Tuesday, July 05, 2016

Thirty Years Still With Echos From Fundytown Replete With Fireworks, Dirty Movies and Flummoxed Fundies

I haven't felt like writing much. Back a week ago we had our thirtieth wedding anniversary and it was something of a disaster. Jim and I couldn't agree on what to do or where to go. He wanted to eat at a rather expensive local restaurant I only go to when they offer their fixed price Pre Fixe menus.

Yes, I'm tight with a buck, a bad habit picked up in fundytown that I cannot always let go of.

I suggested we go back to the beach or as a low-cost stressless anniversary just go to the nearby water park and have Mexican food. I'm not one of those women that has to have jewelry, furs or expensive presents. I'm lower key and lower maintenance than that. However Jim didn't come home from his class at the agreed upon time, he was several hours late, went straight to his computer and ignored me. I'd gotten him an anniversary card and thought I might get flowers or a card. Nope, nothing.

Nothing. Thirty years and not even a greeting card.

I kind of went nuts and the last few bits of leftover just nasty stuff from the years of tiptoeing around as the good submitting wife came boiling out and I picked one hell of a whopper of a fight. I explained some things. By that time it was way way too late to hit the water park so what we did was go to our favorite local Mexican restaurant and proceeded to get tipsy as hell on margaritas. It ended well.

For so many years I suppressed my own thoughts and needs so severely that sometimes they come boiling out like red hot lava and I go way beyond caring if I hurt someone with my words. I need to find a healthier balance. I'm hoping as time goes on and I continue to be completely open and vocal about my needs and feelings that the lava subsides.


One of the things I learned this week was how to make fundamentalist door to door Christians stop ringing my door bell. The very next day I was busy folding a bunch of loads of laundry that has piled up. I hate doing laundry and there's something just completely mindless about folding and ironing so I always switch on the big flat screen television mounted over our fireplace and find something to watch while I deal with the laundry.

That day I was catching the tail end of one of my favorite films I only got around to seeing after we left our old church, 'The Full Monty'. While I sat at my vantage point on the loveseat folding and sorting laundry into baskets I could see two men in shiny out of date suits, like the kind you might see at Goodwill and a couple of ladies in long dresses with long Assemblies of God hair, no makeup. They were coming up the walk way to the front of my house. They only got to the bottom step before I could see that their mouths had popped open and they all looked shocked. They could clearly see my television from that first step and the film was on the very end of the movie, the sequence where the guys were going into the full monty.

While I watched them staring at the sin and degradation on my television they backed up, turned around and left. But not before putting a few choice tracts under the windshield wipers of my car. LMAO, had I known it was so easy to make them leave me alone I would have put that film sequence on a loop and ran it continuously when I wasn't watching television.

It's so mild, just a few naked bums at the end, not really what I would call pornographic. But, hey, it worked!


The 4th was all cat wrangling into a thundershirt when my ruralesque neighbors four houses down decided to keep shooting off illegal fireworks off and on all weekend. I'm thankful it's over. Not one of my favorite holidays at all. Plus I'm up to my eyeballs in canning the copious produce from the garden.

Today I went to the local art house theater shortly after lunch and got to see 'The Full Monty' on the big screen. I was surprised that the only other folks there was a large group of retirement aged ladies, some with zimmer frames, cheering and clapping during the stripping sequences.


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