It's pronounced Gohsh, and don't you forget it!

In 7th grade, Ms. Beaverhausen (aka Jen) & her family moved from Ohio to Tennessee, and into my life forever. Today is her mom Geri's birthday, and since she's requested numerous times to be featured here at The House of Jules, I figured today was the perfect day!

In 1984, Jenny's first order of business after settling into our class was to have a slumber party. She invited a few girls, and I was one of them. I distinctly remember her mom standing in the kitchen, talking to Jenny's brother about golf. I introduced myself and she smiled one of those smiles that certain women are born with... the kind that even if you're 12 and in a strange house for the first time, will warm you right up and make you feel at home. I adored her immediately. 

After the other girls arrived, we went down to the basement to talk about boys and learn how to dance like George Michael. In THIS post, I described the rest of that night like this:

The new girl in town, who moved from Ohio to Tennessee, has her first slumber party. I'm one of the 3 girls she invites and I am thrilled. We spend most of the night in a large spare room in their finished basement, dancing up a sweat in front of a mirrored wall to the new Wham! album. We're trying hard to copy the swingy little dance step that George Michael executes so perfectly in the video for Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go. It's a very specific series of moves consisting of clapping, snapping and kicking with a sideways shuffle. The trick to getting it seems to be an avoidance of over-thinking. It should come as no surprise that I have a hard time getting it all synchronized. I mean, I know how to dance, but this is a new way of moving as yet undiscovered by the likes of my 7th-grade self.

We're listening to the cassette, but because MTV played the video so much in the preceding months, by the time "Cuddle up baby, move in tight. We'll go dancing tomorrow night..." is blasting out of the speakers, we're each hugging ourselves and nailing his signature eyeroll while belting out, "it's cold out there but it's warm in bed; they can dance, we'll stay home instead!". The 4 of us followed that up with squealing and laughing and talking about how cool it would be to see Wham! perform live or to be a backup singer on tour or for George to ring the doorbell that very second and play Spin the Bottle with us. It would then be the polite thing for him to stick around long enough to teach us exactly how far into the clapping and snapping that the kicking should start. I know with his assistance I will master the dance.

Oh, George. Sigh. 

Anyway, this post isn't about Jenny or me... or George Michael for that matter. It's about Geri, a woman who has called me her 2nd daughter forever. She's real lady (well, most of the time) who has taught me a lot over the years, not the least of which being how to make a really good Long Island iced tea (don't ruin the integrity of the liquor by adding that pesky soda).

The first thing I learned from her was a new vocabulary word while driving through their neighborhood. A brand new house was being built by a well-known (in the area) family. As we rounded the corner and saw they were nearly finished, Geri said, "It's such a beautiful house, but a flat roof? HOW. GAUCHE."

When I asked what it meant she said, "Oh honey, it just means "in bad taste". Judging by her tone, I knew she was not kidding around. I looked back at that house and thought to myself, "Yup, the flat roof is so totally gauche. Like, gag me with a spoon. I bet George Michaels doesn't have a flat roof because he is the opposite of gauche. I mean, he wears those florescent short-shorts. Clearly, the man has good taste."


The last time I was in Tennessee visiting my parents, I did a little tour of some of the old haunts, including that (still beautiful, but oh-so-gauche) house:

A flat roof? SO. GAUCHE.

I have tons more Geri stories to share, including the night Jen, our other friend Laura & I snuck out of the tent we were supposed to be sleeping in, in their yard... but I'll save that up for another time. 

For now, I'd like to leave you all with this wonderful 3-minute voicemail I got one night this summer from Jenny & Geri. They had a BIG NIGHT OUT with friends and, it's just so classic I can hardly stand it. Perfection. It's also probably not appropriate for you to listen to at your desk because there is at least one mention of chastity and garter belts, among other things. Make sure your volume isn't up too loud because the beginning features Jenny woo-hoo'ing pretty loudly before she hands the phone off to her mom SISTER:

My favorite part is when she says, "Hey! They're drunk, and I have to drive home... but I'm drunker, so we're in trouble!" 

They took a cab home, don't worry.

This recording is my bargaining chip if she ever threatens to tell my parents some of the things Jenny & I got caught doing when we were younger. She'd never do that, though because she is NOT. GAUCHE. Okay, maybe I don't quite have the word usage perfected yet, but she knows what I mean. 

I have only the highest of compliments for a woman who is truly one-of-a-kind, totally fabulous, and still has that same warm, loving smile I remember from that slumber party over 20 years ago.

My favorite photo of Geri and her grandkids (Jen's kids). They all have great DNA, obviously. ©HouseofJules photography

Happy Birthday, Geri (aka "Ma" aka "Mammy")!  WE ALL LOVE YOU BECAUSE YOU'RE THE SHITZKA!