Paul’s “G”odiva Spot

So, we are still on tour.  We have one more week left to go before it is all over.  I am sure that even though I will be glad once it is over, there will be some feelings of post-patrum sadness the day after (get over it already Tom Cruise!).

But today, I have the whole day off.  What shall I do with myself?  I could get into a whole pile of mischief, or dip myself into a boiling vat of rich milk chocolate and kill myself in desperate glee!  Not to worry though.  I am sure that when that candy comes out and is being sold, you will all get a piece of me…GET IT???  A PIECE OF ME!!!!  I know you are asking this:  How does MOI come up with such globs of brilliance?

I know (lightbulb glowing overhead)!  I could sit and watch the coffee drip into Lulu’s arm straight from the coffeemaker, and listen to Helga tune her tuba for her daily Wagnerian tootlings. I could go zwiddling desperately with the nymphs and shepherds as they flit gleefully am Punkte through the library…  I could go skipping daintily over the geraniums that Ms. Liebowitz is planting outside.  The only thing that will get me is her chasing after me and beating me to a pulp with her shovel.

I could just go back home and…sleep!  Now THERE is a novel idea!  Not going to happen though.  So here is my plan!

First, I am going to pour soap into Helga’s tuba and watch the bubbles float up into the air.  Then, I am going to have two shots of espresso with Agnes Diller, and then run wild through a field of lillies, naked!  Then, after dressing, I am going to at some point meet up with Rossweisse to talk about a future engagement and look over some music together.  Then, with any left-over time, I am going to ‘fix’ the dog, de-flea the cat, feed George (my pet Hippo!), give one of the shepherds another bad $2.99 permanent, then, I will fly to Helsinki and ‘Finnish’ my day!  Get it…?  ‘Finnish’ my day!?  HAAH!  I am such a riot!

Oh!  And at some point in my day I have to plait someone’s hair into pigtails. Not that I have any kind of pigtail fetish, because that is just silly.

Moi

So now, I was told by Helga about 5 minutes ago that she had a dream.  In this dream, she dreamt that Lulu made me a Bundt Cake for my birthday.  She said that Lulu made this lovely looking Bundt, and we were all gathered in the Music Library, with the Nymphs and Shepherds about to dig into the Bundt, when she woke up!  How quaint is that?!

First of all, let me set the record straight!  I do NOT have a birthday!  Oh no!  I was delivered by a Stork, and he was drunk when he delivered me, so there is no record of my delivery.  That could possibly explain why I am so silly.  Maybe he dropped me on my head a few times on the way.  Actually, hae almost delivered me to the Bubba’s Butchery with a stamp on my rump-roast saying “Certified Grade ‘A’ by the Pork Board”.

So, in psycho-analysing this dream, I think that there is a meaning in all of this.  Seeing that everytime Helga feels guilty, she can appease that guilt by baking a Bundt Cake, and since she is WAY behind, maybe it is time to start baking Bundt Cakes and bringing them for me to sample.  OOOOO!  I have an even better idea.  Helga and Lulu and have a “BUNDT OFF!”  That way, they can do their best creations and bring them, and I will be the judge.  I will need lots of time and a nice big fork to make my decision.

OR, it could also mean that Helga has some issues that need resolving….So Helga, tell me.  If there is a need to purge, I will be the one that you can rid those Bundt Cakes on!  I will be TOO happy to help!!

Moi!

Dearest  Son Wildo,

This is your dear mother. MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU AND YOURS IN SUNNY FLORIDA!!  I know that by this time, you would already be in Disney World with your fifth wife and eight kids.  By the way, I seem to not be able to remember her name.  Is it Jenda?  I think it is Jenda, as Griselda-Lee was the one with the overbite and gingivitis.  Anyway, I am writing you to let you know that I am thinking of you in this season.  I am doing fine where I am now.  That one way ticket you sent me to The Alaskan Outback was a real prize!  And please thank Splenda as well, as I know she had everything to do with it. Things here are pretty good.  The one thing about living up here is that it is very cold all the time! I want to make sure I thank you for the car you sent me though! Yes I got it!  All three parts of it arrived last week.  Even though I had to use up the last of my life savings and pension money, and the money your father left me to live on as well (not to mention, take out a loan from that bank, which meant I had to put up the house for collateral) to pay the duty charges and have it shipped to the junk yard.  Not to worry though.  I would not have been able to drive here anyway.  There are very few roads and because of the snow, it is best to sled around town.  But I do not want you to fret, OK.  It turns out to be a blessing in disguise!  I was able to salvage the metal bumper from the car for my hip replacement that you put off so long with me because Brenda claimed you were bankrupt.  It feels OK now.  If I keep still long enough, I cannot feel a thing, so do not fear.  The doctor who did the operation is so good.  He told me he did a similar surgery to his pet hamster, and does them from his office 6 a day!  Now isn’t that great? Even though my body is still rejecting it, and I am on heavy doses of drugs to numb the pain, it seems to be OK .  It actually makes my hips look wider now, and I guess that is still a plus, even at my age!  I am having a great holiday here!  I know that you must be having it rough though.  Yes.  All those trips to Disney World and those ski outings in the Alps that Glenda makes you go on must cost so much money.  I remember when Fenda told me told me that you were not able to send me to my only sister’s funeral last year.  You remember dear aunt Mildred, don’t you?  Yes, the one who gave you her blood for the transfusion surgery you had ten years ago.  I was able to earn some money at a night club (the only one in town) and I went to see her in California and spent a weekend with her in the cemetery.  Not to worry though, I only slept with about 22 army men and the whole of downtown to get the money for the plane ticket! Even though they made me dance on my sore bumper hip before having their way with me, I am still OK nonetheless.  That weekend was so good for me.  I was able to talk with her and read to her the letter I wrote to her that I could not afford to post to her before she died.  I dug her up from her grave, and she actually looked happy to see me!!!!!  Seeing that there was no money for a funeral then, I found a local (and very drunk) pastor in a bar and we gave her a proper burial.  See what you can do with a few cents and a shovel?  Anyway, after I gave her a bath and a new hairdo, we put her back in the ground.  I even planted some fresh flowers by her grave so that she can have a fresh sniff of them whenever she wants to.

Oh how could I be so ungrateful!!  I forgot to thank you for that sweater you got for me.  Yes the one from  the Salvation Army 8 years ago!  I still have it.  It is the only warm sweater I have, and my favourite of course!  I managed to repair all the moth-eaten holes in it, and I also got out the puke coloured stain that it came with.  Nothing like lots of elbow grease I always say!  Now I cannot bend my arms, as the doctor said that they have ceased up due to the stress on them.  He also said that I caught a staph infection from digging up auntie, and that could also cause the stiffness. Oh well, I should not be moving around that much anyway. 

Please greet my grandkids for me.  Let them know that grandma’s gifts will come bit late this year. I had to sell my dentures, my prosthetic leg, and my glass eye to buy some yarn, and pull out the surgical pins in my other leg to use them as knitting needles to knit some sweaters for them.  I am half way through, and I have learned to knit with ceased up arms!  Your mother is so talented! 

Do not worry about the house.  It was foreclosed on as I had no more money to pay to the people who were threatening to kill you.  There was not much of the house left when they took it though.  I had to break off the roof and the doors to use them as firewood to keep warm.  I also had to stick some silly putty in the cracks when I had to dig into the wall to get to the insulation so that I could make a makeshift blanket with it.  But no need to worry about your poor old mother.  I know you cannot afford for me to come and stay with you in Florida, and I would never want to impose.  Plus, Zelda and I get along so well from this distance!  The new owners though are very nice to me.  They let me live in the little house in the back.  You remember that one?  The one Poodles lived in, before I had to butcher her for food.  I miss her.  She was kind of tough and gamey, but with some A1 Sauce, she went down good!

So there is really NO NEED to worry about you suffering old mother. I love you just the same and want you to be happy with Relda and the kids. Oh yes, and please give Helga a special greeting for me!    Tell her that I love the fruit cake she sent me! It has a collection of stamps from all over the world!  Plus, it is so tough now, that I use it to hold the door to Poodles kennel closed at night, and it works great!!  She sent me a picture of your new dog over there. WHAT A BIG BITCH SHE IS!!!! The dog I mean…  Anyway, mother loves you very much! Remember that you always have a place in my heart, and a place to come back to, in case it does not work out with Huldah, or Blunder, or whatever the DEVIL her name is.  I will always have the best in my heart to say about that…woman, who stole you screaming from my breast, and now seems to have you mercilessly bound, gagged, and knocked senseless with a milkbottle, while smothering you to her $10,000.00 “FFF” PARISIAN SILICON BOSOMS!

Your ever-loving mommy. 

Let me tell you about my friend Mortimer!  He is someone where no matter how much you try to hide from him, he always finds you!  He can be seen from time to time skipping daintily through the music building, singing operatic tenore di grazia-like high notes at full voice to anything/anyone, with or without a pulse, standing still, or tied to a poll, long enough to be tortured by the sweet vocal strains of this desperate divo!  I know this because I have been grabbed in the hallway, shoved into the corner of the practice room that he has occupied and forced to listen to endless cadenzas, high notes, and to constant comparisons of himself to other famous tenor recordings.  Oh come on now!  He was the same one who keeps threatening to give me a CD recording of 47 Di quella piras!!!

Not much else can be said about this character, except that he told me an interesting story the other day, and I thought it, as always, my duty to share it with you, my avid readers.

I got an e-mail from Mortimer the other day where in it, he told me a story of getting his costume for a show he is involved with.  I was the one who took his measurements with a tape measure I borrowed from one of the mighty ladies.  For some reason, the costume place got the measurements mixed up and he was given Jiminie’s measurements for his costume by accident.  Now Jiminie is as thin as a rail, so one can just imagine what Mortimer would look like squeezing into those measley measurements!  But what if he found this out only on the day of the show and had nothing else to wear??  First of all, Jiminie would be wearing his measurements, and would look like a Raggedy Ann doll, or a little kid playing dress-up with his dad’s clothes, and Mortimer would look like someone kneaded and poured him into his costume.  For one thing, he would have no problems at all with any of the high notes, thanks to the tight tights and the very short knickers!  Makes me remember the Austrian Festival with the men dancing around with the ladies in their Lederhosen!!!  Mortimer eats constantly and he would therefore have to resolve not to eat anything all day so as to keep whatever room is available for breathing.  Pull the belt even tighter and he could experience a day in the life of a soprano!!!

Now Mortimer was of the view that I was out to get him, as he thought that I had the colossal affrontery to deliberately write down the wrong measurements.  Moi (*insert innocent wide-eyed look here*)?? I would NEVER do that, but now that I think about it, I am kicking myself in the shins at how much FUN I could have had with that!  But now that all has been corrected, he will be singing away, in the right costume, and having fun.  Now it really would not surpirse me one bit if he were to go out there, and sing his heart out, do very well, and forget to ‘zip’ up!  Or, even more hilarious, that his knickers would really get into a knot in mid “Zu Hilfe!”

Moi

Ever since I came to Winnipeg, I have noticed some interesting things about people’s choice of fashion, and the way things are done.  It is very different.  Take mode of dress for instance.  In Jamaica, people who go to church will wear their “Sunday best” clothes.  That, for men, will mean, a long sleeved shirt, tie, three-piece-suit…the full soup and fish! For women, it will mean a formal church-going dress, which covers up everything imaginable (or not), slip, stockings, hat, and 4-6 inch high heels!  I am sure you are wondering why anyone in their right (or even left) minds would want to dress up in all of that in an island which is hot and humid all the time?  Well, seeing that we have a very British background (from the days of slavery), we have been socialized to do so.  So we grit our teeth, and grin and bear it, and equip ourselves with tissues/face towels, with which we use to mop sweat!  Only in Winnipeg have I seen people zwiddling desperately about to church in shorts!!!! 

Yesterday evening, I was the tenor soloist with the Winnipeg Philharmonic Choir in Britten’s “Rejoice in the Lamb” which he wrote to the poetry of Christopher Smart.  Now Mr. Smart, at the time he wrote this poetry, was mentally ‘out to lunch’ and simply refusing to ever return!  Here is someone whose poetry vasilated betwixt the sovreignty of God and being possessed of his cat, Jeoffry!  Now who names their cat Jeoffry???  While I was there, I took note of the various fashion victims who were happy sitting before me.  When I was done singing, I changed back into my street clothes and went to enjoy the rest of the concert.  While everyone else was listening to the music, I was sitting behind a lady with the tag of her blouse sticking straight up.  So while all the singing was going on, I was reading, “wash in cold water/do not iron/tumble dry low/medium size”.  Another lady wore blue, pink and white, and at that sight, I nearly became violently ill!  A third one decided that the price tag on her jacket was a trendy thing.

The highlight of my time with this choir was when I was at rehearsal a couple of days ago.  I was talking to one of the choristers while waiting for the conductor to arrive.  I was trying politely to create some space between us.  I do not have a space issue, but he really had offensive dragon breath, not to mention the fact that his enunciations, which were clear, also came with a spray of saliva.  However, nothing compared for what was coming next!  He made a comment to me in which he called me fat to my face!  I am sure that he was probably doing so in jest, but it left me in sort of a stunned silence.  Afterwhich, he got up and went about his business, totally clueless!

Hmmm!  Maybe all of this was tied in with Britten’s music.  I mean, I sang an aria about flowers having their own angels and their own language, and the choir sang, “For the Shawm rhimes are lawn fawn moon boon and the like…” I mean, REALLY!!!  Need I say more???

Moi

This morning, as I was clipping the nail on the last of my seven toes of my left footsie, I was desperately trying to figure out what to write about, and then, it hit me!  Some time ago, I remember going into the library, where Helga and Lulu zwiddle desperately, and drink coffee, and all the while, singing and dancing on point to Helga’s tuba playing, with the nymphs and shepherds who come down from their high births……you are wondering where I am going with this, aren’t you?  Well, I want to tell you about what I think is a cute little addiction of Helga’s.

Like a cat to catnip, Helga seems to become overwhelmed by particular scents, and when she smells them, her eyes cross and get very wide, and she grabs what she is smelling, and goes totally nuts with it!  Kind of like Lulu when there is no coffee, she also manifests a character that is not typically her, and I now think it is adorable!

I remember when Helga was trying out a number of different scents of hand creams, and aerosols with Lulu one morning.  I think this was a ploy of hers to keep Lulu busy with something while the coffee was still brewing!  I came bursting into the library and saw them.  So I threw my wrist into the mix.  That was a bad idea!!!  Lulu took a whiff, and said, “Mmmmm!  What IS that?  Smells like apricots!”  I stood there secretly sweating bullets because I know that she had not yet had her coffee.  Then, it was Helga’s turn.  That was the first time in my life that I have ever feared for my limbs!  Helga grabbed my arm and, like a cat getting high on catnip, she took whiff after whiff after whiff… so much so that every inhaled breath was so strong, that my wrist would travel halfway up her nostril. It was like a vacuum chamber!  I was affraid that she was going to eat my arm!!!

What saved me was when Lulu squealed, “Oh look!  The coffee is ready!”  That snapped Helga out of it instantly, and she went to tend to her collegue, by hooking up the coffee machine like an IV to Lulu’s arm. I never thought such words could bring such relief, but I know now.

So then, when I came in today, Helga took a whiff of my wrist (I offered) again to see if I was wearing that same scent that sent her into that state.  This time, it was grapefruit, because I have since refused to get that showergel with apricots ever again!!  For my own insurance of not being eaten of course!!!

Moi

You know, if this opera thingie does not work out, I could always make it as a sort of singing “Emeril” type!

Last night, I gave a dinner and concert at the Knox Church.  It was a benefit concert to raise funds for spoor students like myself, who are working their way through school.  The night was a success, but as you know me, I want to give you the details…

That morning, while I was plucking the grey hairs out of all three of my chins, it occured to me that I should just take my performance garb with me to church, because I had the fleeting feeling that I was not going to be coming back home before the event.  And so said, so done!  I got the church, sang in the choir, and afterwards, around 12:30PM, I went downstairs to meet the people who were to help me cook the dinner.  As I bounced gleefully downstairs, ready to take command of my surroundings and give orders, I squealed, “OK!  Fear not for I am here!  Now let’s get to…am…hello??  Where is everybody??”  Alas, I was alone in the kitchen.  I whined.  After my brief fit of temper, I pulled myself back together again, and put on an apron with a cute little bear on the front.  Armed with a sharp knife, I attacked the peppers, skellions, and wept desperately over the onions.  I wrestled with the pots and won, and tied them to the stove top.  As the peas began to cook, I told myself that I must just keep working.  Help was sure to come!

By 3:00PM, I was getting nervous.  There was lots to do and time was short.  Thank goodness that I had pre-seasoned the chicken the night before, so that was one less thing to do.  We were having Jamaican Jerk Chicken, Rice and Peas, and Sweet Pepper Beef Stew.  Just then, three angels appeared to me.  They flitted in with their wings aspread, and brought me good tidings of help!  They drew their wooden spoons and rolled up their sleeves and lifted some of the burden off of my bosoms. (Brief moment for gasping!) Then, as the time drew near, we wrapped up our activities and began to set the food out to be served.

Then, I ran upstairs, warmed up my voice, changed into my performance garb, and, with reviving strength, sang a 30 minute concert to a set of fed and happy people!  The people said that they just loved the food, and I know this must have been so, because instead of trying to cook me and eat me, they were more interested in the food.  One of my choir collegues was even asking how much to buy a bucket of that kind of chicken!  Though, when I was performing, I realized that I smelled of seasoning, and I was nervous when a cute little old lady in the front row started drooling at me, and then she pulled out soem crackers and a knife, and was staring at me longingly!  Fortunately, I was out of there before she was able to get to me!

It was a good evening, of food, music and good company.  So, maybe someday, you might all see me on TV singing, “Next time on Paul, we will be learning how to marinate Cleopas steaks and how to serve them up nice and tender!  Tune in (high note!)!  Take it away…BAAAM!!!!”