My Friend Heda

Warning: This blog post is NOT for those folks who do not enjoy cryptic humor. You won't understand the humor in this at all if you were not born a neurotic, slap-happy goofball. You must have a very special mind to appreciate a head of lettuce talking to you... very, very special. Read on if you dare... but I warned you!



Dear Reader,

My name is Heda (pronounced Head-a). I was delivered at Meijer in recent days. I cannot tell you exactly which day I was thrown into the lettuce bin. I was buried beneath many other lettuce heads of all shapes and sizes (well, mostly round, but we all protrude in various areas). Some heads were rotting onto me, and I was so very thankful when I began making my way to the top of the bin. I would rather be eaten than to live like this... in my own private lettuce hell.



So today I reached the top! Oh, what a glorious day! I sat there for a while, glaring at shoppers choosing my fellow heads, and then I decided to change my attitude. After all, I was at the very tip-top, and pretty soon I knew I couldn't be ignored! It was MY TIME TO SHINE!


So I enjoyed the sprinkles of water the workers sprayed on me, and basked there, changing positions whenever possible to show off my succulent-ness and my fabulous figure. I had very few protruding areas. I was the perfect choice for the woman eye-balling me. I had almost perfect roundness. And so did she!


The woman picked me up and fondled me with expert hands. She fingered my rear and squeezed me like a juiced-up lemon. I was so sure she would pick me! I was so overly excited I could hardly take the suspense.


Just then, out of nowhere, my plump would-be friend dropped me onto the tiled floor. She stared at me for a minute, turned her head in all directions to make sure no shoppers had witnessed her clumsiness and walked away! SHE WALKED AWAY! I just sat on the floor in shock. Thankfully I was sitting in a come-hither position. I knew I couldn't be resisted for long. I had no heads to compete with! I just knew I would be the first one to be noticed. I stuck out like a.... well, a head of lettuce on the ground.


Just then it hit me! Nobody would ever choose me over the others. I was tarnished! Think of all the feet that had walked on the same floor I sat upon. My heart began to break... my leaves wilted a little at the thought.


And then I had a moment of hopefullness. A tall, redheaded silly-looking girl walked by. She looked at me, turned her head and told me she would be back. Was she coming back to buy me? Was I finally going to escape the evilness of Meijer? I prayed! I wanted to be adopted. If just for a short while. I didn't care... I wanted to scream "you can eat me! Just take me home!" But I didn't.


The redhead came back then. I had seen her giggling all the way down to the cheese section and back. She walked up to me, cell phone in hand, and just as she leaned down, I knew she was going to pick me up! ADOPTION DAY! I couldn't take the suspense! I was panting I was so excited! "Come on redheaded mama... take me home!"


As she knelt down, she giggled at me once more and snap! Took my picture. She stared at me for a moment, and at that very moment, I could hear her thoughts.... she was thinking "I want to run over you... over and over and over you with my cart, but I'll resist because you are a perfectly good head of dirty lettuce. I'll leave you here to be plucked up by some other poor sucker." It was terribe... mostly because this redheaded hag was staring at me with such amusement in her eyes, and yet she was thinking of mowing me down!


I stared after her, willing her to trip. She didn't. Little did she know that I would later be gathered by a rich old woman, and after getting me home and into the refrigerator, she would pass away in her sleep, dreaming of the fabulous garden she never had. She had picked me out and washed me, thinking that she would make homemade coleslaw, and impress her lazy garden-club friends with her 'special coleslaw' from her fenced-in non-existent garden she allowed no one near.


I gloriously rotted in her refrigerator for 9 months. No one ever found me until the house was sold. I prayed the new owners would keep me, but my moldiness and lack of lustrous leaves must have turned them off. I was thrown into a dumpster, and later into a huge heap of trash, where I would become even more rancid over time, finally disintegrating into nothingness.


I do not wish this upon any of my lettuce friends. Lettuce all get along. Lettuce not drop lettuce and cabbage and other garden friends at the store, and not pick them up to allow them another chance to find a home. Lettuce love one another... we lettuce know you will eat us. We are okay with that. We just want to be chosen. We just need a moment in the sun. Lettuce have peace... between human and vegetable... LETTUCE.


Your Putrefied Friend,

Heda Lettuce



A Note From the Redhead:


Dear Heda,
I do apologize that I did not pluck you from your sad place on the Meijer floor. I had no idea you were so distraught. I did laugh at you. I couldn't help it. And you read my thoughts correctly... I did wish to run over you with my cart... repeatedly... over and over... but I didn't. I simply took your picture. What harm did that do?

Heda, I need you to know that the reason I did not adopt you is because I did not need you. I needed no lettuce for the spaghetti and garlic bread we were having for dinner. I simply needed cheese.

When I first saw you, I didn't know what to think of the fact that you were sitting all alone in the middle of the floor. I don't believe I've ever seen a single head of lettuce on the floor at the grocery before. I have now! And that's why I laughed!

You DID shine today though... I must tell you... I sent your photo to my friends. We talked about you all evening! Heda, I hope you understand that I did not mean to hurt you. I just needed a laugh, and you provided that. I hope you enjoy your lettuce heaven. Lettuce have peace on Earth! God Bless and Goodnight.

Your friend,

The Redhead

We're All Nuts! Even You!

I often wonder why people do the things they do. I try not to judge... I would be judged infinitely if individuals were judged on the things we do, think and say.

I was at my wonderful Activity Director conference a couple of months ago, and one of the speakers was fabulous! Her name was Kat. Kat spoke about not judging patients at work, and people in general (the conference was for nursing home activity directors... that's me!).

Kat mentioned that she enjoys pajamas from LL Bean, because they look so cute on the models in the catalogs. When she received her own jammies, she put them on, looked in the mirror and decided they did indeed look cute (she's adorable by the way!)... However, after crawling into bed, the pants rode up. She pulled them back down. They rode up again. Pretty soon she was standing in the middle of her bed, ripping off her pants and throwing them directly onto the floor, not taking the time to get out of bed.

Kat asked us what we would think if we walked by a patient's room to find them standing in the middle of their bed, tearing off their pants in a fit of rage. What would you think? Before her speech, I would've thought the patient was insane. During her speech, I realized that she was brilliant!

Kat's speech made me realize how quick we are to categorize people. It's really amazing how things just click. What she was saying was so blatently obvious! I guess this way of thinking is where the saying 'don't judge a book by it's cover' came from. So smart! We people can just be so damn dumb (no offense)!

This brings me to today's story. Mom & I took Abbi out shopping again. Mom & Dad leave on vacation next weekend, and this was our last opportunity to get together. Plus I have been cooped up in the house for a few days, and I was ready to get the hell out!

We had a less-than-lovely dining experience at Max & Erma's. Abbi kept saying her belly hurt (this is drama... not real belly aches) and decided to curl up in a ball and lay down on her chair, while singing loudly for all to hear. As usual, I found the whole situation amusing. Who cares if people think my daughter has issues? She does! She gets them from her mother! So proud... so so proud!

So after our bizarre lunch, we went to Target! I love Target! The shopping experience was fine. Abbi was a bit crotchety, but we dealt. She found a darling purple purse she just HAD to have, so that brightened her spirits a tad. After our shopping excursion, we went to pay. The guy at the register was quite friendly. It was nice! And so unusual! I just don't get pissed at dim-witted cashiers or brainless waiters anymore. It's just the norm. It used to piss me off that I would say hello to the greeters at Walmart and they wouldn't respond! HELLO?!?! Should you be paying me?! You are PAID to GREET! GREET ME! Okay, maybe they irk me a little, but it's just not worth the effort... they aren't going to become nice just because we smile at them. It pisses them off actually... that's part of the reason I say hello! The bigger you smile, the deeper the frown. It's comical.

After we did a little more shopping, we went to Coldstone Creamery. If you have never been, go! It's exceptionally lickable! I've indulged on 3 occasions now, and I have decided it's the best ice cream I've ever had. YUM!

We waited a long time in line. Abbi tried to strike up a conversation with a little boy her age, and his sister, who was probably around 7 or 8. They weren't having it! How rude! I understand not talking to strangers, but Abbi is 4! She didn't know how to take their indifference to her, or their dirty looks. I didn't know how to take them either! Is this how other kids are going to treat the twins when they start preschool this fall? How bad will it be once Logan (2) starts school? I get a little panicky when I think about people being hateful with my kids, and when I actually catch a glimpse of it, boy does it piss me off!

While we were waiting in the very long line (it's worth it people!), Mom & I noticed that the 2 guys working were in slow motion. I have never seen 2 guys make ice cream with their mouths hanging open, stoned out of their minds. These guys were stoned... stoned beyond stoned. WOW! Again, I found this terribly amusing. When Mom placed our order with one of the high guys, he literally stood there for a long while staring at the toppings. Then when he reached for the brownies, it was very much in slo-mo. Mom & I were looking at eachother, while Abbi looked anxiously at the mean kids. I was trying not to laugh, and then I realized high guy wouldn't care. He'd probably laugh with me. Mom had ordered our lickable ice cream in waffle bowls (heaven... I'm tellin' ya!) and 2 hours later (only a slight exaggeration) when high guy was finally done mixing our concoctions, he placed the first one in a regular bowl. Mom politely asked if we could have the other one in a waffle bowl. He asked if she wanted him to put the first one in a waffle bowl. LOL. So, he proceeds to scoop the second concoction into a regular bowl. Mom corrected him. I cracked up... out loud... I laughed at him... with him! As I predicted, he started laughing, too. He was so obviously stoned. It was so unprofessional and so hilarious at the same time. The poor kid needs help... or maybe not... he didn't have a single care in the world. People lined up around the block? Oh, well! He'd get to em when he got to em.

I do wonder why people go to work stoned. I wonder why little kids are so mean to other little kids. I wonder why children like to push other children they don't even know down the slide at the playground, and why the parents don't yell at them. I'm not judging... honestly, I'm not. I just wonder... why, oh, why do people do the crazy things they do?

Happily Foul Mouthed

Well, I just found out my blog is rated NC-17.

That means no children under 17 should be reading it. It made me feel a little guilty at first, because I have been known to say piss and ass right here on my apparently very adult page. I decided to let go of the guilt though... the book I'm writing also has a couple of swear words... okay, a handful...

I guess I just enjoy ruffling some feathers, and throwing in a 'bad' word every once in a while... one of the reasons older people do not watch TV anymore or read blogs or magazines... just too much swearing! Bad, bad people! I suppose I should be blocked on the computers of children 17 and under... although I do know that 17-year olds these days are more like 30-year olds. Not much is sacred anymore... I suppose I'm just following in the path of the other joyfully foul-mouthed people out there. I don't like to be a follower, but in this case, throw the book at me... I'm guilty!

The good news is that I'm not rated X, or even R (although I believe NC-17 is considered to be worse than R... hmmm). I think the Xiest thing I've ever written about is hot, steamy sex with Dr. Christian Troy, but dreams don't count... especially with extremely good-looking famous people!

I just figure my blog is to put my thoughts and feelings out there, and if I ever really get back to it, to promote my book... or the 5 chapters I have written at least. Sometimes I curse in my head, so it just comes out. I'm sorry if that offends anyone... okay, I'm not THAT sorry.

Later... :0)