AND THE WINNER IS…

I have to ‘hand it’ to my neighbors. They are always thinking of ways to add spice to the community. Did I tell you there was a time when the neighbors didn’t even talk to each other? (It’s here, Neighbors.) It’s what I call ‘the good old days’.

Last summer we had our first annual Chili Cook Off. For some reason, all of the contestants assumed chili had to be spicy. And it was funny as heck watching the judges sampling the fiery chili offerings on one of the hottest days of the year. (Okay, my neighbors may not be very smart but they’re creative.)

Last year also marked our first annual Pie Eating contest. In addition to ‘busy body’ and card shark, Moe is known – at least three counties over – for his spectacular peach cobbler. Now, being the non-cook that I am, I had no idea a cobbler was a pie but it must be one because Moe’s cobbler won in every division and he walked away with several trophies and blue ribbons.

Still keeping us busy, this spring, the neighborhood committees announced our first annual Scavenger Hunt. I was surprised. (Who knew they’d think-up a scavenger hunt?) But what was most surprising was item number seven on their long list of items. Item number seven was…The oldest living man. (I didn’t know you could put a human being on a scavenger list. But I also didn’t know a cobbler was a pie.) When I read that, I thought about Moe. (At the age of eighty six or seven, Moe is ‘hands down’ the oldest living man in our community.) All of the ‘found’ items were to be gathered and ‘checked’ at the neighborhood clubhouse. I wondered if Moe had received the list. I couldn’t ask him, at that moment, because I knew he was at the village hall rehearsing for this year’s first annual Talent Show. (I told you – they’re creative.)

The day of the Scavenger Hunt arrived and even though it was raining ‘cats and dogs’, everyone was happily scurrying about amidst the downpour. Moe wasn’t home. In fact, I hadn’t seen him that whole day and for two days prior. It was late in the evening when everyone gathered in the community clubhouse where appetizers and beverages were served. I spotted Moe in the crowd but he was too far away for me to speak to him. He was with his wife (Nezzie) and another man whom no one seemed to know.

Everyone’s lot was being tallied. All of the neighborhood children had collected one or both of their grandparents to fulfill item #7 on their lists.
Number 5 on the list was described as ‘assorted pipes’. I was amazed at all of the different interpretations of pipes that appeared on a table. There were long and narrow aluminum, brass and vinly pipes. There were big and bulky stove pipes. And an enormous variety of smoking pipes – from corn cob pipes to the calabash pipe of Sherlock Holmes. (I didn’t make that up. The sign read, “Sherlock’s Personal Smoking Piece”.) There was also a faucet on the table but I guess you can call that a pipe.

A 1st place winner was announced. It was Moe. When I heard his name called as the winner, I couldn’t believe it and seemingly neither could most of the people in the room. Moe won because he and Nezzie had gone to Arizona to collect Nezzie’s ninety nine year old brother. The brother was included in the game as item #7 – the ‘oldest living man’. Moe, Nezzie and their brother were winners and they all wore blue ribbons. As the 1st place winner, Moe received a brand new Schwinn bicycle which he presented to the 2nd place winner – one of the neighborhood kids. A lively party ensued and the entire community had a really good time.

There’s talk of a theater group forming. Volunteers are being sought to present a play in next year’s first annual Theatrical Production. Whatever happened to the good old days?

Copyright © (2010) Diana (Diane) Maria

WHO DUN IT?

Moe came over yesterday and gave me a bottle of water. It was a gallon jug of water. I didn’t say anything. I simply took the bottle and placed it on the floor of my front hall. Moe told me, “Don’t put that water on the floor! Put it in the basement and stock up.” He said…

“Obama keeps going to the gulf and fussing about oil leaks. Did it ever occur to him to look at Detroit instead of Louisiana? Get him on the phone!” I told Moe I wasn’t calling the White House and I didn’t know how to do that if I wanted to. He insisted that I call the president because as he puts it, “The problem isn’t BP. It’s Detroit. And nobody’s lookin’ at Detroit.” I told Moe to calm down. (It was obvious he had been watching TV again and the news had gotten to him.) He said, “I am calm. Damn it! Don’t you see what’s happening?” I told Moe I don’t see anything and I also told him he should learn how to change the channel on his television. (He’s been watching CNN for two years.)

Moe walked past me and stood in the kitchen. He said to me, “Listen. What does Detroit have that nobody else has?” I didn’t want to play guessing games so I told Moe to get to the point. He said…

“Detroit has a ‘shitload’ of electric cars. They call ‘em Volts. I told Moe I didn’t know that. He said, “Hush!” Moe continued…”The Detroit auto companies thought everyone would run out and buy their new electric cars especially since Toyota was on the ‘outs’ with car-buyers.” (I wanted to interject but I kept still and listened.) “But, instead of the public buying electric cars from Detroit, everybody bought gas guzzlin’ SUV’s and family vans ’cause soccer moms can’t fit all of those kids in a compact car.” I could sense the urgency in his voice when I asked Moe what does this have to do with oil in the gulf? He told me…

“Don’t you see! If you want to get people to buy your car, you have to make them not want theirs. So what do you do? You blow up an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico. Oil gushes everywhere and the public is pissed. Then, you quietly roll out your electric car and tell everybody they don’t need oil. Are you following me now?” I was following Moe but this was the wildest comment I’d heard from him and I’ve heard some doozies. I told Moe his story didn’t hold water and he said…

“It’s about water too.” I said, “What!” Moe told me to listen and don’t talk. So now I vowed to listen. Moe continued…

“The car companies got in bed with the bottled water companies and they got in bed with environmentalists – you know those save-the-Earth kind of people.” I nodded. Moe continued…

“What does the bottled water companies want? They want you to buy their water. How do they get you to do that? They contaminate your water supply. That’s right! You should have it figured out by now. They contaminate it with oil. And we both know how to get oil in the water.”

This is where I got up from the chair on which I was sitting and walked across the floor to close my kitchen windows. This was a conspiracy theory of gigantic proportion – even for Moe – and my paranoia was kicking in. I told Moe…

“Don’t tell me anymore. The news is making you drive yourself crazy and you’re taking me along for the ride.” Moe told me…

“Water is going to be a valuable commodity.” I told Moe it’s a valuable commodity now. Moe shushed me and said…”Clean drinking water is going to be scarce. Folks are going to start collecting rain water – for both drinking and bathing. Before you do that, stock up on bottled water. Start with the one I just gave you and don’t tell anyone you have water ’cause they’ll tear this place apart to get at it.”

At this point, I’d had enough of Moe and his theories. I told him it was time to go. He said, “You’d better heed my warnings and pay attention.” I told Moe, his imagination had gotten the best of him and me too. I also told him to stop watching TV.

As he was leaving, Moe turned to me and asked, “If I wanted to sell you a rain barrel, would you buy one?”

Copyright © (2010) Diana (Diane) Maria

MARRIED FIFTY YRS AND COUNTING – NOT ME – MOE

It surprises me how long Moe and his wife Nezzy (Inez) have been married.

I was visiting Moe and Nezzie yesterday afternoon. Moe was stretched out in his Lazy Boy recliner and the TV before him was blaring. I asked Moe…

What’s on the TV?

He said…

“Dust!”

Of course Nezzie – who was within earshot – threw the dishtowel, she was holding at the time, over her shoulder and stomped out of the room.

Like I said…
It surprises me how long Moe and his wife Nezzie (Inez) have been married.

Copyright © (2010) Diana (Diane) Maria

THE EASTER EGGS

At this time of year, the world (I assume) is busy preparing for and telling/retelling favorite tales of the upcoming holiday. Moe is too – except his tales of Easter don’t include Jesus who happens to be the main character of most Easter stories.

I like Moe’s stories because they are short and to the point and almost always funny. I may not retell them as well as he tells them but I’ll share this one with you anyway.

THE BARNYARD BRAWL retold by yours truly

The rooster was sent away for a long while because the farmer wanted his prized cock to stud. In the meantime – the children of the farmer were busy painting eggs a variety of colors (pink, blue, yellow, green, etc.). Soon after the eggs were dry, the children hid the eggs all around the barnyard.

When the rooster returned, he was shocked to find green eggs here, pink eggs there, and blues eggs everywhere else. The rooster studied the hen for a long time. He made not a sound and never moved in her direction. Instead, he nearly beat the farmer’s peacock to death.

Copyright © (2010) Diana (Diane) Maria

HONEST SCRAP

HONEST SCRAP. This is an award I recently received from a writer/photographer named Bonnie at Windshieldthinking. I admire Bonnie and I am grateful that she thought of me when considering onto whom to pass this award.

When one is presented with an award such as this, you don’t just take it and say thanks because that’s too easy. There are conditions that must be met upon receipt of this award. As Bonnie explained it, “You have to first list 10 honest things about yourself (and make them interesting), and second — present the award to seven other bloggers.”

Since this blog is about Moe the man next door, I thought it’d be fitting that he reveal ten things about himself. (I should have thought twice.)

I walked over to Moe’s and told him about this award. “What kind of money do you get with that?” Moe asked. I said, “Nothing.” Moe said, “Do you wanna know what I think about that?” I told Moe, “All you have to do is tell me ten things about yourself and that’s it.” Moe twisted around in his Lazy Boy and looked at me sideways. He grunted to me, “Is that really it or do you have to do something else.” “What do you mean?” I asked. Moe bolted upright in his leather seat and shouted, “You’re sitting there with a chain letter in your lap and you act as if you don’t know it!” He continued. “Somebody sends you a chain letter and you run over here grinning like a Cheshire cat. Do they want you to send it to twenty other people and wait for your riches?” I was reeling when I said to Moe. “No. I only have to send it to seven people.” Moe was standing now and he was mocking my voice when he said, “I only have to send it to seven.” Then he said, “What’d they teach you in that college up there? You should know better! I’ve given you too much credit for brains! A Pulitzer Prize is what makes you run over here. That’s an award that comes with money. That’s an award that comes with big money.” Moe said, “I betcha I can tell you how many people in that so called chain has a Pulitzer Prize.” I folded my laptop and left.

I won’t say Moe hurt my feelings but he did catch me by surprise. I hadn’t heard the words ‘chain letter’ in ten years. So as to not let Bonnie down and since Moe would not cooperate, I will fulfill the conditions required of this badge. The following are ten honest things or so I think.

1. In spite of Moe’s opinion, I’m happy to have this award.

2. Moe does hurt my feelings because I often walk head on into the storm.

3. My father passed away a few years ago. Moe fills that void.

4. I honestly think Moe is as healthy as he is because he’s always into something or up to something.

5. Moe told me he knows Betty White. I’ll take that with a grain of salt because Moe told me he knows Al Kyda.

6. No kid in this community will run across Moe’s lawn. He told one kid just one time not to do it and since then, every kid in the neighborhood walks along his parkway.

7. When people tell me they want to meet Moe, I tell them be careful what they wish for. Which is exactly what I told the hostess of that card party I wrote about in Rise and Fly.

8. When people come to my house out of the blue hoping to meet Moe, it annoys me.

9. In addition to this blog, I am now writing a book about Moe and I don’t want a Pulitzer Prize. (The shock of me having received that award might be too much for Moe to take.)

10. Moe is the man next door. I love him and he knows it. In case the Pulitzer people are listening, I really do want a Pulitzer Prize.

Now, I will list the seven other people who will receive this award.

1. John Dadlez – The Mommy Daddy. I discovered John’s blog a while back and I’ve been a big fan ever since. (His blog’s title is an attention getter.)

2. Barry and Barbara Knister at Drinks Before Dinner. Their blog is a gem. Try it on for size.

3. George Phenix at Blog of Ages. He churns out the funniest descriptions of life in the north.

4. Catherine Ross at Monarch Musings. Catherine is a photographer. It was her Amaryllis that first caught my eye. I’ve been enjoying her photos ever since.

5. Deborah Stewart at Teach Preschool. Deborah is a teacher. I am a teacher also and I have gleaned a ton of information about teaching from Deborah. I write another blog entitled, Talkin’ Kids. Deborah reads that blog. I don’t think she knows this blog About Moe exists. (She will in a minute.)

6. All of the guys at The Guy’s Perspective. These guys are witty, funny, brilliant, etc. And one of them is a Poker player.

7. Jamie at The Life and Times of a Househusband. When I first read one of Jamie’s stories, I burst into uncontrollable laughter. Brace yourself because Jamie takes you on a wild ride – all around his house.

So that’s it.
The award shall now pass from me to these others.
And I’ll get back to Moe.

Copyright © (2010) Diana (Diane) Maria

BALANCING ACT

It was a few weeks ago when I was playing cards at Moe’s and glanced at his television. The Winter Olympics was on and a figure skater was whirling around and around. I was thinking out loud when I said, “She didn’t get dizzy.” Moe turned toward the television and caught everyone’s attention by saying…

“Oh yeah. She’s dizzy. She’s good and dizzy.” He continued…

“That’s why that man can throw her over his shoulder and spin her ’round til the back of her head scrapes the ice. He can whip her ’round in any direction doing all manner of things to her because she’s so dizzy, she doesn’t know what’s happening.” Another card player attempted to tell Moe she didn’t think the skater was dizzy but Moe kept talking.

“All men are not skaters. The ones who don’t skate go to bars and wait for a woman to lose her balance. As soon as she loses her balance, a man moves in. The man can see the woman is dizzy and he thinks he can whip her ’round and do all manner of things to her because the woman doesn’t know what’s happening.” Moe said to us…

“I know you’re thinking there’s a big difference between dizzy and drunk. No there isn’t. Spinnin’ ’round on that ice is gonna make you dizzy. Drinkin’ them martinis will make you dizzy too. (Moe pointed toward his Vodka cabinet and bar.) Whether you’re dizzy or drunk, you can’t fend for yourself and in that instance, your hair is gonna touch the ground whether you like it or not.” Moe went on…

“Believe it or not, that woman on television is dizzy. No woman in her right mind will let a man toss her this way and that. But a dizzy woman will.”

The whole room was speechless. Moe looked at us and said…

“The trick is…to not lose your head no matter what you do. ‘Cause the minute you lose your head, one way or another it’s gonna end up on the ground.”

I looked away from Moe and back at the TV. Someone had turned it off.

Copyright © (2010) Diana (Diane) Maria

THE NEW RECEPTIONIST

I accompanied Nezzie (Moe’s wife) to her doctor’s office where she was scheduled for a routine procedure. After our arrival, a young and pretty receptionist asked Nezzie to fill out a questionnaire. One of the questions was – Nearest Relative. Nezzie wrote – Walking Distance. The receptionist returned the form explaining the name of Nezzie’s nearest relative was required. At that, Nezzie said to her, “Well why didn’t you ask me ‘who’ is my relative instead of ‘where’ is my relative?”

I heard stifled giggles from the other patients.

After the forms were completed, (upon which Nezzie had written several times “How should I know?” When asked about her mother’s illnesses and her father’s illnesses.) I explained to the receptionist (who was obviously new to the job) all of the information she required was on the original form and the original form had not changed.

Well, here comes the kicker…

The receptionist left and returned once more. This time she asked Nezzie…
“Is your date of birth still the same?”

The words that followed that question are not fit to print. Nezzie may be old but her speech contains a lot of spice when its heated.

By now, the other patients in the room were rolling on the floor in laughter.

As a result of all of the commotion caused by Nezzie’s swearing and the other patients’ howls of laughter, we were ushered into an examining room.

I sat with Nezzie while a nurse went over the procedure with her. At one point, the nurse said to Nezzie…
“Inez, I’m going to come back and give you a bracelet.” Nezzie said…
“I hope it’s a diamond bracelet.”
The woman told her…
“It doesn’t have any diamonds, but it costs just as much.”

After having experienced that earlier exchange in the waiting room, this bit of levity was welcomed.

Copyright © (2009) Diane

G.I. MOE

It’s cold out today and I slipped on the ice that had frozen overnight on my porch steps. So I added – buy 1 bag of salt – to my list of things to do.

I was sprinkling salt (liberally) on every surface outside my house including parts of the lawn, when Moe shuffled across the street. (How he manages to stay upright on ice baffles me.) Moe shouted out to me upon his approach…

“I have to go to Brazil to get that baby back!”

Not wanting to engage in another of Moe’s cockamamie conversations, I ignored his remark and tilted the salt bag emptying the remainder of its contents onto my lawn which was now buried under a foot of snow. (Well, maybe not a foot of snow.)

Moe said, “Did you hear me?”

(I had been outside too long without gloves. By now, I could see my fingers but I couldn’t feel them.)

“Hi Moe.” I said. He continued…

“Those Brazilians got that baby down there and wont give him back to his daddy. Now I gotta go down there, get that kid and bring him back here myself.”

It took me a minute to realize that Moe was referring to a real life current event that was taking place even as he spoke.

http://www.cnn.com/brazilian.child.custody

I said to him, “Moses is your TV still on CNN? Do you ever change the channel? Do you even know how to change the channel?”

Today Moe was curiously lucid. He told me…”You know I used to do missions like this in my youth.” (I said ‘curiously’ lucid.)

He continued…

“Call the State Department and tell ‘em to come pick me up!” (I like how Moe thinks I have all of the ‘important’ numbers saved onto my phone.) I told Moe…

“Since you know those people from your missions and all, why don’t you call them yourself?”

“Don’t you get sassy with me.” He snapped. (I wasn’t getting sassy. I was turning blue.)

I said..”Moe, You watch too much TV and you should learn how to change the channels. Those people in Brazil don’t want to see you and that kid’s father is handling his own business. He can manage without you.”

I attempted to ascend my stairs on my hands and knees. I could feel the tiny rocks of salt pressing painfully into my knee caps and I am sure my hands would’ve been hurting – if I could have actually felt them.

Moe shouted at me as he turned to go back across the street…
“You call the government and tell them to get a plane ready! I’m gong to practice my Spanish.”

I told Moe, they don’t speak Spanish in Brazil. (Or maybe I simply thought I told him.)

I was thawing out my extremities and thinking about that man next door. I came to this conclusion. If I am ever stuck in a foreign country, don’t send Moe!

Copyright © (2009) Diane

MAKE A WISH

Well it’s Thanksgiving Day. And Moe and I got the wishbone.

I asked Moe what would he wish for if he could get whatever he wanted but no matter what he wished, his beautiful wife would get double. He said…

“I’d wish for a million dollars and to get beaten half to death.”

Copyright © (2009) Diane

MOE’S PROSE

About Death…

I’ll give it to you in a nutshell.
I don’t wanna be buried.
I don’t wanna be cremated.
I don’t wanna be frozen.
I don’t wanna die!

About the economy…
I hear folks saying we’re in a ‘down’ economy.
The economy is not bad – not bad at all.
There will always be people out-of-work. That doesn’t mean it’s a bad economy.
There will always be folks without a place to live. That’s still not the sign of a bad economy.
When the economy is bad, and I mean ‘really really’ bad, the food supplies becomes so scarce, rats sit in the window and cry.
That’s a sure sign of a bad economy.

About the property tax…
I’ll tell you one thing…the man sure knows how to stick it to you.
I own my home – paid for it years ago. So if I no longer pay a mortgage on that pile of bricks standing over there, why am I having to pay tax for something I bought before the taxman was born? It’s like having to continually pay tax for that pack of cigarettes I bought in 1959. You don’t keep taxing me if I own it!

About the west coast’s obsession with beauty over brains…
If you throw a rock into a group of forty people in California it wont land on anybody with gray hair. If you throw that same rock anywhere else in this country, the gray hairs will examine it and analyze you for throwin’ it.

About entrepreneurs…
You can call it whatever you want. But everybody who wants to go into business should do it in California. Those folks don’t spend money on smart. They spend money on pretty. If you tell ‘em they’ll lose weight with your product, they’ll look pretty with your product or better yet, they’ll look ten years younger, you’ll make a million dollars in a year. That ‘ten years younger’ line gets ‘em every time. Stick those three words on your label – no matter what you’re selling, and those folks will throw their money at you.

What? You don’t believe me?

Put some jelly in a jar, stick Ten Years Younger on the label, sit back and wait.

Call me in a year.

Copyright © (2009) Diane