Katdish.net

(The following is one of my all time favorite posts from Billy. It’s also the very first guest post on my blog. If you’ve read it before, I hope you’ll indulge me for posting it again.)

The toy store downtown is one of those mom-and-pop deals that you can get lost in, the sort of place where you can find things that Toys R Us would never think of stocking. Good things. Great things. Things that really, really make me wish I were a kid again. Which makes shopping there both a pleasure and a curse. A pleasure because there is so much I’d like to get my kids for two weeks of chores well done. A curse because I can’t make up my mind what to get them.

So, there on a Wednesday during lunch, I wander. And in my wandering I happen to spot a Longaberger basket sitting atop a wooden display of toy soldiers (Toy soldiers, I think to myself. My son would love some toy soldiers).

In the basket is a pile of those long, thick pretzel sticks. The sign above them says PLEASE TAKE ONE.
Given the fact that it’s lunchtime and I’m hungry, that’s exactly what I do. I take one and munch while I walk. Through the Legos, the building blocks, the books, the dolls. Through the Tonka trucks and coloring books and Play Doh.

And I am back to where I started. At the basket of pretzels.

Still unsure of what to buy and still hungry, I decide to restock and take another trip around the store. I reach into the basket for another pretzel. And as I bite it, I see something out of the corner of my eye.
Standing beside the stuffed animals about four feet away is a little boy. Sixish, not much older than my son, and staring. At me. He holds out one fist and raises his index finger.

One, it says.

I wrinkle my eyebrows, unsure of what his attempt at sign language means.

One, again.

“What?” I ask him (which actually came out as “Wamp?” because I hadn’t swallowed yet).

“You took two pretzels,” he says.

“So?”

“You’re only ‘posed to take one.”

“Who are you” I ask, “the pretzel police?”

“It’s what the sign says,” he states, now using his index finger to point. “Mama said the sign says ‘Please take one.”

I look at the sign, then back to him. “No,” I answer, “the sign says ‘Please take one.’ There’s a difference. It’s all a matter of emphasis.”

“What’s empkasis?”

“Never mind,” I say.

“You shouldn’t have taken that pretzel. Mama says God watches us.”

My mind takes a sudden detour to those old Disney movies, where the older, bigger kid was always accompanied by Jiminy Cricket, Mr. Disney’s version of a conscience. I’m starting to think this kid is my Jiminy Cricket. Or maybe just aggravating. I haven’t made up my mind yet.

“Your mama’s right,” I answer, wondering where in the world his mama was. “But since God knows the sign says ‘Please take one,’ I think I’m in the clear.”

“Please. Take. One,” he corrects.

There we stand in the middle of the store, staring down one another like two gunslingers in a Western wondering who would draw first.

PLEASE TAKE ONE. An invitation to me, a rule for him. Which was right? I’m not as sure as I was a few minutes ago.

How do we decide who is right and who is wrong? Easy.

Go ask the owner of the store.

“Excuse me,” I say to the nice lady behind the counter. “I was wondering if you could shed a little light on a problem this youngin’ and I are having.”

She perks up and joins us, happy to have something to do.

“We were wondering about this sign here,” I say. “Is it please take one, or please take one?”

The owner gives us both a strange look. “Well, I’m not sure. No one’s ever asked.”

“It’s preyin’ on our minds, ma’am,” the boy says.

“Preyin’,” I add.

“If you’d like a pretzel,” she says, “please take one. If you’d like another, you can take one, too.”

Excellent.

“Can I have a pretzel?” the boy asks.

Situation resolved, the three of us part ways. Him to his mother, who had been preoccupied with the books, the owner back to the register, and me to finish my shopping.

Funny, I think, how three words led us this far. But I am sure of this: if two people can disagree over something as simple as pretzels, it’s no wonder why we disagree over the important things even more—politics and God, right and wrong, war and peace.

Who’s to know which is right and which is wrong? Or even if there really is a right and wrong? How do we settle our differences, put away our prejudices, and find the truth?

Maybe, I thought, we should all do what that little boy and I ended up doing.

Maybe we should all go the Owner of the store and see what He says.

To read more from Billy Coffey, visit him at at his website and follow him on the twitter at @billycoffey.

Since I was unable to post my usual twitter update last week, this is a very edited (believe or not) of 2 weeks worth of tweets, much of it consisting of my 9 hour car ride from Texas to Alabama. It probably won’t take you 9 hours to read. It will just seem that way. (As always, there in backwards order. So if you want them to make sense, read from the bottom to the top. Okay, they still probably won’t make much sense…)

And now the best of me (or not) on the twitter for the past 2 weeks:

Okay, people. I’m off to read a book about writing which will specifically point to all the ways what I wrote yesterday was garbage.

@karenzach Ugh. So long self-esteem! It’s been fun. (in reply to karenzach @katdish That dog is out now. They’ll be no leashing her.)

@JCWert Yes, please. I think I’ve been feeling entirely too good about myself. (in reply to JCWert @katdish That’s why I’m here. 🙂 Shall I comment on something else? Your hair perhaps?)

@karenzach Sigh…so it was always there, I just needed to release it? Bummer. (in reply to karenzach @katdish No. The insecurity comes first. That’s why you write.)

@JCWert Gee, Thanks, Jason. That makes me feel so much better. (in reply to JCWert @katdish It’s just you.)

Does consistent writing make you insecure, or is it just me?

Wrote over 1000 words yesterday. Just read them again & I’m wondering what I was thinking. Ugh!

RT @TheMikeEllis Hug the hopeless. Love the lonely. Treasure the terminal. Forgive the fallen. Encourage the empty

Son: Oh, I have breakfast there too. Me: So what you eat here is pre-breakfast? No more breakfast at school. Sheesh

Me: Your lunch account us empty. What are you eating for lunch? Son: Just the regular lunch. Me: Then where’s all the money I just put in?

@redclaydiaries I’m building the neck stabbing. (in reply to redclaydiaries @katdish Not stabbed in the neck? I’m surprised at you.)

@ExpeditionNovel You are so wise, Richard. Or a really good guesser. (in reply to ExpeditionNovel @katdish My guess would have been over 1007 but less than 1009.)

But I’ve got the beginnings of a story. I think it’s a good one. Someone gets punched in the jaw in the 1st chapter. FTW!

Okay, I’ll tell you. 1008. I’m pretty pleased with that. Even though I’m going to rewrite everything I wrote because I don’t like it.

@pauharri Ten???? Hmph

Guess how many words I wrote today? Go ahead, guess…

@anahid02 Clearly you THINK you like them. You’re just remembering wrong. (in reply to anahid02 @katdish I actually like Cadbury Creme Eggs…haven’t had any in a long time though.)

Seriously, what IS that stuff in the middle? It’s horrible.

So, since I have so much influence in these categories, I would just like to say, Cadbury Creme Eggs are disgusting.

Just checked my klout score. The topics I influence are: writing, publishing, authors, novels & Cadbury Creme Eggs

Beautiness – yet another new word I learned today. Spam comments are so educational.

At night all those inflatable Christmas decorations may look like a winter wonderland, but by day you just have a bunch of crap in your yard

Tomorrow, I’ll be posting a story of 2 blue herons & the political ramifications of said birds. Yeah, perhaps I need to get back on my meds

@tonyjalicea Now see? I knew you would get that reference! (in reply to tonyjalicea @katdish Stuart Smalley! #dailyaffirmation)

@tonyjalicea You’re good enough, you’re smart enough, and gosh darn it! People like you! (in reply to tonyjalicea Sometimes I think I’m my biggest fan. I’m okay with that.)

Because I’d hate to think I squeezed into my jeep for nothing http://plixi.com/p/60325475

I hope this person had plenty of room to get out of their car http://plixi.com/p/60325329

I wonder if this involves mirrors and large binder clips. http://plixi.com/p/60324085

Behold! Whoville at night! http://plixi.com/p/60198831

My neighbors front yard. Also affectionately referred to as Whoville. http://plixi.com/p/60176767

@BigMama247 Snort! I’m gonna steal that line! (in reply to BigMama247 @katdish Oh, that’s what I’ve got on the stove too! If I call cereal for supper “whimsical” that makes it okay, right?)

I really should have planned something for dinner besides my famous Nothing Au Gratin

Is there any lower form of reality television than televising small claims court?

@tonyjalicea Snort! (in reply to tonyjalicea @katdish That would be my loaf, thank you very much!)

@tonyjalicea Someone always brings a loaf of bread. That always cracked me up. (in reply to tonyjalicea It says a lot about people’s cooking ability at work when the best food at the potluck is store bought. #nothankyou)

K-mart smart, that is. Guess I’m not k-mart smart.

“There’s smart, then there’s K-mart smart.” If someone told me I was K-mart I’m not sure I would take that as a compliment.

If by “Eco friendly” they mean “Leaves dirt on clothes”, then yes, this detergent is Eco friendly

If I played 4-square, I would give you my home address & tell you I was finally home. But why would I tell 2000+ people where I live?

They say most traffic fatalities occur within a few miles of home. Wonder if that includes homicides. #Getmeoutofthiscarnow

The nice lady we rented the beach cottage from just sent me a sweet email chock full of emoticons, clearly unaware of my emoticonophobia

@MichaelDPerkins I’m not sure anyone could rock the Christmas sweater vest, not even @br8kthru (in reply to MichaelDPerkins @katdish is it a sweater vest? If so @br8kthru may have to step up his game.)

I somehow managed to take a pic of myself upside down. My eyebrows look weird. http://plixi.com/p/59596202

@TheMikeEllis Solidarity, bro. Me too. (in reply to TheMikeEllis @katdish hey, hate me some Christmas sweaters.)

I’ll miss this http://plixi.com/p/59592135

@kyrstind I tend to cut lite up tie guy some slack, cuz his wife probably bought it for him. His wife w/the matching sweater. (in reply to kyrstind @katdish LOL A middle-aged man with a light-up reindeer tie? Totally saw one at Wal-Mart the other day. Lite up & sang. Lol)

@kyrstind Is there anything sadder than a middle aged woman with a lite up reindeer sweater? Me thinks not. (in reply to kyrstind Not only 1 who does this? YES!)

First Christmas sweater sighting of the year. Let the season of secret sweater mocking begin! Mwha-ha-ha!

@redclaydiaries snort! (in reply to redclaydiaries @katdish Steph’s not here, man.)

@redclaydiaries You malled AND decorated? Who are you & what have you done w/Steph? (in reply to redclaydiaries @katdish Yes, we malled, we ate, we decorated, we ate, we… ate… That’s about it.)

@gyoung9751 I bet you’ve read more books than I’ve had hot meals, Glynn. (in reply to gyoung9751

@PeterPollock @katdish Hey! I read War and Peace — a long time ago, yes, but I read it. Abridged and unabridged editions.)

@muchl8r But you finished it. Quite an accomplishment. I read Gone with the Wind just so I could say I read it, but I’m glad I did. (in reply to muchl8r @katdish I needed note cards to keep track of everyone, and I’ll admit that it was an entirely pretentious endeavor :))

@muchl8r I think you’re the only person I know that’s actually read War and Peace. Even though lots of folks say they have (in reply to muchl8r @katdish Kathy, I didn’t know you could score any more points in my book, but you just did. #ILOVETOLSTOY)

I love my kindle, but there’s something about an old book that draws me in. http://plixi.com/p/59396571

“The sea was angry that day, my friend.” – George Costanza (cold front coming in) http://plixi.com/p/59306017

Good morning! Who’s ready for Black Friday? Or what I like to call “losing your faith in humanity”.

Said pajama pants are B&W MC Hammer pants, BTW…

My sister is wearing pajama pants she’s had since 1985. Don’t know if I should be impressed or embarrassed. Both?

Sunset http://plixi.com/p/59143092

GAAA! http://plixi.com/p/59127359

Happy belated Thanksgiving Canada!

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

And if by chance I’m killed in my sleep by the drunk hillbillies next door, I want you to know I’ll miss you all!

Staying at a very quaint and secluded cottage on the bay…

Just in time to see the sunset over the bay http://plixi.com/p/58919601

Alabama! http://plixi.com/p/58903435

M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I http://plixi.com/p/58894538

My dog, @buddylovethedog has marked the state of Louisiana 3 times. On to Mississippi!

The mighty Mississippi http://plixi.com/p/58880958

Gator country http://plixi.com/p/58874706

Obscene amounts of Chex Mix: Don’t leave home without it. http://plixi.com/p/58870958

It’s a dog’s life. http://plixi.com/p/58859737

Hello Louisiana! It’s been awhile!

Today, I am thankful for a DVD player in the car and 2 sets of headphones

Leaving the big city behind for awhile. http://plixi.com/p/58840771

Heading east to Gulf Shores, AL this morning. Hope you all have a very wonderful Thanksgiving. I can’t wait to sink my feet in the sand!

@marni71 Chicken Soup for the Soul, Lower Back Pain. Wow, what’s next–a Chicken Soup book for the hemmorhoid sufferer?

@weightwhat He’s no Awesome Cat.

Okay, this made me laugh. http://bit.ly/fLFMk0

Dear people who send me emails, If U want me NOT to read ur email, make the subject line: MUST READ
NOW. Cuz you’re not the boss of me.

@TchrEric Oh, not just on Twitter… (in reply to TchrEric @katdish Because you are the most opinionated person on Twitter?)

@JCWert Got 2 bags of Snyder’s! What are Arnold Palmers? I assume you’re not eating the golfer. (in reply to JCWert @katdish Travel food? Arnold Palmers, Swedish Fish, Snyder’s of Hanover pretzels)

Also, I would like to give @tremendousnews credit for coining the phrase “devastating laziness”, even tho he never talks to me anymore.

@Brian_Russell Brian, you’re on probation for RTing someone else’s good morning. That’s just devastating laziness right there

Walmart greeter just said, Good morning, young lady!” Which I suppose is a relative term b/c I think he’s about 126 yrs old

Because when I’m talking to myself, I like to know I have an audience.

I’m thinking not many. Sorry, I don’t get “scheduled tweets”

I wonder how many people tweeting quotes are actually on the twitter.

Back when I was painting on a regular basis, my muse and I were in the zone. She’d have me up a few late nights, but we were working together. She guided my mind and my brush and we made some pretty creative stuff, her and I. Some days I wonder if I should give up my pen and pick up my brush again. Because while my artist muse is quirky, artsy, fun and funky, my writing muse?

She’s kind of a bitch.

Take my visit to the beach for example. Had my artist muse come along on that vacation, we would have collected shells along the beach…

and perhaps brainstormed about different ways one might re-purpose all the planks lying around that used to be the pier.

We would have been amused at the clever way old floats were used to decorate the trees,

admired the oil paintings that lined the walls, and delighted in the fact that another artist once called the cottage their home away from home.

We might have even done some imaginary redecorating: “I bet painting the backs of the bookcases a bright coral would really make them pop. Or maybe a soft Caribbean blue would work, too.”

But alas, artist muse stayed at home with the cat. The other muse came along on this trip. She’s pretty much always around lately, whether she’s welcome or not. She even butts in on the rare occasion I’m painting or designing something. Rude, huh?

It wasn’t enough for her that almost every possible inch on the wall or space on a shelf was occupied by some token from another time. My other muse simply would have appreciated the time and care that went into arranging all these memories. Writing muse? No way.

“What’s the rest of their story?” she asks me.

“How is it that a college professor meets and marries an artist?”

“Seems she was a teacher, but not on a college level. Looks more like elementary school.”

“He appeared to be a deep thinker.”

“She was a bit of a romantic dreamer.”

“How did they make that work? Or did they make that work?”

“Clearly, many vacations were spent here — kids and grandkids both”

“The owner said her stepdad built this place in the 1950’s. Did he have kids from another marriage as well?”

“Did all the kids and grandkids from their blended family get along, or was there tension?”

And on and on…

It’s been a week since my vacation, and yet the questions and demands continue…

“What are their stories, Kathy?”

In my defense I reply, “But I can’t possibly contain those stories to a series of blog posts. There are too many words!”

“Who said anything about a blog post? You write until you’re finished. Worry about what you have when you’re done. Now, put some coffee on. You’re going to be up for awhile.”

And y’all thought I was bossy…

This is George. I was introduced to him by some fishermen on the beach down in Gulf Shores, Alabama. I walked within 3 feet of him. He barely noticed me.

It seems George is in the habit of getting his meals by standing behind fishermen on the beach looking friendly until someone invariably throws him some bait or a fish that’s too small to be considered a keeper. Essentially, George has found an easy way to sustain himself. And since blue herons are typically solitary feeders, he’s not in competition with other herons for the fishermen’s generosity. Like his cousin Carl, for example…

This is Carl.

Unlike his cousin George, Carl’s not particularly fond of fishermen, or any humans for that matter.

Carl obtains his sustenance the way you might expect a large water bird to–from doing his own fishing. You won’t find Carl on the beach teaming with humans. No, he prefers the quiet bay across the highway. There are houses here, yes. But not nearly as many people. As it should be. To him, anyway. When he needs to eat, Carl goes fishing. If he doesn’t, he dies. It’s a fairly simple concept. Not necessarily easy all the time, but simple and easy are often more mutually exclusive than we tend to think they are.

But back to the beach…

George didn’t always depend on the handouts given to him by bemused fishermen. Like his cousin Carl, he went fishing when he was hungry. Physiologically speaking, he is still every bit as capable of surviving as Carl does–by doing for himself. But after years of being fed, what he once considered a gift has become in his mind an entitlement. He views those fishermen as a necessity, and if they all packed up and went away tomorrow, would George be able to survive again on his own? He may not like it, but I tend to think he would do what was necessary to survive. But let us assume for the sake of discussion that this is not George, not George, Jr., but George, III, who has never in his life fished for himself; who has lived his entire bird life being fed by the fishermen. What do you think his chances for survival are?

What do you think? If you had to choose between the life of George and the life of Carl, which makes more sense to you?

(I realize the pics are rather small. You can click on the image to enlarge.)

(Okay, I know I told y’all last week that I was resuming guest bloggers every Wednesday LAST week, and I am…just not this week. My fault–got my schedule mixed up and whatnot. Anyhoo, this was originally published in 2008, so probably only a few of you will remember it anyway. To say my taste in books is eclectic would be a bit of an understatement. I recently finished reading Under the Dome by Stephen King and am currently reading Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy. Don’t be too impressed, I also read stuff like this):

When I say, “It’s Book Review Wednesday!”, what I mean to say is that I am reviewing a book, and it happens to be Wednesday. As a very profound person once said, “The creative spirit cannot be enslaved by the oppressive chains of reason and logical thinking.” (Who said that? Oh, yeah…it was me.) And by “review”, what I mean to say is that I highly recommend this book, because it’s flippin’ hilarious. (End of review.)

I will now share with you a brief passage which I hope that you will appreciate as much as I have. More so now than when I first read the book, considering that I have recently had some of the very same thoughts and conversations that Ms. Rivenbark writes about.

The princess had just graduated to a size 7 when everything went to sh*t. We headed for our favorite department store, ready to take that leap into the new world of 7-16. Bye-bye, 4-6X, I thought to myself with a tug of sadness. My baby was growing up.

And apparently into a prostitute.

“Where are the sevens?” I asked the sixty-something clerk who wore here glasses on a chain just like me.

“You’re standing in ’em,” she said.

Oh, no, I thought, looking around. Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no. “There must be some mistake,” I said. “These are, well, slutty-looking. I’m talking about clothes for a little girl in the first grade.”

“That’s all we got.”

“But these look like things a hooker would wear!”
She smiled sadly. “You have no idea how many times I hear that every day.”

Okay, breathe. This is just some weird marketing experiment. Right?

I went to my second-favorite department store and was invited to peruse the awfulness that is Tweenland! A better name would have been Lil Skanks!

Sequins, fringe, neon glitter tank tops with big red lips on them, fishnet sleeves, scary dragon faces lunging from off-the-shoulder T-shirts. Whither the adorable seersucker? The pastel floral short sets? The soft cotton dresses in little-girl colors like lavender, pale pink, periwinkle blue? This stuff practically screamed SYRINGE SOLD SEPARATELY!

I get it. Now that my kid is practically of childbearing age (is six the new seventeen?) I must choose from ripped-on-purpose jeans and T-shirts that scream things like BABY DOLL and JAIL BAIT, not to mention a rather angry GIRLS RULE AND BOYS DROOL! where an embroidered flower with buzzing bee should be.

When did this happen? Who decided that my six-year-old should dress like a Vegas show girl? And one with an abundance of anger issues at that?

And why are parents buying this junk fashioned from cheesy fabrics that surely leave your dryer’s lint filter full of glitter and fuzzy sequined balls?

I hope you won’t take this the wrong way–you, the mom on the cell phone flipping your check card to your kid so she can buy the jeans that say SPANK ME on them –buy you’re going down, b*tch.

No, really. I’m taking you out, putting you on notice, slapping some sense into your sorry ass.

(Okay, guest blogger next week. For reals…)