Say Cheesy!

This was weird. This morning, while buying vegetables, washing the car, and doing a load of laundry at the Laundromat -- all pre-coffee, thank you -- I noticed that I'd missed a call from Amy Oatley, from the Industrial Arts Center (IAC) here in Gulfport. Well, she didn't leave a message, so I got on with my chores.

Just now, I decided to send her a message via the website:

http://www.industrialartscenter.org/

My sound was on, and I heard her call out, "Hi Barbara!" Whoa! How 'bout that technology, huh? Well, I'd been to that site before. Maybe there's something about ... oh, I don't know ... cookies or worms or spies that enables the site to know who's looking and to yell out her or his name.

Well, then I realized that more was being said. I had activated a little video of me in all my glory, tripping over my words as I talked about my mailboxes, mumbling and talking too fast. I had no idea I'm that inarticulate, but now we have it in living sound. Amy's an excellent editor, though, so it's not nearly as bad as it, well, as it actually is.

In any case, go listen to me.

And go see how fat I am. Jeepers! Yesterday, I joined Curves. Yolanda took way too many measurements. This is so we can amaze ourselves with the progress I'll make. Uh huh. Except for my upper arm and upper thigh, all my measurements start with 4. This is appalling. If I were blessed with any shame at all, I wouldn't be telling you this. I had a nutbag co-worker who believed that 4 was an evil number. Her cubicle had a 4 in it, and at the beginning of her shift, she'd cover the 4. Now I understand.

But back to the video ...

Years and years ago, my mother was in the Wyoming County [NY] Bicentennial Singers' production of I Do! I Do! There's a male lead and a female lead, and that's it. The play follows a couple from their wedding day to their retirement. She was on stage for all three acts -- so was the bout of shingles that settled in the middle of her forehead like a good Hindu wife. Well, there was what she called The Flaming Agnes Scene, where she attempts to be seductive. My mother. Seductive. I wish she had let me show her a few dance moves before the play. Seriously. I could have helped.

Well, she could have helped me during this little video, and I wish she had. Alas, she left this vale of tears in 1998, so I was on my own and I talked too fast and too stupid, but there it is.

We're trying to put together a class so I can teach people how to paint mailboxes. It isn't going well. Frankly, it's embarrassingly expensive and I don't think it's worth it. Am I allowed to say that on a blog? The IAC is holding a mailbox contest in September, for Gulfportions. I think that will be a success, but this class? Nope.

Hey! Let me put up a picture of a mailbox! Ooh, I know! I'll just show the ends of the mailbox, making it just as awkward as my video!