Well, I Am Plumb Exhausted!

My goodness, it has been way too long since I've had a minute to sit down and answer all my letters and queries here at Ask Mama. I promise I will get back on track soon.

Who knows what Fashion Don'ts and Love Life Crises have arisen while I've been otherwise engaged? And I mean that literally, y'all! My fiance Sal popped the question, and I'm planning the biggest wedding little Himmarshee, Fla., has ever seen.

My middle daughter Mace calls it the Wedding of the Century, but I suspect she's being a little bit of a smart aleck, as usual. I do know we have a Gone with the Wind theme, complete with my dog, Teensy, as a ring bearer and ruffled gowns and parasols for my three bridesmaid daughters. They look as pretty as the Southern belles at Cypress Gardens.

I just hope the Yankees don't burn down Tara, figuratively speaking. You may remember my man Sal is from New York City (and, yes, I love him anyway.) A whole passel of his kinfolk are heading south on I-95, and some folks in Himmarshee feel like it's Sherman's March all over again.

I'll keep y'all posted on the progress. I even hear that snippy author, Deborah Sharp, is writing a story about the whole to-do. She's calling it Mama Gets Hitched, though I think I could have come up with a snappier title.

Well, ta-ta for now. I'll catch up with your questions soon.

Love,
Mama

Hallelujah! She Finally Puts on Make-up!

Well, I'm the first one to admit when I'm wrong (though my middle daughter Mace might quibble a bit with that). And I am here to tell y'all I had that snippy, back-to-nature author all wrong.

Did you see that gal on the Today Show this week? She went all the way up to New York City to talk about my story, which she calls ''Mama Does Time,'' though I can't say I care for the title much myself. It makes me sound like a convict when all that about the murder was really just a misunderstanding ...

Anyhoo, my point is this: Somebody talked her into making up her face for the TV show, and when I got a gander at her on my TV, all I could think was Thank Goodness! I am not kidding you. Little Ms. Natural was wearing lipstick, blush-on, eyeliner, mascara, eyebrow pencil, and foundation (my Lord, they must have slathered it on on with a trowel. You could hardly see her wrinkles and those awful age spots at all!) I've put her foto up there for you to judge for yourself. Now, if you don't think she looks that good, that's because you've never seen her au naturel!

So, I hope this means she's a convert now. We've just been itching to do a makeover for her at Hair Today, Dyed Tomorrow beauty salon. And we want to take her on a shopping spree to Fran's Frocks and Fancy Duds. When you're 20 you can get away with thrift store clothes, but honey, at 50-plus, you just start looking like a crazy bag lady, wearing somebody else's old hand-me-downs.

That's all for now, from Himmarshee, Fla ... Love, Mama

Nightstand Naughtiness

Dear Mama,

I hear you've been married four times, so I bet you know something about mother-in-laws. Maybe you can help me, before I'm hauled off to the hoosegow over this latest to-do with my husband's mama.



Here's the deal: When she comes to visit, she likes to rearrange all the cabinets and drawers so they're more to her liking. This didn't bother me so much in the kitchen ... because, frankly, I'm not exactly Suzy Homemaker, and that rat's nest in the kitchen sure needed some attention.



But I had to put my foot down when I came home and found her pulling out and straightening up all the items in our bedroom nightstand. Now, I don't know about you, Mama, but the drawers right beside our bed can hide a few marital secrets, if you know what I mean. I've got two questions for you: How do I discourage his mama from poking her nose where it doesn't belong, and am I within my rights to conk her on the noggin if she won't keep her paws out of our bedroom business?


Sincerely,


Fed up and Flustered

Dear Flustered,

I am with you 100 percent. For me, Husband Number Three's mama was the worst. She always complained about the way I cooked, except when her mouth was full of my dinner. And she never once said thank-you when I gave her a complete make-over at Hair Today, Dyed Tomorrow. Of course, there was that incident with the hair dryer and third-degree burns, but the short in the electrical wiring wasn't my fault.

As for your mother-in-law, I suggest you put something truly shocking in that nightstand. You can go on the Wide World of the Web, and those folks will mail you something sexy in a plain brown paper wrapper. Now, I don't know about this first-hand, but so I've been told.

Anyway, let her find it and stew over whether to bring it up. If she's got the nerve, I say conk away . . . maybe you can use that whatchamacalit you ordered from the Wide Web World as a weapon.

Love,
Mama

Of Eyeliner and Kitty Litter

Dear Mama,

I'm 15 and am scheduled to have surgery in a couple of weeks. And, boy, is my surgeon a QT! Even if he is older than my mother. I don't want Dr. Hot to see me wearing a tacky hospital gown with those horrid light brown socks with the white treads on the top and bottom of them. Plus, I won't be able to wear my makeup! What am I going to do??

I thought about sneaking out and getting the eyeliner permanently tattooed on, but I don't have any money (I only get paid $5.50 a week for cleaning five cat litter boxes a day) Help!!

Naked Without Makeup

Dear Naked,
Well, honey ... first let me say good luck on your surgery. We'll add a little prayer for you down at the Abundant Faith and Forgiveness Chapel. And I just know things are going to be okay.

Second, you do not want your surgeon distracted one bit while he's operating, so this isn't the time to worry about looking like a beauty queen. And I can say so, 'cause I WAS a beauty queen: Swamp Cabbage Festival Queen in LaBelle, Fla., in . . . well, we won't say exactly what year that was in.

Anyhoo, I know how you feel about those awful gowns (tacky, not to mention breezy!). And I agree with you about make-up, except in surgery. I'd say just a touch of lipstick once you're in the recovery room. Maybe some blush, too. Oh, and bring a colorful scarf -- maybe a lemon yellow? -- to jazz up that hideous brown.

Now, about those tattooed eyelids ... do not go there, darlin'. I know perfectly nice gals have them, but I advise against anything that permanent anywhere. You never know how fashion might change. Nothing says forever like a tattoo. Just ask Angelina Jolie.

Finally, I know you're only 15, but you are getting ROBBED on that litter-box job of yours. I'm more of a dog person (Maybe you've read about my pet Pomeranian, Teensy?), but I understand those cats can be demanding little divas. And stinky litter boxes, too? Honey, you should be bringing in at least 10 bucks a week for your trouble.

Love,

Mama

Fashion Emergency

Dear Mama,

I saw that gal who's been writing up your stories, and I think you've been falling down on the job. Folks look to you to know what looks good (I loved that boysenberry pantsuit you wore to the Livestock Auction in Himmarshee . . . and you found earrings, a scarf, and those little strappy sandals to match that unusual shade of purple. I sure hope you didn't step in anything in those shoes on the way out of the cattle ring . . . )

Anyways, that poor author gal could sure use a make-over. She's talked about trying to update her look, but I know for a fact she's had the identical hairstyle since 1979.

Can't you drag her down to Hair Today Dyed Tomorrow? Or take her in for a clothing consult at Home on the Range Feed Store and Fashion Emporium? I mean, really, anything would be an improvement.

I'm not kiddin,' Mama. You've got to step in. She's thinking about going out on YOUR book tour in Birkenstocks. I just pray she doesn't wear them with socks.


Sincerely, Fashion Conscious


Dear Fashion Conscious,

Honey, you are preaching to the choir. I've talked to that poor gal 'til I'm blue in the face. I can't get her to understand the first thing about fashion.

Those Birkenstock shoes aren't the worst of it. Did you happen to see her at Gladys' restaurant when she visited Himmarshee the other day? Not a stitch of make-up, not even lipstick. And the poor thing has spent her life in the Florida sun. I offered to show her how to fill in some of those creases and wrinkles with a good foundation.

And don't get me started on those drab clothes. Nobody looks good in beige.

So, I appreciate what you're saying, but believe me, I've tried. She reminds me of my middle daughter, Mace. The both of them are stubborn as mules about taking my advice.

Love,

Mama

Too Big for her Britches

Dear Mama:

What would you do if you had to work with a woman whose head is too big for her britches? She struts around all day like a cock rooster just gobblin' and preenin'--not really doing anything at all.

I want to feed her to the alligators but I've been told that is not the Christian way.

Signed, Sick of Miss Somethin'


Dear ''Sick,''

Now, honey, I know you're upset and I don't want to pick ... but you know that gal's HEAD can't be too big for her britches, right? Irregardless, I know what you're trying to get at here.

We've all of us had to put up with somebody not pulling their weight at work. It's worse when they act like their stuff don't stink, if you get my drift.

You're right: It's flat-out wrong to feed her to the alligators. Plus, you've already talked about it now on the Wide World of the Web, and the police have ways of getting into your Internet if Miss Somethin' happens to turn up the victim of a gator attack. That's called premeditation, honey.

That's not to say you can't take her out birdwatching or looking for swamp orchids in Starvation Slough. Let's say y'all happen to get separated, way, way out in the gator-infested swamp. Nature takes its course. Problem solved.

Love,
Mama

Ka-Boom, it's my birthday!

Howdy, y'all!

People always ask me how I like sharing a birthday with our nation. Well, I like it fine. I was 10 years old before I realized all the fireworks and whoop-dee-doo every Fourth of July wasn't specifically on account of me.

My middle daughter, Mace, always says that explains a lot.

Well, I'm not going to take too long on the computer and the Wide World of the Web today. We're having a picnic at Himmarshee Park -- BBQ ribs, baked beans and corn-on-the-cob. And, of course, my favorite dessert, butterscotch pie.

I told Ida not to bother making her potato salad this year, but I know she'll bring it anyway. Last year, my fiance Sal was the only one who'd eat it. It went through him like green grass through a goose, if you get my meaning.

Anyway, just wanted to say Happy Birthday to ME (and also to the US of A.)

Love, Mama

My Best Friend's a Judas

Dear Mama,

I am so mad at my former best friend I'm fixin' to knock her teeth down her throat just so I can watch her spit 'em out single-file.
She betrayed me with my no-account boyfriend, Darryl! They did the deed in the king-sized bed I'm still paying off on my credit card. Even worse, I just found out she's pregnant.
I lost my best friend and my boyfriend (though, honestly, Darryl is no loss.)
Here's my question: I've been invited to the baby shower. Do I have to bring a gift?
Signed,
Done Wrong


Dear Done,

Honey, the only thing worse than a cheating man is a Judas best friend. And believe me, I've known my share of both. If she wasn't in the family way, I'd declare open season on those teeth of hers and tell you to start knockin'.
But there's a way to get her back so you won't get hauled in for assault.
Go to that baby shower looking like a million bucks. Her ankles are likely all swollen and she feels big as a house, so she'll see the contrast right off. Talk about how getting rid of Darryl is the best thing that ever happened to you. You know she already regrets hooking up, so this'll remind her what a loser he is. And, finally, bring the nicest gift you can afford. You'll look like the better woman, and Lord knows that poor child deserves something special considering the no-class parents he's got.

Love, Mama

Who'd Make the Best President?

Dear Mama,

I'm curious about how Himmarshee (and you!) will vote in the presidential election? You've helped so many people with love and fashion tips, I thought you might have something to say about politics, too.


Signed,
Are you Red or Blue?



Dear Red or Blue,

Well, honey, I'm a Summer, so neither of those colors is right for me. I favor pastels. Primary colors look best on gals with Winter complexions and coloring. Stop by and see me sometime at Hair Today Dyed Tomorrow beauty parlor, and I'll give you a free sample of your own seasonal color chart.

As for your other question, politics was something my mama always told us to steer clear of in polite company. I found out why during my marriage to Husband No. 3. He was a nice man otherwise, but he could talk the hind leg off a dog when it came to politics. He had some real strong opinions, too. Plus, he'd argue them louder and louder, just like those folks on cable TV.

Once, at Thanksgiving, No. 3 lit into my nephew, who's a bit of a liberal, if you get my drift. Kenny took it as long as he could, until he finally ended up dumping a nearly full serving dish of Ida's green bean casserole right over my ex's head. I was mad about my tablecloth, but it gave me a secret thrill to see my sister-in-law's awful cream of mushroom soup and canned onion ring concoction dripping down No. 3's brow.

Two birds with one stone.

Anyway, trying to persuade someone to your political views is like getting into a pissing match with a polecat. One of you is sure to end up stinking.

Love,
Mama

I'm Famous, Y'all!

Take a gander at the book cover on your right. Have you ever seen anything so exciting?
Of course, it wasn't exciting for the poor soul I found stuffed into my trunk like a piece of Samsonite luggage, may he rest in peace.
But for me it was a thrill to see the cover. It's a Coming Attraction for one of my stories, which will be on all the bookshelves Oct. 1, 2008.
You might remember me telling you about that snooty author, the one who's been running around taking the credit for writing Mama Does Time. So she wrote it down, big deal. I'm the one who lived it.
And Miss Smarty Pants Sharp better not forget that.
Anyhoo, I hope you like the cover. And, by the way, that poor soul in the trunk actually deserved what he got ... but you can read all about it in Mama Does Time.
PS: In case you forgot, I'm Mama.
PSS: You better hurry and write Ask Mama if you need some advice. Once my fancy book tour starts, I won't have as much time to pass out my pearls of wisdom.