Is there no shame? (Or – PUT ON SOME PANTS!)

 by Wendy Burke

My mother used to say about a neighbor as he worked in his garden, “The MOON is out early today!” Needless to say, said neighbor usually wandered about is yard with the most hideous plumber’s crack known to man. Problem was – A) he wasn’t a plumber and B) I’m thinkin’ he didn’t even know it.  

I know, I know, ‘Where the hell are you going with this Wendy?!’

Hear me out.

My huz and I live in a townhouse condominium complex, on a nice long cul-de-sac, complete with (just recently – those condo association trustees are so clever!) a PRIVATE ROAD sign at the entrance. The turnover in this complex is minimal – we’ve been here almost twenty years.

I digress – which is common for my Wild Wednesdays ---

Awhile back, the ‘Clampetts’ moved in across the drive from us. Well, at least that’s when my dear betrothed has deemed them. 

 

Unfortunately, it’s in name only, as ‘cee-ment ponds’ are not allowed in our complex. The moniker begins with the fact that most of their stuff for some time was stored in the driveway and once inside the double garage, could be seen trying to bust its way out!

I don’t have any problem with ‘The Clampetts,’ I’m really not outside enough to socialize. But there is one problem, which I’m sure won’t be addressed by our illustrious condo association - ‘Mrs. Clampett’ doesn’t wear pants!

Now, I know ole sweet Granny on the TV show was always properly attired  -on occasion, Elly May was skimpily dressed for the times - and Jethro was shirtless now and again….but this woman DOESN’T WEAR PANTS!

I know you’re sayin’, ‘How the heck do you know that, Wen, and WHY are you dwelling on it?’

Well, the huz leaves for work at about 630. Mrs. Clampett has a habit of going out into her garage, with the big double-door open, to grab a first-of-the-day smoke and yak on her cell phone (loudly) at that time.  (She’s out there every day without fail, regardless of temperature – she’s been out there in a blizzard!) Usually she’s attired in one of many house-dresses/nightgowns she has in her ready stash. 

Let me be the first to say, I don’t have a body like Elle McPherson, I’m not nearly as cute as, say, Rachel McAdams. Yes, I’m a bit self-conscious about my ‘zaftig-ness’ – so, I’m careful to cover anything I wouldn’t want to look at, let alone the public.

Maybe she’s comfortable in her complete ‘naturalness,’ but do we have to be subjected to it?

Her home is obviously her realm and she doesn’t give a crap (or doesn’t know) and doesn’t realize the horrendous mental anguish she’s inflicting upon poor leaving-for-work men as she ‘tupples’ around outside at that hour, dressed as she is.

I’m getting ready for work one morning and the phone rings. I see it’s my huz on his cell phone and when I answer, ‘Yah?’, all he can give me is a huge ‘OH!’ a la Tony Soprano, then launches into the story about getting a full posterior view on the way out of the garage this morning as ‘Frau Clampett’ (as he calls her) decided to weed the flowerbed at 630 AM and bent over in her ‘housedress’ to give my huz a not-so-stunning view of the WAZZER VALLEY!  (Ah, I think you get my drift!)

‘OH!’ indeed.

(Thanks to Frau Clampett, my huz now wears completely dark ‘cataract’ glasses when he leaves the house – he’s concerned about a ‘relapse,’ as she continues to waltz about her domain in such a state. Although, I am thinking, the blue nylon spaghetti-strapped number she wears on every Tuesday is becoming my favorite.)

Anyway, that’s why I ask, ‘Is there no shame?’ It’s the same with people (male and female) who think ‘muffintops’ are the latest in haute couture and the word ‘sassy’ stretched across their size-18-stuffed-in-a-size-4 pair of sweats is ‘cute.’

As my dear pal, Fred, from Queens, New York once commented as were standing in Herald Square people-watching, ‘Nice outfit, did it come in your size?’ 

Then, there’s the ‘flannel brigade.’ I love flannel – I have nothing against flannel, I’m wearing flannel right now. BUT – c’mon people, can’t you get dressed to go in public? Really, if you’re 18-35 (or older) and you go to the grocery in your Sponge Bob flannel jammy pants and slippers, sorry, you are not cool….IMHO. 

But – at least you ARE wearing pants!

            RESPITE now has a trailer! Click here to see it. 

Wendy Burke blogs regularly for A Daily Dose of Decadence and is dangerously close to getting RESPITE, a post-WWII romance published by Decadent Publishing. She can be found on Facebook – Wendy Burke Author, at her blog site, Whatever Wendy! (please link Whatever Wendy! to www.whateverwendy.blogspot.com), at her local writers’ group site (please link WRITERS GROUP SITE to: www.mvrwa.blogspot.com)and lurking around the Internet.  When not playing with the people in her head, Wendy has a fine life with her handsome chef husband and two furry feline kids. She also has a full-time job behind the scenes in television which keeps her from writing fulltime in the somewhat pot-hole-free suburbs of Toledo, Ohio.

Wild Wednesday - Who Are You?

by Maureen O. Betita

I’m not really a wild woman. Though it may seem that way for anyone who gets to know me through my online persona. I heard a radio report recently about the sociological dangers of the online world. Interesting information!

The specialist said the internet is so fast and interaction is so abrupt that people are losing the studied and careful manner we learn as we grow up. You know, think before you spew? I thought about it, and it is true, especially for the generation of my nieces and nephews. Those young people really have no tact or social skills. But they never really did. Snark is a passion for them. (Though I’ve noticed as they start having children that this is being tempered.)

Hee, hee.

What about those of us who grew up with all of those lessons on politeness and reflecting before speaking? Well, we’re slowly descending into barbarity also. As more and more of our communication is done online, we’re getting sloppy.

At least, that was the theory. I’m not sure it’s totally true for everyone. Yes, I think if you spend your life online, you’re probably going to have to stop and check yourself so that when in social situations you don’t open mouth/insert foot.

I check myself constantly and Leanne? You’re not the only one who apologizes a lot! ;-)

I adore online communication for several reasons. Firstly, I suck at reading body language. I tend to take people as they present themselves. (Perhaps because I’ve never considered it worthwhile to put energy into faking much of anything.) So, online, when taking the time to choose words carefully, with time to reflect, I feel less likely to be misunderstood. And with a back and forth, I can figure most things out. It’s words, not faces. I can handle words. (Means I’m probably very easy to fool on line, but then again, I am a massive record keeper and can go back years to support what I said and what was said to me. Remember this if you start an argument with me!) Also because I’m really not all the fast and witty in person, I like online communication. Give me a few moments to reflect with online chatter, and I’m brilliant.

No, really! I am!

 

I’m also a bartender. Online. And a pirate. Online.

I’m a little concerned how this is all going to translate next week, at RT. Even I’m not sure how this is all going to balance out come meeting people. Will they expect the bartender? The pirate? Who am I, really? I tend to be the sort who is more likely to be overtly polite than intrusive, so I’m not really worried about my mouth getting me into trouble. Unless I drink of course. One reason I don’t drink much!

I’d like to think I’m all these online people, and able to communicate as all of them. Who are you online? And if you’re going to RT and meet me, you can hold up a sign, let me know who you want to talk to! ;-)

What's In a Pen Name?

By Wendy Burke

       Shakespeare wrote, ‘What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’ ~Romeo & Juliet

       Okay, that’s my lesson in classics for today, but now you’re wondering how that relates to this blog.

       Well, if you’ve been reading my Wild Wednesdays for awhile, you’re already sure they’ll be some silly spin on the Bard’s words.

       I guess one of the reasons I write is that it’s a ‘socially acceptable form of schizophrenia.’ That excellent thought came from my local writers group blog ---thanks for the line Kristi!

       And, if you’re me, because of my years in radio and now writing, I have had SEVEN – count’em! – SEVEN names in the past thirty years. (and, I’ve only been married once!) With all those names and personalities, it’s no wonder I write!

       I was born Wendy H****n, a name which was pretty darn good for a long time.

       Radio is my first love – it’s in my veins and is one thing I know I do well. While in college at the University of Wisconsin Oshkosh, I got my feet wet in the business doing a couple of shifts a week at SUPERHIT 97!  The program director there had a specific ‘feel’ he wanted in all the jocks’ names – where he came up with Bobbi Shasta I have no idea, but if I ever decide to write full-blown-hard-core erotica –I’m sure Bobbi will return.

       My first fulltime job in radio after college was in Iowa, where no one really knew the name H****n, and because I wanted to remain ‘anonymous’ outside my on-air job, my program director gave me a list of names he thought was acceptable and Wendy Warden was born.

       I bugged out of Iowa after awhile and took a job I didn’t really care for in the nederlands of north central Wisconsin – I was Wendy Collins on an FM station for a week.

       I moved to Toledo for a new job not long after. Wanting to forget my time in Iowa (sorry, if there are any Hawkeyes out there!), Wendy Warden was out and realizing Wendy Collins never really ‘worked,’ I went for another name change. Wendy S******n  – in honor of my preschool in my hometown. My new program director tapped me on each shoulder with a microphone while drinking a giant margarita at a local Mexican restaurant and such was I dubbed. (Thanks Gary!)

       I still use that name in my current job behind the scenes in TV. Heck, I was on the air in Toledo for eleven years as Wendy S******n, people knew the name, so I was ‘in the door’ from the get-go making contacts and getting information.

       I got married in between and Wendy H***n became Wendy G*****.

       Then, publication presented itself. Hmmm….I didn’t want to go by my given name. I didn’t want to use my ‘working’ name – it’s linked to a certain business and professionalism. If I wrote something a bit ‘too spicy’ for some, I’d rather not have my married name linked to it. (I’d never hear the end of it if my huz was razzed by his golf-league pals!) Shasta was already taken should I have a foray into XXXX erotica. Collins didn’t work for the purpose at hand. Warden lived in the ‘bad memory’ box in my mind, so that was out.

       So, I needed a new name – a pen name.

       Well, my dear pal and fellow-DP author, Deanna Wadsworth of RED RIDING HOOD, SLEEPY HOLLOW and SECRET SANTA fame, and I were having a few adult beverages (i.e. barley pop) and conversing about names.

       “You need to keep ‘Wendy,’” she said. “There aren’t a lot of ‘Wendys.’”

       Okay, I agree and I do like my first name.  

       We bantered about possibilities. Then I remembered a name I liked and had used in a story I was working on, which took a completely different turn. (…as an FYI, the character wasn’t actually a long-lost princess of the Burke clan in Ireland…) …so I took that character’s last name and Wendy Burke came into the world.

       So, now Burke better produce results! And, if she doesn’t, well, I guess I could sell my name list to some black-ops CIA group as alternate identities or maybe to an author who spins such yarns.

       Hmmm, I wonder if Brad Thor would consider using any of them?

                                        

          

Wendy Burke blogs regularly for A Daily Dose of Decadence and is dangerously close to getting RESPITE, a post-WWII romance published by Decadent Publishing. She can be found on Facebook – Wendy Burke Author, at her blog site, Whatever Wendy! (www.whateverwendy.blogspot.com)and lurking around the Internet.  When not playing with the people in her head, Wendy has a fine life with her handsome chef husband (no, her married name is not RAMSEY) and two furry feline kids. She also has a full-time job behind the scenes in television which keeps her from writing fulltime in the somewhat pot-hole-free suburbs of Toledo, Ohio.

Final Furniture – or – A Funny Thing Happened Shopping at the Funeral Home

      Think back to those days of your box of 64 Crayola crayons. You know there were tinted wax sticks in that box that were never and I do mean never used.

     My perpetually intact color was – Periwinkle Blue.

     Not that it was an unattractive color --- it was just, well – odd. It wasn’t as pleasant as Cornflower Blue or as accepted as good ‘ole Navy Blue. There was just something weird about Periwinkle.

     Ignoring that color would come back to haunt me in the oddest place – the basement of a funeral home.

     If you’ve been reading A Daily Dose of Decadence awhile, you know I have a fairly irreverent sense of humor. I guess I always have, because it was put to good use in said funeral home.

    My father died when I was 19. It was the first funeral I actually ‘participated’ in, if you can call it that. I was along with my mother to pick out a casket and help (or observe I guess) with the arrangements.

    The casket ‘showroom’ was in the basement of the facility. At the time, there was no logging on to Best Price Caskets or going to Amazon.com and ordering a cheapie to be delivered the next day---and while I’m there, I might as well download a couple of books to the Kindle --- this was well before the Internet became part of our lives.

    Anyway, so my mom and I are in the basement shopping. There are about a dozen caskets on display.  One which particularly caught my eye – not to buy mind you, but because of its very strange finish. It was crushed velvet (yes, go with that 70s bad wedding tuxedo thought) in Periwinkle Blue and wait there’s more!…the fabric had little same color fleur-de-lises stamped into it.

  “Shh! Stop it!” My mother had grabbed hold of my elbow with the grip of a cop leading a drunk into a police precinct! She was trying to get me to stop giggling.

   “But Mom – it’s so ugly! Why would you even put a dead person in that?”

    Her pinch only became more secure as she led me over to something more ‘acceptable.’

    Now, I don’t care who you are—that was one FUGLY piece of furniture! Uh, and NO we did not choose  that one for my father.

    Fast forward some 21 years later. I was at the same funeral home, only this time I was completely in charge of the arrangements, this time for my mom. I could hear her admonishment in the back of my head, ‘Don’t even think about periwinkle blue crushed velvet!’

    The funeral home had changed a bit. Now upstairs was the showroom, (or ‘family resource center’) but it reminded me of visiting the linen department of JC Penney. Don’t know if it’s still done, but Penney’s used to make up little ‘mini’ beds in the sheet department, about a quarter of a bed would stick out from the display, enough to get the whole feel of your chosen bedroom ensemble – complete with neck pillows.

   The same was done with caskets! Only this time, I had to stop myself from giggling. Talk about choices! JEEZ!

    First, finish: veneer, solid wood, solid oak, solid cherry, solid mahogany, stainless steel, 18 gauge steel, 20 gauge steel, bronze, copper! Each finish (and there were about 5 different veneers to begin with!) had about a quarter of a casket mounted on the wall.

    Complete with interior choices: satin, faux satin, spun velvet. Then color choices, fold and drape choices and of course, pillows and accessories.

   (And no, there was no sign of a periwinkle blue crushed velvet fleur-de-lis emblazoned casket anywhere in the mini-showroom! Thank goodness!)

   My head was spinning!  

    Even though I was ‘in charge,’ I needed help with selecting the proper ‘furniture’ from my husband who was in a different city at the time. I found it immensely silly that I was on my cell phone in the ‘family resource center,’ saying to him,  ‘The veneer looks pretty cheesy – I just can’t put mom in that.’

    His pat of my hand at the funeral and a quiet ‘You did good,’ was enough to know that my casket selecting skills were right on! I’ll be putting that on my resume asap! (It was a lovely high top oak, by the way…)

    Lesson learned – if you wouldn’t put it in your living room while you’re ALIVE, why the hell is it acceptable for a dead person?

    And one other thing - it doesn’t matter what the situation, you gotta handle it with some humor! – even a funeral!

Wendy Burke blogs regularly for A Daily Dose of Decadence and is currently in the editing process on RESPITE, a post-WWII romance to be published soon by Decadent Publishing. She can be found on Facebook – Wendy Burke Author, at her blog site, Whatever Wendy! and lurking around the Internet – usually giving Deanna Wadsworth (http://deannawadsworth.blogspot.com) a load of crap because she truly deserves it. When not playing with the people in her head, Wendy has a fine life with a chef husband (YES – no cooking!) and two furry feline kids and a full-time job that keeps her from writing fulltime in ‘beautiful’ Toledo, Ohio.

www.whateverwendy.blogspot.com

www.decadentpublishing.com

   

‘Family Planning or Sheer Luck?’

by Wendy Burke

They weren’t twins, they weren’t triplets, but three of eight of them were born on December 31^st.

I’m talking about my mother’s family. My mom Marie, her eldest sister Louise and eldest brother Alex were all born on New Year’s Eve Day; Louise, the eldest of the eight and the oldest girl, in 1908 – Alexander the oldest boy, in 1910, and my mom who came along much later in 1921.

The eldest two were born in a small town in Russia, Saratov, not far from Kiev, along the Volga River. After the dark times of the fall of the Russian aristocracy, Germans were invited to settle in Russia to help rebuild and farm. In exchange, the immigrants were allowed to keep their language, German heritage and traditions. These people became known as German-Russians. My mother’s parents were such settlers.

When things became more desperate in Europe, the Sterkel family set out for America. They passed through Philadelphia in 1911 – my grandparents, their two children and my grandfather’s brother, Konrad – he was 12 at the time.

They settled along the shores of Lake Michigan in Wisconsin, where grandma – with help of grandpa of course! – cranked out another six children, the first Americans of the family. Along with Louise and Alex came the boys- Heinrich, Karl and Georg, and the girls – Frieda, Emma, and Marie (my mother.)

What possibly could the odds have been that three of eight children were born on December 31^st – let alone the first two? Pretty amazing – especially for the early 20^th century.

So, New Year’s Eve is a fairly significant day in my life – three birthdays in my mother’s family.

I didn’t know my aunt Louise well – she 13 years older than my mother and lived out of town, but my mom had great stories about her.

My uncle Alex was a stitch! I wish I could have spent his 100^th birthday with him this year – but alas, he died this past July. I wanted to be sad – but he was given 99 and a half years, and at the end, he could still tell a joke, although he couldn’t hear one!

And my mom was cute until the day she died in 2003.

I wish the three of them HAPPY BIRTHDAY, and thank them all, especially my mom, for giving me the best foundation and examples on which to build myself as a person.

So, to all the birthday babies out there – HAPPY BIRTHDAY- and all you revelers - HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Wendy Burke blogs regularly for A Daily Dose of Decadence. She can be found on Facebook – Wendy Burke Author, at her blog site, Whatever Wendy! (www.whateverwendy.blogspot.com) and lurking around the Internet – usually giving Deanna Wadsworth (http://deannawadsworth.blogspot.com) a load of crap because she truly deserves it. When not playing with the people in her head, Wendy has a fine life with a chef husband (YES – no cooking!) and two furry feline kids and a full-time job that keeps her from writing fulltime in ‘beautiful’ Toledo, Ohio.

‘Is that a strip steak in your pants or are you just happy to see me?’

by Wendy Burke

It’s amazing the things people think they can get away with. (Read that –stupid criminals.)

In my ‘real’ job (well, if you can call any kind of media a ‘real’ job) I am a TV newsroom assignment manager. Basically, I tell people where to go and what to do. When I’m not doing that, I’m doing research for stories, kissing up to cops on the phone and harassing my favorite US Marshal for fugitives whose mugs need to be plastered on the airwaves.

But I digress. (Which happens a lot with me…Oh, look a nickel!)

Please be aware, there is a special section of hell reserved for us media types – my sense of humor has become much less respectful, much more graphic and horrendously cynical in the past fifteen-plus years in the TV news biz. (It was warped by radio, however, WAY before that!)

I’m sure many of you have heard ‘If it bleeds, it leads,’ a pseudo-mantra of television news. Well, not necessarily. In our newsroom, it may not be the lead story, but if someone is stealing something and is caught with it in his/her PANTS, well then it’s a story to consider just for its entertainment value.

And, just where do you find people sticking stuff in their pants on a daily basis? ---The police logs.

I read them every day. Sometimes the reports are boring (the usual copper wire thefts from vacant homes), sometimes they’re interesting (Code 18—that would be a dead body), sometimes you have to ask WHAT?! (like the guy who broke into a home and swiped a light bulb, toilet paper and a guinea pig.)

I guess you need to feel sorry for someone who thinks they need to steal from the Dollar Store. ‘PRO –(person reporting incident, usually the victim) states man stuffed shampoo, body wash and a package of disposable razors down his pants and fled.’ But, if you feel the need to be clean, steal away – but why stuff the stuff in your trousers?!

A whole new definition of the word ‘meat.’ ‘PRO reports man and woman trolling the meat section stuffing various cuts into their pants.’ This was a tandem job! Is that a ribeye in your pants or are you just happy…

Hardware store: ‘PRO states suspect was clearly seen placing a ball peen hammer into the lower portions of his overalls. When approached, suspect threatened loss prevention officer with said hammer.’ Okaaay.

This one is one of the oddest however. ‘PRO states man left store with a seven inch circular saw blade in his pants.’

---I got NOTHIN’ for that!---

The last one reminds me of my college days at the University of Wisconsin Oshkosh. UWO…or U-W-Zero as some called it. Anyway, I digress! (Oh look – a penny!) Back in the day when college kids could drink at 18, (in Wisconsin we grew up with Old Style in our sippy-cups) there was always a beer to be had at the end of a long, hard college school-day. Yep, after three hours of ‘History and Appreciation of Cinema’ (read that, one long nap!) I and a pile of friends certainly needed a beer, or two, or three.

So, we head to one of the many bars surrounding UWO.

Bars are a great place to get dorm decorating ideas and glassware. (Trust me, I’m getting back to the saw blade!) After one particularly intense-beered study session, a pal of mine decides she needs a set of six pilsner glasses and a pitcher. Those were the great ‘80s (1980s not 1880s!) when Wisconsin gals all had stadium jackets – long, usually large wale corduroy, with pockets everywhere! And, the jacket/coat made for a great vehicle to covertly ease those items out the bar,

After emptying the pilsner glasses with help from the table, off we went, back to Breese Hall. Too bad said glass-swiper decided to trip over a curb and fall in the middle of the street.

The tinkling sound of breaking glass was heard only momentarily – then her screams covered the lovely sound.

So, whether it’s meat, toiletries, saw blades. Guinea pigs or glassware – please, if you’re on an appropriation mission, do it with extreme caution if said appropriated items will end up close to your person!

AND – I am neither endorsing NOR encouraging any type of criminal activity by anyone! I don’t want to see any of you on the daily police logs! If I do, your criminal butt is mine and you’ll be embarrassed via on air and on line media!

Wendy Burke

Find Wendy:
wendyburke1994@bex.net
Whatever Wendy blog

Appreciating the Fine Arts with Deena Remiel

So it’s Wild Wednesday, eh?

I like it wild.

My name is Deena Remiel, author of Trinity, A Brethren Novel, soon to be released here at Decadent Publishing. Some pretty wild situations occur in Trinity, stretching the limits of my main characters’ sanity.

It can be pretty exhausting reliving these paranormal situations over and over again whenever someone opens up their book. So, I thought I’d treat them to a wildly romantic night away from all that, and give them a taste of the Fine Arts. Just for tonight, Wednesday night.

You can benefit from this as well because I am going to share their plans for the evening. Feel free to follow along with your partner. I’m sure you both deserve to be a little Wild on Wednesday, too.

Michael and Emma’s Wild Wednesday
(Otherwise known as “Appreciating the Fine Arts”)

Materials needed:
chocolate syrup
white chocolate syrup
food coloring
thin paint brushes
dim lighting (may involve candles)

Music needed:
Ravel’s Bolero

What could be more sensuous than the seductive classical piece, Bolero? Painting to it! I don’t mean on traditional canvas with traditional paints. I’m talking about using your bodies as the canvas and various colored chocolate syrups as the paint. And clean up is so devilishly easy.

Picture this: as the music begins innocently, so do you. Light strokes on innocent places. Delicate touches of a paintbrush. Swirls and dashes claim their territory. As the melody repeats and the music slowly builds in intensity, so does your desire to increase the scope of your masterpieces. Sweeping arcs smooth over the broadening landscape of forbidden hills and valleys. Nerve-endings ignited, your brushstrokes are stronger, bolder, more daring. Bolero’s crescendo hits its climax as you paint yourselves into a frenzy of vibrant colors, sweet scents, and sizzling sensations.

Well, I need to go fetch my husband. I am sure you can see how the rest of this artistic endeavor is bound to culminate. Have you always wondered if you could learn to appreciate the Fine Arts? I think that question may have just been answered…

If you’d like to spend more than just a Wild Wednesday with me, come over to Deena Remiel’s Place any time. The door’s always open!