Ruby's Bar & Grill

Hell Bent for Leather

Today's my birthday!

Dinner and drinks are on me. We're serving chicken and dumplings, one serving each until they're all gone. This batch turned out awesome, if I do say so myself.

There's a couple rules on free night. Only one serving each, OK? We need to make sure there's enough for everybody. And most important only two drinks. Ruby's is a neighborhood place and to be honest most people don't do a lot of drinking, they're here to get together and chew the fat for awhile. That's Ok with me, I never meant to get wealthy on this venture, and I don't cotton to drunks anyway.

There are some customers who are possible problems and they know the drill. They toss their keys in the basket on the bar. I'm the Queen of this place, and it's my call whether they retrieve the keys or not.

So there's draught beer, or cheap-white-wine-in-a-box.

For sure you're asking yourself how old I am. Well, I never been one to keep my age a secret. I never saw no sense in that anyway. I quit putting on airs a long time ago, and that's served me well.

I'm 57 years old today, and hell bent for leather to make it to at least 80. The good Lord might have other plans for me and that's OK too. I figure after living through the hell of depression and being diagnosed with Lupus, every day is a gift. And Papa Ray didn't raise no kids that looked a gift horse in the mouth.

My firends Ed and Juanita are going to mind the bar for me tomorrow, and I'm going to take a day off to sleep late and do some laundry. That might not sound like an exciting day to some people, but I love to stay in my jammies all day, and it's no big deal to throw in a load of laundry.

So everyone enjoy the chicken and dumplings, they'll stick to your ribs I promise. And have a beer or a glass of wine and lets all toast to life...the good, the bad, and the ugly.

You Just Ain't Nobody

Somewhere in the blogosphere I read that you ain't nobody unless you've got a blog.

Well, I don't know about that. Someone else said that there's 2 million blogs out there and nobody's reading them. Hmmmmm, that was a puzzler.

It's hard to believe that 2 million folks are writing their hearts out (some are dribbling their hearts out) and nobody's reading. If you see in your stats that 1,654 people have visited your blog, what are they doing then, checking out the typefaces?

The real curious thing to me when I started bloggin', was that there weren't any comments being left. That could sure bruise a persons ego. I got over that (thankfully David is a faithful comment hound), and came to the conclusion that bloggin' ain't about conversing, it seems to be a verbal form of regurgitating.

We're all so damn busy, and bombarded with information all day long. It's too much I tell you. People gotta find a way to get rid of all that stuff. After we take in all this information, we gotta do what's called processing.

Everybody seems so worn out at the end the day from talking and conversing and doing business. It seems to me that they way their processin' is to write their blog, get stuff off their chest, get their opinions out there, and just have their say. Hell....nobody seems to be listening anyway, so who cares if they're not listening to your blog. It just feels good I guess.

I learned a new word today and watch me use it in a sentence.

The blog is a form of catharsis.

Now one of you schoolteachers let me know if that was right.

My first job out of high school was working in the plant office at Herrington Metal Stamping Company. We had to cover our co-workers desk when they went on vacation. Patsy would get everything pn her desk in order and then announce at the end of her last day, "Now, take care of my empire, OK?"

Well, everybody's got their Blog Empire, and some are more interesting than others. I don't think it's a good idea to rate blogs. They just are. And they're somebody's little empire.

Welcome to mine.....Ruby's Bar and Grill.

The Price of Steel is Going Up

My son Randall James is shopping for a new mattress. It's a horrible task and most of us buy the best mattress we can afford so we won't have to go mattress shopping for another 20 years or so.

Now I'm sure there are really nice mattress salesmen out there, but as a whole I find them to be kind of winding down their sales careers. Maybe these guys started out years ago as hot shot IBM salesmen, and burned down the list. I've been in sales, and burning down means you just simply run outta gas. It's one of those jobs that just takes alot outta you.

Salesmen probably need to move on to another career, something less dog-eat-dog. There's lots of nasty behavior in sales and I've been stabbed in the back more than once by someone scrambling for a commission.

I finally reached the point where I said, "Poke me with a fork, I'm done!"

That's when I bought the bar and grill. I'd been working there part-time for many years and just decided it was time to be my own boss.

But anyway, these mattress salesmen seem to be the kind of guys that stay way too long. They're sales pitches are old and tired. In one store we got the old - "I can make you a special offer, but it's only good for today!" Sheesh.....that's as old as my granny's tobacco.

We found a really nice mattress and the Bed and Headboard Shop. The price was kinda high, so we were going to have to check with my ex-husband to see if he'd help Randall James with a bit of cash. What happened next will go down in the annals of bad salesman pitches. I assured the guy we'd get back to him and as we turned to leave the store he said, "Don't wait too long, the price of steel is going up!!!!"

Well, hells bells. That would sure matter if we were buying an SUV, or a bed of nails. But there's ain't enough steel in box spring to spit at, and certainly not enough to skyrocket that price.

We did buy that mattress. Unfortunately there was another salesman on duty, and ooooops I forgot to tell him the other guy was helping us. You know how they are....pretty territorial and dog-eat-dog.

There's a Tater Tot Stuck in Your Aorta

If you're looking for a fish fry on Friday night, you'll need to go over to the VFW on the other side of town. I don't do fish here at Ruby's cause I don't have the money or the room for an extra deep fryer. Nobody like fishy tasting french fries, that's for sure!

The Friday night special here at Ruby's is Tater Tot Casserole, and we serve alot of Tater Tot Casserole plates.

My ex-mother-in-law Blanche has been coming into Ruby's every Friday night since Hector was a pup...probably 30 years or so. She's ordered Tator Tot Casserole and a big glass of full bodied Chianti. Only one glass, cause she's still driving at 87!

This Friday night she ordered a grilled chicken breast, salad and a club soda. I looked at her kinda cockeyed and said, "Blanche, what's going on?"

It seems that she'd been to visit her daughter Pauline, who lives over in Cumberland City. Pauline insisted that she keep an appointment that Pauline had made with a fancy schmancy doctor called a gerontologist. The upshot was that the gerontologist determined that Blanche has an higher colesteral count.

Our own town doctor, Doc Hogan, knew about this. He told Blanche on her last visit. But the doc in Cumberland City put Blanche on something called Zolcor - -something like that. It's $126.50 per month for the prescription. WHOOEEE...Blanche is a widow on a small pension and this is alot of money to her. Not to mention that the doctors got her all worked up about this colesteral thing. He's given her a diet to follow and it's pretty bleak.

Well hell, I don't know nothing about medicine, but I do know that Doc Hogan wasn't alarmed and pulling out the fire trucks. It was my understanding that colesteral tooks years and years to do damage. So does this new doc want to prevent a triple bypass at 113 years old??? I don't know.

The thing is he's looking at number on a chart...but he forgot the important one --- 87.

So here's the advice I gave Blanche -

Eat whatever the hell you want. Order tater tot casserole, and two chiantis if you like, and I'll drive you home.
Take the $126.50 and put it in the bank for a couple months. Go over to Grace L. Ferguson's Travel Agency & Storm Door Company and put money down to book a trip to Rome, Italy.

Blanche has always talked about Rome, Italy, as long as I've known her. She wanted to see Rome before she died. I'll pay for the passport. And hell - I might just go along. Having one of those Italian studs whistle at you would be good for the soul!

Tater Tot Casserole

Butter or Margarine
1 1/2 lbs. lean ground beef
1 bag Tator Tots or Mini Tater Tots
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1/2 soup can filled with milk
1 1/2 cups shredded cheddar cheese
1 1/2 tsp. seasoned salt

Heat oven to 350 F.

Brown the ground beef and drain off fat. Mix mushroom soup, milk, cheddar cheese and seasoned salt in a bowl. Add the ground beef and mix together. Slather butter or margarine on the bottom and sides of a casserole dish. (The butter is to make the tator tots crispy so don't be stingy).

Layer the casserole, starting with a layer of tator tots, ground beef mixture, tator tots, etc., ending with a layer of tator tots.

Bake for 35 minutes or until hot and bubbly.

Where's Your Momma?

You say your momma is sitting on a pool deck in Florida?

Wrong answer.

Your momma is stuck in your gullet. She's sitting on your shoulder and whispering in your ear. She's the back seat driver on the trip through life.

Leon says he doesn't believe in psychology or psychologists. That's mostly the case with people that could do with a good dose of that medicine. People flip out when you suggest that their childhood might have something to do with their messed up lives. If you think that your childhood has nothing to do with your current situation, you are WRONG!

We sure don't exist, live or react in a vacuum. Every piece, every experience builds on the piece that went before, and our reactions are based on what went before. If your parents operate a guilt machine, you're on the guilt train.

- feelings are neither BAD or GOOD - they just ARE

that bears repeating...........................

- feelings are netiher BAD or GOOD - they just ARE

Can you imagine being able to say - - mom (or dad) was wrong...a jerk....stupid.....controlling....guilt mongering....witchy.....bitchy...a bad cook....a terrible mom.....at times, sometimes or ALL the time???

You know, when I decided I needed some professional help, and went to see "Dr. Pat", one of the first things she told me was this - "You're going to have to say exactly what's on your mind. You're going to want to stop yourself and say, 'I can't say that'...but you can. Don't edit yourself. Say the first thing that pops into your head."

Can you imagine?

At this point you hesitate. Do I dare? WWMS?? Which stands for, "What Would Mommy Say?"

Guess what? Mom really is on a pool deck in Florida. You're in therapy 1,000 miles away, with a real cool foster mom who'll allow you to swear and say what ever you want. You can scream and throw verbal shit all over the room for a full hour every week! And....here's the best part. It only costs $20 an hour because you got real good insurance with a low co-pay. Its' the bargain of the century.

So, Dr. Pat says to me, "What are you thinking right now?"

After a couple minutes of silence I heard a weak voice come outta me saying, "My mom was a wussy who was never up for a fight. She let everyone run all over her and taught me to do the same!!!!"

At this point the therapist jumps up and opens a secret compartment under her chair and gets out the flak jacket. The flood gates are open, Pandora's jumped outta the box fully naked and there's no going back.

Hang onto your seats, you're in for a bumpy ride!!!!

Rule #41

Let it be known.......

You are allowed to wear party clothes any day of the week!!

WHOOPEE!!

Noxious Cloud

Old Ladies - - -

I'm putting you on notice. Listen up.

When you get old something happens to your body chemistry. When you spray on perfume and it hits your skin, it turns into a noxious cloud that's really, really strong. It mutates the scent into what I call, "Somethin' other". The White Linen "somethin' other" is downright lethal.

Besides, your reflexes ain't what they used to be, and you're spraying way too much.

An additional note: Tommy Girl is for GIRLS, not for old broads like us.

I'm pretty good at taking my own medicine, and since I'm what you'd call borderline old, I'm going to jump the gun.

My birthday is a week from Thursday, and I'm gonna pitch the perfume bottle into the trash. I'll leave the fancy glass ones on the dressing table 'cause they're just for decoration anyway.

You can take me in advance for making the world a safe place for you.

Purple is the new Red???

Debbie teaches 4th grade over at McKinley School. She's a real nice person and a good teacher, but she's one of those people that doesn't trust her own judgment.

I saw her last night at the Cut and Curl. She had brought in a magazine picture of a new haircut she was gonna try, and I was getting the hair dyed. Anyway, she knew I was going to be there and brought along a newspaper article her friend in Boston had sent her. It's titled, "Harshness of red marks has students seeing purple."

So Debbie says to me, "Read this. I want you to tell me what you really think."

Ha, ha, ha. Debbie knows me well enough to know that's all she's gonna get outta me. I don't know how to do anything else but tell what I think. I don't see the purpose in telling somebody what they want to hear. Couldn't figure that out anyway, I'm not that smart.

Seems this article is saying that the color red is "scary". to our students. One of the teachers in the article says that red is negative and they want to promote self confidence so he uses purple!

Some expert named Leatrice Eiseman, director of the Pantone Institue in Carlstadt, N.J. says that the idea of replacing red with purple is a good idea, "You soften the blow of red. Red is a bit over-the-top in its aggression."

And hey! They've put together focus groups to come to these conclusions. At least one of the teachers said her students didn't seem psychologically scarred by grading her papers with a red pen.

Well I told Debbie there's lots to worry about in this world. And there's lots of stuff that can psychologically harm a child, but I sure don't think a bad spelling paper is one of them.

I asked her to remember back when my daughter Lynette was in her 4th grade class. Lynette had just hit a wall where she seemed to be sinking in her schoolwork. She had lots of those red papers at the the beginning of the year. Debbie and I got together real quick, because all those red marks told us something was wrong.

Lynette had some kind of eye problem where her eye wasn't tracking the words right. So I drove her 25 miles twice a week over to Forest Grove for some eye therapy, and Marilee (the 6th grade teacher) agreed to tutor Lynette after school a couple times a week.

So what I told Debbie is this - Red's OK. Keep using red. But if you and the parents see lots of red all over that paper, you probably need to figure out what's wrong and do something about it.

Changing colors isn't gonna keep the boogey man away.

The Cleanest GSB in America

Papa Ray used to say that a job worth doing was worth doing right.

Many times we'd try to get through our chores and get outside fast. But sloppy work got us nowhere, but back inside doing the job till we got it right.

We were taught that no job was beneath us, and not to look down a man doing an honest days work. Heck, Thomas McNaughton delivered newspapers in the middle of the night last year when he lost his job. He's got 3 college degrees, 2 bachelors and masters. But his family was counting on him and he took his responsibility seriously, and was raised just like us.....nothing is beneath him. Delivering the newspaper left his days free to look for a job in his field. Sure enough, 8 months later he found something.

You know what? There were some that laughed at him. The laughs on them cause I have nothing but admiration for Thomas.

When Leon and I were driving down Arkansas a couple weeks ago, we pulled off I-55 at Litchfield, Illinois. We pulled into the first station on the left, it was a Citgo I believe. It was one of those combination gas station/fast food restaurants - a Jack-in-the-Box. I was shocked. I haven't a Jack-in-the-Box in years and assumed they'd gone out of business completely.

Back in the 70's my sister Cindy and I would drive for miles to get a sack of those Jack-in-the-Box tacos. When you think about it, they sound awful. It was a corn tortilla stuffed with meat and cheese and lettuce, and the whole thing was DEEP FRIED.....even the lettuce if I remember correctly. Something about those tacos was addicting.

So I told Leon - you get the gas, I've got to see if Jack-in-the-Box still sells tacos, and I've got to take a bathroom break. YES! Tacos were still on the menu, along with some wierd companions like egg rolls. Hmmmmm. But seeing as how Leon and I had just eaten a bag of Cheetos and a separate bag of trail mix, I took a pass on the taco. Anyway, I want to keep the taco memory in tact.

I visited the bathroom and met Leon at the counter. He paid for the gas, and diet Pepsis. He says to me, "Well, do they have tacos here".

"Yep," I said. "And they have something else."

"What's that?" he asks.

"The cleanest gas station bathroom in America!" I answered.

"It was awesome! I've never seen anything like it. It was positively spotless. There wasn't a paper towel molecule on the mirror - nothing, not a streak, not a fiber - nothing. The floors were impeccably clean, as were the toilets. And the sink?????? There was not a water spot. Whoever is cleaning this bathroom is doing an awesome job!"

At this point the clerks ears really perked up. She was beaming and it was clear to me who was scrubbing that potty.

She looked at me and said, "Gee, I wish you'd tell my manager."

Heck girl...I've done better than that. I've written the corporate offices at Citgo. I hope the CEO takes note and I sure hope to hell he's doing half that job that the toilet scrubber/cashier is doing in Litchfield, Illinois.

Tip of the Day

We're fast turning into a nation of pencil pushing, keyboard stroking, paper pushers. Show me something you've actually made on the job. Probably not many people could say at the end of the day, "This is what I spent my whole day working on, isn't it nice?"

Ohhhhhh, nice cash flow statement. OH WOW, I see you've got your accounts receivable aging list down!!!

Well, even pouring cocktails is a living, but not much to show for it at the end of the day except alot of dirty glasses.

Many years ago someone gave me some advice. And it's served me pretty darn well.

Do something creative everyday.

Writing in a journal counts, as does welding junk into garden sculpture. It sure feels good to have those knitting needles clicking along in the evening. It's so relaxing.

So, take up a hobby.

I'm wondering if Randy over at Condor Custom Choppers is looking for a part-time intern to learn fabrication. Can you imagine being in a shop with all those swanky tools? Can you imagine starting with some hunks of metal and coming up with a beautiful chopper to ride off into the sunset?

A girl can dream, right?