Some sayings just defy explanation

We celebrated a birthday last night and, on the drive to the restaurant, we updated our list of quirky sayings by my husband's family.

I just added this one to my running list:

"Somebody ought to take a pine top and a bucket of slop and run her out of town."

That's what you say about somebody who has really gotten on your nerves. I mean really. I get a life-sized picture of that angry woman with her enamel bucket in one hand and a switch in the other.

The word "ass" is frequently used to add spice to the old family sayings. For instance:

"I'll kick your ass and the horse you rode up on." (Another one put to good use when you're mad. I think this one should be attributed to John Wayne and just stolen by the Gholsons.)

or

"Aren't you just the cat's ass?" (You can use that one in both the positive and the negative, depending on tone of voice.)

and our favorite and most frequently used:

"She just makes my ass hurt."

There is one old family saying that mystified me for years. In order to appreciate it, you have to understand the circumstances of its use.

Here's how it goes. You are waiting for a friend to show up and they don't. Or you expect a finished product to end perfectly and it doesn't. So you lament loudly: "I just thought surely the Perrys would be here by now." ... or "I thought my cake was going to turn out so beautiful and delicious."

At that moment, this very appropriate saying is uttered and you discover that:
"You thought like Parker's dog."

For years I wondered: Who is Parker and what in the heck was Parker's dog thinking?

I mentioned this recently to my friend Susie on the tennis court. "I know. I know what Parker's dog thought," she said.

Susie was the first person I encountered who had ever even heard that phrase and now she was going to solve the mystery for me.

Amazing. Drum roll please ....

Parker's dog thought a dog turd was a dog biscuit.



------
Just one example of thinking like Parker's dog -- with no incrimination, I mean attribution.

Happy birthday Bob!

Aren't you just the cat's ass!

Just old enough to be cool

"Mid-century" is the trendy name for the decor of the 1960s. You know, the squared off sofas and leather bars.

And those adorable silver holiday trees with the fringed branches you keep stored in paper sleeves until next Christmas.

To get a full dose of mid-century style, check out Samantha and Darren's home in the classic TV show Bewitched. We've been watching episodes featuring Sam and Darren and the ever-endearing Endora -- thanks to the magic of Netflix.

The girls were horrified when our beloved Samantha said "Darren is the master of this house." It felt like a terribly sexist remark. Then we realized that Sam was just working her magic of humility and humor.

Everybody knows that Samantha fixes countless messes and can even stop time, if need be. She rescues Darren from his blunders on the job. She takes an orphaned kid to visit Santa. She smooths the feelings of slighted grandparents and even keeps the doddering Aunt Clara from injuring herself and others.

The mid-century magic goes beyond the television for us -- thanks to daughter Mary Katherine's business. She sells reminders of a simpler era at her Green Room in Fondren and her online store. You can visit by clicking here: Queen of the Universe Vintage

When Darren makes Larry a drink,
 I bet he uses this vintage
ice bucket.

Click on over for a look and a truly Bewitching experience.

Brown leather pumps suitable
for a trip to the Tate and McMann
ad agency.

Vintage Edmar  brass face plate
straight out the Stevens home
in suburban New York

And the perfect ensemble for a good witch like Samantha!

We will remember

There was a lot of "new" this holiday season.

Great Pandora Christmas radio. Wayfarer Raybans for Marcia Gran. A fresh bottle of Angel perfume for Mary Katherine. A cool Bible for Rachel with the hip and cutting Message version on one side of the page and a more traditional version on the other.

But it's funny how the "something old" we found entertained us as much as the reindeer games or the gifts.

My Aunt Earline died three years ago during the holidays. She left us a lot, because she was a collector and a saver.

She also was a journalist. 

This historic entry from Nov. 23, 1963, is from her journal -- a school teacher's look at the death of a president.

Sat., Nov. 23, 1963

A dark day in our history and one I never thought would be brought about. Yesterday about 1:15-1:20 Miss Reynolds called me to the hall outside my room and called also Ethel Swett, Sarah Harris and Betty Sellers to tell us all at once of the news someone had called in and she'd tuned in on radio to hear that President Kennedy and Gov. Connelly of Texas had been shot in the motorcade in Dallas and that there were conflicting reports that the Pres. was killed. 

We were shocked. When I went back in my room, the full impact hit me and I had to sit down and cry a minute while trying to keep my composure and getting up, walking around to go on with the arithmetic lesson that had been interrupted.

I could hardly call on anyone and didn't know whether to tell the children the tragic news then or not. It was quite evident that something was wrong, and I couldn't keep the tears back. So I just told them something very bad had happened, but not to anyone in Davis School, Hattiesburg, or Mississippi.

Right after that, Miss Reynolds announced the news over our intercom system and said she was putting on the radio news for us to follow. The announcer reported the events and said there were contradictory reports coming in. In a minute or so, he said there was unofficial news that the president was dead and asked everyone to bow for a minute of prayer.

We did, tearfully, and then the reports came in -- conflicting again. But in about another minute, he reported that the two priests who gave the last rites said the president was dead. He again called for prayer.

By this time, several of the children had gotten upset and were crying aloud, so I had to pull myself together and get them under control. I apologized for crying and told them there was nothing we could do except pray and there was no use crying. Danny Dickerson was especially upset; also Charles Hobby, Martha Chambliss and Jimmy Herrin, who'd already been crying about a sore place in his mouth.

The afternoon recess went on late, helping relieve the situation. We spent the remainder of the day listening to reports as they came in of how a sniper had fatally wounded the president, shooting him in the brain. He had slumped over and Mrs. Kennedy had held him on the five minute ride to the hospital. The governor was shot in the chest but is recovering satisfactorily. 

I went on to have my hair done after school and there was a little talk about it.

As much as the South disagreed with the president, I thought he was a good, sincere man and was doing what he thought best. Too young and holding too revered a position to be so cut down -- just to hear of the president of the United States being asassinated in 1963, supposedly a civilized time, is unthinkable. And so tragic for his wife and two young children.

Television and radio programs were discontinued and only news about the late president and now President Johnson have been on since the event and up until 10 o'clock tonight.
We've had TV on almost constantly and the coverage has been most extensive.

A sad, sad thing.