Five Guilty Pleasures

Saw this on Veronika’s blog. It’s the Five Guilty Pleasures Meme. The rules: Simple list or write an entry about five of your guilty pleasures. Then choose five other bloggers to tag.

I thought this sounded like a good idea. I started out thinking about this: What exactly is a guilty pleasure? I looked around on the net, but wasn’t really able to find a clear, exact definition. I consider a guilty pleasure to be something you enjoy, but feel like you shouldn’t, or are a bit ashamed or embarrassed that you enjoy it. So, based on that from Bonester’s Unofficial Unwritten Dictionary, here goes:

1. Cheesy music – No matter if it’s “Ice Ice Baby” or “Tubthumpin” or “Bust a Move.” If some cheesy, over-played song comes on the radio, I turn it up and (almost) unashamedly sing along. I sing it loud. I sing it proud. And then there are my CD’s. Michael Jackson. Beastie Boys. Duran Duran. And then there’s my Milli Vanilli cassette. And some days it’s all I can do not to reach for this.

2. South Park – I know it’s wrong. And I don’t watch it as much as I used to. But these little foul-mouthed cartoon kids are frickin’ funny. I don’t see how they get away with some of the things they do and say on this show. This is one of the two or three shows on TV that will cause me to literally laugh out loud.
Naps – There is almost nothing I like better than being able to come home from work, take off my clothes… where was I going with this? Oh yes! And crawl into bed and sleep for an hour or two. Pure subconscious euphoria.

4. American Idol – This is so embarrassing, as I despise most every reality show. It’s crap. I have never watched a single episode of Survivor. I don’t even like to watch that much TV, period. But I got hooked on AI last year. The judges really do make this show. I’m hoping I won’t get sucked into it this year. But I’m weak. I already watched most of last Tuesdays show.

5. And last, but certainly not least…

Yep, that’s your big boy there. Whoppers Malted Milk Balls. Don’t give me that little 1.75 oz. baby bag. I want the big milk carton full. Fourteen ounces, babee! Such sweet, chocolatey, mouthwatering goodness. Whew. Suddenly I’m feeling a little flush.

Just missing out on the top five: Romantic comedies, Saved By The Bell reruns, and seeing perennial losers (in sports) continue to lose.

Feel free to do this meme on your blog, or leave your five in the comments. I usually don’t tag anyone, but I will this time. I’m tagging:
Carnealian
Lindsy
Uisce
MappyB
And Sherry, since she always tags me ;-)

“I get knocked down, but I get up again. And you’re never gonna keep me down…”

Pretty In Pink?

I have put up a Super Bowl Poll on the sidebar. And it would thrill me more than it really should if you’d vote on that. I am really a bit torn, as both teams I was rooting for Sunday won. Anyway, on with today’s post…

I wore my pink shirt to work for the first time today. So I’m at the drive-thru at Hardees this morning. Before she hands me my food, the lady at the window says, “I’m gonna tell you like I told another guy the other day…” At this point, I’m thinking I’ve been rude or violated some previously unknown rule of drive-thru etiquette. She continues, “You look really handsome in that pink shirt.”

Ah, just what I needed. Nothing like a little hetero affirmation from the opposite sex to start off the week.

So then I get to work, and I’m on the phone with BE. I tell her I’m wearing the shirt. She says, “Thinking of you in that shirt and your black jacket… I just got a little turned on.” I respond with my best Joey Tribiani, “How you doin’?”

Then I see Big Sweaty, and he says something about it. Something like, “I like your pink shirt. I come from a time where you wouldn’t dare leave the house in a pink shirt.”

Thinking here… But you’d put one on and dance around the kitchen in it? Then he seems to contradict himself:

“I’ve had my share of pink shirts down thru the years. They always get compliments from the ladies.”

Suddenly, I wasn’t feeling so hot about the morning compliment that I had just received. Anyhow, since that, two ladies at work have complimented it. So it’s not yet 11:00 AM and I’ve had five people say something about my shirt. Four of them women. What is this phenomenon?

In other news, I dreamed about Opryland last night. I received a comment on my old Opryland Nostalgia post yesterday, and I think that’s why I dreamed it. I was there with someone, a girl, but I can’t remember who. We rode the Grizzly River Rampage, and then walked over to Chaos. I said something to her about how it never worked right when I rode it. And I don’t think we rode it.

And, my new favorite show comes on tonight!!

And… oh, I guess that’s all. No, wait. All this shirt talk reminds me of this little exchange from Seinfeld:

George: “Let me ask you something. What do you think of this shirt?”
Reporter: “It’s nice.”
George: “Jerry said he didn’t like it.”
Jerry: “I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I said it was OK.”
George: “No, you said you didn’t like it!”
Jerry: “Well, so what if I don’t like it. Is that like the end of the world or something?”

“Every girl crazy ’bout a sharp dressed man…”

Pretty In Pink?

I have put up a Super Bowl Poll on the sidebar. And it would thrill me more than it really should if you’d vote on that. I am really a bit torn, as both teams I was rooting for Sunday won. Anyway, on with today’s post…

I wore my pink shirt to work for the first time today. So I’m at the drive-thru at Hardees this morning. Before she hands me my food, the lady at the window says, “I’m gonna tell you like I told another guy the other day…” At this point, I’m thinking I’ve been rude or violated some previously unknown rule of drive-thru etiquette. She continues, “You look really handsome in that pink shirt.”

Ah, just what I needed. Nothing like a little hetero affirmation from the opposite sex to start off the week.

So then I get to work, and I’m on the phone with BE. I tell her I’m wearing the shirt. She says, “Thinking of you in that shirt and your black jacket… I just got a little turned on.” I respond with my best Joey Tribiani, “How you doin’?”

Then I see Big Sweaty, and he says something about it. Something like, “I like your pink shirt. I come from a time where you wouldn’t dare leave the house in a pink shirt.”

Thinking here… But you’d put one on and dance around the kitchen in it? Then he seems to contradict himself:

“I’ve had my share of pink shirts down thru the years. They always get compliments from the ladies.”

Suddenly, I wasn’t feeling so hot about the morning compliment that I had just received. Anyhow, since that, two ladies at work have complimented it. So it’s not yet 11:00 AM and I’ve had five people say something about my shirt. Four of them women. What is this phenomenon?

In other news, I dreamed about Opryland last night. I received a comment on my old Opryland Nostalgia post yesterday, and I think that’s why I dreamed it. I was there with someone, a girl, but I can’t remember who. We rode the Grizzly River Rampage, and then walked over to Chaos. I said something to her about how it never worked right when I rode it. And I don’t think we rode it.

And, my new favorite show comes on tonight!!

And… oh, I guess that’s all. No, wait. All this shirt talk reminds me of this little exchange from Seinfeld:

George: “Let me ask you something. What do you think of this shirt?”
Reporter: “It’s nice.”
George: “Jerry said he didn’t like it.”
Jerry: “I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I said it was OK.”
George: “No, you said you didn’t like it!”
Jerry: “Well, so what if I don’t like it. Is that like the end of the world or something?”

“Every girl crazy ’bout a sharp dressed man…”

Cuts (and more?)

Moving to a new city, there are certain changes to your daily, weekly, or monthly routine that are almost inevitable. New coffee shop. New place to go running. New bank. Or at least new branch. And on and on. These might seem insignificant, but can take a little getting used to, at the least.

Moving here, I had to find a new place to get my hair cut. I had started going to one place here with a couple of really hot girls. Isn’t that the first thing you look for? But, alas, it went out of business. And I don’t know where they ended up. So one day I ventured into another place in town, located in a small plaza, just between a drug store and tax service. I had called ahead to see if they accepted walk-ins, and the lady assured me they did.

As I walked in, a quick scan of the place revealed two ladies and two men working there. Before I got three steps in the door, one of the men, who was sitting in his chair, got up and asked, “Can I help you?” Now, let me insert here, that I have not had my hair cut by a man since… I don’t even remember when. I think I must have been in my late teens or early twenties. It’s been years. But honestly, I didn’t think that much about it. After all, it’s just a haircut. I’m just getting a trim to test out this place. Oh, if I’d only known…

So sitting there, I placed my arms on the armrests of the chair, he draped that big hair shield over me, and I’m ready to go. As I continued to observe, a couple of NAW mothers (Non-Acronym Worthy) brought their kids in and were sitting just across the room from me waiting their turn. The kids were probably seven or eightish. I really don’t know. My point is, I would classify this as a family place.

Anyhow, as many hair stylists tend to be I suppose, this guy was a chatter. And as there was a hair dryer going and clippers and such, he was having to talk rather loudly. The conversation somehow turned to Nashville, and he began to tell about the time that he and his wife and two friends of theirs went to a strip club there. So he is telling this story about what happened. I don’t even remember now. But I’m sitting there thinking, “Isn’t this a little bit inappropriate in front of children?” So I don’t say much, and try to change the subject at the first opportunity.

Then, a couple of minutes later, it happened. He comes around to my right side, and somehow his midsection comes to rest snuggly against my right arm. I freeze! As luck would have it, the height of the chair perfectly(?) combined with his height to make this situation absolutely as awkward as possible. How do I get myself into these situations? Will somebody please tell me?

As you can imagine, I’m very uncomfortable right about now. Getting a haircut is a rather stationary, still activity anyway. But at this point, I’m not even sure whether or not I’m still breathing. I don’t want to jerk away immediately, because then he’ll know I’m uncomfortable. And that would just make it doubly awkward. Besides, maybe he’s not uncomfortable at all. Maybe he hasn’t even given it a second thought. Then I think, maybe he’s a little too comfortable. Yikes! Mommy!

So he stands there, pressed up against me for what felt like (is that the best phrase to use here?) several thousand extremely awkward non-hetero hours. But was probably, in reality, fifteen or twenty seconds. I’m still frozen stiff, like a customer in a barber shop wax museum. Finally, at long last, he moved. Away from my arm, that is. And I was able to exhale, and gradually ease my arms off the armrests and into my lap, where I knew they would be much safer.

Again, I’m used to having girls give me hair cuts. When they rub up against me, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I actually rather enjoy it. I prefer it. But this was different. This just left me feeling… violated.

Perhaps they need a warning sign like they have at amusement park rides. Please keep your arms and legs inside the chair at all times.

So I’m thinking of letting my hair grow out. At least until I can ensure an environment with a female to male ratio of X:0. Where X is a variable, representing the number of females, and 0 is a constant, representing the number of males.

“I’m open, you’re closed. Where I follow, you’ll go. I worry I won’t see your face light up again…”

Cuts (and more?)

Moving to a new city, there are certain changes to your daily, weekly, or monthly routine that are almost inevitable. New coffee shop. New place to go running. New bank. Or at least new branch. And on and on. These might seem insignificant, but can take a little getting used to, at the least.

Moving here, I had to find a new place to get my hair cut. I had started going to one place here with a couple of really hot girls. Isn’t that the first thing you look for? But, alas, it went out of business. And I don’t know where they ended up. So one day I ventured into another place in town, located in a small plaza, just between a drug store and tax service. I had called ahead to see if they accepted walk-ins, and the lady assured me they did.

As I walked in, a quick scan of the place revealed two ladies and two men working there. Before I got three steps in the door, one of the men, who was sitting in his chair, got up and asked, “Can I help you?” Now, let me insert here, that I have not had my hair cut by a man since… I don’t even remember when. I think I must have been in my late teens or early twenties. It’s been years. But honestly, I didn’t think that much about it. After all, it’s just a haircut. I’m just getting a trim to test out this place. Oh, if I’d only known…

So sitting there, I placed my arms on the armrests of the chair, he draped that big hair shield over me, and I’m ready to go. As I continued to observe, a couple of NAW mothers (Non-Acronym Worthy) brought their kids in and were sitting just across the room from me waiting their turn. The kids were probably seven or eightish. I really don’t know. My point is, I would classify this as a family place.

Anyhow, as many hair stylists tend to be I suppose, this guy was a chatter. And as there was a hair dryer going and clippers and such, he was having to talk rather loudly. The conversation somehow turned to Nashville, and he began to tell about the time that he and his wife and two friends of theirs went to a strip club there. So he is telling this story about what happened. I don’t even remember now. But I’m sitting there thinking, “Isn’t this a little bit inappropriate in front of children?” So I don’t say much, and try to change the subject at the first opportunity.

Then, a couple of minutes later, it happened. He comes around to my right side, and somehow his midsection comes to rest snuggly against my right arm. I freeze! As luck would have it, the height of the chair perfectly(?) combined with his height to make this situation absolutely as awkward as possible. How do I get myself into these situations? Will somebody please tell me?

As you can imagine, I’m very uncomfortable right about now. Getting a haircut is a rather stationary, still activity anyway. But at this point, I’m not even sure whether or not I’m still breathing. I don’t want to jerk away immediately, because then he’ll know I’m uncomfortable. And that would just make it doubly awkward. Besides, maybe he’s not uncomfortable at all. Maybe he hasn’t even given it a second thought. Then I think, maybe he’s a little too comfortable. Yikes! Mommy!

So he stands there, pressed up against me for what felt like (is that the best phrase to use here?) several thousand extremely awkward non-hetero hours. But was probably, in reality, fifteen or twenty seconds. I’m still frozen stiff, like a customer in a barber shop wax museum. Finally, at long last, he moved. Away from my arm, that is. And I was able to exhale, and gradually ease my arms off the armrests and into my lap, where I knew they would be much safer.

Again, I’m used to having girls give me hair cuts. When they rub up against me, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I actually rather enjoy it. I prefer it. But this was different. This just left me feeling… violated.

Perhaps they need a warning sign like they have at amusement park rides. Please keep your arms and legs inside the chair at all times.

So I’m thinking of letting my hair grow out. At least until I can ensure an environment with a female to male ratio of X:0. Where X is a variable, representing the number of females, and 0 is a constant, representing the number of males.

“I’m open, you’re closed. Where I follow, you’ll go. I worry I won’t see your face light up again…”

Thursday Thirteen: Numero Seis

Thirteen lessons and discoveries from the past week (and other thoughts)…

1. I really like 24. I watched it for the first time Sunday night, partly because Fox was hyping it like a Blue Oyster Cult reunion special or something. Anyhow, I plan on watching it, if I can remember to each week.

2. American Idol also began this week. I honestly don’t watch much TV, and especially not reality shows. I can’t believe I got into watching it last year. But it can be addictive. Not sure if I’m going to do my weekly AI reviews again this year. As sad as it is, those were the first posts where I started consistently getting more than 3 or 4 comments.

3. Buying a pre-packaged ham & cheese sandwich at a Pilot store off the interstate at 2:00 in the morning just because you haven’t eaten anything solid in thirteen hours is not always a good idea.

4. Sometimes friends will not tell you things like “The expiration date on that is 2005” if they think something funny or cool might happen.

5. This is quite possibly the most boring game on the face of the Earth. I’d rather shave my entire body with no shaving cream then bathe in alcohol. If you’re at a party, and someone pulls out this game, make up an excuse and flee. Trust me. Fortunately, the Broncos/Pats game was on TV. That was the only thing keeping me from blowing my brains out.

6. Girls who like watching football. And actually know what’s going on. That at least doubles their hotness factor to me.

7. I have a friend whose life story has apparently been made into a movie, Failure To Launch. About a guy who lives with his parents way too long. Tag line: “To leave the nest, some men just need a little push.” Can’t wait until this one comes out.

8. Two words for you: Rocky 6! Perhaps they should rename it Rocky 60, as in Sylvester Stallone’s age. I love the Rocky movies. Is that just a guy thing? Kinda like the Three Stooges?

9. One of my favorite Seinfeld bits is Kramer’s moviephone thing: “Using your touch-tone keypad, please enter the first three letters of the movie title now… Why don’t you just tell me the name of the movie you’ve selected?” Hilarity!

10. I rediscovered an old guilty pleasure of mine this week, playing Scrabble online at games.com. Best words? Internal, fiz, lava, and zoon.

11. I have actually watched part of the World Scrabble Championships on ESPN.

12. I’ve never bought a gym membership. Perhaps for the same reason I don’t have a tattoo. Too much of a commitment.

13. In 3 weeks, and 3 days, I will be 33. And single. Unless something unforeseen occurs :-)

Links to other Thursday Thirteens!

1. Carnealian
2. Veronika
3. Renee
4. Uisce
5. Colleen
6. Courtney
7. (leave your link in the comments, and I’ll add you here!)

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

“Life ain’t always beautiful. Some days I miss your smile. And I get tired of walkin’ all these lonely miles…”

Thursday Thirteen: Numero Seis

Thirteen lessons and discoveries from the past week (and other thoughts)…

1. I really like 24. I watched it for the first time Sunday night, partly because Fox was hyping it like a Blue Oyster Cult reunion special or something. Anyhow, I plan on watching it, if I can remember to each week.

2. American Idol also began this week. I honestly don’t watch much TV, and especially not reality shows. I can’t believe I got into watching it last year. But it can be addictive. Not sure if I’m going to do my weekly AI reviews again this year. As sad as it is, those were the first posts where I started consistently getting more than 3 or 4 comments.

3. Buying a pre-packaged ham & cheese sandwich at a Pilot store off the interstate at 2:00 in the morning just because you haven’t eaten anything solid in thirteen hours is not always a good idea.

4. Sometimes friends will not tell you things like “The expiration date on that is 2005” if they think something funny or cool might happen.

5. This is quite possibly the most boring game on the face of the Earth. I’d rather shave my entire body with no shaving cream then bathe in alcohol. If you’re at a party, and someone pulls out this game, make up an excuse and flee. Trust me. Fortunately, the Broncos/Pats game was on TV. That was the only thing keeping me from blowing my brains out.

6. Girls who like watching football. And actually know what’s going on. That at least doubles their hotness factor to me.

7. I have a friend whose life story has apparently been made into a movie, Failure To Launch. About a guy who lives with his parents way too long. Tag line: “To leave the nest, some men just need a little push.” Can’t wait until this one comes out.

8. Two words for you: Rocky 6! Perhaps they should rename it Rocky 60, as in Sylvester Stallone’s age. I love the Rocky movies. Is that just a guy thing? Kinda like the Three Stooges?

9. One of my favorite Seinfeld bits is Kramer’s moviephone thing: “Using your touch-tone keypad, please enter the first three letters of the movie title now… Why don’t you just tell me the name of the movie you’ve selected?” Hilarity!

10. I rediscovered an old guilty pleasure of mine this week, playing Scrabble online at games.com. Best words? Internal, fiz, lava, and zoon.

11. I have actually watched part of the World Scrabble Championships on ESPN.

12. I’ve never bought a gym membership. Perhaps for the same reason I don’t have a tattoo. Too much of a commitment.

13. In 3 weeks, and 3 days, I will be 33. And single. Unless something unforeseen occurs :-)

Links to other Thursday Thirteens!

1. Carnealian
2. Veronika
3. Renee
4. Uisce
5. Colleen
6. Courtney
7. (leave your link in the comments, and I’ll add you here!)

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

“Life ain’t always beautiful. Some days I miss your smile. And I get tired of walkin’ all these lonely miles…”

(Pseudo) Weekend Recap

Someone suggested that I follow my most recent post with something lighthearted. So I decided to recap my very busy weekend, reprising a feature we like to call Bone’s Pseudo Weekend Recap.

Friday, I was at the CDC all day. (Insert funny comment about my rash here.) For those of you unfamiliar with this term, CDC stands for the Centers for Disease Control. Except I wasn’t at their DC headquarters. They have an underground annex at NORAD. For those of you unfamiliar with this term, NORAD stands for… No… Overseas… uh… Actually, you know what? I believe that’s all classified information. So I had to fly to Colorado. I had volunteered to be the first human test patient for a new bird flu vaccine. It wasn’t too bad. And there’s only about a 30% chance that it could actually develop into full blown bird flu. Easiest fifty bucks I ever made.

Saturday, I spent most of the day at Cape Canaveral. NASA enlisted me as an advisor on the Pluto mission. The way they see it, landing a space probe on Pluto is pretty much like hitting a sparrow with a bottle rocket. And since I’m one of the few people who’s actually done just that, they asked for my input. By the way, you didn’t hear this from me, but don’t get your hopes up on this whole thing. You might have heard the launch was postponed yesterday. Why? It was windy. And you can’t accurately shoot bottle rockets when it’s windy. Trust me.

And finally on Sunday, I participated in my first ever NFL game, filling in for one of the Indianapolis Colts offensive linemen. It was great fun mixing it up with the Steeler guys play after play. Kimo von Oelhoffen, Joey Porter, and those guys. Joey even pulled the old “Hey, is that Jennifer Aniston” trick on me. I can’t believe I fell for that one. You know how it goes. As I’m standing there peering into the stands looking to catch a glimpse of Jen, he blows past me to sack our quarterback, Peyton Manning. And I’m sure you heard what our quarterback said after the game. Something to the effect of, “I’m trying to be a good teammate here… let’s just say we had some problems with protection.” Hey, prima donna! I’m not the one with the 3-6 career playoff record! Maybe you can get your daddy to force the Colts to trade your entire offensive line. Besides, I’m only 185 pounds. Plus, I think I might be coming down with something. Give me a break.

As you can see, it was quite the weekend. All this, not to mention my continuing responsibilities and duties as a key member of Team Aniston.

“I was dreaming when I wrote this. Forgive me if it goes astray…”

(Pseudo) Weekend Recap

Someone suggested that I follow my most recent post with something lighthearted. So I decided to recap my very busy weekend, reprising a feature we like to call Bone’s Pseudo Weekend Recap.

Friday, I was at the CDC all day. (Insert funny comment about my rash here.) For those of you unfamiliar with this term, CDC stands for the Centers for Disease Control. Except I wasn’t at their DC headquarters. They have an underground annex at NORAD. For those of you unfamiliar with this term, NORAD stands for… No… Overseas… uh… Actually, you know what? I believe that’s all classified information. So I had to fly to Colorado. I had volunteered to be the first human test patient for a new bird flu vaccine. It wasn’t too bad. And there’s only about a 30% chance that it could actually develop into full blown bird flu. Easiest fifty bucks I ever made.

Saturday, I spent most of the day at Cape Canaveral. NASA enlisted me as an advisor on the Pluto mission. The way they see it, landing a space probe on Pluto is pretty much like hitting a sparrow with a bottle rocket. And since I’m one of the few people who’s actually done just that, they asked for my input. By the way, you didn’t hear this from me, but don’t get your hopes up on this whole thing. You might have heard the launch was postponed yesterday. Why? It was windy. And you can’t accurately shoot bottle rockets when it’s windy. Trust me.

And finally on Sunday, I participated in my first ever NFL game, filling in for one of the Indianapolis Colts offensive linemen. It was great fun mixing it up with the Steeler guys play after play. Kimo von Oelhoffen, Joey Porter, and those guys. Joey even pulled the old “Hey, is that Jennifer Aniston” trick on me. I can’t believe I fell for that one. You know how it goes. As I’m standing there peering into the stands looking to catch a glimpse of Jen, he blows past me to sack our quarterback, Peyton Manning. And I’m sure you heard what our quarterback said after the game. Something to the effect of, “I’m trying to be a good teammate here… let’s just say we had some problems with protection.” Hey, prima donna! I’m not the one with the 3-6 career playoff record! Maybe you can get your daddy to force the Colts to trade your entire offensive line. Besides, I’m only 185 pounds. Plus, I think I might be coming down with something. Give me a break.

As you can see, it was quite the weekend. All this, not to mention my continuing responsibilities and duties as a key member of Team Aniston.

“I was dreaming when I wrote this. Forgive me if it goes astray…”

Miss Nona

In the town where I was raised, a quiet two-lane road leads away from the town square on the west side. Within two blocks, what few businesses there are give way to houses. The asphalt is faded now so that its much nearer to white than its original black. Small houses dot each side of the road all the way out to the four-lane. About the only exception is the local park, whose ball fields come to life in the springtime with t-ball, baseball, softball, and soccer games and practices.

Almost unnoticed now, if not forgotten, is an old abandoned white concrete building which sits on the left side of the road just before you reach the park entrance. For the first two-thirds of my life, that was Miss Nona’s store.

Miss Nona was a rather short older lady who, best I can remember, always had a tall bouffant-like hairdo, and almost always had a smile on her face. There were two gas pumps in front of the store, and as long as she was able, she’d come out and offer to pump your gas. The inside featured an old-fashioned top-opening drink cooler. You’d slide the door open, reach down inside and pull out your favorite soft drink, in a glass bottle. There was a bottle opener built into the side of the cooler. Some of my earliest memories of the little country store are of running across the field after baseball practice and buying a Gatorade. Or before practice to buy some Big League Chew.

Miss Nona lived in a house right next to the store, and would open up for business before daylight. She ran the store all by herself the majority of the time. She was there open to close. For many years, she sold biscuits in the mornings. And around lunch, she would slice up stick bologna and hoop cheese and make sandwiches. It seems like she was always busy doing something around the store. If there were no customers to tend to, she might be sweeping up, inside or out. Or stocking the shelves. I asked her for a job once when I turned 16, but she said she couldn’t afford to hire any help.

I recall my Dad telling me about the time some man tried to rob her. I don’t remember all of the details now. I remember it happened early one morning when no other customers were there. Short story shorter. She kept a shotgun under the counter. Fired a warning shot or two. And no one ever tried to rob the store again. I love that story.

Seems like my parents had always known Miss Nona. Although, looking back, I guess they only knew her from the store. More than once, during somewhat hard times, I remember Miss Nona would let my Dad buy bread, milk, and anything else we needed on credit. Just to get thru until payday, when he would pay her back.

Maybe because she knew my parents, I always felt safe when I was there. I liked to think that she’d treat me like one of her own grandkids. Although she probably would’ve treated any young person that well.

As I got older, I’d stop by on my way to work for a snack. My usual was a honey bun and a little Coca-Cola. I remember one day not long after I started driving, I stopped by to get gas. I would never let her pump my gas. So when I was done, I went inside to pay, and came back out to discover that I had locked my keys in the car. First time that had ever happened to me, and I was a bit distressed. She, undoubtedly, had seen this situation many times. Brought a straightened wire hanger out and had my door unlocked in seconds. I don’t remember if I ever thanked her for that. I hope I did.

Time gets thin. And as Miss Nona got older, she started closing the store a little earlier in the evenings. And then she stopped opening at all on Saturdays. And eventually, although I can’t remember when, she closed the store for good. Miss Nona had always looked exactly the same to me, for all the years I had known her. Except for the one time that I saw her after the store closed. I had heard that she was having some health problems. And she looked twenty years older than I remembered her.

No one ever reopened the little country store. Someone put a fish market in the building for a short while. But even that’s been gone for years now. When the town grew, it did so on the east side. All the new fast food restaurants, and convenience stores, the Wal-Mart Supercenter, and other businesses, opened there. The west side of town has just kind of been forgotten.

Today, little stores like that one have become scarce. Big money and chain stores eventually put the little man, and woman, out of business. They call it progress. Feels more like we lost something to me. Miss Nona is no longer here. Although I can’t remember when she passed. The memories of that little country store, like the highway that runs past it, fade a little more each day.

Most of us will never achieve widespread fame. If you consider that an achievement. But to be remembered fondly by those whose paths we crossed years after we are gone. To have touched someone’s life, even in a small way. That’s something.

I suppose there have been thousands of little country stores in the world. Thousdands of Miss Nona’s.

But to me, there will only ever be one.

“Don’t you remember the fizz in a Pepper. Peanuts in a bottle, at 10, 2, and 4. A fried baloney sandwich, with mayo and tomato…”