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MATILDA

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Posts posted by MATILDA

  1. Over 20 years ago, the first cat insinuated her way into our lives. It was a bitter cold February when this little pathetic meemur was near frozen on my city sill...tuna was cheap that week, so I invited her in. She chose us and stayed with us, understanding perfectly the one proviso for habitation...no scratching the furniture.

    Named her Hupodema...a greek bastardization loosely translated as "underfoot"...but it didn't fit her...she became Jasper for a day or two...then her real ministry became evident one day when I looked out the window and saw her and a number of toms --ahem--catting about.

    She was a feline slut-o-rama...but gentle and sweet. She became forever known as MOMCAT...lotsa kitties.

    Now our granddaddy cat is CHICAGO...he hadda bro (WHITE SOX) but he is buried in the backyard.

    ...he died first...whole 'nother story...lol.

    We also have ALAYWA and ZEAL...all three are gray tabbies...

  2. Vickles,

    I'll intercept this one, and Oldiesman will probably concur...TWI 1, aka The Way, was latest 60s, early 70s especially, lasting awhile...altho the corset started to strangle the Body all along little by little, I think.

    In 1972, I was delighted, grateful, humbled, and thrilled to see the Bible live (a first for me) and to live and learn with others on the same quest. I was 20.......

    ...now I'm not...lol...

    ...but I am grateful for the faithfulness of God and the grace He so liberally doled out...enuf to wallow in for years...lol...now I'm still grateful, and relearning every day.

    It's okay not to know that you know that you know everything...lol...it truly is a second, by minute, by hour, by day thing...

    Viva la PDSTRO!

    X

    M

  3. Hi V,

    Still grappling, grappling, still, I see...

    I surely cannot change any part of my years with The Way...they were formative in that I lived thru them, grew, prospered, and blossomed...in spite of myself and whatever the organization and its attendant pneumanazis mutated into over the years...God's mercy and grace are boundless...but this has all been waydalized as well as visited and revisted here in the Cafe.

    Like (((ex10))) and mine (((Zeester))) and my where the heck have you been(((Cat)))pal...I had a thinking, discerning brain in the thick of TWI. I was very much thrilled with knowing (and getting to know) about God and Jesus Christ (and am probably more fresh faced now than I was in 1972, in many ways). My "experience" was overall very good -spasmatic sphincterage was present in the early daze and the later daze- but it was never their drum I was marching to...at least not since '86 or so, when I officially pulled the bumper sticker off the car. It was ouchless...miss many of the people, tho.

    ...so oh blah dee oh blah dah...it's been a roller coaster ride, but I'm strapped in and ready to continue on. Have to, til I'm done...

    I hope all who hurt can somehow be comforted, and healed, and enjoy the great company of friends old and new along their way...and that their voices can swirl together in laughter, song, and a heartful cognizance that this God and Jesus thing is for real.

    Slainte!

    X

    M

  4. Selfish Matilda that I is...Come, help me celebrate my kidlet's 7th b-day by remembering the mania of that stellar day...Enjoy! I sure am...still.

    X

    M

    ****************HAPPY HOLLY-DAZE*************

    Oh, Mama! At 44, I felt I had successfully made the transition into middle age; I was reading books on estrogen and I had even managed to reintroduce glass products into my home. Fisher-Price was a distant memory. So, when I found myself pregnant a few years ago, I was-as they say-stunned.

    How did this happen one might ask? Beats me. The last eventful thing I remember in the bedroom was a foot massage. But am I glad about the radical changes in my life these past seven years? You betcha. My joy is full. My cup(s) ranneth over...

    When I think back to that gestating craziness, I'm still amazed and ever thankful. It was the year of the pregnant entertainer-Roseanne, Madonna, Streep, and moi. With no fewer than three different shows and 50 performances under my belt, my baby was already an (in utero) show-biz vet by the end of that summer. I stayed off the stage during the fall, but things got crazy again after Thanksgiving when our Christmas show went into (re)production. The show was booked throught the 22nd of December. The baby was due the 23rd. No problem--or so I thought.

    Thursday, 12/12/96

    6:15 a.m.: Maureen wakes up, realizes her water has broken. "That's ok, I can still do the morning show in the city..."

    6:25 a.m.: Maureen goes into the kitchen to make breakfast for everyone. Niagra Falls! Instinctively, she grabs a couple of large mixing bowls from the cabinet and catches all the amniotic fluid. Why? Because she just washed that floor at the night before and isn't planning on doing it again an time soon. "That's ok, I can still do the 10 a.m. show..."

    6:40 a.m.: Maureen informs slumbering lump in bedroom of situation. "...but it's ok, I'm going to still do the morning show..."

    6:40 a.m. and 20 seconds: Maureen is chastised and strongly advised to call the doctor for instructions. "...Yes, I'm sure it broke. I've got two full mixing bowls to prove it...it doesn't mean I'm in labor yet.. I feel fine. I can still do the show."

    6:45 a.m.: Maureen fends off pantomime assault from now awakened Keystone cop and phones up the doctor's office.

    7 a.m.: Nurse returns call. "Yes, yes...I'm sure it broke. How? Because my Tupperware will never be the same..oh, never mind...Be there in an hour? Well...how abut-oh, say-noon or so--

    Yikes! Gary! Where did you come from?

    "--Ok. OK. Hello? Yes, I'll be tehre at 8:30..."

    7:15 a.m.-8:15 a.m.: Maureen is amazed at just how smoothly things are progressing. The family laundry is current, the costumes have been picked up from the cleaners, paychecks have been written, groceries are stored in, the van is raod ready for the next five out-of-town shows, and, of course, all the brass and the A/C ducts in the house are clean and tarnish free. All the really important things. Even the hospital bag is packed and ready to go, complete with a new nursing bra. Sing with me...

    I am woman, hear me roar,

    "I've got breasts too big to ignore..."

    8:20 a.m.: Maureen kisses Gary and the boys goodbye as they leave to make their (formerly our 9 o'clock call at the Quincy Music Theatre. She climbs into the pickup truck and dutifully drives to the hospital.

    "I am woman, see me drive

    "To birth a kid at 45..."

    9 a.m.: Maureen is examined, admitted and finally shuttled to labor and delivery where she is hooked up to the IV, heart monitor and Richter scale thing. The drip begins.

    1 p.m.: No baby yet. Gary returns with the boys, ostnsibly to offer encouragement. Daddy tenderly kisses Maureen's forehead while the boys give her a thumbs up. That finished, they go to eat in the hospital cafeteria.

    5:30 p.m.: Gary collect the kids and leaves for the evening call at the theatre. Still no baby. Sheesh.

    6 p.m.: Transition time. White-knuckle labor begins and progresses until-

    "I am woman, here's the plan,

    Call the ep-i-dur-al man..."

    You know, I really hate Helen Reddy.

    I was surprised when the nurse told me I didn't have much futher to go. The doctor said the baby would be there long before Gary came back again. Boy, did I ever want to believe her. But, as it turned out, Gary did get back. He must have left the theatre before the applause...it was now 11 p.m. and all was, well,...still, no baby. I was really glad he was there to help see me through the last 59 minutes. They were tough, he was great. And then, just when the new day was about to clock in, at just a minute before midnight...ta da! Holly Marie McCarthy Wilson made her debut, strong, beautiful, and healthy. Awesome...

    "Lo, children are a heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is His reward."

    Psalm 127:3

    Happy Birthday, Holly-Dolly!

  5. Dear papajohn,

    That tender heart is not in vain...your Samantha Jean lives on there for all your days, and then some, I'd wager...

    Today is my little girl's 7th b-day...you help me appreciate her that much more, because I can empathize with your love as a parent.

    Christ is coming back, ((pj))...take comfort.

    X

    M

  6. so blah blah blah...I had a great day...shirked off all my domestic responsibilities only becuz my faithful husband sanctioned it....he made dinner, did the dishes and kissed me on the forehead when I went out out to carouse with my bartending compadres...a necessary concession...

    on the sweeter side of family came my middle son bearing a bowlful of (what he perceived to be) my favorite candies, my littlest baby giving carte blanche to all the hugs and kisses I could dole out, and my husband presenting me with tickets to a Peter, Paul, and Mary concert...sweet....and then, my newly turned 21 year old got to watch me sling drinks to the Minnesota Twins here in training..now I am a hero...sheesh...

    Holler when the trump sounds, will ya?

    Life is good...today is today and I am content.

    X

    M

  7. Tip the canoe, here's deja vu...

    ahem...I, the Matilda, met the skinny boy songsters back when the earth was still cooling...

    here's how long ago that was...S & G were "appearing" at the Montgomery Wards store located in Chicago's Evergreen Plaza (the first "enclosed shopping experience" aka mall)circa 1966...

    the boyz were at the head of a long line of adulating girls...some thought they were part of Paul Revere and the Raiders...lol. Their first album was just released and being hawked there...pick up the album and the short or tall would autograph it. I had no dough for the album, but knew all the songs...sang them in a southside coffeehouse...but when I got up to them, we sang two lines of harmony together and they signed my Winston cigarette. It was cool (not the cigarette, the whole groovy happening...lol)

    It was my last cigarette, smoked it on the way home. Oh yes, I do remember being stalked by the Wendy Ward finishing school rep...lol...I guess I was sight, a barefoot blonde toting a carpetbag full of paints and a disdain for all things "Carnaby Street."

  8. I saw a rainbow in the sky

    was red and green and yeller

    until an agrument ensued

    between two other fellers;

    was there one or two or three?

    did they reflect my shadow?

    were their refractions just for me?

    or more prismatic laddos?

    I thought I better check my books

    to see if my brain worked right

    and then I thought, oh what the hell...

    I'll trust to know what I like

    The beauty of the arky hues

    all in their proper order

    were not hampered by my woeful lack

    of knowing what I oughter

    so til He comes or til I go

    my awe at Nature's high signs

    will be free from heady "gotta knows"

    and the value placed on my time.

    (hic)

    Barkeep...another round for my colorful friends...

    X

    M

    good thing I'm not God...there'd be a flood every other weekend

  9. Lord knows Mr. Rogers was fair game from my vantage point on stage all those years....he was such a known commodity, that he very often would be the core of much fun and humor levied against his image/persona. It was always satirical, not cynical, and it was always understood by the masses.

    Then...after my brain grew...and only after I actually watched him on TV...I saw what a kind and gentle man he was...integritous, simple, and forthright. Loving care and appropriate concern emanated from his show because of his stalwart quality maintenance and desire to help and guide the wee ones...and, the not-so-wee ones.

    The motionless-mouthed King Friday and his sealed-lip kid have lost their voice, but not their heart.

    I will miss him.

    Syndicated blessings will continue to abound icon_smile.gif:)-->

  10. 1. On The Beach

    2. Threads

    3. Jaws

    Alien was watched with my cardigan sweater over my head...lol. My husband got annoyed when I asked him who "gets it." He insisted it would spoil the movie for me...hardly. It was a time saver...I could quit praying for those in harm's way...lolololol.

    Oh yes...and the creepiest part of that film, the most detestable for the flesh-crawling willies that were inflickted on one such dainty as moi? Why, the globs of monster phlegm dripping from the unhinged jaw, of course..........lo shonta, man.

    [This message was edited by MATILDA on February 26, 2003 at 17:36.]

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