SkyWatch Friday: cotton candy clouds

A Cloud withdrew from the Sky

Superior Glory be

But that Cloud and its Auxiliaries

Are forever lost to me 

Had I but further scanned

Had I secured the Glow

In an Hermetic Memory

It had availed me now.

Never to pass the Angel

With a glance and a Bow

Till I am firm in Heaven

Is my intention now.

~Emily Dickinson~

Say Knives

It's been well documented that I sometimes hear something other than -- but peculiarly similar to -- what has actually been said.

Like the time, in church, I heard the preacher refer to the "children of leprechauns."

I might've been daydreaming just a little.

On the way home I asked TG why the preacher had felt led to mention leprechaunic offspring.

He gave me an odd look. 

But I'm used to that, so I simply waited.

"Baby," he explained in the kind of voice you use with three-year-olds who exhibit signs of nascent senility. "He said the children of leper colonies."

Well shut my mouth! I didn't know leper colonies had children.

In a similar vein, when this commercial comes on TV and the perky female voiceover hawks the product by name, I hear "Say Knives!"

Knives ...

Whatever you do, don't snicker

In lieu of a decent post, how about some talking sharks?

I love the last one! He's great! So genteel.

You light up my life with a vanilla candle

Recently it seems to me that the cashiers and other employees of Wal-Mart -- a/k/a The World's Largest Shyster Retailer -- have been a tad bit happier.

Maybe it's because they have less to do without all those price roll-backs to worry about!

They used to grump around the aisles, stocking shelves with morose attitudes, rolling back prices under what appeared to be extreme duress if not outright protest.

If I didn't know better I'd conclude they were annoyed by the success of capitalism and the free markets.

Now whole gaggles of them gambol about the store, flitting here and there. They skip around holding hands, chasing rainbows, laughing uproariously as they UP the prices on everything from chalk to cheese.

Nilla Nilla

They're giddy with it, y'all. The power! The influence! The performance bonuses!

Oh, wait … in all likelihood Wal-Mart employees do not receive performance bonuses. Because with startling uniformity, they do not perform.

But wait again.  Maybe it is just me.

I say ME because, speaking of performing, I got quite a musical sendup from one Wal-Mart cashier a few weeks ago.

It happened as I was strolling past the mostly-empty checkout bays (you know … the seventy-five conveyor belts with little boxy lights affixed on poles, any three of which may actually be operable at any given time).

Bo Billa

A Wal-Mart employee, a lady about my age all decked out in khakis, a white polo shirt, and her red-white-and-blue badge minus the yellow smiley-face that has mysteriously gone missing (try and find it, I dare you), stepped out into the midway and, without introduction or preamble, burst into song.

Complete with grandiloquent sweeping arm gestures, she bellowed a la Debby Boone circa 1971:

Yoooou light up my liiife … 

I stopped cold. Not yet ready to check out because I had been fleeced in every section of the store except produce and was headed there for the privilege of cradling within my trembling fingers a diminutive two-dollar bell pepper in the early stages of shrivelment, I felt badly about not turning in at her station.

Banana Fana

She continued crooning:

Yooou give me hope to carry ooooon ….

Feeling sorry for her because she had no audience, I shot the cashier my trademark deafening grin.

"I'll be back!" I promised.

And after practically requiring emergency resuscitation from sticker-shock in the produce department I did go back, and I mentioned Debby Boone, and all I got was a blank stare.

I'm sure it was the same lady but apparently I no longer lit up her life or gave her hope to carry on.

Oh well. I would live to inspire again.

Fast forward a few weeks to yesterday.

Fo Filla

I had been in the store about forty-five minutes and, as that was about forty-four minutes too long for my liking, I was anxious to be on my way.

I headed for the front.

When I got in line to pay for the one hundred sixty-five dollars worth of groceries that would have cost one hundred twenty-five dollars two months ago and one hundred dollars a scant year ago, I was greeted … well, the point is, I was not greeted.

See, I crashed a twenty-items-or-less aisle when I had at least fifty items in my cart.

I know that's a no-no but all the twenty-items-or-less aisles were empty while the lines for more heavily-laden carts were three customers deep.

My feeling is, why should I be penalized for buying more?

So I angled my cart over to the nearest short belt, which as it turned out was manned by a very tall, very thin young black man wearing huge eyeglasses and a headful of cornrows.

Me Mi

"I have more than twenty things but since all these lines are empty is it okay if I check out here so I don't have to wait?" I asked, although it was a mere courtesy as I don't feel I should have to beg for the favor of them taking my money.

Long tall drink of chocolate milk ignored me. IGNORED ME.

Ignored ME! 

It take-a panache.

I hesitated, my hands already in my cart, grabbing fabric softener and grape juice. Before removing the items I looked back at him for the assent I was sure he'd given but I'd somehow missed.

He waved his hands impatiently in the direction of my groceries. "Go ahead," he said.

Thanks ever so, I muttered under my breath.

We proceeded in silence except for the incessant beep … beep … beep of the scanner. We were nearly done and I was reaching for my debit card when I heard him exclaim.

Mo Milla

"What?" I said, looking over.

He was brandishing two vanilla jar candles.

(No matter the degree of economic meltdown or the price of gas, I won't be without candles. I am loyal to the Mainstays brand 20-ounce jars -- still a mere five dollars -- because they burn evenly all the way to the metal and they smell really good. I'm not financially able to indulge in Yankee Candle dollar-per-ounce scented wax creations, thank you very much.)

His face was glowing, wreathed in the sweetest smiles. "I love vanilla!" He sniffed a candle with joy so real, it was almost painful to watch.

"That's gonna cost you," I wanted to say, but didn't.

"Oh! Me too," is what I actually I said.

"I have a vanilla plug-in! In my room!" He exulted.

Nilla

I was afraid he'd burst into tears at the mere mention of said fragrant contraption.

"You must be in touch with your feminine side," I offered.

Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say. 

I still don't know. 

What say you, mateys?

All I know is, if only for a moment, I lit up his life.

Or maybe it was my candle that did that.

Oh no you don't get rid of me that easily

To all my bloggy buddies: Sorry I've been missing in action of late.

A few cyber-search parties have been sent out.

But you see, things got a trifle crazy around here starting about a week ago.

As in, I got busier than usual work-wise and then next thing you knew, it was my birthday.

Cause for celebration!

The girls arrived late Friday night for the weekend. Audrey first, then Erica.

On Saturday I set the table because my folks and sister were coming from Greenville.

Mom brought lunch.

My gifts were assembled on the counter where I always string up the HAPPY BIRTHDAY banner when it's someone's birthday.

My sister, Kay, made a cake for us.

My sister also got me eight dessert plates that I flipped over.

I promptly went to TJ Maxx (from whence they came) and bought eight matching bowls.

They're perfect for ice cream. Then when you put the matching plate underneath, it can hold your cookies.

And they look adorable stacked up on the bakers rack.

Javier was there, enjoying the extra laps to sit in and hands to pet him.

I posed with TG and two of my four babies.

Me and TG.

Audrey stayed over for Monday (my actual birthday) and we hung out all day before she had to go home!

It was a blast.

And now back to deadlines and again, my bloggy buddies ... if you are still reading, I apologize for being in absentia.

I'll make it up to you! Promise.

Oh! I almost forgot. My mom told a story about me. That's right! Everybody have a laugh at my expense! 

Cat Dog Rat I Love You.

Cat Dog Rat I Love You.

Cat Dog Rat I Love You.