Susan Marie Molloy

Life in the Oasis


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Christmas Phone Calls

Hello?

Yes, this is the time of year when Christmas cards and letters make their rounds, and the time when families grow a little closer in their closeness, and phone calls are made because – who knows why?

Now, I’m not a grandparent, yet I’ve been on the other end, listening to a grandparent’s attempts to converse with the grandchildren, the kids being at an age where they can formulate complex sentences and make inquires of their own. You know:   Conversation.

What I’ve heard goes mostly like this:

Grandparent: “Hi! How you doin’?’
Grandchild: “O-kaaaaay.”

Grandparent: “How’s school?’
Grandchild: “O-kaaaaay.”

Grandparent: “What’s your favorite subject?”
Grandchild: “I don’t know.”

Grandparent: “What are you doing in Scouting?”
Grandchild: “I don’t know.”

Grandparent: “Who is John Galt?”
Grandchild: “O-kaaaaay.”

By this time, the conversation gets overly strained, and usually the grandchild is handing the phone to a parent in desperation over the reenactment of the Spanish Inquisition.

So, my beau and I devised a list of possible questions for grandparents who know this struggle, and know their grandchildren really aren’t interested in conversation. These are best posed to grade school age kids:

  1. My, how you’ve grown!
  2. Have any good job offers lately?
  3. Are you in graduate school yet?
  4. Who’s your favorite clown?
  5. Paper, or plastic?
  6. Are you keeping up with the Kardashians?
  7. Are you looking at Annapolis or West Point?
  8. Where’s the beef?
  9. So, what kind of pimple medicine do you use?
  10. Did you make your vote count?
  11. Who’s your favorite on “Dancing with the Stars”?
  12. Does America really have talent?
  13. Are you smarter than a fifth grader?
  14. What kind of car are you driving these days?
  15. Have you discovered those magazines in your daddy’s closet yet?
  16. What is the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow?
  17. Who is your spirit animal?
  18. Are you your brother’s keeper?
  19. Heads or tails?
  20. How much wood can a woodchuck chuck, if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

I’m sure there are a million more way-out questions that are guaranteed to at least bring meaningful conversation with the grandchildren’s parents, once the grandchildren drop the phone. Hope this list is a start for grandparents to add a little zing! to Christmas phone calls with their grandchildren—

Happy Holidays!

©2017 Susan Marie Molloy and all works within.

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If Custer Survived The Little Big Horn

Last night, I was cleaning out my phone’s Kindle app, deleting book samples, and determining which books will be on my Christmas vacation reading list. When I came across the following book titles (see screenshot below), I saw General George Armstrong Custer‘s book, “My Life in Pants.”

Really?

That’s what I get for scanning and glossing over something like this when I’m tired—

Then again, it could be the start of a twisted fantasy history tale of Custer in the tailoring or dry cleaning business after he left the Army.

 

©2017 Susan Marie Molloy and all works within.


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The Effigy

Movie still from “The Mummy” (1932) with Boris Karloff and Zita Johann.

I reached to close the blinds in my dining room. Twice I looked at the house across the street. I moved a little to the left, my eyes fixed on the shape. There, in the window, between the blinds’ slats, I spied a distinct silhouette of broad shoulders and a head wrapped in ragged cloth.   A mummy!  An effigy of a mummy hanging from the ceiling! Or was it the twilight’s light and shadows playing tricks on my eyes?

My beau, seeing me with a puzzled look, surveyed the window across the street.

“Yep, it looks like a mummy.” He rubbed his chin. “Maybe it’s her dead husband.”

Life continued. Summer turned to fall. Winter melted into spring. And the effigy dangled in the window.

One late afternoon, I happened to see the neighbor from across the street with the mummy in her window.  She was at the end of her driveway in her leopard robe, white slacks, brown fuzzy slippers, and dark sunglasses. I called to her and walked over. After some general pleasantries, I asked about the hanging effigy in her window.

“Oh, that!” she whispered. She turned a pasty-white, bony hand towards her window. “It’s a North African fertility statue. It’s bolted to a post on the floor.”

And so, my inquisitiveness was satisfied. There was no dead, mummified husband hanging from the ceiling.

Or so she said.

©2017 Susan Marie Molloy and all works in between.


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Thirteen Things That Give Me the Heebie Jeebies (In No Particular Order)

Here are some random thoughts, thought about yesterday:

• Eels. On a plate.
• Fried Twinkies®.
• Live cockroaches.
• Mother-son dates.
• Fried Snickers® bars.
• Laws against Nature.
• Father-daughter dates.
• Bandwagon jumpers-on.
• Huge basement centipedes.
• Predators – the human type.
• Lake water with floating seaweed.
• Headcheese, when seen very close-up.
• Raspberries, for same reason as headcheese.

Slice of headcheese. Love the taste, but the look of the sliced tongue gives me the heebie jeebies.
Image from Google.

©2017 Susan Marie Molloy and all works within.


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Sleeve of Crackers

Estate sales. They are similar to garage or yard sales, but different.

Usually, the owner(s) of the items in an estate sale is no longer around, and someone else is running the show. At garage or yard sales, the owners are right there with you to haggle with prices. “Seventy-five cents for this garden shovel? I’ll give you twenty-five!”

Recently, I breezed through several estate sales in my neck of the woods. Each offered something different: one had some fabulous kitchenware, another touted newer furniture, and one offered dental floss, first aid tape, and a sleeve of Saltine® crackers.

I wish I took a picture of the sleeve of crackers. Take my word for it: There was a naked sleeve of Saltine® crackers nestled between a coffee mug and a knife, sitting on the kitchen counter. No, it wasn’t even in the box. Asking price: Twenty-five cents.

Never have I ever seen something like that for sale. Somehow, I just wouldn’t trust its freshness, age, or bug-free quality.

©Susan Marie Molloy and all works within.