Petticoat Junction

While the McCaffreys have always been a matriarch led Clan, its numbers were primarily male dominated.

It was a no frills, spartan existence. Roughhousing was the default mode.

Indeed, my sister had to thump it out with her brothers, and my daughter Jackie was a Tomboy who regularly whipped the ass off any boys that gave her trouble.

There were no Barbies in our house. Any dolls that were mistakenly left in the house quickly became frightening manikins that were more at home in the basement of a serial killer.

My grans generation has seen a shift in ratios to female McCaffrey dominance for the first time in forever. Right now it’s 3 to 1 female to male.

That has brought with it a seismic shift in children’s toys, particularly among the invading Ozmandian Amazons. While there are the acceptable plastic wildlife and dinosaurs, there are way too many soft and fuzzy creatures with pastel colors that do not register with these colorblind eyes.

Yesterday, my dear sister and SIL, Veronica and b (yes, the basis for Bonnie and t in TCS) arrived with a SUV ladened with all kinds of school quality arts and crafts which now fills what little space I used to have to navigate the house between the Tower and the Dungeon at Casa Claire. I mean I could open a Paris Art Salon for all of the urchins in Berthoud and probably the surrounding towns. The garage has been converted to a studio. This is fine. Georgie, my DIL, is a wonderful artist, and her daughters all seem to have a knack for it. I actually incorporated art as a storyline in the character Scarlett’s development into witchie womanhood in WTLLM.

You see, v & b take their roles as Clan matriarchs very seriously, so everything is top shelf and overly abundant.

Unfortunately, as large as Casa Claire can appear when there are just two older adults milling about its floors, it shrinks dramatically when there are two extra adults and three shrieking banshees filling the vacuum, with all of their required accoutrements.

The main floor has been completely commandeered and now looks like an episode of upwardly mobile Hoarders.

But it gets worse.

Stashed among the Great Aunties art supplies was the anathema to any young male BIC from the last century’s existence. Six different kinds of Barbies and their respective accessories and a huge box containing a Barbie skyscraper to hold them and their professional practices.

The Skyscraper was a DIY build from the ground up. The directions were crafted by Chinese Nationals whose sole purpose was to drive any American attempting to read them to multiple homicides.

Much to Lisa’s consternation, I bowed out with the excuse that I had legal work to do. I really did.

Veronica and b assured me that because they were lesbians, they knew how to read specs and handle tools, and would complete the build on their own. They lied.

With my lawyer spidey senses completely disengaged, I fell for it.

When I surfaced a while later to check on their progress, b, as crafty as Tom Sawyer, turned a “can you hand me that” moment after completing the second floor to “okay, now hold that in place while Ronnie screws that in” to “I’ve got to go visit so-and-so and will return with Chinese.” And there I was, building the remaining floors and a side professional building with a sister who was rapidly becoming my least favorite sibling.

After a few hours of a lot of “fuck me(s)” and a few “fuck you(s)”and one or two “what the fuck(s)” the last screw was sank, the last bolt tightened. And Veronica had a kiss-my-ass-we-did-it face on her.

And as much as I hate to admit it, she done good. The banshees were happy.

I give it about a week before the banshees break out into a no holds barred King Kong versus Godzilla versus Mothra cage match in Lisa’s office and bring that tower and all of its inhabitants down into 8.0 richter scale earthquake rubble.

And guess who will have to clean it up?

Well, last night, after v&b had packed off back to Emerald City, I snapped this photo of the three young witches in the hot tub

and could not help but remember a fictional female dominated rural oasis called The Shady Rest – back then, I had a secret crush on all three (fill in the blank- Jo) sisters – and had to admit, all these years later, that now I’m feeling a bit like ornery and paternal old Uncle Joe, who loved those fictional three girls with his heart and soul. So, if that means a little Barbie in my life, so be it. But I’m drawing a line in the sand that there will be no Eunuch Ken dolls!

Well, today’s a partial “me” day, as this morning I get to visit my favorite barber, Anna, in Berthoud for some face and head pampering while I astral project to places yet unknown. And then I have my weekend chores to see to. No rest for the wicked.

But first some kitty cuddling and my rounds.

You fine, five readers should get your weekend errands out of the way as early as you can, and then get outside and enjoy May’s Spring weather. Do something fun.

And no matter what else we may have in store for us, let’s make today a great one.