Clacker Balls and Sex Ed 101

My regular readers know that sometimes it takes a while for me to get around to the subjects I post as titles. I'll get there this time, too, I promise. Just be patient. :-)

When I was about 2 or 3 years old, my family moved from Haltom City Texas over to a 3 bedroom frame house in the Riverside section of Northeast Fort Worth. It was a nice house for my mom and dad, and my older brother and sister and me, but there were no other children in the neighborhood for us to play with.

My mother said I  never met a stranger, so it wasn't long before she caught me going from house to house introducing myself to the neighbors. Little did I know that the lady next door would become one of my closest friends and confidants, despite the 60 year difference in our ages.

Auda Lee Thompson. She was an auburn haired widow in her mid sixties who had a dowager's hump and dirt under her nails from the yardwork she insisted on doing herself. When the work was done, she liked to sit on her front porch and smoke Old Gold cigarettes.

Our friendship began through the fence. She was always working in her yard and it showed. There was never a weed in the grass, never a stray leaf in the flower beds, never a rotting crabapple on the ground. I would sit on the ground, on my side of the fence, surrounded by grown over flower beds, half-raked piles of leaves, and asparagus that sprang up out of nowhere. She would always say to me, "Make yourself useful, as well as ornamental."   I thought for a long time she was teaching me that it wasn't enough to look pretty, but I finally figured out she just didn't like the leaves blowing through to her yard.

As I got older, my favorite way to spend a summer evening was sitting with her as she 'edged' her entire yard with a pair of hand clippers.

First she would mow, then she would clip any stray grass that dared to cascade over her curb...her edging was perfect, an inch wide and an inch deep, her fingers reaching into the furrow she'd created to smooth out the dirt and toss any that she deemed extra. When all the work was done, (by her, I was still being ornamental) we would sit on her porch and drink iced tea and she would smoke and we'd talk about her life with her late husband, and her precious grandchildren, the darlings of UT-Austin, and my life dealing with the angst of puberty and junior high school.

When I got engaged at the tender age of 16, our topics of conversation changed drastically. She began to tell me that it was just as easy to fall in love with a rich man, as it was a poor man. She gave me recipes and household tips.

One evening, she decided I needed to know about sex. But none of that birds and bees stuff for her. She was going to get right down to the nitty-grittty and explain to me just what it was that made a fellow's eyeballs pop out.

Okay...here it comes.....according  to Miz Auda Lee Thompson, the reason a man has pleasure during sex is because the woman's ovaries bang together on his...you know.

Is there really anything else I can say here? I think not. Goodnight, All.