The Point of the Prude

Come on in!

If you ever show up on my doorstep I would open my door and let you in.

I would let you in as soon as I shoved the dirty dishes into the oven, kicked stray newspapers under the sofa and wiped the toilet down with a wad of tissues.

But then I would invite you in, set you down in the least uncomfortable chair, offer you coffee or even tea and turn the heat up above 62 degrees.

Your political affiliation, religious beliefs or opinion of Agatha Christie would not influence my treatment of you. Even though politics, religion and Agatha Christie are important to me, and even if you don’t hold to my convictions, you would not be given the least comfortable chair, a cold cup of coffee or an icy draft.

I would show you hospitality and respect and several hundred photos of my family.

Only if, by your language or behavior, you began to trample on those ideals and truths that are close to my heart would I hasten to remind you that my front door also functions as an exit.

‘The Prude Disapproves’ is open to anyone who has a few minutes to spare, doesn’t mind slightly off-kilter but never off-color decor, and can process passionate blanket statements about matters of absolutely no importance whatsoever.

The Prude writes for those who don’t want every discussion to turn into a battle.

It is for folks who don’t mind laughing at situations but don’t like laughing at people.

The Prude disapproves of many things, and foremost would be incivility.

This blog is the slightly quirky funhouse. You won’t like everything in it and some things just won’t work no matter how they are pumped up. But it’s a safe house. The jeering clowns and the mocking sniggers are permanently dismantled, and while you’ll never be poked or shoved you should occasionally be tickled.

Visit as often as you want. The Prude is open.  Just leave your battle gear at the door, please.

A sluggard's view of a lovely city

Recently we were in Milwaukee.
What a beautiful town. I never did understand why Laverne, Shirley, Lenny and Squiggy abandoned it for the smog-choked shores of 1960's southern California.

I snapped this while my husband was driving so I could read it later

Gentleman playing guitar on his balcony. 

Golda Meir, Prime Minister of Israel in the early 70's, grew up in Milwaukee.

It was hard to find a way to Lake Michigan, only one block to the east. We followed this couple. In my imagination, they came from the Golda Meir House.

For many years I lived in spitting distance of Lake Michigan. I never ever got tired of it.

Sometimes I just have to get artsy.

Yes, that is how strong the wind was blowing.

My friend Lori at 'Visits and Verse' (google her!) would have told you fascinating facts about all the above. She is a researcher. I am a sluggard.

Don't tell the Tea Party, but-

Sometimes The Prude shuffles off the coils of cowardice and takes a stance on a controversial issue.

Today, at great risk of offending those of you with a strong emotional opinion on the matter, she proclaims boldly:

Tea is lovelier in concept than on the palate.

It’s true.

The Prude does not approve of tea.

But not for lack of trying.

When she was a little Prude her parents had a tradition.

After Sunday afternoon nap and before Sunday evening church the family would gather around the table for tea and windmill cookies.

It was a lovely tradition and The Prude has fond memories of the table, the gathered family, and the cookies.

She hit Pre-teen Prude years and her best friend gave her a beautiful box of English Breakfast Tea.  Every time the fledgling Prude choked back a cup she would think of her friend.  She still thinks of what’s-her-name when she sees a box of E.B.T.

And then there was the song that made her swoon, just as she was hitting the ‘Maybe boys aren’t the spawn of maggots after all’ stage.

When ‘Toast and Marmalade for Tea” came on the little transistor radio Teen Prude held to her ear (oriented south towards WCFL- AM), her eyes would glaze over, a dreamy smile would play over her mouth and she would imagine herself serving David Cassidy toast and marmalade and tea. Just serving him. His gratitude would be enough.

No thank you David, every bit of marmalade and every drop of tea is for you alone.

All grown up Prude has tried at repeated intervals to like tea. She’s a sucker for pretty boxes and pretty names.

And she knows some teas are good for her.

Green tea, for example. She has tried it flavored with lemon, with mint, and after rubbing an ice cube across her tongue.

Did you know they pack the benefits of green tea in a little capsule now?

Toast and marmalade with David Cassidy might just work if served with a lozenge…

Sir, please throw your crown in the ring

Having trouble deciding which candidate to back for the presidency?

Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce the

Ideal Leader for our Nation!

He is a white Anglo Saxon.

(we lost a few diversity people there. Oh dear)

He is a religious man.

(What religion, you asked? Is he INTOLERANT? Wait, don’t leave before I explain...)

He has demonstrated genius on the battlefield.

(Would somebody PLEASE stop those pacifists at the door? I don’t care if they are kicking you!)

He’s a proponent of public education…

(Hold on, homeschoolers and private education buffs! Hear me out!)

He believes in a strong system of self-defense!

(I see the pacifists have successfully fought their way out the door but at least the concealed-carry folks are listening)

He is a great supporter of local commerce and government!

(If that doesn’t get the ‘buy locally’ group and states’ rights  defenders attention, nothing will)

He gives away land for free! What is not to like?

(What was that? I can’t hear, the Real Estate Association is drowning me out)

You want to know if he has been thoroughly vetted? Are there any skeletons in his closet?

No! The guy is clean. Although he is a lousy cook. And rumor has it his physical ailment requires copious amounts of Preparation H.

His name?

Alfred the Great! Ruler of England from 871 to 899!

Eh?

What seems to be the problem?

Oh blast.

I never thought of that.

You’re right. He doesn’t have an American birth certificate.

Strange

Strange

Mildred Bowers Armstrong

Strange–to grow up and not be different,

Not beautiful or even very wise,

No winging-out the way of butterflies,

No sudden blindfold-lifting from the eyes.

Strange–to grow up and still be wondering,

Reverent at petals and snow,

Still holding breath,

Still often tiptoe,

Questioning dew and stars,

Wanting to know!

Don't Leave Home Without It

Next time you wonder what to wear, consider leaves.
Foliage has been donned with varying levels of success since the dawn of time.

from free-for-kids.com- the first leaf clothing effort was a failure

One day laurel wreath headgear may make a comeback

Like what you see here?  Martha Stewart tells you how to make them!

David Rittinger plant clothing. When your man wants to dress down.

Don't forget leaf accessories! Legolas never leaves home without his.

Only a happy few can wear a leaf with the easy panache of this fashion icon.

The Prude suggests you gather  leaves for your ensembles now. They are going quickly.