Booga Booga, don’tcha know

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

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That’s What Friends Are For, don’tcha know

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

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Those Astro Illogical Gremlins, don’tcha know

Why I must have heard from 10 listeners today complaining about some injunction or compunction or …conJUNCtion betwixt Saturn and Uranus, don’tcha know. Seems it’s causing all kinds of mishaps, mischief,  and mayhem.

The kind that make you wanna jump back in bed and hug your hot water bottle.

I can tell ya I sure didn’t want to believe it. In fact, tonight I stood out back of my cottage looking up at the sky moving this way and that, trying to out-smart those planets by being out of range of their mischief, don’tcha know.

I mean those little itsy-bitsy stars looked so harmless bein’ so far away.  But according to Elsie Panfrantic from East Westerly Chippiwagomy, the planets are acting up worse than a bull in a china shop.

Why poor Elsie was on her way to the A & P when a biplane falls right out of the sky onto her truck. KER-PLUNK!!! Metal to metal.

Seems the thing that saved her just seconds before, was a big ol’ Maple Leaf 16 wheeler. It bumped straight into her be-hind and forced her truck off the road where a construction crew was building a retaining wall, don’tcha know…an experimental one made of bumper tires.

So Elsie’s truck goes a-bouncin’ off the wall back into the 16 wheeler. And if the doors didn’t fly open and hundreds of pounds of bacon come hurtling out. That’s when the biplane falls on her truck.

Well, Elsie pokes her head up through the bacon and she doesn’t have a scratch on her.  The other good news is: Elsie likes bacon.

And how about our very own Twindle Mumbly?

Why he was about to taxidermy his favorite neighborhood squirrel who was found with his wee head at rest on a copy of “Withering Heights,” don’tcha know. (That ending could kill jest about any body.) And as he was putting together the little critter’s GAP-for-dolls outfit, if the little guy didn’t open his eyes and run off.

As for ol’ Maybelle … with so many unexpected changes flying and a-swirling around Lake WhaddyathinkImean’s up-coming INUKSHUCK LET’S GET STONES FESTIVAL…I’m jest gonna sit tight ’til the planet gremlins get tired of disrupting everything and take up knitting.

It’ll also give me a chance to have a good heart to heart with Bogart. He’s more than a bear, don’tcha know.

He’s my friend and Astro Illologer.

Nightie night.  Maybelle

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Night Time in Cottage Country, don’tcha know

Did you ever notice how loud silence can be? A high pitched kinda sound that you can only hear when nothing is on in yer cottage but life itself. The kinda sound that makes you feel grateful for being where you are and where the noise isn’t. No traffic or big trucks roaring under yer windows or sirens screaming at you when yer wanting to just sit quietly and hug yer bear.

I know Bogart feels the same even though he isn’t wearing his voice synthesizer tam o’shanter cap so I can hear what he’s thinkin’.  But if a bear can smile, he’s a-smilin’ right now.  He likes it when I read him recipes from Julia Child’s cookbook, don’tcha know. Especially the ones made with honey.

I don’t miss having a television. There’s so much else to do. Like fixing something, or painting or sanding or cleaning or mowing or shoveling or planting. Why, with all that extra time, ol’ Maybelle can learn something knew every day. That’s right…Bogart’s teaching me how to speak Squirrel and Chipmunk so I can talk to his friends.

I’m also learning to play the kazoo. After being turned down for last year’s Christmas show at St. Francis of the Sandle church, I’m learning a much valued instrument here in Lake WhaddyathinkImean. And it ain’t just any kazoo. I’m playing my late Auntie Hester’s kazoo. The one she painted green and covered with chicken feathers. She had a gift for fashion all right.

In fact, I’ll be playing a solo in the Bedbug song that Twindle Mumbly wrote for our upcoming Lake WhaddyathinkImean spring festival, don’tcha know. It’s such a pretty love song. Took me by surprise that Twindle had it in him …

Late at night when the bed bugs bite, I’m in bed lookin’ fer you. Late at night when the bed bugs bite, I’m in bed lookin’ fer you. Late at night when the bed bugs bite, baby why do you run from me? Can’t you see I’m in love with you, what’s a little bug or two?

Sure pulls at my heart strings.

See? If I was a-watchin’ television right now I wouldn’t be thinking about my friends, and I sure wouldn’t be writing to you. And although I can’t see you, I know yer there, and that’s a good thing…cause in this big crazy world, it’s good to know we truly are connected like Einstein said. Or was it General Electric?

I always thought Electric was a strange name fer a general. How about you?

Nightie night.  Maybelle

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Golf is a-callin, don’tcha know

There’s yer mini-putt with a windmill or two, and then there’s a real golf course like we have here in Lake WhaddyathinkImean with 11 ½ holes. Big holes to make it easier to score, don’tcha know.

Sure, folks here are all about havin’ fun instead of beating each other for a beer or 6…though that can be fun too I suppose.

Why my Auntie Hester used to golf at Liam Caw-Fittup’s 11 ½  Big Ones, and once she had to reach so far down to get her ball out of a hole, she got her arm stuck and the volunteer fire brigade had to come pull her out.

I think ground hogs live in those holes. Cause I seen little eyes staring at me on the 8th and 9th ones.  Either that or my arthur-itis medication is stronger then I thought!

And oh boy is it ever pretty out there. Course you got to tee off from top of a picnic table so you don’t sink down in to a mud hole. But once you walk a hundred yards or so it’s real nice. Almost like real grass, don’tcha know.

All kidding aside… we all like golfing at 11 ½ Big Ones and getting around in the carts they got from Arnie’s Vegetables & Veterinary. Makes folks feel connected to the things that grow in the earth and the things that do their thing on ’em.

Why ol’ Maybelle’s gonna hit some balls tomorrow morning with Sybil Beaucannon Hughes, Twindle Mumbly, and Vilma Yuccch.

Twindle’s pre-game warm up? — putting on his jacket.

Sure hope the weather holds. Right now it’s April in Paris right here in Lake WhaddyathinkImean.

Nightie night.  Maybelle

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They’re Ba-aaack … the black flies, don’tcha know

It was Bogart who gave me the first clue. He was out in the yard growling and a-swinging his big bear arms so violent-like, you’d have thought he was gonna take off like a helicopter, don’tcha know.

Bogart! I shouted. What in the world are you doing?

He wasn’t wearing his voice synthesizer tam o’shanter cap so I couldn’t hear what he was thinking, but that’s when I saw them… a big swarm of black flies making poor Bogart spin like a top… a bear top.

Quick, Maybelle, I thought, do something. I grabbed the garden hose, whipped it around and sprayed those varmints like there was no tomorrow.

Poor ol’ Bogart’s fur got so drenched you could hear him growling from one end of Lake WhaddyathinkImean t’other.

Next thing I know, Officer Stanley Penelope McBottom is racing up my driveway in his police cruiser, siren a-wailing…Beanpole Starkman’s flying over head in his Tiger Moth bi-plane. The Lake W volunteer fire fighter brigade drives up with Vilma Yuccch hanging onto the back wearing bright yellow sequin hip boots, don’tcha know … and Sybil Beaucannon Hughes rides up on her motor bike with Neville sputtering out of breath behind her.

Where’s the fire? everybody shouts. There’s no fire, I shout, the black flies are back!

Well their groan was so heavy I could have sworn the earth shifted.  Black flies?!@ Not alreaddyyyy!!!

Well if the phones didn’t go crazy.  I ran into the cottage and found caller after caller complaining about the same thing and telling ol’ Maybelle I need to warn all my listeners, don’tcha know.

Nickie B! I shout, and sure enough, he clomps up the stairs from the basement in his Led Zeppelin t-shirt and leather collar. We gotta get on the air quick, the biters are back!

Fffffttt! if he didn’t disappear in a nano-second. Then, fffffft! he’s back, covered head to ankles in a one-size fits all prune colored black fly space-lookin’ suit shuffling over to the control board twisting knobs and pushing buttons, don’tcha know.

Are we live yet? I ask.  Oh yea, says Nickie B.

So I sit down in front of the microphone and tell my listeners…

Hello everybody out there in radio land, this is Maybelle Morton with a black fly advisory, don’tcha know.

Well, if the phones didn’t ring off their hooks again. Only this time, they were callers shouting that black flies have rights too.

In fact, they’re still a-callin’, and the flies are still a-flyin’. So this is what I’m proposing to you…

If you have some innovative ideas about how folks can protect themselves from black flies, you just write it into the comment box.

After all, ain’t that what community is for?

Nightie night.  Maybelle



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Maybelle’s: It’s Almost Summer Paint-In & Bar-b-que, don’tcha know

Oh boy it feels good seeing the sun shimmyin’ on the lake…ice out, boats in…folks getting the tops og their heads sunburned. Why Sleeman McClerny at the Post Office got the skin on his head peeling just from driving his old Studiebaker convertible down Main Street.  But oh is he ever happy. He said he’s gonna do it again this weekend in his boat, don’tcha know.

Why even Bogart sits in the sun trying to streak his brown fur blond. He’s hard-set on looking like Brad Pitt.  Bears these days.

Ol’ Maybelle, well, I’m back a-digging in my garden getting dirt under my fingernails where it belongs.  You should see the ants.  BIG as Buicks. Why they could carry a picnic table away. And speaking of picnic tables…

We’re having a PAINT-IN today, right here at my cottage. Yep. Vilma Yuccch, Sybil Beaucannon Hughes, Officer Stanley Penelope McBottom, Twindle Mumbly and Beanpole Starkman are a-comin’ over with their favorite colors of paint and we’re all gonna paint my picnic table — all psycho-delic like. Bogart’s even gonna do some paw-in-the-paint texturin’ … kinda like the ol’ sponge technique.

Well, I’m head over heels giddy cause sunshine makes my whole body smile.  Why all us folks here in Lake WhaddyathinkImean are fixing our yards with all kinds of things. Beanpole Starkman’s outside right now hoisting a maple leaf flag, don’tcha know.  I can see it clear as day through my window… fluttering in the wind like a pair of false eyelashes.  Ooooo, I just got a warm feeling like hot chocolate spilling down my jammies.

Course I’m gonna treat my friends to some good bar-be-que after the paint-In. I got us some homemade sausages and hamburgs from Egbert Numble’s Meat, Eggs & Carburators, don’tcha know.

I got a monkey bread bakinG in the oven right now. And if you don’t know what a monkey bread is…think cinnamon buns with so much butter, raisins and walnuts each bite is to live for. As for calories … forget it. You might as well just tear off a hunk and stick it to yer thighs.

Yep, today nothing can get ol’ Maybelle down. Oh, what was that? Be right  back…

Oh boy, I don’t know how he did it, but Beanpole got his foot caught somehow and he’s hanging upside down from the flagpole.

Keep smilin’.  Maybelle

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