Tag Archives: Humor

Welcome to Crawfish Creek Manor, God’s Waiting Room… Entry #9

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(Disclaimer: This blog is in no way meant to offend anyone, it is just reality as I, Ira Mae Busybody perceives life, and my personal opinion.  Places, names and faces have been changed to protect the cantankerous, mean spirited, nosey, bitchy and innocent.)

 

Welcome to Crawfish Creek Manor, God’s Waiting Room…    

 

Hello Bloggers and Followers,

Yesterday I gave all of you the run-down of my days surrounding Thanksgiving.  Of my good friend Mr. Roy’s death, I looked forward to picking pumpkins and adding fresh cut trees before Christmas, now that will never happen; life is too short.  Who will tease me now; make me laugh at the Manor tenants and at myself? 

He was right about one thing, the old biddies were waiting for me, and their questions met with resistance.  I never shared my activities with family to anyone in Hell Town accept Mr. Roy.  I headed for Clinton, dog in cage, I needed to work out until I dropped; I took a back road to avoid passing the pumpkin patch and tree farm!

Returning to the Manor I drove down Main Street, Christmas’ was in full bloom with ancient faded wreaths, garland and lights.  A Santa and his reindeers hovered high above one of the bridges swinging in the cold wind.  I don’t think the town has purchased new decorations since electricity came to town.

The Princess Theater marquee garlanded in red and blue read “Happy Holidays”, Edna’s Beauty Shop had a tree in the window with flashing lights, Wilson’s Drug and Hardware had a tree lot at the side of the building.  I could hear Mr. Roy saying, “Coward must have been afraid of competition, had to wait ‘til I died to have a tree lot”.  He would have been right.

Twilight had set in, a sliver of gold sparkled on the western skyline as I took my dog out for a walk.  Deciding to go out the front door next to the gathering room was only to tease the “big mouth ladies and closed mouth men”, by now the news had spread…Ira Mae has shut down.  Let them talk about someone else today.

In the front of the Manor blue lights and green garland swayed back and forth, several of the apartments had decorated trees in their windows and there spread across the front lawn was several wreaths with big red bows.  I thought I would pee my pants…they were the type you buy to go on graves at a cemetery, wreaths on stands!  I took a picture, as no one would believe that a senior housing manager would be so dense to purchase cemetery wreaths that you put in the ground instead of wreaths to hang on the building.

When I returned to the apartment building, I called my son…

“Hello” he said.

“Hey son, do you have plywood to cut me out several grave markers, put them on stakes so I can paint “RIP” on them, the yard looks like a cemetery”, we could not stop laughing as I had sent him the picture right before I called.  This is no joke…is the manager sending a message to the tenants of “God’s Waiting Room”?

Well, dear bloggers and followers, I must close the shutters on today’s. Writing… until tomorrow, remember a shot of “Jack” a day will keep the doctor away, and if you are a senior citizen just keep telling yourself… breathe damn’it.

 

Ira Mae Busybody

Crawfish Creek Manor

 

 

©2012.crawfishcreekmanor. (All Rights Reserved).

 

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Welcome to Crawfish Creek Manor, God’s Waiting Room… Entry #8

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(Disclaimer: This blog is in no way meant to offend anyone, it is just reality as I, Ira Mae Busybody perceives life, and my personal opinion.  Places, names and faces have been changed to protect the cantankerous, mean spirited, nosey, bitchy and innocent.)

 

Welcome to Crawfish Creek Manor, God’s Waiting Room…

 

Hello Bloggers and Followers,

Turkey Day over, I have been away from my computer, now I am back, out of food coma; and after being away from home for several days I am restless, ready for a few “normal” days before the next big one, Christmas.  Thank you for being tolerant of no entries during my few days off.  Nevertheless, she is back! 

Where did I leave all of you good folk?  Ah…Rosemary Wilson renting to anyone who is breathing, Mr. Roy and I enjoying a great 2011 Thanksgiving, Smelly Bob’s fantasy story and of my shocking implications that I may or may not be Gay to the gossipers’!  My final statement…”Old people you gotta love them.

I spent the holiday with my children, and believe me it is true, the apple does not fall far from the tree.  We are a blended family that is together during holidays with ex-spouses as well, so the children have all parents with them on these special days. In addition, we are very blessed with many extended (close friends) family members. 

Days of decorating houses, preparing and eating food that represented the many different cultures of everyone, wine and beer tasting, coffee, tea and the call of “who is in the bathroom(s), I gotta pee”!  Dogs chasing children and children chasing dogs, the cat hides from it all; my puppy chewed on the leg of my daughters’ dining room chair and with us sitting there.

With leftovers, children, pets in hand everyone left over the next few days and I remain behind, the last to leave, I needed to rest before I begin my long drive home. 

Another holiday on the pages of my journal, visions embed within my mind, I drove thinking about those I left behind, and those whom were not with us this year; their memory weighed upon us all touching our hearts through all of the happiness and cheer.

As I turned into the driveway of Crawfish Creek Manor, my thoughts went to Mr. Roy who passed on before the pumpkin season began this year.  My pup and I went into the apartment without seeing a soul, thank goodness.  I sat down at my table and poured two shots of “Jack”, one for me and one for Mr. Roy.  Life goes on, but for me with one less smile.

 

Mr. Roy 1933-2012

I could hear Mr. Roy…”No more sadness girlie, the old biddies will be out in full force tomorrow wanting to know where you been.”  He is right you know so for now, I will take the rest of the night to remember my old friend and tomorrow is another day.

Well, dear bloggers and followers, I must close the shutters on today’s. Writing… until tomorrow, remember a shot of “Jack” a day will keep the doctor away, and if you are a senior citizen just keep telling yourself… breathe damn’it.

 

Ira Mae Busybody

Crawfish Creek Manor

 

 

©2012.crawfishcreekmanor. (All Rights Reserved).

 

Welcome to Crawfish Creek Manor, God’s Waiting Room… Entry #7

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Disclaimer: This blog is in no way meant to offend anyone, it is just reality as I, Ira Mae Busybody perceives life, and my personal opinion.  Places, names and faces have been changed to protect the cantankerous, mean spirited, nosey, bitchy and innocent.

Welcome to Crawfish Creek Manor, God’s Waiting Room…

 

Hello Bloggers and Followers,

 

Thanksgiving Day, USA, my thoughts mellowed a bit allowing you to see into a smidgen of the life of my friend Mr. Roy, our first meeting, how we made the holiday special for each other in our instant friendship.  I would not be true to myself had I not laced it with a dash of humor which involved the Manor’s “chicken house conversations” and the shock of most of the ladies by taking Mr. Roy to my apartment for a goodnight shot of “Jack”. 

This action added further complications to the Warden and Mouth’s circle of gossipers, as they now had to add into the mix that I may “like” men!

This misconception came into play at God’s waiting room, as I like to call it; the metaphor for the name came about when the “Over 55” housing suddenly filled with “Over 85”, most nursing home situations from all over the tri-county area.  With Rosemary Wilson’s inability to fill the apartments she begin to advertise the Manor as an alternative to assistant living or nursing home accommodations with the tenants needs being met by an outside nursing care agency from Clinton.  The Manor filled fast with only a few who were independent and I (still trying to figure out why I am there).

However, that piece of information needed revealing before I continue with the ongoing mystery of; is Ira Mae a “Lesbian” or is she “straight”?  Moreover, that gives you the answer to their shock when Mr. Roy and I proceeded to my apartment.

Only weeks, after I had moved into the Manor, all the while trying to remain detached from the gossip, coffee klatches and eat-ins, I did make every effort to be friendly to everyone when I would pass them in the hallway.  I lady I will call, Faith (changed to protect her as she is one of the innocent ones) and a very nice one, a loner like myself said her neighbor whom I renamed inside my head, “Smelly Bob”, was in the Clinton Hospital with a leg problem that may put him in a wheelchair. 

Since I went into Clinton three days a week to the a fitness center, she ask if I might be willing to stop by and say hello, apparently Smelly Bob, seventy years old had no nearby friends, his children lived several states away and he was alone.  I said that I would the following day.

Wednesday of that week I stopped by the hospital on my way to the gym, I failed to ask Faith his last name and I did not think it appropriate to go to the information booth and ask if they could give me the room number of Smelly Bob!  I described him, where he was from and his condition, apparently they knew Smelly Bob.

When I walked into the room, he was in a lounge chair, hospital gown and blanket over his lap.  I reminded him of my living in the Manor; he smiled and acknowledged me as a tenant.  I went over and looked out the window making a comment on the view he had of a small lake.  When I turned around the blanket was lying on the floor, bandaged legs exposed, gown pulled up to his hips, the view…pitiful!  I quickly excused myself saying I was late to a gym class and I had promised Faith I would stop by, wishing him well, I bolted from the room.  Not a pretty sight.

One week later, the Warden and Mouth came to my door saying that the gathering room was “a buzz” as they called it, with my whirlwind romance with Smelly Bob.  Keeping a straight face, I told them that I would meet them all in a few minutes and share everything!  They rushed away no doubt anticipating more gossip to spread.

When I got there the room filled with several old women and one man, I stood before them as if I was conducting a management seminar, which I had done often in my working days.  The one man said that Smelly Bob had approached him saying that I had drove all the way to Clinton just to see him, confessed that I had a crush on him (god…old fools) and when he was dismissed from the hospital that we went to lunch, to a local motel and burned up the sheets.  Now, I would definitely have burned those sheets!

At that point, to try explaining that Smelly Bob was lying and that I had no interest in him would have not been believed.  Instead I stood feet planted firmly on the floor, raised my hands in the air and said, “My fellow Manor tenants or inmates as I like to call you…since I am certain that each of you have already formed your own opinion let me say this, when spreading this gossip ask yourself this question, are you assuming that I like men?  Mouths fell open, and I walked out of a very quiet room.

This brings me back to Thanksgiving with Mr. Roy, I am certain that I have them totally confused as to my sexual preference.  But, when I walked to the elevator going back to my apartment I heard Mouth say, “Well, do you think she’s “Bi”, we don’t like people who are not straight”, the silence broke and the clucking begin.  Old people and most are younger than I am, you gotta love them!    

Well, dear bloggers and followers, I must close the shutters on today’s. Writing… until tomorrow, remember a shot of “Jack” a day will keep the doctor away, and if you are a senior citizen just keep telling yourself… breathe damn’it.

 

Ira Mae Busybody

Crawfish Creek Manor

 

 

©2012.crawfishcreekmanor. (All Rights Reserved).

 

Welcome to Crawfish Creek Manor, God’s Waiting Room… Entry #6

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Disclaimer: This blog is in no way meant to offend anyone, it is just reality as I, Ira Mae Busybody perceives life, and my personal opinion.  Places, names and faces have been changed to protect the cantankerous, mean spirited, nosey, bitchy and innocent.

Welcome to Crawfish Creek Manor, God’s Waiting Room…

 

Hello Bloggers and Followers,

Last entry I left all of you with my bike ride, the active tri-county redhead Ms Laura, and my wonderful friend and confidant Mr. Roy, who still has an eye for the women and makes the worst coffee since the discovery of the coffee bean.

I have never spent such a lovely, quiet and peaceful morning, Mr. Roy and I never had a lapse in conversation.  He told me about the love of his life whom he had lost after fifty years of marriage, and I for the first time talked about my failed forty-year marriage.  We walked the pumpkin patch to retrieve a perfect pumpkin, he promised to make me a pie, I hate to cook and he loved playing chef.  By noon, we had roamed among the trees, and we did pick the one that Mr. Roy said was beckoning us to take it for a Christmas tree.  Neither of us had celebrated any holidays for many years.

In the twilight of the evening and with the help of some neighboring farmers the house inside and out glowed with lights and decorations, a special glow!  Everyone left, I smiled at the wonder of spending an entire day filled with happiness.  Mr. Roy loaded my bike into the back of the old Ford truck, and we pulled out of the driveway.  I looked back as the radiance of the house faded and then gone as we turned onto the highway; I could not stop the silent tears that ran down my face.

Mr. Roy said; don’t be sad it will all be there tomorrow when you come back.  I could do no more than look at him saying…

“Come back”!

“Well of course, and early, I have a Thanksgiving dinner to make for my new friend”.

When we turned into the driveway of Crawfish Creek Manor, I shook my head in amazement.  I had rode through Hell Town without even noticing it, and now the reality of walking through the front door of the Manor was going to bring to a close what had been an exceptional day.

Without giving a second thought, I said…

“Mr. Roy, you like Jack Daniels”?

“Girl, how could I have been so lucky today, of course”.  His smile broadened and we walked into the Manor.

The “Gathering Room” packed with old men staring at a sea of blue waves and curls; it sounded much like a chicken farm.  So many mouths were moving at the same time the only sound I could hear…

“Cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck”!

When Mr. Roy and I walked past them a silence fell over the room, I heard behind me, the Warden whisper to Mouth, “Well I never”!  I turned to face her…

“And, you probably never will”. 

That my friends was my first Thanksgiving at Crawfish Creek, I hope everyone has a wonderful Thanksgiving this year and if you’re in Clinton be sure to stop and pick up your Christmas tree from Mr. Roy’s tree lot.

     

Well, dear bloggers and followers, I must close the shutters on today’s. Writing… until tomorrow, remember a shot of “Jack” a day will keep the doctor away, and if you are a senior citizen just keep telling yourself… breathe damn’it.

 

Ira Mae Busybody

Crawfish Creek Manor

 

 

©2012.crawfishcreekmanor.(All Rights Reserved).

 

Welcome to Crawfish Creek Manor, God’s Waiting Room…Entry #5

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Disclaimer: This blog is in no way meant to offend anyone, it is just reality as I, Ira Mae Busybody perceives life, and my personal opinion.  Places, names and faces have been changed to protect the cantankerous, mean spirited, nosey, bitchy and innocent.

Welcome to Crawfish Creek Manor, God’s Waiting Room…

 

 

Hello Bloggers and Followers,

Yesterday I left all of you with the “Church People” telling me that I was going to hell!

Trying to bike in Hell Town is taking your life into your own hands.  It is difficult to believe since there is only one street, Main, and two bridges to cross over.  Of course, there are no bike lanes, this is northern “redneck country” and as you may have guessed I am from the “south”…I am certain that it did not take long for that to get through town.  Riding down main with a target on my back was more foolish than brave. 

A redheaded woman I would get to know as Ms Laura pulled out of the Crawfish Café in a 1966 baby blue Studebaker, mint condition, the last year they built that funny little car.  I wondered if she might have been a member of the Studebaker Club.  She pulled out without looking, I put on brakes right before impact!  BITCH…

Ms Laura would turn out to be the preacher’s wife, a church located between Crawfish and Clinton the only church within miles, and I would find out that she led the choir, read during service, wrote a local news column for the Clinton Gazette and held a writing class at the Crawfish Café every Monday morning.  It was my short-term membership in the “Crawfish/Clinton” writing group where I became acquainted with many in the area, including Ms Laura.

Next on the street came an old red Ford truck, I believe my daddy had one of those back in the ‘40’s, unlike the Studebaker it appeared to be held together with rust and baling wire.  This pipe-smoking farmer would become my only friend and ally in Crawfish.  He grew pumpkins for Halloween and trees for Christmas, both; he carried to Clinton to sell on an old A&P lot.  When he pulled out of his parking place in front of Wilson’s Drug and Hardware store he gave me a toothless smile saying…

“Wanna race”

Off he went like a snail, at the bottom of a hill about a mile out of town I looked back to see the old truck turning onto a side road.  I had to go back; the winding road through the pumpkin patch took me in front of a country home out of a Norman Rockwell painting.  There he sat, rocking back and forth next to a table with two cups of steaming coffee. 

“It’s strong and it’s hot, like I like my women…if I was young enough to still like women”.  He winked and continued, “I’m Roy, and you’re that young thing that moved into what I like to call, God’s waiting room, because the next exit is the Pearly Gates”. 

He laughed so hard it was infectious.  I said to him, “Mr. Roy, I’m no spring chicken, but frankly I don’t think God is ready for me and the devil would not know what to do with me”! 

I sat down had the worst cup of coffee in my life and found the best friend that I would probably have in my life.

 

Well, dear bloggers and followers, I must close the shutters on today’s. Writing… until tomorrow, remember a shot of “Jack” a day will keep the doctor away, and if you are a senior citizen just keep telling yourself… breathe damn’it.

 

Ira Mae Busybody

Crawfish Creek Manor

 

 

©2012.crawfishcreekmanor.(All Rights Reserved).

 

 

 

Welcome to Crawfish Creek Manor, God’s Waiting Room… Entry #4

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Disclaimer: This blog in no way meant to offend anyone, it is just reality as I, Ira Mae Busybody perceives life, and my personal opinion. 

Welcome to Crawfish Creek Manor, God’s Waiting Room…

Hello Bloggers and Followers,

Yesterday I left all of you with my return to the new apartment and confronted by the “Warden” and her sidekick “Mouth”.  They were concerned as to my stability and announced (as if I could not hear them), “We ain’t gonna like her”.

I have found that the elderly (most of them) do not have enough to do on a day-to-day basis.  Hard of hearing, do not be fooled by that, they can hear a fly fart one-hundred yards after it has buzzed by them.  Every time I opened my door to take out boxes I had unpacked, no less than ten heads all sporting blue hair popped out to observe me as I walk down the hallway.

Don’t get me wrong, I have white hair…I just don’t think having it spiked went over too well, and I am certain that bare foot and braless did not get me any points, and yes, at my age…and no, “the girls” were not bouncing off my knees.  When God called out who wants “Big Breast”, I thought he said, “Big Test” and I ran the other way!

With the unpacking done, I decided to go for a bike ride.  There I was on the elevator with bike, a man and woman got on with me before the door could close.  The man looked at me and said, “Do you go to church”?  I smiled and said “No”; he got louder, “Don’t you believe in God”?  I smiled and said “Yes”, I knew what was coming next…”People who believe in God go to church”!  His wife said, “You’re going to hell”!  I smiled and said, “Yes mam, I may be going there, and you and your husband don’t forget to say hi when you see me, ya hear”!  I still don’t know their name; I call them the “Church People”!

Well, dear bloggers and followers, I must close the shutters on today’s. Writing… until tomorrow, remember a shot of “Jack” a day will keep the doctor away, and if you are a senior citizen just keep telling yourself… breathe damn’it.

 

Ira Mae Busybody

Crawfish Creek Manor

 

 

#4©2012.crawfishcreekmanor.(All Rights Reserved).

Welcome to Crawfish Creek Manor, God’s Waiting Room…Entry #3

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Disclaimer: This blog in no way meant to offend anyone, it is just reality as I, Ira Mae Busybody perceives life, and my personal opinion. 

Welcome to Crawfish Creek Manor, God’s Waiting Room…

Hello Bloggers and Followers,

Yesterday I left all of you with the “do’s and don’ts” of moving into senior housing, a small taste of the Manor; Hell-Town, USA and its inhabitants, the people from “hell”.  Let me say, that I do not believe all senior housing is as the Manor; not all people in the Manor or town are like those that I have encountered.  However, here those, whom appear to be friendly, turn within time.   

Moving into the Manor was not the ordinary situation for me; I had the best apartment in the building.  I am an artist and writer and one of my rooms has all windows and wonderful light.

The bathroom was shower only, which I could contend with accept that pull-down thing you could sit on if you cannot stand; it became the place I bathed my dog, Poop Boy. 

My introduction to the “tenants” was during move-in; they walked, shuffled, or wheeled up and down the hall trying to get a glimpse of the new person.  My children moved me in, lifelong slapstick comedians.  Their first open comments were about the heat inside being 80 degrees, and it continued from there; they were polite when having to ease around the “bodies” but could not help saying, “Mom, you sure this is not a nursing home”?

I left immediately after moving in, two-weeks of dog sitting while one of my sons and his wife were in Ireland.  Upon walking out, the gathering room was full of blue haired old battle-axes; they migrated to the hallway of my floor where there is a lounge area by the elevator.  Any one that tells you old people cannot see, do not believe them.  They were like vultures waiting for the death of a road kill, peering with their tiny beady eyes.  I smiled and kept moving.

Two-weeks later I returned, I kept thinking there had to be a buzzer somewhere on me, to this day, every time I am outside my apartment someone is waiting with questions.

The “Warden” as I have named her, and sidekick “Mouth”, met me outside the elevator.  Not a hello, kiss my ass, go to hell, nothing…”Ain’t you the woman who moved in two weeks ago and left”, hollered the Warden.  The Mouth replied, “Most people think you are a crazy woman, move in and leaving like that”!  I looked at them respectfully and smiled as I walked away. 

The Warden bellowed out, “Where you been, normal people don’t move in and leave”.  I looked at her and replied, “I guess I am not normal”.  As the door closed, Mouth said, “We ain’t gonna like her”.

Well, dear bloggers and followers, I must close the shutters on today’s. Writing… until tomorrow, remember a shot of “Jack” a day will keep the doctor away, and if you are a senior citizen just keep telling yourself… breathe damn’it.

 

Ira Mae Busybody

Crawfish Creek Manor

 

©2012.crawfishcreek.allrightsreserved.