Well to the lady’s coffee-klatch, of course!

I have rediscovered this wonderful, fun, group of exercising ladies who meet three times a week. I used to be one of them. They graciously allowed me to join them in their brain-exercising session around the coffee table — which regularly takes place after their body shaping ordeal. I know, I know — I should be joining them in the body portion. My brain says, “Just do it,” while my body screams, “NO!” Maybe this fall … stressing the “maybe!”

“OK, girls, I’m needing inspiration for an article and I ain’t gettin’ it at home.” Their unison response was; “OH NO … you’ll put our names in it!” Golly, and I was so counting on them. It’s not easy to realize your friends are afraid to talk to you.

“Hey, I don’t name names … Well, maybe sometimes, but I only use first names. And how is anyone going to know it’s you? There are lots of Marilyn-s, Donna-s, Jan-s, Marsha-s, Nancy-s, Colleen-s and Ethel-s out there.” Where upon I was informed there needs to be one name for anyone who winds up in an article. The name of choice (theirs — not mine) is “Maudi.” I was even told how to spell it. So, Maudi #2 then informed me that I am “Naughty Maudi” (or would that be Knotty Moddi?) Every Maudi sitting around the table voiced their agreement — again in unison. It all went downhill from there.

Seriously, husband Jerry’s and my ventures outside the house have consisted of doctor visits, the hearing-aid joint, a trip or two to Peoria and mowing the yard — definitely not BCR worthy.

I had slipped into a lethargic writing mode due to lack of material. So when I first was invited to rejoin this group, it was a welcome change and quite an awakening. I had forgotten how great a good-hardy laugh felt, and how vital it is for your spirit. It certainly made my day!

Not only did I walk away full of joy, but I also was full of information — some of which cannot be written in any article. We gardened (which is not my bag, but useful if I ever decide to), shared good book reads, and our limited, and some not so limited, adventures. I, in turn, taught them how to microwave unshucked corn on the cob and how slick it works.

One of the Maudi-s threatened to sneak into my yard and steal some of my tomatoes, where-upon I informed them all, “I will put a fence around my yard that old lady could never make it over.” She said she would make it over, but if she does I want to watch her try to get back over with an arm full of ripe tomatoes. What fun it was communicating and laughing with other girls of like mind.

Now I’m thinking, if all the women are Maudi, does that make all the men Claude? No Claude-s are allowed in Maudi klatches — for good reason. And if the Maudi-s are smart they’ll stay away from Claude sessions. I sat at the men’s “Truth Table” once and that was enough for me! But then I really don’t give a hoot who’s up to bat, made a touchdown, or whether they trade so-and-so for so-and-so, or for how much. And politics and marketing are not jolly-ho-ho subjects. Thankfully, Jerry does go to men’s breakfasts. “What’s the poop today?” I’ll ask. “Nothing.” Thank you very much, but I’m sticking with the women.

So here’s from Naughty Maudi: I wish all you Maudi-s and Claude-s out there much laughter — deep faith — lots of love - and that you keep on Fully Relying On God.

P.S. – This article (in its unabridged state) has been read and approved by Maudi #1.

Note to readers: Earlene Campbell lives by the FROG motto — Fully Rely On God. She lives in Princeton and can be reached at earlenecampbell@rocketmail.com.

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