Flames and Old Codgers

Excitement On the Street

Yesterday, Travis across the street came over. He said Joe C. called him and told him to rake Mrs. Cage's leaves, so he was going to let his boy attack them with the big mower. I thought, "That little boy?" I'd forgot that those two little kids across the street are now big old teenagers.

Anyway, Jonathan chugged over on the mower and cleaned a couple of strips across the front yard. Then the mower caught on fire, and neighbors converged from all directions. They couldn't put the fire out, but they got the mower out into the street, and nobody got burned or hurt. They kept saying, "When the fire gets to the gas tank, it's going to explode," and the flames and black smoke really looked fierce. But here came two fire trucks and twice that many firemen. They put out the fire and shoved the black metal skeleton over to Travis's curbside.

So when the excitement died down, Jonathan started raking leaves and stuffing them into bags, but in a little while it started raining so he had to desist.
*
Hollingsworth Manor Is Empty

Leslie Nielsen, the very funny actor who played "Golden Girl" Dorothy's bridegroom, died Sunday at a very ripe old age. Of course Dorothy (Bea Arthur) herself had already passed on.

*

The Elephant To Hollywood
Jed brought me Michael Caine's second autobiography, The Elephant to Hollywood, which was published this year. Yesterday afternoon I thought I'd glance at it, and turned out I couldn't put it down. Caine knew everybody in the world who had any connection to the entertainment industry. He didn't tell all their secrets, but his sketches of their personalities are very sharp. Besides, the book is a good travel diary; he went everywhere. He's a very good writer, and if he ever writes a novel, I'd like to read it. His mama had Alzheimer's, and I hope it doesn't trickle down to him. He's 77 and has escaped so far.

I've never cared a whole heap for English comedians, and I believe the only Caine movies I ever saw were The Last Valley, which I walked out of about 30 years ago because it was so violent, and the very late Miss Congeniality, which was cute and lots of fun. Of course, all his movies weren't comedies, and now I'd like to see "The Ipcress File" and a couple of the others.

Nothing Much Going On

I've been reading Edmund Morris's new book Colonel Roosevelt. Theodore has shot so many animals in Africa, I think he's getting a little sick of the bloodbath, himself. Well, he's doing it for science, for the Smithsonian Institution, so maybe he'll get over it. But I'm not sure I can read any more of it.

Here it is two days from the end of November, when I meant to have this blessed book finished.

The best laid plans of mice and men
gang aft agley,
and lea'e us naught but grief and pain
for promised j'y.

We had a fine Thanksgiving feast, thanks to the good cooking and hospitality of Sister Susan. On Friday I ate leftovers and watched Auburn come from behind to beat the Crimson Tide 28-27.

Can't think of any more cheerful news for the moment.

Cooking Today

I've got to make about 10 gallons of potato salad for Suzie's Thanksgiving feast tomorrow. Jed is on his way from Hotlanta, so it looks to be a good day.

Done!

The opener and light buttons are mounted on the stairway wall.

The installer said, "You'll have to wait till we're gone to test these, to see if they work." Funny guy. I got two remotes for each door. But each remote will open either door, depending on which button you push.

The overhead motors inside have two lights each, with covers. I'm very well satisfied, and I hope Mr. Hogan is, too.

I have been calling around to get someone to rake or blow the leaves, but haven't succeeded yet.

I still have a question or two. Initially, Charles said something about a way to open the doors if the electricity goes off, but yesterday I didn't think about it, and he didn't mention it. So I'll have to call them again tomorrow. I forget what my other question was.

I slept off and on from 7:30 yesterday evening until 9:30 this morning, so I ought to feel better than I do. But I don't.

Double Dose

The installer just phoned and said he's on his way. So I went and took another pill. Besides that, I woke up this morning with the misery in my chest, so when I ever get Old Abe back on some wheels and out of the garage, one of the first trips will probably be to the The Kirklin Clinic.

I have a lot to look forward to: Sometime soon, old Pluto is bound to get out of my constellation and things will get better. I'll finish the book and maybe sell the house and move to Bangkok, Thailand.

***

The City of Valor is makin' me crazy. Especially its grammar.

The Betty Lou Notebook

This is where I scribble when I'm thinking about the book while I eat, read or watch TV.

I jumped up this morning (yeah, right), showered and dressed after only one cup of coffee. Then the installer called and said they haven't got the garage doors ready yet. I immediately started craving grits and butter and a cigarette.

"Charles" sounded like he was half asleep, I bet he was still in bed. He said it takes 4 hours to install them and they won't arrive until this afternoon. I said could he install them this afternoon? No, he has family activities planned for this afternoon, don't we all? I said how about Saturday morning? Nope. Frednesday? Monday? Yes, he thought they could get to it Monday, he would call me Monday morning and let me know.

Grrrrr!

Sometimes the illusion of reality is enough to make you holler calf rope.

So I'm Not the Only Klutz!

Yesterday I talked to Betty Jo on the phone, and told her about my destruction of the garage door. She laughed and said she did the same thing some time ago, only hers wasn't as totally destroyed as mine. Then she went on to tell about two different people she knew who had done as good a job, if not better than mine. That really made me feel so much better. I had been thinking I was the probably the only person in the world who had done something that dumb, but these three other cases were all in Leeds, in recent years.

Betty also came by later in the afternoon and we went to the grocery store, for which I was mighty grateful, as I was getting desperate. But then I forgot to get butter after all.

One of the flat tires has a great huge nail sticking in it, I noticed yesterday. The other one is the tire that has trouble holding air; I've had to blow it up about every time I got near the gas station. I guess tomorrow, if and when the door replacement gets done, I'll call Murray's to come and put my spare on in place of the one with the nail. Maybe they can bring some aid for the other one. I don't know.

I think I've worn out this little black keyboard. Sometimes when I hit a key, nothing happens. I need to be using the new computer and keyboard all the time, but I can do a few things with this old system that I haven't yet figured out on the new one. And sometimes I just forget.

It'll be fixed Friday.

Then the real fun will begin. I've got two flat tires. Flat. That's why I made this bow-shaped mess in the first place.
*
I'm always learning. This time I learned that, when one "mishap" haps, you better look around before you move. The next one may be sneaking up on you.

Just before falling asleep...

...last night, it came to me--the essence of this novel, and the new enormous task before me. So I plan not to talk about it any more until it's done, sometime in 2012 or '14.

The delay about the doors is because Sally, the Sears' lady in Atlanta, was sick the past three days and didn't return my calls until this morning. Right now if I don't take a bath and put on some clean clothes, I can't even talk to anybody on the phone.

Nowhere to go but out, nowhere to fall but off, nothing to do but keep on or quit

I was never any good at telling a story or even a joke out loud. Thought I was better with writing, but this manuscript is a mess. I've spent two weeks rethinking, adding to and taking away, and still have half of the thing staring me in the face. And always at the back of my mind gallops the rest of the story to be added on before the end. Then I'll have to rewrite that! Mother of Pearl!

Bayou Farewell

I finished reading this month's book club selection this morning, then dooded myself up to go to the meeting. Then I checked my email and found that the hostess, Betty, has postponed the meeting until next Friday because her son is having an arteriogram. Surely do hope he'll be okay.

This was a very fine book, published in 2003 and sharply predictive of Hurricane Katrina which came in 2005. Besides the pitiful predicament of the disappearing Louisiana wetlands, the characters in the book, mostly Cajuns, were all interesting to read about. While reading Bayou Farewell, I was also inspired to finish a short story I began many years ago, a sort of Somerset Maugham-ish detective tale in which the protagonist gets tied up in "Coon Ass" country. I didn't finish writing it, but at least I got inspired.

A few people have remarked on how much I look like my mother, which has puzzled me because she had dark hair, swarthy skin, and a low hairline. But that picture of me and Sandra (see below) looks like a picture of Shonsey Hurst and Mary Ramey.

I still have to make a run to the P.O. and the bank (to deposit my poetry prizes). But then I'll have the rest of the day to work on--you know what--The Book.
*
2:00 p.m. - Well, here's a story that I wish could be hushed up for a decade or so. My horoscope probably says that today is not a good day to travel. I went downstairs to the garage and saw that two tires on my car were almost totally flat and I went into a panic. Hoping that they would hold out until I could get to the service station, I jumped into the car and backed it through the closed garage door. Not all the way through, just enough to smash it and cave it in. So now I can't get what's left of the garage door open, so I'm going nowhere soon.
*
I've called two places for estimates on replacing the door. One of them is supposed to come tomorrow, and the other is supposed to call me back when they get time.

Very distressing. I'm always so careful not to let it appear that old age is getting to me. Pray and everything. Oh well, I have to remember what Jed says: "It's a hassle, but nothing else."
*
The manager of the Sears garage door section phoned, and just talking to her made me feel better. She's going to send someone tomorrow to measure and give me a firm estimate on the door. Apparently it won't cost quite an arm and a leg.

Back to the Grindstone

I really am making progress on the book, except for typing, which will start pretty soon.

Dale emailed some of his reunion photos.

Sandra and me.

Betty Jo

Joyce Earle (I think that's her husband Jack's hand on the right.)

Dale and his wife Ruby

Kathryn and John Earl

Evelyn Jo

Wing Day

The angels now have their wings.

Reunion

We had a pretty good crowd, more than a dozen folks. Only about half were actual classmates, the others were spouses and friends. But there were me and Betty, Sandra H.B., Joyce, Evelyn Jo, Dale, and John Earl. We missed and figuratively drank to Helon and Spank, Claiborne, Sandra B.H., Georgia, Frank, Bobbie Ann, and others who are still topside.

John Earl's wife Kathryn is still one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen, but she's probably ten years or so younger than most of us. I dimly remember baby-sitting her and some other kids in Dunnavant, and thinking she was one of the prettiest little girls I'd ever seen. Matter of fact, we were all a pretty good-looking bunch. Evelyn Jo and Joyce were beauty contest winners, as were Helon and Georgia. Of course I forgot to take my camera, but Dale took a lot of photos and maybe he'll email me some.

The Fish Market is right at Highway 280, and is very nice.

I've slept most of the day so far, while the sun shone and the rain rained, alternately and then together. And I did chicken out last night and enable the furnace.

"Rain and turn cold"

How many times I heard that forecast when I was growing up: "It'll rain and turn cold." Well, that's what it's doing now. The hall thermostat says 70, and if it gets 'way down in the 60s, I guess I'll turn on the furnace, though I hate to do that.

Our little class reunion is tomorrow, and Betty C. just phoned and said she would pick me up to go to the Fish Market on 280 tomorrow morning. I hope my innards will be in better humor if I have to smell the Fish Market. This morning the Lowe's men came to measure the windows again, and I was feeling rather unstable. After they left, I lay down for a while and now I feel OK.

The Fish Market doesn't smell bad, and actually I've never been to the one on 280. But at different times, strong smells of cooking affect me in different ways.

I'm glad it's time to start wearing winter clothing.

Eureka!

I'm SO pleased with the progress on the book yesterday and this morning! Changes and additions that I hope will take away the need to add another 50,000 words, but will stir up the action and passion and make it a nice size after all. Of course, most of it is still in my head, but I'm pretty good and fast at putting words on paper. Or on screen, as the case may be.

First, I need to spend a cartridge or two printing out the ms. as it is now. No, I'll wait till I've got this new stuff down, and do the print-out for the final proofing. I can print it back-and-front, and it'll only take about half a package of paper, which I need to buy some more of.

 I've read a little in The Thirteen-Gun Salute, Patrick O'Brian's 13th, I think, in the Aubrey series. If I could write prose like that, I wouldn't never do nothing else.

I was worried the last few days, thought I had an ear infection. But I think I had just been sleeping on my right side too much, with a hard pillow stuffed under my right jaw. Last night I slept facing larboard instead of starboard, and now there's hardly a twinge.

Halloween and All

I had so many trick-or-treaters, I had to search the cabinets for remnants of packages of taffy, peppermints, and some old miniature Hershey bars--not that old but not brand new.

Yesterday evening I cooked a beef roast, and today made gravy on the pan drippings. And I learned not to eat a heavy meal and then try to write. Didn't get anything done on the book this afternoon; I just caught up my poetry files on the prize-winners and those that didn't win. I do write better at night, anyway, and I hope to make some progress this evening.

I'm going to take a long walk every morning from now on. This weather is heavenly--though I'm half afraid to say so. Seems like every time I wax poetic about the weather, a short time later we get a tornado or floods.