grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Patriotic Toes

By

Tina: You want flag?

Me: Excuse me?

Tina: We do flag.

Me: What? I don’t understand.

Tina: On you toes? You want flag? Red and blue?

Me: Do I want a flag painted on my toes?

Ok by now these people should know I don’t do stars or flowers or smiley faces or anything on my toes. I’m boring.

Tina: We do for Forf of July.

Me: No no no. Just stick to the plain color. No decoration.

Tina looked sad. I hate to disappoint. But not bad enough to have striped toes for my birthday…


About this time a girl came rushing into the salon which instantly cheered them. A new customer! Yippee. Maybe she would want the flag.

She was directed to the spa chair next to me where she immediate set up shop. Literally. Very, very, important and busy this one. 

I wanted to smack her. I knew right off she would not want the flag. Relax already. We are getting our toes done.

Relaxing wasn’t in her nature. She was tense and pinched, her voice clipped. Before her old polish was removed, she made two cell phone calls, speaking instructions hastily, very to-the-point. She left messages both times as I’m certain her calls were being screened. 

Kim: You want manicure too?

VeryBusyPerson: No. No time. Just a pedicure. Thank you. 

Kim: Yes, ok. 

What!? My mouth gaped I’m sure. What do you mean Yes, Ok. You people are going to let a captive manicure walk out the door? What about the flag? Aren’t you gonna ask if she wants a flag!  

Suddenly with this VeryImportantOne, the salon ladies had developed a filter. They never badgered her, never questioned her lack of a manicure or even offered a flag. 

Maybe they assume a rude person is unpatriotic? 

I looked over and she had her day planner spread across her lap. Every fifteen minutes was filled with an important meeting, the book stuffed with papers. I almost said, you know there’s a calendar on your iPhone, but I thought better of it. Somehow I think she likes toting around a big King James-looking calendar.

I closed my eyes and enjoyed the foot massage. The salon atmosphere was completely different today. Phantom of the Opera played. Not the typical salon soundtrack. Perhaps Ms. Business Girl ordered this serious music in advance.

multitasking 
Suddenly I hear tap tap tap peck peck taptaptaptap pop pop pop pop tap. Very Very rapid fire typing sounding like a morse code machine. This chick is balancing a previously unseen laptop on her thighs while getting a pedicure. A very accomplished typist which I admire, but as she types a fortissimo spreadsheet I want to scream. Her cell phone text messages continue to roll in, constantly beeping. 
texting

The UPS man walked in with a delivery. If the package was for my spa mate I would truly be impressed…

I left happy and secure with the knowledge that even at my peak, raising kids, working 40 hours, shuttling back and forth to games and school functions, I was NEVER that busy and important. And I’m proud to be boring and patriotic without having stars and stripes on my toes. 

talya

Musical Pairings:

Superwoman, Alicia Keys
Ice Ice Baby, Vanilla Ice

iQuit

By

 

Fun times at the Dallas branch!

I resigned from my loan officer position at State Bank & Trust about nine months ago. After 25 years with the same management, it was a huge change for everyone.  After a quarter-century, I couldn’t just write any old plain vanilla milk toast resignation letter…
I’ve had several friends request a copy of my letter, so I’m printing it here.

 

To: State Bank & Trust
Re: Letter of Resignation

It is with mixed emotions that I write this letter to notify you that
 ____I’m bored with the same ole stories
____ I hate all  my work clothes
____ I am tired of doing banking reports
____ I can’t hold my stomach in anymore
_x__ it’s time for a change.

I am therefore
____ going to beauty school
____ dropping out of society
____ getting plastered
____ learning Mandarin
____ having another baby
____ joining the clergy
_x__ tendering my resignation from the bank.

Please note that
____ I am hilarious
____ you will never see me again
____ I am hearing voices
____ I am changing my phone number
_x__ November 1, 2011 will be my last day of employment.

I would like to thank you for
____ never a dull moment
____ second hand smoke
____ internet access
____ free coffee and cheap insurance
____ letting me wear pants since 1995
____ a wonderful, fun job for a long, long time
_x__ ALL OF THE ABOVE!

Yours very truly,
Talya Tate Boerner

 

Remembering Large Marge (shudder)

By

July is National Hitchhiker’s Month. When was the last time you saw a hitchhiker? Like pay phones, they are no longer commonplace. As kids, we always saw hitchhikers as we drove to Memphis looking for Elvis. We pointed them out like VW Beetles. Although we are not yet zipping around in personal bubble-lidded aerocars like the uber-cool Jetsons, travel is more accessible today, even for the man with no wheels.  Have hitchhikers somehow become charmingly vintage? Is it really necessary to draw attention to thumbing rides by dedicating an entire month? A broiling hot month?
I would never ever pick up a hitchhiker, especially after Pee Wee Herman hitched a ride to San Antonio with Large Marge. As frightening as Pee Wee was, the thought of Large Marge still makes me shudder. “On this very night, ten years ago, along this very stretch of road in a dense fog just like this…” I imagine she is behind the wheel of every eighteen wheeler I pass on the highway, especially in dense fog.
Driving through Oklahoma a few days ago I saw 4 separate hitchhikers (!) which was a bit unnerving considering the Department of Corrections is located in McAlester. The ominous sign on the highway warns, “Hitchhikers May be Escaped Prisoners.” This begs the question – just how often do these prisoners break out of this huge correctional fortress surrounded by tons of reinforced loopy nasty barbed wire? It obviously happens on occasion to warrant such a roadside warning. Government signs are only made after the fact, after a loss, after a lawsuit, after an escape. A reaction. I don’t stop to go to the bathroom around there. Oklahoma doesn’t seem OK to me. 
I bet no one celebrates National Hitchhiker’s Month in Oklahoma. 
Daddy always reminded us we would be murdered if we stopped at a rest area driving from Baylor to Osceola. This was his regular advice offered each spring break and Christmas holiday season. Never did he say, “don’t speed” or “study hard” or “buy low sell high, but always “don’t get murdered at a rest stop”. I considered his rest stop advice to be ridiculous until I learned of Large Marge. There are lots of big trucks at those places with motors eerily idling. 
Tomorrow I will be starting my big adventure driving from Dallas to Piggott – 10 hours – alone. I plan to leave super early, listen to a book on tape, avoid hitchhikers and murderers, and only use the bathroom at well lit McDonalds. I hope there is no fog.
talya
Musical Pairings:
The Champs, “Tequila”

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

THANKS FOR READING!