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Saturday, 7 March 2015

Keeping it real wit Frizzy Lizzy


Hi dear friends and followers. Today is Frizzy Lizzy day, take five, relax and enjoy a good read

I've been a newlywed twice more than I hoped that I would be. I've committed serial monogamy a total of three times, each time hoping against hope that it would be the one that would take me from here to hereafter, but it just never worked out that way.

Each time that I said “I do,” I was hoping to also have a new circle of friends with whom to share things like supper, shopping, holidays, work stories, even maybe vacation together! I've heard of others doing that, so why not my “forever love” and I?

Well, the first time I was married it just never happened because I was not in my element. We were living 3 kilometers from his mother and siblings and he passed a lot of his time down there. He was there more than I thought healthy because I almost had to make reservations to meet him after work at our house! The notion of having a circle of friends just was not in his mind.

So after 10 years of being married to Henry VIII's 20th Century reincarnation (I say that for reasons I might explain some other time) I filed for divorce and was on my own again. Then I met my second ex, Frank.

I figured that being with Frank would be a different life from the one I had left, and it was. We worked in the same building, knew some of the same people, had some work knowledge in common, and we both enjoyed socializing with a certain group of people outside of work hours. We were able to have lunch some days with a couple with whom we became rather close, and I liked that a lot.

When we first went to the campground, Frank and I were not yet married. We shared a caravan trailer with Frank's mom, Catharine. She was a wonderful woman in every way and a joy to know but she did let us know from time-to-time that we were not fully benefiting from marriage. She and Frank also had some friends including a couple, Tommy P and his wife, Peggy.

Talk about opposites! This pair must have gotten together in a lottery! Peggy was as pretty as the lilacs in June with a sunny personality and the most infectious laugh I have ever heard! She was a prize as a friend, companion, and I felt sure that Tommy saw her as the perfect wife.

Tommy was her polar opposite. He was tall, skinny, noisy, abrasive, difficult, and a sight to see. He was mostly bald with a few hairs on top of a suntanned head that resembled a ripe coconut more than a cranium. Aside from having a loud mouth, he was missing most of his teeth. I have no idea of how he lost them but they were gone and no dentures or bridgework to close the gap. And he sold used cars for work. Get the picture?

When we did get together, Frank was able to handle Tommy's boisterous ways very well. He didn't pay a lot of attention to Tommy when he was being loud or acting like a show-off or playing the fool. Nancy and I appreciated that.

So it was one Saturday in June of 1985 when Frank and I wanted to surprise his mom by going out with Tommy and Peggy and returning with a marriage certificate. I don't recall the exact date, but we did. Tommy volunteered to drive us to the marriage commissioner's office but first we went to a restaurant for a few stiff drinks. That was Tommy's way: everything goes better with vodka.

So we were married in the basement of the court house in a small town in Virginia and we got the certificate to prove it, and Tommy and Peggy were our witnesses. Mama was so surprised when we returned with that piece of paper! She gave us a wedding gift of whatever she had in her wallet, God rest her soul.

Anyway, we hung with Tommy and Peggy and frequently went out with them in their boat to marinas and restaurants for supper or Sunday brunch, always to a place that served liquor. That was Tommy's way. Frank was really cool and never even raised his voice to Tommy when he was playing the fool or making Frank the butt of some “I'm better than you because ______ “ joke.

Things must have been OK with Frank because in September of that year we made plans to go on vacation with Tommy and Peggy for 2 weeks in Fort Lauderdale the following February. Tommy called the Bahia Cabana Motel and made the reservation and we began to count the days.

The time came for us to drive to Florida to meet Peggy and Tommy who were already there. It was 21 hours driving but it was worth every minute of it. When we left our home in the Washington, DC suburbs it was snowing and the temperature was -12C. We arrived on a day of sunny skies and 23C. And Tommy was being Tommy: loud, obnoxious, and full of himself and vodka. I felt sorry for poor Peggy.

Before we left, Frank had a business acquaintance who had a condo in Fort Lauderdale, so he asked him where he thought they served the best seafood. He got the name and address of a place in the town of Davie, Florida. As we had never been in Florida before, the location meant nothing to us. It was just a place on a map.

So we get in Tommy's car and go to this seafood place on Highway 441 in Davie.

We arrived at the address and it was a large shack on stilts over a canal that might have had alligators in it. Two skiffs were tied-up outside and there was a fair crowd having supper.

The server showed us to a table and someone came over and asked us if we wanted a drink. Naturally Tommy ordered first and loudly asked for a Bloody Mary with a double shot of vodka. The table server told him that there was only beer and wine available, no liquor. Tommy went crazy.

He proceeded to yell about what kind of shithouse place was this restaurant that they only served beer and wine; about how this was south Florida and everyplace served vodka, and how pissed-off he was about the lack of hard liquor.

Peggy and I wanted to hide under the table, but we were able to calm him long enough for him to order a Budweiser and for the poor, beleaguered table server to get the drinks and give us a menu. Than the fun really began.

Frank ordered the linguine ristorante for both of us. It was a huge platter of pasta with every kind of shellfish one could find in Florida under home made marinara sauce. Tommy ordered the surf and turf, but asked if the steak that came with it was cold-aged filet mignon. When he found out that they served a New York strip steak, he went off like a Roman candle, exploding at the poor table server about why they could not legally call it a surf and turf.

Suddenly a rather large man in black trousers and a white sport shirt appeared and asked what was all the commotion. He gently moved the server out of the way and leaned his face right into Tommy's. He asked again about all of the noise and yelling. Tommy gulped hard and his eyes got very large as he pulled his head away from this guy who was undoubtedly the bouncer. And this guy would have loved to bounce Tommy. For all I know, he was ready to take him outside and put his sorry ass in that canal as a snack for the alligators.

The supper order went in. Tommy's rare steak was done just fine and Peggy enjoyed hers, too. Frank and I demolished a mountain of pasta and shellfish, all the time enjoying a conversation at reasonable tones. For Peggy and I it was a nod and a wink and a pleasant night after “Bubba” restored order. For Tommy it was a bruised ego and maybe being thankful that he wasn't in that canal after all.

Other things took place on that vacation that I might talk about later but that was one strike against sharing vacation time with anyone ever again.

Thank you very much again, dear friends, for visiting my blog. Please share your thoughts with us, if you will. have a great Week.
ڰۣIn Loving Light from the Fairy Ladyڰۣ

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