More Postcards From the Edge

Some missives from our assistant field reporter Morgan, live in Hilton Head. 

(and you said that you were not going to be a lowly assistant...HA!)

Charlie, who is a member of the family, but also a dog (don't tell his mother that), was this week taught how to jump by Fran.  Fran, whose acrobatics include falling down stairs, but no jumping, probably claims to have learned that in college as well.  In jumping class.  Or she was probably a cheerleader, back when the outfits were full length dresses and those flat straw hats.

Asleep or not?  You decide.

Real hair or Wig?  No need there, we already know.

Fran says that there is a shortage of chocolate.  That would be a shortage of chocolate that Dad gets up and gets for her.

Our brave and valiant assistant field reporter Morgan also got the privilege (honestly, there is a 1 in 2 chance it would happen to anyone there) to sit by the Fran at dinner when she felt this eerie feeling, like a ghost had entered the room.  No, it was just the Fran staring at her.  No reason, just staring.  Then she gets that creepy smile that she is (in)famous for.

You'd shit your pants too if that was looking at you!

And here is a late breaking update LIVE!  "I put my belt on all by myself.  I'm starting to get the hang of this."    Let's analyze that for a few, shall we? 

• Bitch is almost 90 years old.  85 years to master the whole belt-putting-on thing. 
• Doubtful they had a class that taught that at OSU back when dirt was young, but wait a bit, and she may recollect (or imagine) that it was indeed, on the curriculum.
• Who the fuck has been putting on her belt for her?  Oh yeah, that would be Dad.
• It is currently 5:00pm in the Eastern Time Zone.  Why is she just now getting dressed?
• On that sub-subject, why bother getting dressed?  I am sure that they will just pass her off as some crazy old broad walking into the Crazy Crab in her jammies.  Doubt this would be the first time.

Sadly, tomorrow is the last day of the Miller's Low Country Adventure.  I know, as anxious as they are to get the hell out of the roller coaster that is The Fran's head, that they will miss the warm weather and kinda-sorta-but-not-really sunshine.  Here is what awaits you, kiddies!

And just so you know I harbor no ill will, the Mile High Forecast is a high of 82 today!

The More You Know

Did you know that Fran and her late husband (a/k/a the "Dear Departed Dentist", a/a/k/a "DDD") were original settlers to Hilton Head Island in South Carolina?  Neither did anyone else.  That is why it is not called Fran Head Island. 

Now that would be an insane island!

Paradise is Pure Hell

There has been a lot of hype involving the Miller's big trip to Hilton Head.  We sent a 9NEWS crew along with them to document everything that was going on, but not even the seasoned veterans at the Denver NBC affiliate could keep up with everything that was happening.  They said "screw it, we are going to the bar."  If only Mark, Suzann, Morgan and Charlie had it that easy!

I am going to hit the highlights, as they were sent to me.  If there is an opportunity to embellish the facts, you better believe that I will do that!  I will take every opportunity to make something odd into something really, really off the wall Fran-wacko!  Buckle in, or as they say in California, hold on to your hats!

As they departed Columbus for Charleston, Charlie was ready.  He had on his anxiety sweater.  evidently this keeps him calm en route.  If only there was something like this for humans.  Wait a minute, there is!  It's called a Bloody Mary.

As Suzann gets into the condo (9009 in Wearn-speak), she mentions that she has to use the facilities.  Fran immediately says "we have two".  Keep in mind that we have been going to 9009 since we were in college.  I think we know the layout.

Fran says that they watched a bird eat an alligator.  Big bird, huh?

You see how this is going to go down?  Can't keep up with them all, and I am just going to list them.  Maybe a tad bit o' commentary, but only enough to get you in the right place.

One of the first things that is noticed is that Fran does not seem to do much. Shocking, I know.  She sits around the dinner table in her jammies until late in the afternoon.  No inclination to do anything, and as always Dad does everything.  Fran cold?  She doesn't do anything about it, just whines and bitches until someone grabs her a blankie. 

The weekend before they all got there to SC, Fran's middle and youngest sons were in town.  Rich is a cool dude, though my opinion of anyone in their family is subject to change at a moment's notice.  Willie (the doctor who is really an x-ray tech) was there as well, and Rich's wife.  Fran thought that it was so wonderful that Dawn (the wife) was able to bring her bagpipes and go down to the beach and play her bagpipes.  Pause a minute on that one.

Would you really find it all that awesome if you were at the beach and some bitch comes strutting along and starts playing Amazing Grace on the pipes while you tried to sun?  Didn't think so.

Fran recounted the drive from Tucson to Hilton Head as "driving almost across the country."  Well, let's examine that statement for a sec.

Oh, I don't know, if it weren't for that small chunk from Arizona to it's next door neighbor California, it looks pretty much cross-country to me!

We have determined Dad's coping mechanism, and it is called the grocery store.  If he needs a little Doug time, he just goes to the grocery store.  Boom, he is out...the...door.  As he did about an hour after they arrived.  I don't blame him - well, he could have waited a little longer before going, but as they say, when you got to go, you got to go!

It has been determined that Fran is 89 years old.  Why then Dad said that she is younger than him is beyond any of us.  Maybe he was confused.  Maybe he has just been around her too much.

Suzann was lucky enough to get some quality time with Dad, though she had to get up at o-half-past-dawn to do it.  Lucky enough to get some really great pics.

As you can tell from the weather, these were obviously taken on different days.

Here is an example of one of the day's schedule of events:

• 6.30am - Walk with Dad
• 8-10am - Get dressed, have some breakfast
• 11am - leave to go get bikes for island stroll.  Fran still in jammies at Dinner Table
• 2pm - return to 9009, Fran still in jammies
• 2:30pm - Fran takes nap
• 4:30pm - still napping away
• 5pm - Arisen from the dead!  In super fab new wig.

Fran announces that she is kind of lactose intolerant.  Suzann, sharp as a knife, asks if you are sort of lactose intolerant, why do you eat cheese?

Later on, when everyone left Fran alone with Charlie (poor dude), she announces that she had a very good conversation with Charlie. And that he understood her.  Just a reminder, Charlie is a dog.

Finally, some beach time!

Reports from the field indicate that Fran has been nursing a glass of cranberry juice the entire time, yet it has not been witnessed that she has drank any.  She claims that she cannot drink cranberry juice since it gets stuck in her throat.  However, bulk cranberries are fine.  Remember when you were a kid and didn't want to eat peas?  Because your "pea box" in your stomach was full?

Imagine sitting on the sofa only to find Fran's snot rags stuffed in between the cushions?  How high would YOU jump?

When Fran thought she was having a good hair day, she took off her wig (which has been on the entire time she has been there).  Dad made her put it back on.  That good.

So what is this wig like?

Even it looks bad!

Saturday night they all went to a place called Captain Woody's, which I love, because it has awesome clam chowder.  Getting Fran ready for this event was an event into itself.  Here they are!

Seriously, look at that wig.  It's right out of the 70's.

And look at Morgan, all skinny.  Damn her!

Fabulous!

En route to the restaurant, what may be the quote of the century:  Fran: "Am I crazy?"  The car is completely quiet.  Man, would I have loved to been there for that one!

This is the picture I get on Sunday morning.  Please insure that your seats are in their upright position, your seat belt is securely fastened, and that your tray is up.  Seriously, I ain't fucking with you on this one!

You're speechless, aren't you??

And here she is suntanning...making a big effort to tell everyone that she is tanning.

Suntanning her one knee.  With a hoodie on.  And socks.  And the sun is not out.

Well, that is it for the time being!  I am sure that I will get a missive from the Low Country that I missed something, or that I got something wrong, but seriously, with all this, what could be wrong?

Stay tuned!

RED ALERT

ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL!  BATTLE STATIONS!  RED ALERT!  Pictures of Fran are below.

Livin' Large in the 303

So I am back in Colorado.  Yay?

The flight back to Denver was uneventful, and since I had a book, the time went back quickly.  Steve picked me up at DIA, and we got home.  The rest of the weekend was like I never left.  Taking out the trash, watching NCIS reruns.

So the planning begins for next year!

You Be The Judge

So one of these pictures was sent in as a parody of The Fran.  The other picture is The Fran.  Who is who?  I seriously cannot tell the difference.  Both are old bitch dogs with wigs on.

The Last Supper (with Fran)

Dad took me out to the exclusive, snobbish Marion Country Club for dinner last night.  Sure, I have been to the Club many many times in my youth, to the pool, to go golfing and hit Suzann in the shin.  They have really changed the place now, with kind of a bar/grill room set up where the formal dining room used to be.  Evidently some dudes went to an auction and bought a lot of bar furniture from Max and Spermas on the cheap.  It looks nice, and evidently, membership is up.

So getting ready to leave the house for this event, The Fran came downstairs to the kitchen.  Something was immediately noticeable as different.  Her hair. Normally it is the color of watered down red wine.  Cheap red wine. Always more of a red as opposed to a deep burgundy.  But tonight, it was brown.  Brown as brown can be.  And it had some funky 70's curls in front of her ears.  Bitch was wearing a wig!  Now, I don't diss on my sistahs who wear wigs or weaves, but this was funny!

So we get to the club, I said I would drive Dad's car, and then they both get into the back seat.  Great, I am driving the Daisies.  We get to the club, and Fran says to me "I don't know anyone here, your Dad knows everyone, he is so personable."  Well, he is!  And he doesn't mumble.  There is a guy playing guitar too loud there, and if you think you never were able to hear Fran before, you cant hear her at all now!  It is AWESOME!  She mumbles, and Dad just flat out ignores her and starts another conversation.  Again...AWESOME!  She orders a frozen marg that she eats with a spoon, like it was ice cream.  Granted, they only gave her a little stirrer stick as a straw, must be a gay bartender.  She orders this huge ass meal, salmon with a baked sweet potato, and then doesn't eat it.

We get to leaving and Dad and I are out in the car, while she is in there, still, talking to people.  Now remember, she doesn't know anyone.  She comes out and tells us all about her conversations.  "There are 17 new members".  Dad says "is that what (that lady) told you?"  Fran:  "No, you did."  She is recalling conversations to Dad of stuff that Dad said! 

So after I drop them off at the house, I bolt to Columbus...just to get out of the house.

This morning, Dad was supposed to go golfing, but somehow he blew a fuse (really, not rhetorically) and had to reset every single applicant in the house.  So I did get to see him before I left, which was great.  I gave a wave to Fran, no touching!!!!

Now I am at Port Columbus awaiting my flight to Denver.

So Hawaii 50.3 is over, time to start planning for 50.4!