I will change names and places to protect the ones in this story. Most, if not all are dead now. I loved and respected them as friends. No harm intended here, just a sweet and very funny memory that I need to share.
So we moved to the community as outsiders. We needed to pay our bills and settle for our children to have a place to be free range and educated and socialized.
The job allowed us to buy acreage and build our dream home. One offspring was in school, one was home schooled by Captain Kangaroo and Mr. Green Jeans and Mr. Rogers,
"It's A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood", while eating Froot Loops and Cocoa Puffs. All day long , every day.
I had one neighbor friend that lived under the hill but she was like family.
I wanted glamour, family ain't glamour.
We both were stuck at home with boy babies and no money for glamour,
whatever that is suppose to be.
Husband worked 9 to 5 at his office, evenings were spent getting all the stumps and snags out of the yard we had planned for grass to cut and swing sets to be set.
Weekends we did drive by looking at our new community.
I needed a social life.
My former hometown had given me an invite to join the Junior League.
I applied and bowed and scraped to that bunch of Central Florida Citrus Queen wannabees until I gave them the "Hidy Ho" before they had the option to vet me.
Nobody in my new place came knocking for my friendshp.
I cleaned and cooked and washed clothes and chopped weeds and talked on the party line to anyone as much as one party line hogger allowed.
My first connection to making a glamorous friend was in the church I had chosen to attend.
She was the funniest, most fun friend I ever had.
The first sunday she waltzed over to me before the opening Doxology.
"Praise God from whom all blessings flow"................ to introduce herself and say she wants me to be her new best friend.
"Ha, ha. ha."
My eyes go straight to her toes.
" Oh my word, she has the best pedicure I ever saw".
All candy apple red worn inside pretty little strappy heels. Feet the size of zero. Legs showing smooth white skin without knotted veins.
I am instantly jealous.
I automatically draw my number tens back under the pew.
" Thank you Lord for leading me to wear closed toe shoes today".
Her name was Anne.
She advised me to call her Annie Vee.
Annie Vee knew all the glamorous people in the church and community. She let me know up front that I was the youngest by ten years than herself and the others were OLD and worn, but knew their way around the ktchen and church fellowship hall when it came to laying a spread out for Homecomings and feeding the grief at funerals.
My heart thumped out of my chest.
My first thought was,
" I'm in like Flynn",
I'm the youngest and I'll be fawned over by the social dowagers".
Annie Vee told me they all belonged to the Homemakers Club.
" My word "!
She finagled me an invite to a members home for other club members to meet ME and show ME how to be a candidate for the Homemakers Club.
Nearly wet my pants.
I dress in my one good double knit pantsut and espadrilles.
Looking good Earline, this should get your foot in the social door...............
The hostess wears a well used wig which is a bit tilted to the brow. She is sweet as can be.
Annie Vee introduces me as the wife of Mr. Crews, our new office manager for ASCS ( Agricultural Stablization & Conservation Service ) here in Okaloosa County.
" Oh Annie Vee, I'm Earline, plain and simple, I just want to belong",
I was thinking.
" This ain't about him, I'm the one needing friends".
The sweet brow tilted, wop wigged hostess turns to her Homemaker Club members in introducing me with,
" You all meet Ur'leen, hur husband wurks for'er ASS, AS".
That spoken jewel landed on my heart to be repeated many times.
We sit at card tables in the livingroom. The pretty linens were starched and creased to a fault.
We eat off real faux Spode.
Annie Vee took advantage to find that information as she refused coffee by turning over the cup.
I never again worried about my green stamps china.
We ate the most delicious roast beef I ever put into my mouth.
Those ladies chatted and shared things about the church doings and what the deacons were against spending money on. Two club members there that day were married to deacons.
They knew the church business better than the Church Business Committee members, especially the financial aspect of it.
After much talking and compliments to the hostess for the wonderful luncheon and recruiting of " ou'wer newest memba ", we were served slices of lemon pie,
I'm talking, made from scratch lemon pie.
"How on earth and when did that vetting happen"?
I had noticed a squeaking noise coming from the diningroom several times during the meal, but just thought it may be coming from the walls.
I know the sounds of little mice.
Hunted them in our corn cribs all throughout my childhood.
The hostess came rolling the pie cart into the livingroom just as I saw the cutest little rat jump off the pie cart to run under the table and across my foot.
I froze and looked at Annie Vee.
Annie Vee looked at me with a questioning look of,
" What the hell is wrong now"?
I pulled my feet onto the folding chair foot rest while listening to that little mouse squeek and run from one side of the room to the other.
God as my witness, not a one of those Beltone candidates ever heard a thing. That rat actually scratched my foot a second time as I watched the hostess slice pie and remark,
"Looks like sum'bodee scratched in my meringue".
I'm not one to call out a faux pas on a Southern Diva with bonafied credentials.
No siree!
Hum'huh........ num, num, num............
Forking under meringue to dip down and shove in gobs of made from scratch lemon pie, I thought,
" Oh he did dear "Miz Homemker of the Year", he really did, but lemon is my favorite pie, this is so delicious".
