I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

Category: Humor

  • longing for Happily Ever After

    longing for Happily Ever After


    A benefit of having written 869 posts over the past fourteen years is the luxury of searching for subjects I’m certain I must have written about at some point in time. As I prepared for the onslaught of news surrounding the surrender of a former president of the United States to the state of Georgia tomorrow for issues concerning the election of 2020, an ex-president who was well acquainted with the concept of human frailty, in addition to the circus atmosphere already evident in preparation for the first debate in the 2024 presidential election by the Republican candidates tonight, I searched for a piece I wrote in 2016. Sure enough, as my mother would say, I found my opinions on human frailty haven’t changed.

    Full disclosure to avoid any semblance of plagiarism – I stole this idea from my current favorite BBC series Lark Rise to Candleford. (Current to me but originally aired in 2008 – 2011.) Dorcas Lane was the postmistress caught in a wave of changes to her small town of Candleford in Oxfordshire at the end of the 19th. century. Her notoriety extended beyond the walls of the post office due to her persistent meddling in everyone’s affairs.

    Her maid Minnie was a wonderful addition to the cast in the second season with her penchant for asking questions that were “extraordinary.” In the episode I watched today, Minnie was a-twitter with questions about just what does Happily Ever After really mean in affairs of the heart. Dorcas was prepared to answer with wisdom to share and spare.

    “We all want life to be simple and our relationships to be enchanted, and then along comes human frailty. Before we know it, all will be lost.”

    Human frailty. I have seen a ton of that going around in the world lately. So much so that it seems like an epidemic. Waves of it. Oceans of it. Human frailty runs rampant from Orlando to Dallas to Minnesota to Baton Rouge. It zigzags through a packed crowd in a huge commercial truck in Nice, France before striking again in a failed military coup in Turkey. It shouts angry hate-filled  rhetoric in a large convention hall in Cleveland, Ohio before skipping across the Atlantic again  with gunfire in a shopping mall in Munich. Behind every evil stands the specter of human frailty.

    Thank goodness for the relief of Lark Rise, a break from the onslaught of bad news on my favorite 24-hour news channels with their 24-hour news cycles. Yes, give me a good conversation with Twister Terrell, another of my favorite friends from Lark Rise, who sums up what happens when human frailty runs rampant.

    “Some folks got neither logic nor reason nor sense nor sanity.”

    Here’s hoping somewhere… sometime… somebody unravels the key to human kindness and compassion for each other that will not only change the news cycles but enable us to rediscover the logic, reason, sense and sanity that our human frailty disguises.

    Like Minnie, I long for Happily Ever After.

    *************

    Slava Ukraini. For the children.

  • stuck in the Middle with you

    stuck in the Middle with you


    Due to the writer’s strike across America, I have been asked by Fox News to lead a team of writers that will flush out their programming for the Republican presidential primary debate on August 23rd. Wise men say only fools rush in where political operatives fear to tread so I quickly accepted. My team consisted of campaign speech writers I designated Captains from all candidates who qualified for the debate not to be confused with all qualified candidates, and at our first meeting we met during cocktail hour somewhere.

    I think we should begin with prayer, I said to the group, and Pence’s Captain immediately bowed his white head of perfectly coiffed hair. No, no, Pence Person – I meant prayer to start the debate, not a prayer for our meeting. Oh, he said as he swatted a fly swirling perilously close to his head. I sighed as everyone else in the room shifted uncomfortably. I made a note No Prayer, too controversial.

    Moving on, I said. Does anyone have ideas for entertainment to pump the Nielsen ratings with a larger viewing audience for the debate, something to attract the Movable Middle which traditionally ignores all debates? Think out of the box on this one, I continued. To get us started, why don’t we come up with a new theme song?

    I’ve got an idea, the Christie Captain said enthusiastically. How about a Stealers Wheel Tribute Band singing Stuck in the Middle with You? We could even ask band members to wear pink baseball caps with “I’m a Real Republican” logo.

    Okay, I responded. Let’s take a look at the lyrics:

    Well, I don’t know why I came here tonight, I’ve got the feeling that something ain’t right.
    I’m so scared in case I fall off my chair, and I’m wondering how I’ll get down the stairs    . Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right. Here I am stuck in the Middle with you.

    A buzz filled the room, heads nodded approval vigorously, and spontaneous applause erupted. One hand in the back of the room, however, was timidly raised during the clapping. Excuse me, the Ramaswamy Captain said, but what kind of band is a stealers wheel band, and do we really want to highlight stealers during a debate featuring the leading candidate who is currently facing 91 felony charges across his criminal indictments?

    Suddenly the room got very quiet.

    Heck, yeah, the Christie Captain answered, but I sensed a change in the atmosphere. Not so fast, my friends, I thought.

    Hm. I made a note: No to Stealers Wheel band, Yes to new theme song; contact Kid Rock and Lil Wayne about performing.

    Okay. Great work, group, I said. I’ll send my notes to Fox. That’s enough for today. Meeting adjourned.

    (Cocktails and light hors d’oeuvres courtesy of Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas if you can contribute $1,000 to his next Bahamas vacay. Hey, nothing from nothing leaves nothing.)

  • The Tahoe Ten

    The Tahoe Ten


    The Tahoe Ten: East meets West for four days of fun and frivolity

    at beautiful Lake Tahoe

    (l. to r.) Debra, Pretty, me, Audrey, Jo Ann, Angie, Chris, Joan, Nekki, Francie

    Last week our friends Nekki and Francie placed Pretty and me on another American Airlines jet for our second (remember our first trip was to France) 2023 vacation requiring air travel thanks to their miles generosity – this time flying across the country from South Carolina to the California/Nevada border in Lake Tahoe where we met our old California friends Audrey and Debra we hadn’t seen in more than a dozen years, made new California friends Joan, Angie, Chris and Jo Ann we hoped we didn’t have to wait another twelve years to see again. I have christened us The Tahoe Ten.

    sign in kitchen in our lovely rental home – ok, this made me nervous

    Joan (packing necessities) arranged this fabulous trip for us!

    Francie had a tendency to supervise while Jo Ann remained cheerful, always helpful

    Angie admires Debra’s parasol for boating excursion on Lake Tahoe

    All Aboard!!

    Meanwhile, back on land…

    nighttime fun and games included Trivial Pursuit and shooting pool

    South Carolina Slo and California Chris big winners for very long game of 8-ball

    Pretty and me with Lake Tahoe and Sierra Mountains in background…

    on an unforgettable drive to Fallen Leaf Lake

    Audrey at Fallen Leaf post office

    (before our next stop at Harrah’s later that afternoon)

    special thanks to Jo Ann and Chris for poker education!

    sadly, Nekki’s luggage made trip to Phoenix instead of Sacramento

    (so she was seen wearing Pretty’s night gown)

    she and Francie were all smiles when Nekki’s luggage finally arrived

    all good things have to come to an end, but as Joan found out at the airport…

    Francie the OG Prankster can’t let a trip go by without somthing to remember her for

    As my mother used to say, this will be a Memory Maker, and I couldn’t have said it better myself. Thankfully no bears came through the kitchen window in our lovely mountain house, but we couldn’t leave without hugging the one that greeted us as we said farewell to The Tahoe Ten. If laughter was any indication, our trip was also a 10 on a scale of 1 to 10. We loved being with everyone – both old and new friends. East met West with great success!

  • passing the torch at the beach

    passing the torch at the beach


    Let the word go forth from this time
    and place, to friend and foe alike, that the torch has been passed
    to a new generation of Americans.”
    — John F. Kennedy, January 20, 1961, Inauguration Day

    (l. to r.) 3 year old Ella and her Nana, 5 year old Collins and her Kitty

    friends in the water

    friends on dry land

    Let’s blow this popsicle stand

    Grandma Camp at Folly Beach, South Carolina

    all photos courtesy of our designated photographer Nekki

    ****************************

    Slava Ukraini. For the children.

  • You Don’t Have to Break Up to Wallow (from Four Ticket Ride)

    You Don’t Have to Break Up to Wallow (from Four Ticket Ride)


    Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life made its Netflix debut over the Thanksgiving weekend with much fanfare, hoopla and hype as the three leading actresses appeared on every talk show under the sun to promote the four-part mini-series that was supposed to be a panacea for the yearnings of a major contingent of followers who wanted more from the Gilmore women of Stars Hollow and Hartford. The original American TV comedy series ran for seven seasons from 2000 to 2007, was apparently quite popular, and still missed by many.

    Pretty and I were not Gilmore Girls watchers in those first runs; perhaps because we were younger, our relationship was newer, our social life was busier, we were watching Frasier re-runs… or something else I can’t remember. Whatever the reasons, we missed it the first time around. But since we are now seasoned Netflix subscribers and recently finished the gazillion-episode BBC series Doc Martin  and needed a new diversion, we decided to give the Gilmore Girls a whirl.

    We recently started with the first season and are now prepared to spend the rest of our lives watching Loralei and Rory get daily coffee fixes at Luke’s coffee shop because each of the early years had at least a hundred episodes per season. Luckily, we found ourselves growing fond of the characters as we usually do when the writing is good and the actors as good as the script.

    For example, in one of the first season’s episodes this week I was disappointed when teenage Rory’s first true love, Dean the grocery store bag boy, dumped her. Such a cute, sweet boy – young love blossomed, bloomed, bleeped, fizzled, done. And on their three-month anniversary, too. Sigh. What to do? Talk to Mom.

    Mom’s (Lorelei’s) advice to her teenage daughter was priceless: wallow. That’s right. Wallow. Stay in your pajamas all day while you eat pizza and ice cream…don’t put on makeup…don’t shave your legs…sit in a dark room watching old movies like Love Story, An Affair to Remember, Ishtar, Old Yeller and have a good cry. Wallow the day away.

    What’s really amazing about this advice is I’ve been wallowing minus the crying part and old movies for years without realizing it; my wallowing has nothing at all to do with my love life. I was born to wallow, and then I had a relapse when I had a real job that required getting out of bed, applying Clinique makeup every morning after my shower, spending a fortune on perms and color to give my straight-as-a-board graying hair curls and blondeness,  getting dressed in appropriate business attire, commuting long distances to an office where I sat in front of a computer screen looking at numbers all day while agonizing over the financial decisions my clients were wrestling with…all in all, a relapse that lasted 40 years.

    But now, I have reclaimed my roots (the silver ones, too), and I wallow almost each day. Some days I never get out of my pajamas, my toothpaste gets more use than my bath soap, I gave up shaving my legs for Lent and didn’t resurrect it for Easter, I only wear makeup for date nights, and my straight short white hair qualifies for the “man’s haircut rate” with my hair stylist.  The longest commute I have is from my upstairs office to the kitchen downstairs. Life is good.

    Writing is the perfect career for wallowing. If Pretty asks me what I’ve been doing when she comes home from surveying her antique empire and finds me still in my pajamas, I can say Oh, I’ve been writing all day – which could or could not be exactly true. Unless you count watching In the Heat of the Night as research. (Ishtar, no thanks.)

    Today is New Year’s Eve, the last day of 2016, the day when many of us will be making our resolutions for 2017. I have started my list with the same one I’ve started with for the past 40 years: I need to lose 10, 15, 20, 25, 30, 35 pounds this year. My, how time flies.

    Hm. I never get past that first one.

    If you are making your list and checking it twice, add a day to wallow once a month. You don’t need to break up a relationship to do it – simply indulge and wallow. Indulge. Wallow. Enjoy.

    Pretty and I wish you a Happy New Year from our home at Casa de Canterbury to yours wherever you are in cyberspace around the world – stay safe, and we’ll look forward to having you hang with us in 2017!

    ******************

    In 2017 Pretty and I moved from our two-story Casa de Canterbury in downtown Columbia across the Gervais Street Bridge over the Congaree River to our one-story Casa de Cardinal in West Columbia, fifteen minutes away. Happily, many of our friends in cyberspace made the move with us. And yes, to answer your question, I do still wallow but in the intervening years I read something about the importance of getting dressed every day even if you work from home, so I have given up wallowing in pajamas. The good news is it’s possible to wallow in street clothes. In April of 2021 when I turned 75 years old I finally followed through on a Birthday Eve resolution to lose 50 pounds and have kept it off for two years. In July of 2023 it’s kinda fun to think about New Year’s Eve temperatures and using the oppressive heat as an excuse to wallow. Give it a whirl.