Toksie Turbie — the Early Years

In Which We Learn About the Earliest Years of Toksie Turbie

Sheriff Stephanie, Farmer Frank and Mayor Mike stood over the beige sofa where Toksie Turbie lay in the beige house. They pondered and discussed what to do with the baby. They knew that someone had to take care of her. They also knew that they had no way of finding out from where she had arrived.

So, after much discussion and a loooooong consultation by telephone with Judge James, it was decided that Toksie Turbie would live with Farmer Frank. This was OK with Farmer Frank. He liked children and, well, Toksie was beige and that was his favorite color.

Having it all decided, a beige crib and other beige baby essentials were found and Toksie Turbie was properly moved into her new beige home. But, while we, the author and the readers know Toksie’s name, the inhabitants of Crudville did not.

So, it came about that the three adults needed to name the baby. Mayor Mike noticed a tag on her wrist. It only said “TOKSIE”. It was decided that that must be her name and, so, it was. The Turbie came later.

Toksie Turbie Gets the Turbie

Time progressed and Toksie grew. Much to the chagrin of Farmer Frank and the other residents of Crudville, Toksie did not remain beige. You see, for no reason that anyone could figure out, Toksie could change color at will. I mean, if she wanted pink hair, green skin, and blue teeth, she had them. She just had to think it and it was so. If she wanted pink polka-dots in her hair and orange stripes on her skin, she could arrange that, as well.

As you can imagine, this ability was not appreciated by the residents of Crudville, who preferred everything to be beige. They had, in the beginning been jealous that Toksie was beige, as they, the residents were all sorts of normal people colors.

So, Toksie was told in no uncertain terms that while white, black and other expected people colors were acceptable for her skin, no polka dots, stripes, or anything other than normal was allowed. Her hair could be blonde, brown, black or red, nothing else. And her teeth must always be white. Toksie complied. She only appeared in normal and expected colors.

The town council even tried to force Toksie to pick one appearance for herself and stick to it, but, well, that’s how the Turbie came into play. It was the first time Toksie went ballistic.

She was four. She had agreed to all their rules. She lived without polka dots and stripes and didn’t make her skin green ever. But to be told she had to pick just one hair color, one skin tone and only white teeth, well, she just had HAD it.

After the town council gave Toksie the news, well…first, her skin turned bright purple. Then her hair turned dark purple. Then her teeth turned a kind of light-purple, but not quite lavender. And, THEN things got really scary. WEIRD SHAPED PURPLE STEAM CAME OUT OF HER EARS. I mean, real steam. You never saw anything like it in your life. It was like Toksie was going to explode.

Toksie Turbie Turns Purple

Next, Toksie ran around all the town council’s desks at once 100 times and it only took ONE SECOND. After that, she jumped 100 feet in the air, right through the roof she went, and came down on the other side of the town council’s desks.

“NO, I WON’T!!!“, she shouted, “I WON’T LET YOU BE THIS MEAN TO ME.”

Toksie went on to say that it was her body and if she wanted to wear it anyway she wanted no one should mess with her.

Someone shouted from the gallery, “You better give her what she wants or she’ll go turbo on us.”

A frightened town council agreed that she could do as she pleased, as long as she chose normal colors, or, of course, beige.

But the “turbo” thing stuck, and after that day she was known as “Toksie Turbie”.

No One Likes It When Toksie Turbie Turns Purple

That scary day when the town council tried to make her choose one appearance was not the last time Toksie Turbie turned purple. Nosiree, not the last.

You could do almost anything to Toksie Turbie except be unfair or mean. Or, even worse, to be unfair or mean to anyone when she was around. Bullies did not exist in Crudville when Toksie was around. She turned all kinds of shades of purple and ran around them 100 times in one second and then jumped 100 feet in the air and came down on the other side of them. Scared the living daylights out of every bully in town.

Why there was the time little Julian was being teased by his big brother, Roger. Toksie Turbie was sooooooooooo mad at Roger she turned turned shades of purple and ran around him 100 times in one second TWICE. Scared Roger so badly he was the nicest person in town for the rest of his life.

Then there was the time Sally, the teenager, made fun of the dress her classmate, Joan, was wearing. It was the proper shade of beige and all, but OMG Sally didn’t like the way the dress fit. Sally was so mean it made Joan cry and Toksie Turbie went COMPLETELY TURBO all over Sally. Sally was the kindest lady in town for the rest of her life.

Toksie Turbie is Not Happy

Toksie lived by the agreed rules. Well, sort of. In her beige room with all the beige furniture and all the beige everything, with the door closed tight, Toksie Turbie changed colors whenever she wanted. She would sleep with green hair, orange teeth and teal skin. That was every Tuesday.

On Wednesdays, Toksie Turbie would sleep with pink and blue polka dots on her teeth, grey and salmon striped hair, with yellow and green swirls for her skin. The rest of the days were according to her mood, but Tuesdays and Wednesdays were set.

Still our Toksie was very unhappy because well, someone as colorful as she just was not going to be happy in a place that only loved beige.

The Circus Comes Back to Crudville

No one in Crudville had ever heard from Mortimer Thaddeus Snodgrass III, Morty for short, since he had left Crudville with the banned circus all those decades before. Morty was grown now. He had had all kinds of magical adventures. But, he’d used his one wish from the magical wishing ring and the three from the magical wishing hat. He was an adult and so, he had a job and all that cool stuff. He was, now, the ringmaster for the circus.

And, for no reason that Morty could ever figure out, he suddenly knew he had to go back to Crudville. So, he led his circus to the town only to be told that they would have to leave the next day. No shows were allowed.

But just like Morty, all those years ago, Toksie Turbie, who was now eight-years old, took the opportunity to apply for a job. She didn’t know what she could do that was interesting. I mean, it never occurred to her that being able to change color would interest anyone because it was so disapproved of in Crudville.

Morty looked at Toksie and asked her why she wanted to leave Crudville. Toksie confessed, “I HATE BEIGE.” Morty laughed and said, “So do I.” That made Toksie laugh, too and well, she forgot herself while she was laughing and her skin turned a happy shade of yellow and her hair went blue. Her teeth stayed white, though.

When she caught herself, she apologized and promised she’d never do it again. To which Morty asked if she could do that whenever she wanted. Toksie said that she could and Morty told her she was in the circus now for sure.

So, Toksie Turbie went home to Farmer Frank, packed her all her beige bags and all her beige clothes and all her beige everything else. Then she said good bye to Farmer Frank, Sheriff Stephanie and Mayor Mike. She thanked them for taking care of her.

Then she danced off to the circus and blew that beige town for good.

Where will the circus take Toksie? We will just have to see in our next installment.

 

Toksie Turbie Arrives in Crudville

Toksie Turbie Takes a Fall

Ms. Toksie Turbie arrived in Crudville in a most unusual fashion. Having fallen from an airplane, she landed, safely and miraculously, on a very large and very convenient hay stack on Farmer Frank’s farm.

Farmer Frank sighed and said, “Here we go, again.” With that, he picked up the baby (Toksie Turbie was only a few months old) and took her to Sheriff Stephanie. Sheriff Stephanie looked at the baby, looked at Frank and signed, “Oh, Frank, agaaaaaaaaaaain?!”

Sheriff Stephanie took Toksie Turbie to Mayor Mike. Mayor Mike looked at the baby, sighed a loooooong, sloooooow siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh and said, “Ooooooh, Stephanie, here we go agaaaaaain.”

You see, nearly forty years ago, when all these people were small themselves, another baby had fallen from the sky, from a different airplane. No one knew how this happened. No one ever figured out how the first baby fell out of the plane, nor did they ever figure out how Toksie Turbie fell, but fall they did.

And, well, the first time did not go very well for Crudville.

Crudville and Mortimer Thaddeus Snodgrass III, Morty for Short

At this point in our story, it is important to learn a bit about the first baby that fell on the Farmer’s haystack. But first, we need to know a little bit about Crudville.

There is no “B” in Crudville, but if there were, it would stand for BORING. Not just any kind of boring. A special kind that looks like this:
BBBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGG

Why was Crudville so boring? Well, for one thing, ALL the houses and all the farms and all the shops and all the everything were painted beige. NO other colors were allowed in Crudville. It was against the law to paint anything any other color than beige. Yes, really, not joking. It was against the law. All the doors, all the window jams, all the fences, all the walls, EVERYTHING, including the furniture, were painted beige.

Now, there is nothing wrong with a beautiful beige home or a beautiful beige shop or a beautiful beige anything, including the furniture. Beige is a perfectly OK color. But if EVERYTHING is beige, it is really
BBBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGG

Plus, everything had to be the same shade of beige. So, with all the furniture and the walls being beige, sometimes people couldn’t find the sofa in their own house. It was beige, same shade as the walls. Lots of times people in Crudville only found a place to sit because they bumped into the furniture. In spite of the bruises, they wouldn’t change the law, they just kept bumping into things.

And, everyone dressed alike in the same shade of beige as the houses and the shops and the fences. It was so bad, some people lost their babies when they were just crawling on the floor. Yes, the floor was beige, too.

All the homes were exactly alike. Three bedrooms, two baths, dining area, kitchen, period. Same floor plan. All beige paint. All beige bathtubs, sinks, and unmentionable utilities. Everything matched and you could hardly ever find anything.

BBBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGG

Crudville had all kinds of laws to make sure that it remained boring. It is how Crudvillians liked it. You couldn’t dance in Crudville. Considered too frivolous. You were not allowed to ride skateboards or roller skate or play with any toys. Again, too frivolous. There was no TV or video games and absolutely no computers. Again, too frivolous. No reading either. Books were declared frivolous.

Now, this is what Mortimer Thaddeus Snodgrass III, Morty for short, had fallen into when he fell out of the plane all those decades ago. Crudville and Morty never got on. Because Morty loved hats. He had sixty-four of them by the time he was nine-years-old. He could ride a unicycle (which he rode incessantly) and balance the hats on his head at the same time. AND, worst of all, NONE of the hats were beige. Not a single one.

The town council passed ordinance after ordinance to try to force Morty to behave properly. NOTHING worked. It was bedlam from the time he fell from the sky till the day the circus came to town. Yes, circuses were banned, too. Again with the frivolous thing. But, not before the circus master gave Morty an audition. Now, as you can imagine any kid that can balance sixty-four hats on his head while riding a unicycle got hired on the spot.

And that’s how Crudville got rid, er, bid farewell to Morty and he began his own magical adventures in the circus. No one in Crudville ever gave Morty another thought until Toksie Turbie fell from the sky.

So now you know why Farmer Frank, Sheriff Stephanie and Mayor Mike were so concerned about Toksie Turbie.

Here they had the cutest little baby girl, who had fallen from the sky just like Morty. Not only that, Toksie Turbie fell in the same farm on the same haystack (well, it had new hay) as all those decades earlier.

But, the trio was heartened by the fact that Toksie Turbie was beige. Her hair, her eyes, her skin and even her teeth were beige. “Maybe it won’t be so bad this time”, they said.


A beige Toksie Turbie laying on a beige sofa in a beige house.
This is a beige Toksie Turbie laying on a beige sofa in Farmer Frank’s beige house.

Well, we will just have to see about that.

Watch this space for the continuing adventures of Toksie Turbie.

Now it is time to feed the SEO NAG MONSTER. It wants an outbound link. So, for now, I am going to feed it the link to one of my shops. Then it will shut up. You can visit my shop and if you find something lovely, you are welcome to buy it.

ink.flagnation.com — designs using flags of various countries.

Toksie Turbie, Mortimer Thaddeus Snodgrass, III, Crudville are the properties of Auntie Shoe. Invented solely by her. Auntie Shoe is the pseudonym of a real live person. All writings, images, etc are solely owned by Auntie Shoe. All images and writing are ©AuntieShoe 2013 or © 2013 Auntie Shoe. Either way, all this stuff is MINE and Auntie will be very cross if anyone steals from her.

Toksie Turbie – an Introduction

Hello, World, Toksie Turbie is Almost Here

The world is about to be introduced to a new character. Her name is Toksie Turbie and she is eight-years-old.

Toksie Turbie is named for the actress with a cool name, Toks Olagundoye, who plays Jackie Joyner-Kersee on ABC TV’s THE NEIGHBORS (8:30 PM Fridays, but check your local listings). Ms. Olagundoye was kind enough to allow Auntie to use her name for the character. THANKS, TOKS! BTW, following Toks Olagundoye on Twitter is a terrific experience. She’s got a great sense of humor and it is lots of fun conversing with her. There is also her Facebook page and her website. You’ll have a blast!

OK, enough about Ms. Olagundoye with the cool name. You are here to find out about Toksie Turbie.

Decades ago, before Auntie Shoe was an auntie, she had some wee little cousins many years younger than herself. Her job, a pleasant one, often was to keep said wee ones quiet. This was not always easy. So, the future Auntie Shoe would gather aforementioned cousins around, sometimes under a great big tree in the front yard of a place called Willow Glen. If weather did not permit sitting under said tree, the secret room was, at times, employed. Or, adventures on the flying bed would occur.

Wee ones gathered, Shoe would make up stories about a young person called Mortimer Thaddeus Snodgrass III, Morty for short. Morty had a magical wishing ring and a magical wishing hat and he had magical stuff happen all the magical time. Only one or two of these stories have survived because no one wrote them down. This is unfortunate.

Several years ago, when Auntie Shoe had a different persona on a place called AOL, she wrote a newsletter for children for a very brief time. She took some of her stories, one or two about Morty, and placed them in serial form in the newsletter.

One day, Auntie (though she was not yet, Auntie) was contacted by the parent of a child who received the newsletter. The parent had a book series for children in the works and was very concerned that Auntie might think her work was being copied because the book series was about a boy with magical powers. Some kid named Harry, as Auntie recalls.

Auntie read, in an instant message, all the lovely things that the parent planned to write, the plans the writer was making and how the series of books was being plotted. Auntie assured the writer, “Honey, I just sit down and make stuff up, planning has nothing to do with it.” And, thus, Auntie’s opportunity to request the petty cash fund from what became a billion dollar enterprise was lost forever. Yeah, honesty pays off, right?

All this said, it occurred to Auntie that someone, somewhere might think that Morty’s character was stolen or borrowed. In the interest of avoiding unpleasantness, a strong, fun, female character named Toksie Turbie will soon be born on this blog.

Why? Because your Auntie Shoe needs something to write about on this blog. And making stuff up to entertain people is what she does best.

So, watch this space for the continuing adventures of Toksie Turbie.

 

 

George Takei and Auntie Shoe

When I Grow Up I Wanna Be George Takei

Your Auntie Shoe has been thinking for several months about the direction of this blog. Yes, part of it is to get you to take a look at her shops and buy something, less Auntie be forced to hit the street with some hand-made sign indicating her need for income. But, Auntie has several blogs that serve the purpose of promotion of various stuffs created by her. Keep reading to find out what this has to do with George Takei.

This blog is meant to be a little bit of everything. Mostly, so your Auntie Shoe can keep better track of herself. And, with so many different topics (flags, politics, humor, awards, religion and more) in her design repertoire, she kind of needs a “flagship” blog. So, this is it. What’s George Takei got to do with it?

Well, your Auntie Shoe follows George Takei everywhere. No, not in a stalking sort of way, in a Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest sort of way. Mr. Takei makes Auntie laugh. Auntie often needs a good laugh. (who doesn’t.) George makes Auntie think. Thinking is a good thing. He sends a variety of interesting items to his followers. Humor, politics, art, and much much more. Your Auntie would like to do that, too.

Several months ago, Auntie read an online article about how to get the likes of you, the reader, to follow, buy, donate, or whatever the goal is, of a particular online endeavor. The article specifically mentioned Mr. Takei and warned against doing what he does, even though the actor does it very well. Basically, it said that only George can get away with doing what George does and, don’t do it.

Auntie has never been one to do as she is told.

In your Auntie’s thought processes she has compared and contrasted herself to George Takei. They are counterparts, in slight ways. Auntie is female. George is not. Auntie is a Roman Catholic. George is a Buddhist. George is from a generation ahead of Auntie. George is Asian-American, Auntie is Caucasian-American. George is married, Auntie not so much. George is fit and trim. Auntie’s doctor believes there is room for improvement for Auntie.

Those are the ways in which George Takei and Auntie Shoe differ. But the things they have in common are worth considering, as well. For example, both Auntie and George prefer men as romantic partners. Yet, both believe that whom one loves is no one else’s business. George’s art is his acting and writing. Auntie likes to write, but she also makes fun designs to sell on stuff. She did act a little in high school and took a class in college, but she’s no George Takei in that area. Yet, in their own way, each is an artist of some kind. Auntie has seen every episode of Star Trek ever made. George was in them.

George excels at putting a smile on people’s faces. Auntie would like to think she does that, as well. At least, she would like to make an attempt.

Mostly, at this juncture in her life, your Auntie Shoe thinks it is high time she had some fun on this here Internet. So, in this blog anyway, she will write what she feels like writing and let the chips fall where they may. Hope George doesn’t mind…

Here is a link to Mr. Takei’s blog. There are links there to his Facebook page and other ways to follow him. Remember, Auntie said FOLLOW, not stalk. Two COMPLETELY different things!
www.georgetakei.com

Mr. Takei wrote a book. Click on the picture to find out more. Auntie will not receive any funds for this. She just wanted a picture of George and this was the best way to get one.
George Takei Book Cover

Mr. Joe and Me – A True Story

Me and Mr. Joe — the Beginning

This is the story of a 10-year-old girl (me) and a famous Italian American baseball player (why ruin the suspense?). It takes place in San Francisco, in the mid-1960’s. This blog post is dedicated to comedian Billy Crystal. An explanation will be given at the end.

It begins very simply. I was a student at the Sts. Peter and Paul’s Grammar School in a, mostly, Italian American neighborhood. We had moved back to San Francisco about a year earlier. We did not have a television until later that year, and I was never a big sports fan.

Even though I was only 10, I had a great deal of freedom. Things were different back then, then they are now, you could let your child walk all over the streets of the North Beach area of San Francisco, without any fear. On my travels with my parents, friends, or alone I had often noticed a tall man in a light-colored suit. Always the same color. Everybody seemed to know him and he smiled and waved at everyone that acknowledged him.

Mr. Joe Gets His Name

One day, I was walking home from school and I noticed that the man in the light-colored suit was walking to my left. Because I was 10, I just said, “Hi”. He smiled and said, “Hello”. And we talked for a while. He asked me about school and stuff. He asked me my name, and I told him. Then I asked him his name. He got a kind of funny look on his face and he said, “You don’t know my name?”

I thought to myself, “Why would I know your name?”, but I just said “No.”

He asked me if I liked baseball, and I shook my head “no”.

He laughed and he said “That’s for boys.” And I nodded my head “yes”.

He asked me if I watched much television, and I told him we didn’t have one.

He asked if I was new in the neighborhood, and I told him, a little indignantly, that my parents and I had lived there about a year. To, me, that was not new. But he said, that that was not a very long time, as some people had lived there for many, many years.

After a little more question and answer, the tall man in the light-colored suit told me to call him “Joe”.

Now, I am ten. And I know that no way, no how, am I supposed to call a grown-up by his first name. I asked him his last name, figuring I would call him “Mr. Whateverlastnamewas”. But he insisted that I should just call him, “Joe”.

Well, that was something I just could not do. I mean this guy had gray hair and everything. I mean it was ALL grey. There was no way I was gonna be calling him by his first name. I remembered a story my mom had told me about a Southern family for whom she used to babysit. The children were never to call her by her first name, nor her last. She had the title of “Miss”, followed by her first name.

So, I said to the nice, tall, reeeeeeeally old man (I mean, with all that grey hair he must have been at LEAST a zillion years old), “I better call you Mr. Joe.”

Mr. Joe tried to convince me that it was OK, that all the other kids did.

And I remembered my father asking me, whenever I said all the other kids were doing something he didn’t want me to do, “If all the other kids jumped off the Golden Gate bridge, would you do it, too?” So, I stood my ground to the tall man in the light-colored suit, and insisted that I would call him, “Mr. Joe”.

More Me and Mr. Joe

For a long time, on a regular basis, Mr. Joe and I walked the same route for a few blocks. He was going to work at a restaurant. I was going home from school. I remember feeling a little sad for him that he had to work at night. But we used to chat about this and that.

Sometimes, when he was playing baseball with the boys from the Sts. Peter and Paul’s Boys Club, he would see me walking past and holler for me to wait. He would run to catch up to me.

I never thought it was odd that a man of his years would want to talk to a child of my young years. I do not know why, but I didn’t. And I enjoyed talking to him. Mr. Joe was tall and he made me feel important. And he listened to me as if the happenings of my fourth grade year actually mattered.

Sometimes he would talk a little bit about his wife. She had died and I felt that that was sad.

The End of Me and Mr. Joe

Our schedules changed, probably Mr. Joe’s more than mine, and I no longer saw him regularly. I would see him playing bocci ball in the North Beach courts with the other old men. They always seemed to be happy to play with him and, it seemed to me, treated him as though he were very special. The old Italian men always got a puzzled look on their faces when I said, “Hello, Mr. Joe”.

There was nothing to the “relationship” we had. Just two people in a big city that talked now and again. It ended because we stopped running into each other.

And then, when I was 12, my parents and I moved to the other side of San Francisco, to an area known as Eureka Valley.

Hey, That’s Mr. Joe!

Now, by this time we had a TV. I was happy about this addition to our family’s modern conveniences. And I watched it quite often.

One day, or evening, I do not recall which, I see a commercial for this brand spankin’ new coffee machine. You know who was doing the advertising? MR. JOE! Mr. Joe was on TV! But hey, in the beginning of the commercial, he introduced himself and said, “Hello, I’m Joe DiMaggio”.

“HUH!”, I says to myself, “THAT’S Joe DiMaggio?” I knew who Joe DiMaggio was, but I had never seen a picture of him. I thought no one would ever believe me, and I was several years past forty before I told anyone. When I told my mom, she laughed and said that everyone knew him in North Beach, so why did I think she wouldn’t believe me? Well, because when I was twelve, I didn’t think that famous people would ever know me, so why would anyone believe that I met one? When you are twelve, things look different than when you are 40.

When I was an adult, I began to wonder why this grown man would seek out the company of a child. And then I remembered the look on his face when he realized I did not know who he was. He had asked why I was talking to him. I said, “Because you are walking in the same place as me”. He smiled and asked, “So, you just like to be friendly.” I nodded.

When I met Mr. Joe, he was about 57-years-old. I was 9 or 10. I think he liked to talk to me because he knew I just liked him. I didn’t want to play baseball with him. I didn’t want to be around him because he was famous. I just liked him.

Why This Blog Post is Dedicated to Bill Crystal

Years ago, I was watching something on TV. Billy crystal was interviewed. Apparently, Mr. Crystal is a bit of a baseball fan, particularly the New York Yankees. In the interview, Billy said his major regret in life was that he never had the opportunity to meet Joe DiMaggio.

The irony was not lost on me. Once upon a time, I, a nine or ten-year-old girl, who didn’t even like baseball that much, shared a small part of her day with Mr. Crystal’s idol, and did not even realize that anything special was happening in her life. Moments like those would have meant the world to people like Billy Crystal, who idolized Mr. Joe.

Anyway, that’s why this lens is dedicated to Billy Crystal. Because I am sorry he never got to have the moments I did with the man known as, and who truly was, “Gentleman Joe”.

If you would like to know more about Joe DiMaggio, the Wikipedia thingy about him is here.