Mrs. HM Sincerely Flatters

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, right? That makes Mrs. HM a sincere flatterer. Yesterday, I found myself replying to a comment using a quote from my second best old ex-teaching buddy Karen. She came before Mabel, but I have to have a rating system for my old ex-teaching buddies.

Anyhoo... Karen used to start out a reply with "So basically what your saying is..." and proceed to put words in your mouth that were not quite the gist of what you were trying to communicate. It was kind of funny, and we were not at all hesitant to mock her about it.

Another Karenism was "I know you like a book!" She didn't read us like the palm of her hand, though. My fourth best old teaching buddy, Jim, was a part of our trio. We did our monthly grocery shopping together after payday, driving 20 miles to a town that had a Shop N Save, rather than our local mom and pop grocery. As small-town celebrities, we preferred our privacy. The shopping excursion also included supper at Golden Corral. The buffet was good enough for Karen and me, but Jim also had to have the sirloin tips.

On weekends, we'd convene at each others homes on a rotating basis, to drink beer and play poker. It's not like there's a lot to do in a small town. Fridays were the poker games, and Saturdays were faculty parties at assorted hosts' and hostesses' homes. That's when Trivial Pursuit was a big deal. Good thing nobody answered a question with MOOPS.

Anyhoo... I was terrible at poker, which we played for Rold Gold Pretzel Sticks, while chewing on Rold Gold Pretzel Rods like they were cigars. Jim and Karen smoked cigarettes, and tried to teach me how, but I was a slow learner. Just like with poker. Another one of Karen's favorite sayings was a sing-songy, "When will she EVER learn?" after trouncing me at yet another hand of poker.

Jim was a bit more diplomatic, reserving his comments to "Take a red!" when somebody got all hyped-up about the unfairness of something he'd done. Jim liked boot-cut jeans because they made his feet look smaller. He'd spend $15 on the laundry, washing and drying his $10 Walmart tennis shoes. At least that's what we told him, listening to those shoes clunk for hours in the complex dryer outside the kitchen door of his townhouse. He also cranked the air conditioning so low in the summer that frost formed on the INSIDE of the windows.

Ah... good times.

One frigid Monday morning during the dead of winter, I got in my car for the drive to school, and discovered that my gas line had frozen. I didn't know exactly what was wrong until a tow truck came after school, but only that my car wouldn't start. Thank the future Gummi Mary, I was an early arriver. I went back inside and used the land line (the only kind of phone available back then) to call my buddy Karen to swing by on her way to work, and pick me up.

I was a bit perturbed when, later in the day, my principal said, "I see your friend Karen dropped you off this morning." He cut eyes at the athletic director, and they nodded like they were listening to a boom-chicka-wow-wow porn soundtrack. Sheesh! Can a gal not catch a ride to work with a friend without risking her reputation? 

 

I would have held a grudge against that guy, but he's the one who defended me over a not-so-stellar record coaching the volleyball team, saying "You can't make chicken salad out of chicken sh!t."

That's a saying I try not to imitate. It's not very flattering.