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Y’all, we have another return visitor here on Gilda Sue’s Mail Bag. It’s Frimunt! Hey, Frimunt!
“Dear Gilda Sue, your response to my letter helped, but only for a minute. You made death seem less scary, but, honestly, I don’t really want to die. Not yet. It’s just that the bullcrap of life just keeps piling on. One of my very best friends has turned out to be about as deep as a post-it-note, the career I’ve worked so hard for is not what I hoped it would be, and my marriage to the love of my life is falling apart. I’m a mess over it all. What do I do? Help! Oh God!”
First, let’s be honest about this word,”friend.” You likely only have one, hon, and it’s probably not the one you spend most of your energy on. Tell the last person who showed enthusiasm for whatever it is you’re up to how much she rocks, and redefine “best friend.”
Second, careers are for suckers. Do what you love and do your best to pay the bills. Everything else is damn icing on the cake.
Third, the married folks I know say that marriage is fraught with ups and downs. Most say it’s got more downs than ups. If your marriage is having more downs than ups, congratulations, bubbee! You’re on the right track!
But, honestly, hon, all this pain is your own fault, and it can be avoided if you just cared a little less. Really. All that fiery passion is the source of all your heartache, and you’d do well to snuff that out. Just snuff it!
Now, have a super short cry. Then push it down, bottle it up, and keep moving.
Welcome back to Gilda Sue’s Mail Bag. This week, I have another letter from our old pal, Father Patrick Fitzpatrick of the Sister Mary Frances School for Underage And Guileless Boys in Pawhuska, Oklahoma. Hey, Father Pat! The Father writes,
“Gilda Sue. I always wanted to learn to speak in tongues, but there’s not even an elective for that in Catholic Priesting School. Do you know where I can take a class?”
Well, hon, wouldn’t learning to speak in tongues be like learning to be a midgets, or an idiot savant, or a CNN legal commentator/television hostess with over-large nostrils, and a permanent scowl born of self-righteous indignation, a fixation on celebrity lawsuits, and a passion for hearing yourself talk (in tongues or otherwise)? Even if you could actually learn such a thing, you might find it’s not as much fun as it sounds.
Once I had nothing better to do to fill the void in a super-long, hot summer (which is the very predicament in which you seem to have found yourself, Father) and I took some Continuing Ed classes at the Lake Tar Monkey Community College. Their Language Arts Department offered up what looked like a rockin’ “Yiddish for Gentiles” class. (Not as easy as it sounded. I got a C). And The Home Ec Department teamed up with the Psych Department to offer “Mixology as Fixology” which was a sort of group therapy in the kitchen. As it turns out, being creative and busy (not to mention tipsy!) did help some folks take their minds off of their troubles, like rocky marriages, abusive childhoods, or frowned-upon sexual urges that they still can’t “pray away” even after all those beatings by nuns and years of boring Seminary. I actually didn’t really need the therapy part. I was just bored and thirsty, which is not a real-real good combo, by the way. (Grade-schmade! I just remember that that class was the birth place of the “Chicken Salad-infused Drambuie-tini,” and that it was a damn blast. I’m now also remembering that I was escorted off campus grounds on more than one occasion during that class, but for the life of me, I can’t remember why. Or by whom. Or to where.) Anyway, maybe the Pawhuska Community College offers up something similar.
Good luck, Father Pat! And let us know how that goes.
Bye, now. Keep those cards and letters coming!
i first had this at a restaurant in asheville, and am now making it frequently at home. so fast and delicious you can’t help but impress yourself!
(if you have a mandolin that works best. i don’t, so i use a knife)
thinly slice 1 zucchini, so it looks like noodles
cook in pesto on med/high heat for about 3 minutes, then add halved cherry tomatoes. cook for another few minutes.
pour in bowl, and dash some parmesan on top.
i’ve also added things like green onions and smoked tofu to the mix. enjoy!
This week’s Mail Bag pick is from a Charlie Perkins in Georgia. Charlie writes:
“Is it wrong for me to wear tube socks and high heels? My niece and nephew say that it is. Some people point and laugh at me, especially at the beach. I think that it is both fashionable and comfortable. I told my niece, ‘There is no rule book that says that men cannot wear women’s shoes.’ Tube socks add a masculine touch to my day wear. Some people just don’t get fashion. Don’t you agree?”
Oy, Charlie. I had to turn to some other folks for some help with this problem of yours.
Super-brainy literary icon and extra-terrestrial humorist Mark Twain once wrote this:
“We are all alike on the inside.”
By this, I believe he means that we all need love, we are all seeking something of substance that makes life worth living, we all have skeletons in our closets, we all crave more Drambuie than Rabbi Spiderman thinks is good for us, and, though our many prejudices may keep us from acting like it most of the time, we all agree that we probably are all alike on the inside. He means that it’s really the OUTSIDE that matters.
So, fashion is important, hon. Real-real.
Now the rightness or wrongness of those tube socks is debatable. Here are quotes from two other famous brainy folks:
“Are right and wrong convertible terms, dependent upon popular opinion?” ~William Lloyd Garrison (abolitionist and feminist)
It doesn’t seem as though Garrison knows the answer to this, but I do. It’s “of course they are.”
“The only correct actions are those that demand no explanation and no apology.” ~Red Auerbach (National Jewish Sports Hall of Famer and basketball coach)
I think Coach Auerbach would read your long-winded query and advise you to keep that beach attire in your closet. Right behind those skeletons.
But, Charlie, I once wrote this:
“If it feels real-real good, just damn do it!”
So. Do with all of that what you will. Just remember, sunscreen is essential when frolicking on the beach, but bossy nieces and nephews are for suckers.
Thanks for your letter, Charlie. Y’all keep ’em coming. Leave a comment here or at The Gilda Sue Rosenstern Computer Internet Show.