I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

Category: Life

  • Back to the Basics: Seinfeld, Hot Dog Baskets and Yushino


    Time to focus on the basics once again following the gut-wrenching defeat that was Election Day at Casa de Canterbury. Pretty and I stayed up until 3 o’clock this morning to watch the results by ourselves after our last two survivors from the disastrous Victory Party gave up a little after midnight. The small gathering got off to a rollicking start around 7 p.m. as the smiley Rachel Maddow and Brian Williams practically glowed with excitement and anticipation of the final Glass Ceiling having a big old crack in it. Just like the media, our friends came in with Victory on their minds. 

    We had tons of food and drink and dessert was a wonderful cake decorated with pink roses. “Girl Power” was what I asked the cake decorator to write in pink on the white icing across the top – and thought how clever I was. Pretty insisted we couldn’t cut the cake until Hillary Clinton won, and we all said that was fine. Plenty of other things to eat.

    Our friends Nekki and Francie brought a gigantic bottle of champagne which we kept chilled in the refrigerator to drink when we sliced the cake. Plenty of other things to drink.

    The American political process was in full display unfolding before our eyes.

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    As the evening wore on, Rachel and Brian’s expressions began to shift from joyful to puzzled to we can’t believe what we’re seeing to shit house mouse. And our little group watched as the Democratic Party defied the pollsters and pundits and were able to snatch Defeat from the jaws of Victory in this the 2016 Presidential Election Year.

    About midway to midnight, I asked Pretty if we could go ahead and cut the cake, but Pretty said absolutely not. Things would turn around soon. Everyone else nodded…but with less conviction and longing glances at the cake.

    At 10 the mood in our living room was becoming as chilly as our champagne, and a few people left to go home to watch in the privacy of their own living rooms. Who could blame them.

    But then two latecomers arrived and that helped us focus on something other than the returns for a few minutes as they settled in with food and drinks. 

    What about the cake? I asked, but Pretty held out until around midnight when she put her head in her hands and began crying that it was over. You might as well cut the cake. Which I did – but by then no one really wanted a piece. We never opened the champagne.

    And so today I’ve decided to put the election and cake behind me and return to the basic comfort food groups which for me means a hot dog basket complete with fries and slaw from Rush’s, a local burger chain. My TV was turned to re-runs of Seinfeld tonight instead of the 24/7 news channel MSNBC which has lost me for the foreseeable future. Goodbye to Rachel and Brian for a while. I’d like to say it was fun but then, it wasn’t. 

    As this day draws thankfully to a close, I will turn my attention to playing the numbers game Yushino with my friends online. I find numbers to be more reliable on the Yushino board than they may be elsewhere so that makes me happy.

    And what makes me even happier is my wife and dogs Charly and Spike are already in bed waiting for me. That’s true Girl Power.

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    Tomorrow is another day, and I remain hopeful with Maya Angelou that I will still rise to meet it.

  • Dog Catcher Snatches Election Eve Exuberance


    spike-peeking

    Our dog Spike is a Texas immigrant to South Carolina. We brought him from Worsham Street where he was unceremoniously dumped by an unknown person – possibly a UPS driver or FedEx person since these trucks always seem to annoy him more than anyone in the world. They are the object of much barking and, if the opportunity presents itself with the back door open, he will race through the doggie door, jump the fence in out back yard, and tear after the delivery trucks as if chasing after the Hounds of the Baskerville. Other than his fence jumping, he is a very sweet dog who makes few demands of us.

    Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?

    In the last two weeks, I’ve noticed Spike spends most of his outside time sitting or lying down in front of our wrought iron gate in the back yard gazing through the bars to the street behind us. He’s always been fascinated with Manning Avenue because it has a lot more activity – people walking by, cars driving by, neighbors visiting on their front porches – than the less interesting Canterbury Road our house faces, but he’s never been quite so fascinated with “gate gazing.”

    So I made an effort to solve the mysterious attraction and found that there were three little dogs running up and down the street and one of them made friends with Spike who was a Goliath compared to the smaller dog, but the little fellow liked to visit Spike at the back gate and/or on the street whenever Spike was out on a fence jumping adventure. The little dogs always ran to the same house and I assumed it was their home. Ding, ding, ding. Incorrect assumption.

    This afternoon the Dog Catcher came through our neighborhood and parked in front of the house where the little dogs were staying and scooped them up one by one in front of the house while Spike who had jumped the fence and raced to their rescue barked at me who was unaware of the drama unfolding and simply carrying the garbage bag out the back gate to the dumpster when I heard the Dog Catcher hollering at me. Hey, do you know who that big dog belongs to?

    Yes, he’s mine, I said and began to try to railroad Spike to the back gate. But he wasn’t cooperating so I had to go inside our casa to locate Pretty and ask her to help me corral our dog before he was also scooped up by the Dog Catcher. Pretty to the rescue. With one final look back at his friends, Spike was reluctantly collared and brought safely inside.

    Tonight he is inconsolable. He walked slowly to his crate after he ate and stayed there for the rest of this Election Eve as Pretty and I watched POTUS and FLOTUS and POTUS-in-waiting at a huge rally in Philadelphia… and became very emotional over the possibility of the first woman President in the White House. Thankfully, the long arduous, often distasteful campaign is over and Election Day is here.

    But Spike will have none of it tonight. No joy in Mudville. The Mighty Casey had struck out in his efforts to save his buddies from disaster. Election Eve anticipation and exuberance have been snatched from Casa de Canterbury by a Dog Catcher.

    Shit house mouse, as The Red Man was fond of saying. We need to make a plan.

     

  • Calling All Cousins!


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    So Pretty and I have always been interested in our family trees, and this year I decided to give us our DNA tests as a Christmas present to each other. I can never pick any gift for Pretty because whatever I pick she already bought for herself years ago, and that makes me struggle to come up with something creative for special occasions. DNA idea was brilliant, I thought.

    I’ve been dealing with ordering the kits, supervising and returning sample collections and registering at the appropriate sites to activate. Whew. Quite the ordeal.

    Hooray, one of our results came in this week: mine. I have been thoroughly entertained with the pie chart and other info. Seriously. Thoroughly entertained. I can roam through the site for hours looking for relatives.

    Now I am searching for the 710 cousins who are Out There Somewhere…Calling All Cousins…let’s catch up.

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    Oh, as for Pretty, well, her sample didn’t pass the sample test – so she has to do another one. Sigh. So much for creativity

  • One Woman Tries to Break Glass Ceiling While Another One Tries to Repair It


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    Hillary Clinton is trying to crack the ultimate Glass Ceiling by becoming the most powerful woman on earth as President of the United States.

    This afternoon our neighbor across the street was replacing their roof with a new one, and one of the hard-working roofers was a woman.

    You go, girls.

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  • Trick or Treat? Pumpkin in Action!


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    Heard while sitting on the porch and handing out candy to scores of costumed children at Casa de Canterbury during tonight’s neighborhood twilight Trick or Treat marathon:

    “Don’t go to that house – they’re gay,” said a father to his children. And they turned away.

    I told Pretty that, even after our 40 years of activism, my feelings were still hurt.

    “Unkindness always hurts,” Pretty said.