Archive for April 22nd, 2010

Wooden Spoons

When  I was a small girl, Gramma worked at Richland Memorial Hospital, in the canteen.  She was the manager.  Everyday after school, I would be dropped off  at the hospital by my ride.  I would meet Gramma there, and wait until her shift was over.  The canteen was only open until about 4.  After I finished my snack and whatever homework I had, which was usually none, I became bored and started asking my Gramma for something to do.  She would usually come up with some little chore for me to do and then give me some little bit of money to do it.  I did everything from pull the dead, wilted leaves off of heads of lettuce to restock the chocolate and strawberry shortcake parfaits in the mounted, back-lit refrigerated unit.

After I got my money, I would go next door to the gift shop.  I never could hold on to my money.   Ms. “Mac” ran the gift shop.  Actually, The Pink Ladies ran the gift shop.  They were the hospital volunteer ladies.  They still wear pink smocks. To me, however, it was Ms. Mac’s shop.  She would greet me, happy to see me.  “Hey Kimmy! What are we buying today?” she would ask.

I would smile and reply, “Hi, Ms. Mac!  I am going to get some candy and maybe somethinng for Grammer.”  I would walk over and collect my grape flavored Pop Rocks and a Sugar Daddy.  Then I would meticulously look at everything on every shelf. There were never any really big crowds in the small store that sold the basic hospital gift shop items: flowers, magazines, baby items, books, so Ms. Mac usually walked around with me, asking about school, my day, etc.  I was always spending my “hard-earned” money in there on something for Gramma, but it had to be just the right thing.  Nothing ordinary would do for MY gramma.

On one particular day, after several minutes of scouring the shelves, seeing things I had seen a million other times, my eyes spotted something new: wooden spoons.  Finding these, to six year old me, was like hitting the proverbial jackpot!  MY gramma always used wooden spoons with which to cook.  They were a quarter each! I carefully chose the four I wanted to get for her. I took my items up to the register.  Ms. Mac said, “So, have you found what you were looking for?”

“Yes, ma’am! Grammer likes to cook, so she’ll love these!”  It never occurred to me to wonder why a hospital gift shop was selling wooden spoons.  Now, in hindsight, I would say it was devine intervention.  Ms. Mac carefully placed my valuable items in a plain, pink paper bag.  I marched triumphantly back to the canteen, ready to eat my Pop Rocks and hand over the spoons to my gramma.

“I see you got some of those God-awful Pop Rocks. Well, you know you can’t have any Coke with those,” she said in her matter-of-fact-I-mean-business-gramma voice.

“Yes, ma’am.  I know.  I got you something!” I exclaimed.

“Oh good!  Do I get it now, or do I have to wait until we get home?” she asked.

I said, “I guess you can have it now.”  I opened the bag,  took my Sugar Daddy out for later and handed the now-rumpled pink paper bag over.  She opened it and slid out the slick, clean wooden spoons.

“They are just the kind I like, Kimmy!  Perfect,” she proclaimed.

At the end of her shift, we gathered up all of our stuff and started the walk home.  We only lived two blocks from the hospital, and this was always a favorite part of my day.  When we got home she said, “Let’s wash these up and then I can make us some pancakes for dinner!  If you’re not too full of Pop Rocks,” she smiled knowingly.  She knew that Breakfast for Dinner was one of my favorite things.  She made the pancakes for us and declared that they tasted better having been made with the new spoons.   I just sat there grinning, sticky with Ms. Butterworth’s.

Over the years, Gramma used those spoons all the time, making one love-filled meal after the next for the people most important to her, her family.  She provided us with pancakes, cakes, biscuits, stews, soups, Kool-Aid. Even now, 32 years later, we still have a couple of those spoons left.  She always cooked with those spoons, and whenever I see them, the evoke memories of my gramma cooking for us. Now it’s my turn to cook meals full of love for the people I care most about, and I’ll use those spoons to do it.

Read Full Post »

Maybe it’s because I was born and raised in The South.  Maybe it’s because I was raised by my gramma. I don’t know the catalyst, but I appreciate people who use “good” manners.   I don’t mean proper etiquette, although, I do raise an eyebrow if someone knows what to do with their napkin when they go to the dining table in the midst of a meal or don’t have to ask which fork to use for which course.  I love it when people say “Thank you” and “You’re welcome”.  It is VERY sexy when men are chivalrous. I was watching “Casino Royale” a few nights ago, and when James Bond rises from his seat when a lady enters the room or sits at the dining table, it is HOT!  If I was a guy, I’d get a boner every time. Well, if I was a gay guy, which IF I was a guy, I’d most certainly be gay.  I am a huge admirer of the male anatomy.  I digress.  I love having doors held open and chairs pulled out.  I think it is a huge turn on because it places me in a position of control.  I think some women feel a loss of independence, etc., but what power to make a room full of men stand up just by simply walking in.  Hell, that’s like being a judge or royalty or something!  I don’t expect it all the time, but it is a lovely surprise when it occurs.

Recently, I there was a big discussion about this topic on a local morning radio show.  I was pretty shocked at the numbers of people who didn’t appreciate the lost art of manners.  I require my nieces to say “ma’am” and “sir” to their elders.  I require “please” and “thank you”.  I don’t just require these for my nieces, I require them for myself.  I still speak to my elders that way.  It may be because I am from The South and conformed at a young age to the societal norms of decency found down here.  It may be due to the fact that my gramma raised me and obviously came from a different era.  It was ingrained at a young age to use those words.  It was also ingrained to assist elderly and infirm by opening doors, assisting in grocery stores, taking their trash out, being kind, etc.

Whatever the impetus, I am pleased that I possess these talents, charms, wiles, or whatever you wish to call them.  All parents love me immediately.  I am not Eddie Haskell, but I am polite and appropriate when meeting peoples’ parents.  More than one male friend’s mom has wanted me to marry her son.  Many parents have trusted their daughters because they were going to be hanging out with me.

Don’t be mislead. I can be a royal bitch.  I am only nice as long as you are.

One thing I do hate is being called “Miss Kim”.  I know it’s huge in The South, but I hate it.  Call me Kim or Miss Finney, but not Miss Kim.

Thanks for reading!

Read Full Post »

I am pretty sure I should be the new president of the United States.  Here is my campaign platform:

Stupid People Will Be Abolished:  Frankly, the cause of most of my frustrations is stupid people and the things they do.  They can’t drive.  They don’t parent their children properly, allowing them to run amok in restaurants, malls, okay, ALL public places.  Stupid People allow their children to talk back and hit and be bratty as small children because it’s funny or cute.  Then they grow up to be in middle school and need to have their little attitudes SEVERELY adjusted.  They allow OTHER Stupid People to make major decisions affecting our country (i.e. 700 billion dollar mortgage bail out, wars, unemployment, educational policies).  More importantly, Stupid People breed with OTHER Stupid People to have Even MORE Stupid children.  It’s a vicious cycle.

Student Loan Repayment: College graduates who work in any public service type jobs will have their loans repaid at a certain percentage each year. I don’t mean that it will take decades either. This will cover occupations such as: TEACHING (OBviously), firefighters, law enforcement officers, nurses, social services.

National Beverage Enacted:  Unsweetened Iced Tea would become the National Beverage.  I would require it to be served in all restaurants in all states.  NOT that damned instant shit either. REAL BREWED iced tea. YEAAAAA BOYYY

Baby License:  Everyone will be required to take parenting classes as soon as they are pregnant (preferrably before). You must PASS the class to get to keep the baby, or be charged for a live-in nanny.

The Death Plane:  I would enact legislation to legalize The Death Plane.  I have had the imaginary Death Plane for years. The passengers  change periodically.  They are all people who are in the media/entertainment industries and annoy the fuck out of me.  Some current people on The Death Plane Manifest:  George W. Bush, (duh), Paris Hilton, OJ Simpson, Brangelina, Kenley (from Project Runway), Sarah Palin, Warren Jeffs (Mormon Extremist)


Read Full Post »

Shit I have never been embarrassed about:

*my family – even the rednecky, loser ones.

*liking the following bands or artists: styx, journey, matchbox 20, nickleback (just like jesse), justin timberlake, tim mcgraw,  a lot of Top 40

*big hair in the 80s

*wearing black Reeboks in the 80s

*not getting my driver’s license until i was 21 – almost 22

*growing up a ‘hood rat

*painting my toenails

*having 5 cats and 2 dogs

*being a picky eater

*watching a LOT of television


*cross-stitching.  yes, i cross-stitch. so??

*believing in God, but not caring what people think, and more importantly, not caring or judging those who don’t

*never having been married

*being a liberal

*my friends

*not being a homeowner

*cussing. i cuss a lot.  a lot.

*talking to my animals and answering for them

*Duke’s mayo

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: