Thursday, November 13, 2008

Christmas card

I am back from the road trip from hell. A friend has succumbed to the state of the economy and finds himself being evicted. He has a kennel and not only needs to find a new place for himself and his wife - but must also place several dogs. he has been a great dog breeder and exhibitor and has helped me so much over the years. A most generous person. What's a gal to do. i couldn't help financially - but I could relieve him of some dogs - one of which we co-own. i drove from Savannah to New England - staying one night at my sister's in NJ. Then drove to Roanoke, VA where I placed one of the dogs. i couldn't bear to hear that dumb song lo lo lo lalola one more time so i stayed in a hotel in NC before hitting the road again. For some reason that song played 4 times in two days - that and I got a bad case of loving you - what ever the heck it's called. I'm not kidding - different states -but identical soundtracks - maybe canned DJ's who knows. Lets exhume Wolfman Jack - or when i was a kid the big DJ in Miami was Rick Shaw. Which leads me to one of the more colorful episodes in my youth.

Rick Shaw had a call in request show at 9 at night. Some guys calling themselves the Seven Sinners of Southwest (southwest miami senior high) requested Alley-Oop. I was at a sleepover and the four of us JR. High girls got the bright idea of requesting Poison Ivy by the coasters and dedicating it to the Seven sinners with the provocative line - This is dedicated to the Seven Sinners from the Devil Dolls - Sinners what's your number? Rick Shaw made a big deal out of it and we screamed with delight when he said we sounded like we could make the sinners commit some sinning. Geezum crow - we were 12 and 13. One of us was wise beyond her years however, and through some magic manipulation the seven sinners showed up at the home of the girl whose mother worked outside the home. We hung out there exclusively - our own parents being the beastly busy bodies so inhibiting to the free spirits we were.

The guys had a big old bad ass car and looked to be about 35 years old to us. I mean driving and old enough to shave even. Our reaction as we skulked under the window and peeped through the venetian blinds, was to curse our plank straight figures. So typical of the female psyche - we were not good enough. Personally, I was paralyzed with fear. Not fear of physical contact just fear of being revealed. We were at that awkward stage where our teeth seemed to be bigger than our boobs. nary a one of us could muster up that hallmark of teenagers - a pimple. What would happen if we were labled retards before we even got to high school. Pat R. who was in 8th grade got the bright idea of placing two oranges in her training bra and answering the insistant - and in my opinion aggressively intimidating ring of the front door bell. The rest of us sat on the floor under the windows and hugged our knees. As with any situation - our reaction was to giggle. When Pat opened the door - we were into the snorting stage of giggling. Well the sinners were no dopes. To us they looked like the rat pack - Dino and Joey and Frank and there was a hunky kind of Peter Lawford looking guy. To them we looked like the scaggy little weeds we were. poor Pat - her valiant effort to look 16 had failed miserably. The boys put that old beater into gear and peeled rubber down the road. We giggled on and on. But we decided the day might be best spent among Toby's mother's makeup samples (her mother sold makeup to who i never knew). In only 30 minutes we all looked like play pretend harlots. How we berated ourselves. Why if only the sinners (there were only 4 sinners this day) could see us now - they'd have come in and then - and then - we were never quite sure what the and then was. maybe given them a pickle sandwich - that was what we were having.

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