Monthly Archives: May 2010

Seems everywhere I look these days there’s talk about the world coming to an end. On tv, in the movies, the InnerNet. Even right here in Lake WhaddyathinkImean, don’tcha know.  Only thing that’s missing is frogs falling from the sky.

Imagine that…instead of Beanpole Starkman crashing his biplane into my deer feeder and wood shed, it would be FROGS!

Well, ol’ Maybelle LIKES frogs, so that doesn’t bother me a biscuit. What DOES is everybody getting themselves in a twist about it.

Now my good friend, Sybil Beaucannon Hughes, has taken to wearing a rubber band around her wrist. The kind that comes with yer broccoli, don’tcha know. Why she’s heart set on snapping herself out of dark thinkin’ right when it happens.

Yep. Every time she thinks somethin’ that makes her feel bad she snaps that rubber band and wakes herself up. Why Sybil’s whole arm from her wrist to her elbow looks like a bright red beef steak tomato, don’tcha know. But you should see her eyes – they’re a-shining so bright you have to put window shades on to see ‘em.

Well I agree. It’s time to put the ol’ Boogy-man in his place … in a poofy pink tu-tu, a red clown nose, and big floppy over-sized shoes. Get him dancing like a puppet on a string.  A string you hold right in the palm of YER hand.

Problem is … I know some folks won’t even try Sybil’s rubber band Davie and Goliath teckneek.  And ol’ Maybelle’s trying to figure out why.

Hmm. Well, maybe it’s cause part of our noggin tells us it’s wrong not to be afraid when things around us are telling us we should be. That if we go around smiling and happy when everybody else in Lake WhaddyathinkImean is walking around all sixes and nines … we’d look like a care-less fool about to trip over our own shoe laces, don’tcha know.

Why folks might think we were selfish, even crazy. And then maybe we’d start thinkin’ that about ourselves, too.

But then I’m a-thinkin’. What kinda neighbor would ol’ Maybelle be if I didn’t try to shoo that ol’ wolf away? That Boogy-man that says it’s wrong to be enjoying today, right here, right now. Our beautiful Lake W, the bluejays and the robins, the sky streaked with light. Sharing a laugh with my good friends, and with you, too, reading this…when the world’s in a stew.

Well, right now the only things stewin’ ol’ Maybelle are the black flies and skeeters. Do I want to be stewin’ about doomin’ and gloomin’? (Oh my…that rhymes, don’tcha know).

What’s that Bogart? He’s been looking over my shoulder reading what I’m a-writing. Seems my furry friend’s got something to say. Bogart, turn on yer thought/voice synthesizer tam o’shanter hat soze I can hear what yer thinking. Good bear.

Mama Maybelle. Just because a wolf shows up at yer door doesn’t mean you have to let him in.

That’s right! Why in the world world would I do that?  Oh, Bogart, yer not just a furry face.

I think I’ll buy some broccoli.

Nightie night.   Maybelle

I’m over the moon giddy ’cause ol’ Maybelle’s gonna be telling stories over the summer in the Echo newsie paper in Holyburton, don’tcha know. That’s right. And there’s  nothin’ I like more than telling real stories about real people right here in Lake WhaddyathinkImean.

Why just the other day Bogart decided to take up piano lessons. That’s right. Somehow he got it in his head he wants to be a lounge singer, and figures if he kin akkompany himself while he’s singin’ Frankie Sinnatra toons, he kin get a lot more jigs, uh, gigs.

Well, it hurt me to half to tell him bears don’t sing in lounges, but he said everyone will want him to. He’s gonna put a video of himself playin and singin “I did It My Way” on YouTube, don’tcha know.

Mama Maybelle, he said, it’ll be a big virus hit and everybody will want me. I’ll even get to be on the David Letterperson show.

Bogart’s not just a furry face, don’tcha know.

Well, I was a-wantin’ to get Bogart into that little picture with me, the one that’s goin in my newsie paper column, don’tcha know. But he’s too big and it’s too small, so it’ll just have to be ol’ Maybelle and my hair.

And taking that picture became a real community project around here.  After all, it’s not like ol’ Maybelle has her picture taken every day. What should I wear? A hat? Dungarees? Birkenstox? Hiking boots?

Wait a minute, I thought. Wear whatcha always wear, Maybelle. You’re tellin about what goes on here, every day-like, so keep yer overalls on, sit in front of yer microphone where you do yer radio show (in my cottage kitchen, don’tcha know) and just be natural.

But I’ll tell ya it didn’t happen that easy. Why my good friends Vilma Yuccch and Sybil Beaucannon Hughes came over here re-arranging my hair, puttin’ me in hats and outfits the likes of which those skinny models in Vague have never seen.

Well, if Beanpole Starkman didn’t keep flyin’ his Tiger Moth biplane in circles over my cottage like he was expecting ol’ Maybelle to be hatched all brand new or something.

And just as Vilma was puttin me in shiny white vinyl disco boots and Sybil was a-sprayin my grey hair PINK… there was a big pounding at my door.

Well, if Twindle Mumbly and Officer Stanley Penelope McBottom didn’t show up to watch the specktacle. Twindle  brought binnoculars for a real close look, and some Frankie Sinnatra records and a bust of Lootwick Van Beethoven for Bogart. Officer McB brought popcorn and a big nervous kiss for Vilma.

Well if my heart didn’t bubble up like pancakes on a griddle…the way my friends were there to help me and Bogart.

It’s like that here in Lake WhaddyathinkImean.  Friends do what they kin to keep each others wheels turning and dreams a-spinnin.’

That turned out to be the most wonder-full thing of all. To know that and feel that. And to remember that, especially when the folks you love kin also make you crazy sometimes.

Yep. We’re all perdy rich in this community … with friends.

Nightie night.   Maybelle