Then we get a reality check. Work takes up more time than there are hours on the clock especially in today’s world where so much is being done virtually. Employers want you working every breathing second. There’s no such thing as a 9-5 schedule. The only escape is too shut the electronics off but as soon as you turn them back on… the to-do list grows.

Authors Connection:

Last night in our Sunday night short story discussion about Dahl’s Parson’s Pleasure. The story reminded me of my grandfather Jonah.  He disliked parsons immensely. As far as he was concerned religious men were evil, it didn’t matter what their faith as because they would steal every cent a man made. In Parson’s Pleasure the man dressed as a parson to get into people’s homes so he could see what furniture they owned because he sold antiques. He didn’t disclose that part. He conned them as cheaply as he could of their heirlooms. The con game backfired in the end because in the story he wove with the three man at the farmhouse about a buffet was that the only valuable part was the feet. He got them to accept his offer and was on his way to get his car.  He was chuckling to himself about all the money he was going to make on this priceless heirloom.  What he didn’t account for was the farmer’s helpfulness. The farmer decided to make it easier for him to transport the piece by cutting the legs off because that’s the section of the furniture the parson really valued. The rest he chopped into firewood so it would be easier for him to transport since the parson indicated the poor quality of the buffet meant it was better used for firewood. The con man got what he deserved.

My grandfather would have laughed his ass off reading this amusing story from 1958. We were talking about Dahl’s work being in Esquire and Playboy when I shared my experience with Playboy. ( I have it written in a word document just haven’t pieced it in my vignettes yet but I’ll give you a quick summation.)

My grandfather lived in a primitive camp in Vermont. His water came from a spring above the camp on the hill. He ran pvc pipe down to a trough in the kitchen where it filled continuously and drained into a sink. He had trout living in the trough to keep it clean of algae. He put a toilet inside for nighttime use only because it was a bit of a trek to the outhouse. There wasn’t running water so it involved filling a bucket to empty to clear the waste matter that went initially back into the ground until my father put a septic tank in for him. My grandfather complained that it was a waste of money because he always did his number two business at work everyday.  Like I said it was a primitive existence.

In the summer, we ( my siblings and me)  stayed with my grandfather. We  always used the outhouse because Grandpa made it quite clear the inside facility was for nighttime use only. We swam everyday so bathing wasn’t a priority but when it was we heated water on a stove and curtained the kitchen off so we could do the essentials by the huge sink and trough.

My grandfather lived alone all of my life and had some peculiarities that initially, I didn’t notice.  The summer I became aware of them was just before I turned ten. A lot had happened to me prior to going to stay with him in the summer that I’m not going into at this time.

My grandfather never painted his walls, they were covered from ceiling to floor with Playboy centerfolds in the four rooms that made his home. I was very aware of the women’s exposed naked bodies. When my grandfather had left for work I got out our coloring supplies and encouraged my siblings to help me dress all the naked women. We covered every exposed breast, butt or vagina. We’re were so proud of our decorative clothing.

My grandfather on the other hand was furious. He ripped the pictures off the wall, cursing up a storm. My siblings and I quickly disappeared to the tent where we slept at night with some snacks because it didn’t look like dinner was an option.

Needless to say, we stayed out of his sight as much as possible to avoid another outburst.

It was an uncomfortable month until my mother arrived at the end of August to take us back to Connecticut.  Sadly,  we were grounded for destroying our grandfather’s art collection.

Art in one person’s eye can be devastating to another. For me at 10 years old, all it signified was a girl’s body didn’t really belong to her. Everything was about making boys happy regardless of how humiliating and painful it was. I was cursed to be a girl.

Thankfully, when arrived the next summer there were only pictures hanging in his bedroom. My mother promised we wouldn’t enter his personal space.

Sadly, my grandfather wasn’t one of the people that would say they read Playboy for the  stories from authors like Dahl, Oates, Kerouac, Atwood, Le Guin, Fleming and Bradbury. His interest was sheer exploitation of  the women.

“The occupational hazard of being a Playboy Bunny is the aching facial muscles brought on by obligatory smiles.” ― Germaine Greer, The Female Eunuch

Culinary:

I’m going to enjoy something light for dinner this evening. We have some potato salad left and I think with that I’m going to toss a tossed salad together to go with it with some homemade biscuits. Hmm… rosemary, oregano and chives fresh picked added to some butter. Now, we’re talking., yummy.

Let’s add a couple more things to our cancer tool kit while we’re on the topic of food.

Lemons and limes are antimicrobial as well as being anti-inflammatory. I don’t know about you but I love drinking water with either slices of lemon or lime on a hot day. I happen to have both in my fridge.