Come on-a my house!

Margie: Edna, I'm very excited about Halloween this year. I think it's wonderful that we decided to have a haunted house for all the children in Jericho.

I do have one small concern, sister, and I'll say this as nicely as I can. You said you'd like to greet the children at the door. If you do that, Edna, they'll run away screaming and will never see the haunted house.

Edna: Margie, if I had a nickel for every time you insulted me, I'd be richer than Bill Gates. You know good and well that the reason I want to greet the children is because I want to see their little costumes. They always look so cute, trying to be scary.

I hope we have a better turn-out this year than we did last Halloween. We spent all that time decorating the house and barely any children came.

Margie: See how you are, Edna? I tell the truth and you call it an insult. I love to see the little costumes too.

There's your answer, Edna. Barely any children came last year because you were waiting by the door. Besides, you ate most of the candy.

Edna: Oh no you don't, you fibber, I'm not the one who went to bed early last Halloween with a stomachache! I don't think we had as many decorations last year, maybe that was the problem. Everything looks nice and spooky this year, and I like how you put those fake spiderwebs out in the bushes.

Margie: I like how you helped Cousin T with his werewolf costume. He's going to do a good job this year.

Edna, here's a scary thought. Do you think Aunt Biddy and Itty Biddy will wear costumes this year?

Edna: Lord help us, those two look so ridiculous on a normal day, I'm not sure you'd be able to tell the difference between a costume and how they usually look.

I ran into Deputy Jimmy yesterday, and he said he's going to bring his two little ones by the house tonight. I told him to spread the word, we've got lots of candy and fun thrills in store for all the Jericho kids.

Margie: Deputy Jimmy? Bye, Edna. I'm going to the mall and exchange my costume.

Edna: Margie, if you can't show a lawman your costume, it's probably not good to show the young'uns either. Good thing I decided on the flapper dress, it's family-friendly.

Now go put something decent on and hurry back, I hear some children coming up the walk.

Happy Halloween
from Margie and Edna!

The very first Girl Scout

Edna: Margie, look here at what's in the newspaper. It says that tomorrow is Juliette Gordon Low's birthday. Do you know who that is?

Margie: Is that the woman who bakes those nice Girl Scout cookies? I do wish I had a few boxes of those. I'm hungry.

Edna: Check the freezer, we had a box of Thin Mints stashed in there the last time I looked.

And no, she's not the one who bakes the cookies. She founded the Girl Scouts of America back in 1912. It says here that she was very artistic, loved pets, and had a great sense of humor. She sounds like our kind of lady, don't you think?

Margie: Oh, she does sound like us. Edna, didn't you join the Girl Scouts once? I tried to join the Boy Scouts you know. I was a young lady ahead of my time.

Edna: You were a young hussy, is what you were. No, I didn't join the Girl Scouts because we didn't have a local chapter and Daddy wouldn't take me all the way to Wichita for the weekly meetings. I wanted to, though. It always sounded like fun, with the camping and the singing.

Margie, we should go on a road trip and go visit Mrs. Low's birthplace over in Savannah, GA. The house is a National Historic Landmark, you know.

Margie: That's a fine idea. Let's ask Cousin T to drive us. We'll go by that Paula Deen's restaurant and eat like pigs.

Edna: Sounds like a plan, sister!

Margie and Edna get in the Halloween spirit

Edna: Margie, Halloween is on Friday, we'd better get cracking if we're going to put together our costumes! Have you thought about what you're going to be?

Margie: Not that it's any of your business, Edna, but I may be a French maid or a Playboy bunny. I'm trying to decide which one the gentlemen would like.

Margie: What will you be, Edna? A witch?

Edna: Kiss my tushie, Margie. You know, something tells me that what the gentlemen won't like is if you dress up as either of those things. On Halloween, you're supposed to dress up like something you're normally not! I know, maybe you should go as a decent, modest, respectable woman.

I actually haven't decided on my costume yet. I was looking through some of Mama's old trunks up in the attic, I thought I might go as a flapper if I can find one of Mama's old dresses that the moths haven't destroyed.

Margie: You're already a flapper, Edna. You flap your gums from sunup to sundown. Why don't you be something you're normally not? Like a nun?

I could sew your lips together and wrap you up like a mummy. I like that idea.

Edna: You come near me with a sewing needle, and it will be the last thing you ever do. You hear me?

Margie: That's an idea! I'm dressing up like you. Wait until the gentlemen whisper some of your secrets in my ear.

Edna: Margie, that would be a trick that surely wouldn't get you any treats. Nobody knows my secrets, and you can take that to the bank, you jealous hussy.

Margie: But, Edna, I don't want to dress up as a bank teller. What are you talking about anyway?

Edna: Oh good grief. I'll be up in the attic, you come get me when you figure it out.

Margie: Get your bloomers out of a wad while you're there.

Margie's Home Cooking

Margie: Edna, I invited Cousin T for dinner tonight. I declare, that boy beats all. He's just like all these other young people who think home cooking means microwaving or opening a box.

Remember that time I told him I'd made a cake from scratch and he wouldn't eat it? I knew something was wrong because he eats anything. He finally told me he wasn't going to eat anything made from scraps. Lord a mercy!

Edna: Margie, don't you be too hard on Cousin T. You know that half the time you're talking to him he's got his head in the clouds, thinking of some project or another. It's not his fault that he misunderstood you about that cake. Besides, you know he loves your cooking--although goodness knows why. You cook about as well as a pig can knit a pair of socks. It's a wonder you haven't given us the ptomaine poisoning before now.

Margie: You're a lying liar, Edna. I haven't noticed you laying down your shovel or not eating when I cook. You're just mad because Mama left me her recipe book.

Mama knew all about cooking a fine meal. She once said that's how she caught a good husband. Daddy sure loved everything she fixed. Remember her iron skillets? And her fried chicken?

Edna: Margie, the only reason I tolerate your cooking is because you pitch a fit and sulk for days if I don't eat what you fix. You're as bad as a two-year-old sometimes.

And yes, Mama surely did know how to cook. She may have left you her recipe book, but she sure didn't leave you her know-how. I wouldn't mind having a taste of her fried chicken again, that's the truth. And her pecan pie was this close to sinful. What are you going to fix for Cousin T?

Margie: You won't be getting any but I'm cooking fried chicken and gravy, mashed potatoes, hot biscuits, green peas, and a Death by Chocolate cake.

Cousin T will sleep for days after that meal.

Edna: Oh, merciful heavens! I'd best call Cousin T and warn that boy not to come to dinner. If he eats all that, there's gonna be death at the table tonight for sure, but not by chocolate. Don't you remember the last time you cooked that kind of meal for him? He spent the rest of the night getting his stomach pumped. It wasn't pretty.

Margie: Pretty is as pretty does, Edna.

Margie Visits The Dr.

Margie: Edna, come sign this petition before I take it to Bailey's Tavern. It's time for us to get rid of this quack we've called a doctor for all these years.

I went for my check-up today and I'm here to tell you that the old fool has lost his mind. I'm getting me a young doctor.

Edna: Oh Lord, folks, she's on another one of her rampages. Margie, what did the doctor tell you this time that's got you all up-in-arms?

Margie: Edna, first he said my feet and legs were swollen a bit. He said that's because I have water retention. He said it like that's a bad thing. You know, at our age, it's good that we can hold our water and tea or we'd be wearing adult diapers.

Edna: Somehow, I don't think that's what the doctor meant, you nitwit. I don't know, it sounds to me like he knows what he's talking about. Why are you so upset with him, what else did he say?

Margie: I hate trying to talk to you, Edna. The next thing he said was that I need to limit my salt intake. That proves he's a quack.

Edna, I am not going to be a laughingstock! How can I limit salt when I live in a town with a salt mine and all these peanuts? The very idea!

Edna: Margie, I do agree that's going to be difficult. But unless you got a medical degree when I wasn't looking, you'd best listen to the man.

Besides, just who do you think is going to be laughing at you?

Margie: Edna, I'm through talking with you. You're a fruit loop. Now you sign this or I'll forge your name and you know I can.

Edna: You can kiss my grits! I'm not signing your stupid petition, you're just mad because you don't like what the doctor told you to do. And if you try and forge my name, I'll call Deputy Jimmy and have him come out and haul you back to jail. Don't think I won't!

Edna the mermaid

Edna: As a little girl growing up in land-locked Kansas, it might seem unlikely I would have dreamt of becoming a mermaid. Margie and I knew how to swim; we'd sneak off to the swimming hole on hot summer afternoons when all our chores were done. Mama thought we were napping, and she would have been scandalized at the thought of us stripping down to our skivvies and swimming in public. But there, under the murky water, I'd pretend I was a beautiful mermaid with long flowing hair and a powerful tail that could propel me all the way across the ocean if I so chose. I never told anyone about my dream; Mama and Daddy would have thought it too fanciful, and Margie would have teased me mercilessly. So I kept my thoughts a secret, and would hide myself among the library shelves, quietly marveling over the mermaids in the picture books.

By the 1950s, I was a married woman. My husband Joe was a traveling salesman, and his work took him far and wide while I was often left home alone to twiddle my thumbs. Joe wasn't always a trusting man, and I do believe he worried, because I was still a pretty young thing then. I can remember the day he returned from one of his jobs, saying that he was taking me along on his next sales trip. We were going on a week-long car trip, he said, and I didn't even care where we were going. I was simply delighted to be going somewhere outside of Jericho, KS.

By the time we finally got to our destination, two days after we'd set out from Kansas, I was dusty and tired. Joe had driven as if on a mission to get to Florida, and I was wondering why I'd agreed to come. Our trip so far had been nothing but greasy diners and low-rent roadside motels. Joe didn't seem to mind, and why would he? He was used to this kind of life. All I wanted was to arrive wherever it was he was so all-fired up to get to. I'm afraid that I wasn't the best traveling companion, and I frequently let him know just how uncomfortable I was during the trip.

We didn't even stop at a hotel to freshen up before he drove me straight to what turned out to be the most magical place I'd ever seen: Weeki Wachee Springs. It didn't look like much when we first got there, but I had no idea what was in store for me. Joe led me to a pavilion and sat me down in a small theater that overlooked what seemed to be a large glass-fronted aquarium. I turned to give him a piece of my mind: we'd driven all this way just to see a fish show? My lands, we'd been driving along the Gulf of Mexico for almost the whole day, we could have seen all the fish we'd wanted without coming this far! But just as I started to speak, the music started, and he gestured that I should watch the tank.

It was as if I'd been sent staight back to my childish dreams in that Kansas swimming hole. The tank was filled with glorious mermaids! It was a mermaid show, something I hadn't even known existed. There were the most beautiful women dressed as mermaids, doing all kinds of acrobatics and amazing feats underwater. One of them even ate and drank and combed her hair, all without coming up for air.

I sat there, stunned but delighted, and wondering how on Earth had Joe known that this was what I'd needed, this brief and fanciful return to childhood? When the show was over, I turned to Joe, but I couldn't say a word. Joe simply looked back and said, "Happy Anniversary, honey."

Margie and Edna's fast food rant

Margie: Edna, I am sick and tired of these fast food ads and coupons choking up our mailbox. They're just junk which ends up causing us to waste space in the garbage can.

You know that in our day the food was slow cooked at home and only some women were fast. I remember Mama telling us about fast women and how they'd come to a bad end in life.

Edna: Margie, there are so many responses I could make to that comment, but I won't because I'm a classy lady.

You're right about fast food being a big problem today. Even with coupons, eating at those restaurants isn't cheap. It's much more economical to do some good old-fashioned home cooking. But I have to admit, Margie, I'm partial to those McDonald's french fries.

Margie: I'm glad you brought that up, Edna. Some of the girls and I went to McDonald's today and I ended up with a lettuce burger. You know what that is?

It used to be called a Big Mac but the meat on that thing looked like a piece of thin sausage. Tiny. They try to fill you up on the bread and lettuce. I almost pistol whipped that manager!

Edna: These big corporations should be ashamed of themselves, what they charge for just a tiny bit of food. It's just criminal.

But Margie...I thought you got banned from McDonald's after the last incident.

Margie: Edna, can't you ever stick to the subject at hand? Give me that junk. I'm going to address envelopes. From now on I'm mailing this trash right back to them!