality than he is. you can either take care of business or you can wait until the FBI rings the doorbell & confiscates your computer.

have the internet yanked out, like pronto. what's he going to do then? start doing it on his phone? get that turned off, too. okay, let's think about this. you don't say whether he has a job or not, but i doubt it because he'd be asleep on his desk all day which means he's probably lost his job now, too.

all right - here's another idea. do you remember that Piña Colada song?

you know, "if you like piña coladas, & gettin' caught in the rain.... if you're not into yoga & you're into champagne," where the loser dude is doing the same thing except with personals ads? the woman writes an ad of her own, he answers it & meets her for a date & they're happily-ever-after again.

okay, scrap that. what a BS song -- i mean come ON!

you've got to dump this guy by sundown or your life is garbage, & if you think it's going to get any better, you're nuts.   men like having a warm place to put it, & trust me, they're usually putting it somewhere.

all righty, let's see what dear abby says:

#1 on the woman's agenda should be going to therapist herself before she gets all depressed, too.  #2, since his own "therapy" for depression isn't working, the wife can't fix his problem because only he can do that, so let's hope he comes to his senses while the marriage is still salvageable.

oh, dear, dear abby... you so clearly need my help. this marriage is not, i repeat not, salvageable & she needs to cut to the freaking chase already.

is that wrong?                TTFN    ta-ta for now

 

thanks, mom

 
thanks, mom

today, i've just got to say it. my mom will send me canned emails sometimes -- the ones railing about  obama being a muslim, i delete faster than you can sarah palin. the cheesy, uplifting variety, i usually skim real quick so i won't feel guilty, & say, yeah, whatever ..... & delete those, too.

it's totally not my style to pass along this kind of thing, so don't get used to it -- my next post will be snarky, i promise.....................  so, THANKS, MOM!

to realize the value of a sister or brother, ask someone who doesn't have one.

to realize the value of ten years, ask a newly-divorced couple.

to realize the value of four years, ask a graduate.

to realize the value of one year, ask a student who's failed a final exam.

to realize the value of nine months, ask a mother who gave birth to a stillborn.

to realize the value of one month, ask a mother who's given birth to a premature baby.

to realize the value of one minute, ask a person who's missed the train, bus or plane.

to realize the value of one second, ask a person who's survived an accident.

to realize the value of a friend or family member:

LOSE ONE.

Time waits for no one. Treasure every moment you have.

 

female courting gestures

 
body language

i'm still reading the book i got on body language & i'm loving it. it's called the definitive book of body language,

in case you're interested. it says that if you ask men who makes the 1st move in courtship amp; most of them will say they do.

wrong-a-mundo.

women are the initiators 90% of the time, or so says this book.

supposedly, there's a 5-step sequence chicks go through when meeting a person they find attractive

stage 1: after the man notices her, she'll hold his gaze for about 5 seconds, & turn away. man keeps watching to see if she does it again. most men are so dense that women have to do it an average of 3 times before a they even realize what's happening.

stage 2:  her fleeting smile -- a half-smile that's her green light for him to approach

stage 3:  she sits up straight to emphasize her boobs and crosses her legs to show them at their best advantage. she'll tilt her head to the side to expose her bare neck before playing with her hair for about 6 seconds, suggesting that she's grooming herself for him.

now, you women probably can't imagine having ever done this... just like me, i'm sure you're far too cool.

stage 4:  man approaches & tries making small talk -- some cheesy line like, what's your sign.

stage 5:  she'll find a way to touch him, which for novices means "accidentally" brushing his arm, the more experienced will touch it with their fingers, while the true hussy will simply cut to the chase & shake his hand.

okay, get ready because you're going to love this: women are more sexually-active when they're in the  middle of their cycle, the time they're more likely to conceive. whatttt? this sounds totally bad idea, but there you are.

List of women's most common gestures to show they're on the make. forgive me, the book says "available."

1.  head toss & hair flick. that means tossing it over her shoulders away from her face, something that even chicks with short hair do, which sounds totally senseless, but the gesture is intended to show that she cares how she looks. this also lets her expose her ARMPIT which allows her "sex perfume" to waft through the air.

oh, come on! I've got to start hanging out in bars so i can see this for myself.

2.  wets her lips & pouts with mouth slightly open.  this is done to make her face appear more "adolescent," as thicker, fuller lips are a signal of youthful femaleness. for the truly desperate, collagen is a must.

i'm not even going to mention what the book compares the wet lips to, especially when slathered in red lipstick ... as a "sexual invitation."

3.  self-touching -- the secret desire.  (please remember that i did NOT write this book)  when she slowly strokes her throat or thigh, she's saying that if he plays his cards right, he can do it, too.

4.  the submission signal of the limp wrist.  i know what you're thinking, and yes - the book says that not only do women do this, but also gay men -- i'm completely serious. it goes on to say that this gesture is a great attention grabber because birds will feign a damaged wing to distract prey away from their nests. oh, & this gesture is intended to show the man that he can dominate.  oh, forever more!

5.  i'm embarrassed to even write this one. she'll fondle a cylindrical object....  stem of her wine glass, a cigarette, maybe that tube of red lipstick she's just slathered on her pouty lips.  she'll even take her ring off her finger & put it back on several times. if you don't get the symbolism of that one, well -- I can't help you

6.  exposing the smooth underside of her wrist -- known to be an erotic area of the female body with more delicate skin. now, here's a little-known fact: it's the reason women apply their perfume there.

7.  glancing sideways over her raised shoulder -- the shoulder shape mimics the round shape of a breast. doing this with drooped eyelids is also a nice touch.

8 & 9.  rolling hips & pelvic tilt - i actually skimmed these, but they had to do with the sexual use of these areas & something or other about childbirth.

10.  sliding her purse towards him -- because of women's  "don't touch my damn purse" feelings, if she puts it close to him, it's a strong signal of intimacy. if she thinks he's a real fox, she'll even begin to fondle it.  even typing this, i'm really embarrassed to be a woman.

11.  tucking her leg under hers rump & the knee point -- double whammy on this one... gives her the opportunity to both point her knee at the man she's interested in, AND flash her thighs.

12.  the ever-sexy shoe fondle -- dangling her shoe off the end of her foot shows the phallic effect of the foot being thrusted in & out of the shoe. this action is said to especially unsettle men.  okay.....

13.  the leg twine --  by crossing her knees & pressing her top calf against her lower shin, it makes it look like she's got muscle tone even if she hasn't worked out for years. & being strong & healthy is a plus for good sex.

OMG   ......  enough said.

Guess it's TTFN    learned that from my homeboy, Tigger. It means ta-ta for now!

 

happy birthday to me

 
birthday candles

it's tomorrow, and i say, who cares?   I guess you could say the thrill is gone. here's what i've done since i was in my early 20's -- something ingenious, really. about mid-year, i begin telling myself that I'm already the next year older so it won't be such a shock when it gets here.  you should try it.

i used to really hate getting older. when i was whining about it a few years back, my mother looked at me and said, you know, martha -- you've had a lot of birthdays.

after i got over the indignity of her comment, i was left wondering why people apologize for being older. I mean, what's that about?

think about it.

here's what i said to my snotty little daughter the last time she made a disparaging comment to me about being old:

listen here, you little pipsqueak. i was kind of a hot babe when i was your age & you ain't got nothing on me.

come to think of it, you should be writing me a thank you note.

and you're grounded.

was that wrong?

TTFN - ta-ta for now

 

miley cyrus - i can't believe i'm writing about her either

 
miley cyrus

the uproar & hoopla from the Video Music Awards show has died down. gratefully.

yet, I'm still having flashbacks of miley's disturbing, flesh-colored Daisy Dukes. if only I could wash my mind out with soap.  

her performance left me saying, honey, you can't dance so please give it up & that goes double for that nasty foam finger you kept putting in very unladylike places.    anyway, i've finally put my finger on the reason i was so appalled.

you're hanging on the edge of your seat, right?    & in case you're wondering, my finger is not, i repeat, not a foam finger.

her being such an attention-hog really got on my nerves --  i mean, wasn't it supposed to be robin thicke's moment in the sun?   and, btw, isn't he FINE?  the song he sang,  "blurred lines"  -- well, i just love it.   let's all  sing a few bars, shall we?

hey, hey, hey......... hey, hey, hey...........hey, hey, hey

if you can't hear what I'm tryin' to say....   if you can't read from the same page...

maybe I'm goin' crazy....  maybe I'm goin' blind...    maybe I'm goin' out of my

mi--i-i-i---i-i-i -- i-i-i---i-i-i-i-i-i-i---nd

you're going to have that song stuck in your head all day now, aren't you?

you're welcome.

okay, here's the other reason.  i love miley's music --  i seriously do -- & when she ditched the whole disney, hannah montana-persona  in favor of  the  "serious artist"  persona, she pulled it off.  honestly, she did, & I really & truly like her music.

but strutting around the stage pretending to be a sex-bomb like britney spears? well, she didn't pull that off, because she just ain't.   yeah, i know britney was a mouseketeer, & so was christina aguilera. whatever.  for them, it was merely a footnote.

for her "sexy" moment, miley wore tennis shoes & short, little pig tails all over her head & absolutely would not stop sticking out her tongue -- something ornery little kids do, right?

& did i mention, the girl just can't dance...  i think i did, but,  i mean, come on! ,  "twerking" her skinny little booty as if she was  bootilicious beyonce?

egads.

but, you  know -- the girl's doing something right, because I'm still talking about her..

TTFN - ta-ta for now.