
This is a book of short stories written by Faye Kellerman. The following quote is something that a mother said to her daughter:
STORIES ABOUT MY LIFE - PAST AND PRESENT


So the Editor knows that if I ever just fall off the face of the earth, Johnny finally came to get me. No questions asked, I'm outta here. But the other night while I was watching Pretty in Pink, I thought to myself, what the heck was Molly Ringwald's character thinking? I mean, come on, Andrew McCarthy? His character was......well, he had no character really. He was a boring limp dishrag. But Jon Cryer's Ducky? He was sooooo cool. Why didn't she pick him? Kudus to Jon Cryer for the scene in the bedroom with the Smiths song..........please, please, please, let me get what I want. My heart breaks for him everytime. And the "A Little Tenderness" scene in the record store? Brilliant. Yeah, the hunks are fun to look at and all but here's to the Ducky's of the world. Just remember.......when girls grow up, if they're smart, they figure out that the Ducky's of the world are worth much, much more than the hunks....hang on.......someone at the door.....it's Depp......um......I may not be blogging for a while.

AUTHOR - Faye Kellerman

So those of you who read my blog know by now that I struggle from time to time about my childhood and the way I was treated by my parents. And when I’m in the middle of one of these struggles, I get kinda down. Seems like when this happens to me, it’s always at night when I’m by myself, usually when I’m in bed trying to go to sleep. Why does everything always seem worse at night? Anyway, I was having quite a struggle with my thoughts last night. I’m not going into too much detail here because it’s pretty private but in a nutshell, I was abused by a distant relative when I was a little girl. I didn’t tell my parents until I was much older and when I told them, not only did they do absolutely nothing about it but a few years later my mother invited the abuser over for dinner. Then, several years after I moved to Little Rock, she called to apologize for having him over for dinner. When she called, I told her I didn’t wanna talk about it and that it was no big deal. But, as I get older, I realize it is a very big deal. The abuse is big but the biggest deal is that my folks did nothing. And you know what? There are some things that you just cannot apologize for. Sometimes, love really is never having to say you’re sorry. An apology for having him over to dinner is not acceptable.
BBC America used to air a British soap called EastEnders. They would show five episodes every Sunday. I loved this soap. Just the music in the background at the pub was so cool. The Charlatans, Suede, Pulp, Blur, Oasis. All those one word wonder bands that I love so much!!!! EastEnders is a serial drama for BBC One. It is often the most watched soap on British television and recently saw over 14 million viewers tune in to watch the Christmas Day 2007 episode.It follows the lives of the residents of Albert Square in Walford, East London. EastEnders was created by Julia Smith and Tony Holland and first aired in 1985 .
Okay, you guys, you may be laughing at me right now but I grew up watching All My Children at my grandma’s house in the summer. My cousins, Melissa and Michelle, and I used to sit in front of her TV, with our drinks of koolaid in hand (it was supposed to be liquor) and act out the parts while we watched. Because I was the oldest, I always had to be the male part. What a pain. You know how they say you know you’re gonna be gay when you’re a kid? Well, I knew I wasn’t gay cause I always wanted to play the female actors. I loved Mrytle Fargate’s character while I was growing up. They just don’t make actors like Eileen Herlie anymore. I don’t even watch soaps now. The acting is atrocious and the story lines are stupid. All My Children has three couples that are good friends. Such good friends, that they’ve all slept with each other. Heck, two of them can be in bed together – commercial break – one of the characters in bed has been changed. Okay, not really, but it seems like they change bed partners that fast.
This coming August will be 30 years since I’ve been in the work force. Most of that time, I’ve worked for attorneys. Small firms, large firms, I’ve done it all. About five years ago, I was the manager of a whole floor in one of the skyscrapers in downtown Little Rock. This floor had offices for rent and most of the tenants were attorneys. I was in charge of showing the empty offices to perspective renters (had to have a real estate license for that), collecting monthly rent, as well as the phone answering, typing and mailing of correspondence for the whole floor. I was also the manager of two employees – another typist besides me and a receptionist. Most of the tenants didn’t have secretaries and they depended on us for just about everything. There were some really interesting characters on the floor. 
So I went to the Argenta Neighborhood Yard Sale last Saturday. I bought this little plastic box called Magnetic Poetry Kit. The instructions said it had over 400 magnetic words. I put all the words alphabetically on the left side of the refrigerator and I told The Editor we could make sentences, poems, etc. on the right side of the refrigerator. So I’m thinking that I have a little too much time on my hands since it took me quite a while to alphabetize these magnetic words. And The Editor said he thought I was being a little obsessive when I told him I counted them and there were 437 words in the little plastic box. And his eyebrows really went up when I said that meant I spent less than a penny on each letter. But, in my defense, guess who the first person was to formulate a sentence on the right side of the fridge? Yep, that’s right. The Editor. He, he, he, he.

One time, when I was about five years old, my mom took me down to the barbershop to visit my dad. He had just hired a shoe shine boy. The boy was sitting in a chair in the back of the shop. I walked up to him and said, hi, what's your name? He said, my name is Jimmy. I crawled up in his lap and said, well...........I think I'll just call you honey. My dad said he was so embarrassed he "just bout died." :)

When I was a little girl, my mom and dad would give me the Sears Roebuck catalog and let me pick out stuff for X-Mas. One year, I picked out a doll I wanted. There were two pictures of the same doll....one was black, one was white. I wanted the black doll. I went to my mom and dad and showed them the doll. They said I couldn’t have the black doll but I could have the white doll. I didn’t understand but I didn’t ask them why not. I wasn’t one to ask questions when I was a child. Now that I’m grown, I still don’t understand why I couldn’t have that black baby doll. Only difference is now that I’m grown, I ask questions. The election has brought all this back to me. Question: What is the difference between a black doll and a white doll? Answer: The only difference between the dolls is the color. They are made exactly the same.


Saturday night, at The Reporter’s going away party, I told this story and everybody said I should put it on the blog so here goes. When I was a little girl, my dad didn’t have a phone in the barbershop. Customers just showed up and waited their turn. About every two or three months, my dad would get this phone call at home from an old lady. I can’t remember her name so I’ll just call her Ms. Selby. She would call at night, not late, 7:00 p.m. or so, and she’d say, Mr. Sherrell, this is Ms. Selby and I’m sending the boys down tomorrow for a haircut. Dad would always say okay, Ms. Selby, send them on down. The first few times she called, he didn’t ask any questions, he would just wait the next day for the boys to show up but they never did. This went on for 20 years or so. As time went on, Dad tried asking her all kinds of questions like, Mrs. Selby, what’s the boys’ names, how old are they, are they walking to the barbershop or are you driving them down? But she never would answer his questions, just kept saying she was sending them down and then she’d just hang up. After about 20 years, the calls just stopped. Dad said she sounded old in the beginning so he just figured the calls stopped because she died. His theory was that the boys were probably grown when she started calling and that she was senile. Back then, they didn’t really call it Dementia or Alzheimer. But, on the other hand, she remembered Dad’s number and called him by his last name. Dad tried to look her up in the phone book, no luck. He asked his customers about her, no luck there either. West Plains was a small town when I was a kid, I mean, everybody knew everybody, but nobody knew a Ms. Selby.
I'm afraid of midgets. Absolutely scared to death of them. I know, that's prejudice. It's not like they're clowns. Clowns are not real. Midgets are. But I can't help it. Freaks me out. And these guys are the scariest of all. Take a band that I idolized when I was a teenager.......mix that with something I'm scared to death of......shake, shake, shake............MINI KISS!!!! Woo hoo.There's absolutely nothing right about this band. First of all, they lip sync to KISS songs. Yep, can't even play instruments. Their little guitars are made out of cardboard. And their scary shoes..........tennis shoes with monster faces painted on.
I ran into these guys once.........or should I say ran over these guys.....several years ago....back when I used to drink......two in the morning.....in a bar.....I was drunk..........it wasn't pretty.
I still feel pretty guilty for being scared of midgets. But a little better since I found out that this girl I work with throws up when she sees a midget! Someday I'll blog about what happened to me when I was a kid to make me scared of them. Can only blog about Mini KISS today, folks. My midget phobia will have to be blogged out a little at a time. Um....no pun intended.
I’m just plain old happy today. My son is doing well and we are closer now than ever. He’s turning 22 Saturday. He has a great girlfriend that I think the world of and last weekend they both moved in across the street from The Editor. The Editor is just priceless. My friends are awesome. My job is going well, my dogs are the sweetest things ever. We have elected a new president that shows great promise. It’s November, the month of Thanksgiving and I’m feeling very happy and thankful today. It has taken me 47 years to get to a point where I feel truly happy and blessed and at peace.

There are many colorful people in Argenta but none so much as Beer Dude. I call him Beer Dude because he owns a liquor store and whenever Argenta has an event where beer is needed, Beer Dude is the one to get in touch with. Beer Dude has several sides to his personality. I’m not talking Sybil here, people. I’m talking multi-faceted. I mean, I could have picked several names for this guy. Skateboarder Dude, Party Guy, Birthday Dog Owner, Leg Lamp Man, the possibilities are endless. Whenever something fun is going on in Argenta, Beer Dude is there. When The Editor and I go out to do something fun, we just about always run into Beer Dude. I don’t know him very well but he always makes me smile, and usually makes me laugh, when I see him. I’ve never seen him without a big friendly smile on his face and he is just the coolest guy to talk to. Down to earth, funny, yet smart too.




