*Tour-ette on the first snowy day of the New Year! YAY!! 1/16/2024

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Sybil Bruncheon's "What's The Real Story?"...

…you pick your favorite to go with the picture:

1) Sister Mary Meow-ergretta looked out on the dazzling world whirling around outside the Konvent of Kontented Kitties and wondered, “What if?... What if I had remained on the street all those years ago, and risked one or two of my nine lives for a weekend of glamour, velvet pillows, heavy petting… and sardines? And perhaps, yes, even a sparkly collar with a tag… or a bell!”…

2) Madame Mousette watched from her perch on the Rue du Maquereau where the guillotine had been set up in the small park across the way. She knew, as did her fellow Revolutionaries, that heads would roll and with their help. They continued to claw the names of the guilty into coffee tables, sofa arms, and in unwinding rolls of toilet paper which they scattered on their atelier floors… for the authorities to find… and act on.

3) Pinky was very aware that his humans had taken away the strange holiday tree with the blinky-lights and wiggly-toys that hung all over it for him to bat at and pull down. He missed being able to jump off the sofa up into the branches looking for a squirrel, a bird, or maybe a piece of cheese or hotdog that might have learned how to fly… whatever. Sometimes, he secretly invited some of his neighborhood kitty-pals in through the little flip-door to jump into the tree, maybe to tip it over and break a vase… or wake up grandpa in his chair and make him screech. Pinky heard that the sparkly-star on top of the tree might even poke out a person’s eye, and that made his pals laugh and laugh. They all thought that would be funny to see. And the little house the humans put under the tree? With the tiny-people and animals?... he and his pals loved knocking them over... or worse… Pinky himself had chewed up a couple of cows, a sheep, a wise-man or two, and then thrown the baby out of the stick-bed and climbed in himself to take a nap. He was only sorry about one thing; the tiny-lady kneeling by the stick-bed… first of all, maybe he shouldn’t have chewed her head off, and then hidden her in the cat litter… and secondly, maybe he shouldn’t be pretending to be her in the front window… even if it DID make his pals out in the front yard laugh and laugh… whatever.

4) (to be continued)

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Sybil Bruncheon's My Merry Memoirs!... Dagmar's "doll"...

Darlings, I've told you about my twin sister many times and in stories that you either have asked me to dig up or stories which you like me to tell and retell again... (much like terrifying ghost stories around a roaring campfire during a girl scout jamboree... with S'mores... and calamine lotion!)

Anyway, I don't think I've ever told you the story of Dagmar and her special doll... and "The Nearly Lost Weekend". You see, Dagmar and I are (and always were!) identical, and I mean IDENTICAL twins! No one, not even our parents could ever tell us apart... well, unless Dagmar had pulled a gun out of her purse or started a fire in someone's dining room, starting a five years of age. I would find a stray kitten and be devoted to it... Dagmar might start researching recipes to serve it "en brochette". Thankfully, our family's staff of gardeners, butlers, maids, etc. managed to keep her from any serious mischief, (although old Mrs. O'Reilly next door DID disappear during our Halloween party when we were 8... and she was never found again. A piñata bearing a striking resemblance to her was reported at the Masonic Lodge's costume ball a couple of miles away... oh well. Another story for another time...)

At one Christmas when we were still quite young, Dagmar had managed to drug my eggnog claiming she was just sprinkling some nutmeg in it. I really should have known better, especially because her "nutmeg" was in tablet-form and out of a clearly marked prescription bottle! But I was still very open-minded, open-hearted, and credulous, even for a child! It turned out that Dagmar dragged me, unconscious, gagged, and handcuffed into a remote corner gable of our cavernous and maze-like attic! There, buried in stacks of crates, Vaudeville trunks, dress-forms, and clippings and posters of questionable hootchy-kootch acts, I languished while she rampaged through our family's Christmas celebrations, completely undetected! She had secretly commissioned a life-size doll from a Bulgarian puppet-maker... or was it Hungarian??... Akron?... whatever. It arrived by post, and she spirited it away to her room, dressed it in one of our matching pinafores, and then proceeded to walk it around the entire estate, conversing elaborately with it, and keeping it just out of eye-shot enough for no one to notice that it, in fact, was NOT me! 

Imagine! Decorating the house, Christmas Eve dinner with family and friends, off to bed before Santa's arrival, and then... CHRISTMAS MORNING! There was Dagmar dragging that damn doll dressed in a matching nightgown downstairs with our entire family... handing out gayly and gloriously wrapped presents! Opening them! OOOHING AND AHHHING at each lovely gift... and Dagmar using her infernal talent for ventriloquism to make the doll sound like me in complete conversations about the whole Holiday weekend! Apparently, my "gifts" to the family (courtesy of Dagmar's diabolical sense of humor!) included crayon-drawn "gift-certificates" to my Mother (building a gazebo out of field stones for her herb garden), to my Father (fetching, cleaning, and dressing any game birds that he and his pals had shot in the next 3 months!), to my Aunt Deirdre (canasta and rapt listening to her endless stories of nursing during the earlier Influenza epidemic of 1889 during which she fell in love with about 87 doughboys!), etc., etc., etc. for everyone else in the family! Given Dagmar’s natural instinct for practical jokes… and malice, you can imagine the “gifts” that I was responsible for by that evening. Thank goodness for completely disoriented and dotty Aunt Deirdre (yes! THAT same Aunt Deirdre!) who wandered away from the family festivities, blundering about unsupervised until she finally got to my remote part of the labyrinthine attic dressed in her old Florence Nightingale nurse’s uniform. Carrying her old railroad kerosene lamp, she literally stumbled over me, sure that I was a prisoner of war of the Kaiser’s German army that she needed to rescue! Despite her impaired perceptions and abilities, she still nimbly picked the locks on my handcuffs with a bobby pin plucked from her nurse’s wimple. But before she would release me, she insisted on checking me thoroughly for signs of abuse, torture, malnutrition, and lice. When I finally got back downstairs and confronted everyone, I wasn’t sure what I was more infuriated by; Dagmar’s villainy, or my family’s not noticing the difference between me and some doll… or possibly Aunt Deirdre’s highly invasive checking for lice! Whatever. This photo is of Dagmar and her doll… By the way, that’s Dagmar on the left!!!!!

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Tour-ette on a chilly night before the Nor'easter hits! 12/15/2020.

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Sybil Bruncheon's "Christmas Wishes made to the Christmas Tree!"... Willy Frank, 6 years old...

"...and Christmas tree?? ...my special secret Christmas wish is that you won't eat any more of my family and get any bigger.. oh, and one other thing!....that you won't figure out how to climb the stairs and find Debbie and me under the bathroom sink!”

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Sybil Bruncheon’s “Thanksgivings Past”… Breaking News from the CNN News Desk: A Reprieve...

The president and first lady have been violently attacked shortly after a press conference in the rose garden! The couple had just presided over the annual pardoning of the Thanksgiving turkey, in this case TWO turkeys named "Bread" and "Butter".
Mr. and Mrs. Trump had returned to their residence in their part of the White House when bloodcurdling screams and pleas for mercy were heard echoing through the halls by the serving staff. Secret Service officers were called, and the Trumps were found hideously disfigured with gouged out eyes. The President was discovered in his bathroom missing his hair as well, and Mrs. Trump was located near a garden shed with the words "Bug-Wife" scrawled in what looked like bloody claw scratchings. The turkeys were nowhere to be found nor was their luggage in the Lincoln Bedroom where they were to be guests for the Holiday weekend.
Police are questioning everyone involved with the ceremony including the farm where Bread and Butter lived prior to their celebrity in the nation's capital. Investigations are also being opened at the incubator where they were both raised as orphans and where there may be some evidence of juvenile records of violence or sexual deviancy that might have been sealed. Details at 6. Cranberry Sauce at 11.

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Tour-ette on the MegaBus from NYC to Boston... Mummie whispers... 12/21/2019

....because we're supposed to "be very respectful of those around us!"...

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Sybil Bruncheon's MORE THAN THEY SEEM STORIES... “Tasty"...

Uncle Herb was everyone's favorite. He'd come for a visit every Memorial Day weekend and stay for the following week. And it was always his delicious barbecues that brought the whole family together. Of course this Holiday weekend had started off more unhappily than any other when Mikey was bitten by Mrs. Kelly's dog. He'd always been a very mean dog, and Mikey had only been walking down Elco Drive when the dog ran out of nowhere and jumped him. Mikey even tried to be friendly and calm him down by petting him and saying his name, Fritzi... or was it Rocket? Mister Smiley?... Bumpo??... whatever. The dog first bit his hand and then tore his pants when he bit Mikey on the back of his thigh, right on the inside between his legs where it really hurt. But Uncle Herb always made everything alright. He was funny and wise, and helpful, and never had problems making decisions that fixed problems... just like on a TV show. And now, Uncle Herb had fixed it so the dog wouldn't bite anyone again... and he fixed Mrs. Kelly too.

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Sybil Bruncheon's MORE THAN THEY SEEM STORIES... “A New Party Frock"...

... Jeanine was thrilled! She had gotten the promotion at the office, a bonus and raise, a corner office and two assistants, and all before the Christmas season, so shopping for friends, family, and herself was assured. And what did she do that very afternoon? She went to Saks Fifth Avenue to the designer floor where that beautiful violet cocktail dress was waiting for her. Nice Mrs. Fletcher, the manager, had set it aside right after Jeanine called and put it on her newly opened charge account. So here she was, dancing and celebrating, enjoying the martinis and champagne, the hors d'oeuvres and the caviar. She was having too much fun dancing with handsome Scott from the Advertising Department to notice that Bill, Cathy, and Craig were snickering over by the record player. Bill had just accidentally-on-purpose bumped into her from behind and wiped a huge streak of chocolate frosting on the derriére of her new dress... and oh, how the fun would really begin...

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CHRISTMAS MUSIC: Guilty Pleasures & Dirty Confessions… Goulet Goulash..

I know it's very tacky, but I start listening to the Music Choice "Sounds of the Seasons" channel on cable during Thanksgiving week.... As silly as it is to many people, I sometimes just enjoy the simple pleasure of Christmas carols to ease my mind and lower my stress.

Having said that and admitting my “Guilty Pleasure”, I now must add my “Dirty Confession” that I despise some of their Christmas offerings…. Like Robert Goulet’s “This Christmas I Spend With You”…. If ever, EVER there was a song that embodies everything that folks parody about Goulet, it’s this one. He chews and gaaa-rowls and schmoo-OOOZES his way through each and every note. There’s nothing off-hand or thrown away about a single flat or sharp!!…. Even his rests are loaded with unctuousness. Listening to it is like being bathed in hot fudge sauce, which would be terrific, except when someone holds your head under a cascading faucet of it, and your last thought is, “Dear God, I’m going to drown in hot fudge! I can't breathe and .....it hurts! Oh GOD, IT HURTS!!!!....HOT FUDGE HURR… ….GGGGGRRRRRGGGGLLLLLLLJJJJRZZZFGULJHGldhehhjj…..”

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