Thank you Cameron!

“Rah Rah, Hiss boom bah, I made it through Thursday, Ha ha ha!”


“Woke up late.  Yes, I heard the alarm, but I ignored it. Then the 2nd alarm kicked in.”

“You have 2 alarms?”

“Yup.  One is a clock and the other is a cat.”

“Did you have an easy, peaceful feeling at work?”

“Next question, please.”

“Not another one of those days.”

“Let’s just say, in the words of a famous song, ‘Those were the days, my friend, we thought they’d never end.'”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Let’s just say I was a rubber band, stretched to the limit.  Or maybe a balloon. Have you ever blown up a balloon beyond its capacity?  And then, a little boy showed up, a charming little critter.  His eyes lit up when he ate a cookie and paraded around the office, with enthusiasm.  He made me smile, and brought life back to perspective.  My attitude changed.  My rubber band flew out into space.  My balloon soared into the air, singing, ‘Would you like to ride in my beautiful balloon?'”

“Can you see if your little friend can come back tomorrow?”

“I doubt it, but I am going to suggest that we hire that little goof.”

“As what?”

“As the office mascot, or the master of reality checks, or maybe, as the chief motivator.”

“Oh for far fetched and crazy!”

“Yeah. I guess I will just wait til he grows up and marry him.”

“What the hell?”‘

“Sorry, Minnie, but I love that kid.”






Put another dime in the record machine

“You know what, Minnie?  I hate do wop.  All those 60s bands put that do wop in their music, when they ran out of lyrics.  And another thing:  disco music. Gotta get some hot stuff baby, this evening, and all those strobe lights.  Thank goodness, we have evolved.”

“What about hip hop and grunge?”

“Not my cup of tea. As a matter of fact, I don’t even like most country music, and especially not blue grass.”

“So you are stuck in the 80s, aren’t you Wolf?  Eric Clapton, Billy Joel, Elton John, Aerosmith and Def Leppard. You goof. You probably turn on the oldies, and relish in Hotel California, Free bird and Losing my religion.  You just might be a left over hippie.”

“If I could meet anyone, it would be Neil Young.  Or wait:  Mick Jagger, Mick Fleetwood, or David Bowie.  Then again, if they were alive, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison or Buddy Holly.  And of course, the still living Tom Petty, Cat Stevens and Bruno Mars.”

“How did Bruno get in there?

“He sneaked in and captured my heart.”

“No country?  Not any?”

“Well, the Dixie Chicks, Willie, and Tim McGraw are awesome.  And I have to admit, Martina and good old Johnny Paycheck are also super.  But, given a choice, I would have to opt for a roaring rendition of Whitney, singing the national anthem, or Patti LaBelle, singing, “Don’t cry for me Argentina, or Roberta Flack, ‘The first time ever I saw your face.’ And then there is KD Lang. Constant craving.  And Michael Jackson, ‘Billie Jean.’  And one of my all time favs, Louis Armstrong: ” What a wonderful world.”

“Do you think music may have affected your life, Wolf?”

“Can you keep a secret, Minnie?”


“I love music and sometimes, I even like do wop, country and blue grass.  Let’s have a glass of wine, put on Kim Carnes and listen to “Betty Davis Eyes.”

“So you had a bad day, Wolf?”

“You got that right, Minnie.  So turn up the radio, Turn up the radio
I need the music, gimme some more
Turn up the radio
I wanna feel it, got to gimmie some more”

“Yeah, ok, Wolf, put another dime in the record machine.  And let’s dance.”

“Dance?  You got it Minnie:   The day is over, and we need to dance to this Wednesday,  a day of dancing and chancing.  As Garth would say:

And now I’m glad I didn’t know
The way it all would end, the way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance
I could have missed the pain, but I’d have had to miss the dance.”

“Ok, Wolf, put on your red shoes and we will dance the blues.”




Do or die

“I really do not care to reflect on my Tuesday, Minnie, ok?”

“Oh no. Not another bad one.”

“Bad?  I don’t think that is the word for it.  Bad is the absence of good. Bad conjures up images of evil.  No, not bad. It was the kind of day that stretches the limits, that put me to the test, and severely restrained my playful antics. I truly believe that there are some days that require constant focus, innovation, drive and dedication. I seriously doubt that most of us work to our full potential every day, but today happened to be one of those that it was either do or die.”

“Did you succeed?”

“Let’s talk about something else, ok?  I hear the  NASA rocket blew up, in Virginia.  The ebola crisis started with an infant, in Africa.  The Cowboys lost last night.  Snow showers are predicted for the weekend.  I have to get my Halloween outfit ready.  The pub ran out of my favorite wine.  I am vitamin D deficient.”

“Yeah? Well, the roofers showed up today.  Cough up 5 grand, girl, if you want to get the roof fixed, and not watch TV with an umbrella.  But at least the roof is guaranteed for 30 years.”

“Did the roofer guarantee we would be around to enjoy that roof for 30 years, you idiot?”

“And the landscaper showed up, cutting the grass.”

“The grass?  What the hell?  What grass?  Where was he in June, when the grass was knee high to a grasshopper?”

“One more thing, Wolf:  We ran out of coffee.”

“Yeah?  Well, isn’t that special?  In the infinite wisdom of the roofer, 30 years from now, will I really care?”

“But what about tomorrow morning?”

“It’s not tomorrow yet.  It is still Tuesday. It was a beautiful day.  76 degrees. A challenging day, at work, but not a bad day. We are home, warm, safe and relatively sane.  The grass is cut, the roof will soon be repaired, and it just might be the best time of our lives.”

“But what will tomorrow bring?”

“If we are fortunate to experience tomorrow, it doesn’t matter.  Let’s cross that bridge when it comes.  Tuesday will become Wednesday, and at the end of the day, I hope you ask me if I had a bad day.”




The minutes of a day

Tick tock

Tick tock

The minutes of a day,

Hello. How are you?

What’s that you say?

Did I what?  Have a good weekend?

Did I what? Solve your problem?

Did I what? Skip lunch?

How did it get to be noon already?

Yes, it is a beautiful fall day.

What’s that you say?

Why am I so quiet?

I didn’t know you were talking to me.

A bad day?  No. Not really.  Just a busy day.

Do I have a minute?  What do you need?

You think it’s cold in here?

You want cheese cake?

You are getting your hair cut tonight?

You are taking time off to babysit?

Excuse me, if I don’t comment.

I am anti social?

I give love a bad name?

I can’t get no satisfaction?

I shot the sheriff?

We all have those days, my friends.  We thought they’d never end.


The sun will come out.

And I believe in magic.

Until then, it’s poor me, poor me, pour me another one.



Weekly quotes

Another week of great quotes:

“Where’s the cake?”

(Monday)  “That’s it:  No more eating junk food”  (Friday):  “That’s it, next week, no more junk food.”

“Are you wearing that Halloween vest and horns again?  You sure are a horny little devil.”

“The bird is the word.”

“I love a boss who shakes her boobs.”

“My grandson is the most talkative kid in day care.”  Really?  I wonder why.  Shut up, Pat.

“I’m cold.  Hey, Erica, can you steal a coat out of the donation bin for me?”

“Fair warning: Don’t approach nor poke the bear.  She is on a rant.”

“9am.  Out back”

“I have a sandwich in the refrig.  It’s been there for 2 weeks.  You think it is any good?”

9:30 am:  “It’s going to be a good day.”  940am:  “I quit.”




A hoot

“I think I need to go to Ireland, Minnie. It’s time for me to reconnect with my past.”

“And just what would you do in Ireland?”

“Well, I would wear green jeans, dye my hair green, and go pubbing. And of course, I would look up my Grandfathers’ estate.  Felix McManus, the maverick of old Erin, the man who fought city hall, and married my grandmother.  Too bad she turned out to be a boozer.”

“And just how did you come to be?”

“Well, Felix passed on at an early age, after settling in Iowa.  Mary, my grandmother, moved to Minnesota, to meet some goof who she met on facebook…”

“Hey!  Come on, there was no facebook back then.”

“Oh yeah, well, I guess she was a mail order bride or something, and being half in the bag, she carted her 4 daughters up to the end of the civilized world, to Duluth, Minnesota, and remarried.”

“Then what?”

“My mother met my father, a lone survivor of the infamous 1900 flu outbreak, and they had 7 kids.  All of them were goofs, except for me, of course.”

“Oh for crazy!”

“Yeah, then I grew up, with an Irish Catholic mother, who went to church every day, and a wild, crazy father, who could be found at the Eagle’s club most of the time.  So there you have it.  On my mother’s side, a boozy matron.  On my father’s side, a wild and crazy boozer.  And me?  Well, did I really stand a chance at sanity?”

“So what happened to you?”

“I got married to a boozer, who died at an early age.  Then I moved to New Jersey, half blitzed, to begin a new life, and married crazy Jimbo.  We got married in Maryland, wearing our jeans and cowboy hats, and there was not a person in the world who thought we would last.”

“But you did.”

“Yeah.  We are still crazy, but as I think back, if you are crazy, you better marry someone crazy.  It can be a wild ride, but it sure is a hoot.”

“Is that what it is all about?  A hoot?”

“That it is, Minnie.  A hoot. A couple who laughs and hoots together, no matter what, is the couple who will stay together.”

“Then why this mission to go to Ireland?”

“Are you kidding?  I need a break from Jimmy and the cats.  Geez, they drive me crazy!”






Shake, shake, shake senora

It started with an innocent comment:  “Hey, what’s that spot below your breast bone, on your hoodie?”

The reply:  “I spilled my breakfast on the way into work.  But no one noticed.  See?  I have been walking around with my hand hanging like a limp wash rag just below my boob.”

And then it started.

Goof number 1:  “I thought you were trying to draw attention to your boob.”

Goof number 2:  “Did you spill that on purpose?”

Goof number 3:  “What’s that shaking?  I swear I saw shaking.”

And she did it:  She has it down to a fine art:  The pectoral muscles.  Wow. In a wink of an eye, they began to shake, rattle and roll.
Shake, shake, shake, Señora, shake your body line
Shake, shake, shake, Señora, shake it all the time

I love Beetle Juice.

“How did you do that?”

“Easy.  Clasp your hands together, grab a pole, and hey!  You have a new career path!”

We all tried it.  And we had it!  4 people, exercising their pectoral muscles, laughing raucously, after a very tough week.

Then Bill showed up.

“What’s going on?”

No one commented.  We just clasped our hands together and shook.”

“What?  What?  What’s going on?”

And in the blink of an eye, Bill began to exercise his pectorals and he did it, one boob at a time.

The four of us looked right, then left, and watched as his amazing pectorals went:  A penny for a spool of thread, a penny for a needle.  That’s the way the boobies go. Pop goes the weasel.

It is now Friday night.  The 4 of us are home, and secretly clasping our hands together, popping our weasels and giving thanks for a spilled breakfast.






Suck it

“Oh yeah, Thursday.  Gloomy, spitting rain, with high winds and a multitude of sour grapes.”

“Ahhhh, so…. your coworkers were not in the best spirits?”

“Let’s just say there were few glimmers of hope. Even MCat joined in on the chorus:  “I quit!”

“Did you celebrate Barb’s birthday?”

“Of course.  I can’t believe we ate the whole cake, in 10 minutes, flat.  Barb had a spectacular day, and gave us insight into survival: The bird is the word!  And then she sprang into a song and dance routine that would put Lawrence Welk to shame.  A one and a two…. before breaking into a stunning rendition of “What is love?”

“Can you tell me?  What did you accomplish today?”

“If I hadn’t showed up, I think it might be a wash.  It was one of those days, one step forward, two steps back.  But I stepped back and thought: What would Barb say?”


“Baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me no more.  So I put on my winter cap, and strolled outside, to brave the fierce weather, singing, “Rainy days and Thursdays always get me down.”

“Thursdays?  You idiot.  It’s Mondays.”

“Oh yeah.  Mondays.  Ok.  Rainy days, Mondays and Thursdays always get me down.”

“Oh for crazy!”

“Speaking of getting me down, get down honky cat.  And you too, Mcat.  As the great sorcerer, E, would say: “Suck it.”

“And Pat?”

“Which Pat?  The bad Pat or the good Pat?”


“Now what?”

“We took a survey and have decided, telling her to shut up does no good, so we have altered our mantra and now it is “Suck it, Pat.”

“Thank goodness.  Everyone is so damn tired of those posts telling Pat to shut up.”

“That’s why I love change, Minnie.  The gloomy weather is changing. We should see sunshine tomorrow. It’s Friday. The end of a very rough week. And the back room crazies will have survived, more or less, as they parade out the door, singing ‘Everybody’s working for the weekend, except for you, Pat, so don’t scream about, don’t think aloud, turn your head, now baby, just spit me out and by the way, suck it.'”



Thinking of the past tonight, some of those characters I worked with.

I remember:

Ashley:  Is it 5 o’clock yet?

Mandy:  Who the hell is that silly goof?  And how does she know so much?

Nicole:  So stunning, eating a banana, in the most unusual way.

James:  A human whirlwind, as he shrink wrapped skid after skid, and by the way, looked so good.

Helene:  She could rip you a new one, as she served you cake on a silver platter.

Lynne: You want the truth?  You can’t handle the truth. But you got the truth, anyway.

Rosa:  Oh yeah.  Rosa.  A human dynamo in a small package.

Suzanne:  Don’t approach her in the morning.

Carl:  A study in brevity. (Hey Carol, it’s 4:20)

Snow: Connects with everyone, and charms the socks off her customers.

Anthony:  The sweetest guy in the whole world.

Jose:  So much cuter than John.

Amos:  OMG.  What a hoot.

And there are so many others who have moved on, to new careers, new lives and new horizons.

I miss them.

I think about them.

And I will always look back and remember them.







A venture to the DMV

“I had quite an adventure today, Minnie. I got my picture taken.”

“So?  Big deal.  What the hell?”

“Wait. Babs has a birthday coming up this week, and mine was back in July, so we both had to get our photos taken for our driver’s license.  Well, we decided to go on our lunch hour.   We planned to stop for lunch after our photo shoot, but @%$@% happens.”


“We got there and the place was jammed, mostly with old folks, who could barely walk.  Babs and I wondered how the hell  these people still drive.  Anyway, we had to take a number and wait our turn.  It reminded me of going to the grocery store on a Saturday, waiting in line at the deli, while someone was ordering a half pound of liverwurst, a half pound of chopped ham, a small container of potato salad, 3 red beet eggs, a quarter pound of swiss cheese, a slab of bacon and a rotisserie chicken. By the time they got their order, those of us still waiting, began to seethe and foam at the mouth.”

“Long wait, eh?”

“The first person in line was number 565.  There he was, an old goat, with a grey pony tail, tied up in the back, with a flannel shirt and blue jeans. An old hippie. Photo number 1.  Nope.  He didn’t like it.  Photo number 2.  His eyes were closed.  Number 3:  Oh no way.  Finally, the photographer substituted his photo for one of Brad Pitt.  Yes!  He took it. That made number 566.  Only 15 more to go.”

“Oh for crazy!”

“We watched and waited as the parade continued. The old and infirm turned out to be very picky about their photos.  I guess they hadn’t looked in the mirror lately.  Those 2 gals who were taking the photos, tried consoling, flattery and sympathy, never flinching, always smiling and feeding them with bs.”

“So when your number was called, then what?”

“I had the back luck to be the next one, after Barb.  Her photo was spectacular.  She had a new hair do, and looked fabulous.  I heard the photographer raving about her picture.  So I slinked up to the purple curtain, wearing my trench coat and devil horns, and the lady in the control remarked, “Oh hello inspector Clouseau.”


“I flashed her, and she told me “Hey no horns allowed.”

“Why do you have to be obnoxious, Wolf?”

“I connected with the lady and asked her if she liked her job, since she was so pleasant with all of us idiots, and she said,” I love my job and I love my meds even more.”

“How did your photo turn out?”

“Gorgeous.  She took one look at my photo, and said, “Oh no, dear.  Let’s take one more.” And the next thing I knew, I had turned into Angelina Jolie.”

“What the hell?”

“I was ecstatic, until I got home, and took a look at my driver’s license.  Hell, that damn goof had given me someone else’s photo.  Who the hell is that old grey woman, in a trench coat, wearing horns?”