Ohhhhhhhhhhh-hhhhhh I just have to tell you that Wayne and I had a most delightful weekend a while back. It’s so good to back here in Indiana, oh, and Waynedale of course. My garter strings are planted here and I don’t know what that means exactly but I heard one of the ladies at the home say it and I just thought it was so cute and delightful. Wayne doesn’t wear garters you know although he was clowning around and tried on one of my old black lace garter belts the other day. He looked so funny, but cute. He’s such a nut; I think it turned him on. A cold shower fixed that. Didn’t do me any good though. Wayne mistakes hot flashes for signs of passion.

Anyway, Wayne and I went out for a day of refreshing our memories with sights and sounds of the Indiana countryside. We stopped by the Stone Trace Pioneer Festival at Ligonier, Indiana and just had a ball, I’m telling you now. I just love old timey stuff and they had a building full of it. They had wringer type washing machines and refrigerators with that funny thing on top, and an old gas stove and oven that I remember cooking on, when I was just a wee girl mind you. I just know I had tears in my eyes from remembering about using all that stuff with my mother.

It sure ain’t like the modern ones they have nowadays, why the stoves and washing machines nowadays do all the work for you and you don’t even have to stand over the pots all day to keep a watch so the food doesn’t burn or man the washing machines and take your chances of getting your fingers caught in the old wringers that sqoozed the water out of your clothes. Now the machine just flings the water out and you don’t have to re-twist the clothes after they go through the wringer thingy. We women are getting spoiled and I just love it.

At the festival we ate pork burgers, and punkin’ ice cream cones, and pork rinds, and caramel corn, and ham & beans with cornbread, and I just don’t know what all but I do know that it was all so good; I can’t wait to go back next year; I’ll leave my girdle at home and not go though dealing with a busted stave again.

We left there and headed out to a whole new adventure and we’re going to do it again before snow flies. We drove to Shipshewana and did a little shopping and then headed for home but we didn’t know we were in for another side trip.

What we did was, we took a little excursion over to Webster Lake and took a ride on the old paddle wheeler boat called the Dixie. The ride was around an hour long and it took us all around Webster Lake and back right around dusk. It was just heavenly and sooooooo romantic. It would have gotten even more romantic if there hadn’t been about thirty or forty other passengers aboard and not a private place aboard accept the John, or the ‘head’ as they call the little inside outhouse on the main deck at the back of the boat. There just wasn’t room for two inside let alone room to ‘fool’ around a little. If you go, remember to take a sweater.

We got back to the dock just in time to cool off with a giant Co-Cola (that’s what they call Coke down south). There’s a little restaurant beside where the Dixie ties up. Wayne and I each had one of their scrumptious grilled pork tenderloin sandwiches loaded down with pickles, mayonnaise, and lots of sliced onions. Of course we each took a Pepcid tablet before dining like always. Onions will make you do that when you reach our age and have your gall bladder taken out.

We usually order grilled instead of breaded if we have a choice; I have to watch my figure you know and it’s hard to do if you eat all that breading. I’m watching my little tubby hubby’s figure and it’s growing wider for some reason or other. He must be sneaking breading on the side; I can’t watch him every minute you know.

I don’t know why my girdle didn’t fit. I took it off and then tried to get it back on the next day and Wayne couldn’t get his Bermudas on either; even his thong didn’t fit. We had to run around naked until our bodies got rid of some of the water they accumulated so our clothes would fit again – I just know it had to be the water. My water pills got a work out that week.


Until next time, TAA TAAA


P.S. To clarify things that have been brought to the public eye recently concerning the David Letterman show, I want everyone in Waynedale to know, I’m from Indiana and David Letterman is from Indiana but that’s as far as our relationship goes. I was not/am not on his staff, although at one time . . . . .!  Anyway, whatever he did, we did not do it together. There, that clears that up.

TAA TAAA again.

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Mrs. Waynedale

The adventures and reviews of Mrs. Waynedale are written by a mystery author in the Waynedale area. You have to love her, eccentric, truthful, and quaint as she is. She is a champion for Seniors. > Read Full Biography > More Articles Written By This Writer