Here comes November! November is my birthday month. All great people are born in November. It’s a fact. So, this year I will be 54 years old. My how times flies! It always makes me think of when I was young and the small parties I would have with friends and family at my house. And it always made me think of my mom and how she could not sing worth a dime. And, on top of that, I always wondered why she always semi-ruined my birthday by singing this birthday song:
Vickie, the birthday monkey
Happy Birthday to you, You live in a zoo, You look like a monkey…and you smell like one too.
Sometimes she would change the ending to “and you act like one too.” Quite frankly, it pissed me off. Was this supposed to be funny? I mean, it was bad enough that she forgot candles at times, and at the last minute stuck playing card numbers in the cake. No lie. For my 14th birthday, I had a 10 and a 4 in my cake. It was always a homemade cake. She went that far. But she stopped short of really making it special by singing a stupid song and lighting the cards on fire. Ok, she didn’t light them on fire. I should have pretended to blow out the cards after they sang that stupid song. But, she rarely had candles in stock for my birthday. Was probably saving them for my sister’s birthday, which was one week later.
That wasn’t the only variation she would sing. On the years she did sing the song correctly, she would add shit:
“Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday, dear Vickie, Happy Birthday to you…and many more…..on channel four…..and out the door…..like Zsa Zsa Gabor…….” Seriously?
And then there were the birthday whippings? What the hell was that all about? We got spanked for each year and then got pinched for “and one to grow on.” One to grow on what? Made no sense to my sore butt. If we had a foreign exchange student living in our home, they would have run away.
And then there was Grandma. I knew when Grandma was starting to go to the land of senility when she handed me a birthday card one year. I tore open the envelope, and opened the card. She and Grandpa always gave me a lot of money for my birthday, so I always hurried to get to theirs. She wrote:
” Vickie, Happy Pearl Harbor Day! Love, Grandma and Grandpa”
I just stared at the card. I wanted to laugh, because we knew Grandma was demented even before senility hit. Now she won’t remember all the crazy shit she did. And now, here we were, celebrating Pearl Harbor Day…..on November 9th.
“Grandma, thank you. Isn’t Pearl Harbor Day December 7?”
“Yes, it is. Such a sad day to have your birthday on.” She replied, oh so sadly. I just looked at her, and then looked over at my dad, her son. He smiled, and gave me one of those hand movements around the temple, meaning that she was a loon.
One sad note about my birthday is that was also the day we buried my dad, in 1989. I was 33 and it was one of the saddest days of my life. I was so lucky to have them that long. He had a bad heart. I’m truly surprised he didn’t die earlier. Living with my mom was disheartening……get it? Well, he was a funny guy. He would not want me to be sad.
Now, the one thing I did like about birthdays in our household was the fact that we also celebrated half birthdays with cupcakes instead of a cake. That was pretty cool. So, on May 9, when I turned 6 1/2, I got cupcakes. I loved that. I still note when my half birthday is each year, and buy myself some Hostess cupcakes as my little treat.
I tweaked it a bit for my kids. I baked cupcakes and bought them a card, which I cut down the middle, envelope and all, and we sang half of the birthday song: “Hap birth da t yo” or “Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you” and then we would stop singing.
When I was in high school, I was lucky if I weighed 90 pounds. I used to fry up two hamburgers most mornings before the bus came in order to gain weight. That is probably where the high cholesterol came from. Nothing worked. I was still skinny. So, imagine my horror when I was diagnosed with….mono.
Water Fountain Licker mug shot
In 1973, mononucleosis, or mono, for those with mono who are too fatigued to say the longer term, was called “The Kissing Disease.” I was pissed because I didn’t kiss anyone. I think it should have been called the “Water Fountain Licking Disease.” I don’t think I got it from there either. I really don’t know where I got it, but I remember there was a football player who had it a week or two before I was diagnosed with it. I bet he licked the water fountain and the bugs jumped up while I was getting water one day. I really didn’t mind people teasing me about kissing this guy, but alas, I was just a blurp on his radar screen.
I specifically remember my symptoms. The sore throat was intense. Mom mom got out a small flashlight and kept checking my throat. “My goodness, Vickie……There are patches of white all over your throat.” Thanks, Mom. Now it hurt even more. Later, it was found that they were pus patches, which is disgusting. “Hey, I have pus patches on my throat..Wanna see with the flashlight? Hey, I know, let’s go lick some water fountains.” I really wanted others to experience this wonderful thing called mono.
I had a very high fever. Before I was diagnosed with mono, I called what I had, “The Shuffle Flu.” I remember wearing those scruffy slippers and shuffling around the house because with each step, my head pounded like you wouldn’t believe. So, I couldn’t walk like a normal person. I was a shuffler.
The worse thing for me were the swollen glands. I had them wrapped around my neck. I had no idea there were glands behind your
neck. My neck hurt so badly. I wanted to wear one of those whiplash collars to keep my neck from moving. I felt awful. I might as well look stupid. I even had hurtful swollen glands in my armpits. I was a mess.
One symptom of mononucleosis that I couldn’t handle was the extreme fatigue. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that a trip from the couch to the kitchen sink was like running a mile as fast as I could. By the time I would shuffle over to the sink, I would be sweating, my pulse would be racing, and I was spent, drained of all energy. I would shuffle slowly back to bed and sleep for hours. It was horrible. I would not wish this on anyone.
I had an enlarged spleen. I wasn’t allowed to pick up anything heavy. So, my mom wouldn’t let me even pick up my dog, Cricket. I just remember my mom saying that there was another boy who had mono in our city at the same time and he had an enlarged heart with his mono. Oh great. I didn’t want an enlarged heart. I’d take some enlarged breasts though. Too bad that wasn’t a symptom. So, now there were two guys and me with mono. I sure got around.
I can’t remember how long I was out of school, but I had been preparing for a Voice of Democracy Speech in Speech Class for weeks before mono attacked me, and I was determined to be in that damn contest. Oh, what a mistake that was. I went to school for a half day and went to the contest at the local VFW that night. All I can remember was standing at the podium, breaking out in a sweat, dying for a glass of water, which someone gave me in the middle of my speech. I downed like I had been out in the desert for a month. Who the hell was I kidding.? I wasn’t going to win. I may have won for “Best Attempt to Utter a Sentence Without Passing Out” award. I had to hold onto the podium with both hands because I was so fatigued. Stupid, Vickie, stupid. But, teenagers are stupid, so you know, you learn.
So, there are some ways for you to keep the mono bug out of your mouth. Don’t share anyone’s drink or straw. Don’t borrow anyone’s lipstick. Don’t use anyone’s used Kleenex. Ok, that would be gross, but I do want to mention that mononucleosis is spread by saliva and mucus, so don’t flick boogers at people. Ok, still being gross.
Mononucleosis is not fun. Diseases usually aren’t. Just take it easy if you are diagnosed with mono, and don’t rush back to your every day activities. I have found from watching others with it over the years that it can delay the return of your energy if you don’t take time to let your body rest. You could have relapses of fatigue for a while.
Two of my co-workers, Sharon and Shawna, think I am one card short of a full deck because I am very attentive to the rules of reheating food. I believe the word they use is “anal.” While Sharon was eating leftovers that had been re-heated twice, I told her she was going to die. So, after the pointing laughter and chiding subsided, I told them that I was going to write a blog about it and research the rules of reheating… Before they die of some bacterial poisoning that has many syllables in its name. I shall prove them wrong and remove my “anal” moniker.
When I make my spaghetti and meatballs, and heat, say, 3 of the meatballs the next day for leftovers, and then decide to only eat one of them, I can NOT re-heat those other two meatballs. That is it. They are finished. They have already been heated, cooled, then re-heated and then cooled again. If you re-heat again, you will die.
I’m also wondering why people would leave leftover pizza in the box out on the counter overnight. One person told me they put the box in the oven overnight. The oven isn’t on, mind you. I’m calling people out on this one. I say you are lazy. Yep, lazy. Get 2 pieces of foil and wrap up the damn pizza. Then you can just throw it in the oven the next day and not be found dead clinging on to the pizza because of food poisoning. The problem with pizza-leaver-outters is that they believe the box is too big too put in an already full refrigerator, so they leave it on the counter so they can die the next day.
My feeling is that bacteria that normally live on the pizza would feel all warm and cozy and start multiplying and possibly mutating. They would like that lukewarm environment. If one eats that pizza, then the bacteria travel to their stomach, where they will start a conga line through your intestines and you will then die.
I went to the Head Honcho of Food Preparation, the USDA, to find out the answers. This is the United States Department of Agriculture. They know everything. So, read on.
Q. USDA guy- Many people leave pizza out overnight on the counter. Is this smart?
A. “No. Perishable food should never be left out of refrigeration more than two hours. This is true even if there are no meat products on the pizza. Foodborne bacteria that may be present on these foods grow fastest at temperatures between 40 and 140 °F and can double in number every 20 minutes.
Other take-out or delivered foods such as chicken, hamburgers, cut fruit, salads, and party platters, must also be kept at a safe temperature. Discard all perishable food left at room temperature longer than 2 hours. Use safely refrigerated food in 3 to 4 days.”
Ok, one point for Vickie. Death to you lazy food counter sitter-outters.
Q: USDA Guy, I never re-heat leftovers more than once. I think it would cause bacteria to form on the food and people will die. What do you think?
A: (He’s thinking)….He’s going to let the FDA answer this one. “According to a guide from the US Food and Drug Administration (FDA),passing food through the “temperature danger zone” of 41 degrees to 135 degrees Fahrenheit more than once carries greater “potential for the growth of spore-forming or toxigenic bacteria” as well as “the potential to be recontaminated with Listeria monocytogenes, which could grow during refrigerated storage.” (Meaning, you will surely die)
2 points for Vickie. Take that, future Listeria monocytogeners.
Ok, while I am sitting pretty, let’s find out about butter. There are some pathogenic spewing people out there that don’t have a problem with leaving butter out on the counter. Now, I realize that my mom did this, and I am still alive. But, I think I am barely alive because of her butter behavior. I posed this question on facebook and found that there are many butter-on-the-counter facebook friends. I shall miss all of you. I say that keeping butter on the counter is like eating rancid yellow crap, like pus, perhaps. Hope that grossed you out, because I find keeping butter on the counter just wrong. You’re all going to die.
Q: I leave my butter out on the counter. Cold butter is just so hard to spread. Is this a good practice?
A: The USDA guidelines state that butter should be stored in its original protective wrapping or a container until ready for use, and to remove from the refrigerator 10 to 15 minutes before use. They also suggest freezing butter not intended for use within two or three days. So, my rancid friends, spread that warm butter on your bread and enjoy!
Yum, counter butter
I think that I have made my point. I think you should admire my vast knowledge of food handling and re-heating requirements. I am a responsible re-heater. And I have the utmost butter behavior.
So, in the end,don’t re-heat more than once, don’t leave your pizza out overnight, and put the damn butter in the refrigerator.
When I was young, we held seances whenever we had the chance. It didn’t have to be on or near Halloween. We usually went to Lori’s house, our friend who lived right across the street. She had a small fruit cellar in her basement that was jus the perfect place to light a candle, shut the door, and burn to death. But, we never dropped the candle and we never stopped chanting.
We really had no idea who the hell Mary Worth was, but we believed in her.
We believe in you, whoever you are
Tweens have no brains, they really don’t. There were usually four of us who held these seances. We would stand in a circle, shut the fruit cellar door, and slowly begin to chant into a mirror, I can’t remember for sure, but I think Lori put a mirror on one of the shelves, leaning it against the wall. You had to have a mirror, because Mary Worth was supposed to appear in it.
We would start the chant, always serious, because we knew this would work.
We would start with a whisper. “I believe in Mary Worth……I believe in Mary Worth….” I think that’s all we said. But, we said it over and over and over again, because that’s what you had to do if you wanted to bring her back. Those were the rules. I think that anywhere between the third and thirteenth chant, Mary Worth was supposed to appear in the mirror, looking all vengeful and malicious.
So, who was Mary Worth, you ask? Well, hell, I don’t know. So, I looked her up for your reading enjoyment. There are many different stories about Mary Worth. Some call her Bloody Mary. One account is that Mary was wrongly accused of killing her children. She went mad and commited suicide.
I honestly can not remember if we even knew the circumstances of “our” Mary. We just enjoyed scaring each other and occasionally getting locked in the fruit cellar. Lori’s mom would also at times don a mask and slowly open the door to scare us.
So, this Halloween, whatever you do, don’t repeat that phrase while standing in front of a mirror.
Unless of course, you want Mary Worth to appear, wondering who the hell you are.
I have always been fascinated with seances. I think it had to do with my brand new Ouji board I received as a present one year for Christmas. Everyone had Ouji boards. In case you have been living in a box, an Ouji board is a board marked with letters and numbers, and other symbols so you can communicate directly with the dead. It has a moveable piece that players put the tips of their fingers on, letting the spirits guide them to the answers they have questions to. I always wanted to bring back Houdini. Harry Houdini was the famous magician who died doing one of his magic tricks.
According to Wikipedia, Houdini spent years trying to debunk mediums and psychics. He didn’t believe that anyone could have powers of that nature. He would often go to seances incognito and then jump up to show the people attending how things were faked.
Before Houdini died, he and his wife, Bess, agreed that if Houdini’s spirit came back after death, he would say “Rosabelle believe” as a secret codeword to prove that it was actually him. This was a phrase from a play that his wife performed in when the couple first met. His wife held yearly séances for ten years after Houdini’s death, but “Houdini”‘s spirit never appeared. Bummer.
So, of course, in 1977, I thought I could bring him back. In college, I lived in a house with 4 sorority sisters. We had a lot of ceremonial candles lying about. I can’t tell you how many seances I had in that house. We would light candles, drink, and then conjure up Houdini’s spirit. I remember one specific time when my boyfriend (later husband) kept telling me to be careful. I was wearing a sweater with a cowl collar and was leaning into my candle as I was laughing while chanting, “Harry Houdini, we are calling on you to come visit us this Halloween eve……” We would drink a little more and conjure up people and I would always have someone hiding in the kitchen to creep into the room at exactly the right moment. It was just another excuse to have a party.
The best seance I had included a little trick I learned from living in a house with uneven floorboards under the carpeting. If I stepped directly on one place in the living room, the nearby lamp would flicker on and off. I guess the lamp cord was sitting on the long board. Or the light wasn’t screwed in all the way. Regardless, it was something I could use, perhaps. Hmmmmm. That gave me an idea.
I gathered my friends and their friends in a little circle after a few rounds of drinks and had them stand, holding hands with the person next to them so there would be no shenanigans. I lit my ceremonial candles and shut off all of the lights, except for that lamp. I changed the bulb earlier to a 20 watt bulb, so it wasn’t too bright. I opened up the living room window a bit to increase the creep factor. I loved it when it was a bit windy. I started conjuring up Harry Houdini. I called to him several times before I said, “If you are here with us, please give us a sign…and I would slowly shift my weight to one side on that uneven board under the carpet. The light flickered. A couple people nervously laughed. “Is that you, Harry Houdini?” Slowly shift my weight to make the light flicker on, then off. I was starting to freak people out after a few minutes of my questioning.
“Harry Houdini, are you standing in this room right now? If you are, turn the light on and then off. Wow, this is just too perfect. Someone was getting scared, but was still suspect. “Vickie, are you doing this?” Haha. The people on both my sides answered in unison, “She’s not. She is holding my hand.” I decided to get to business.
“Harry Houdini, are you holding hands with someone in this circle? If you are, give us a sign.” The light went off. Someone screamed. It was a guy! A guy who screamed like a girl. I wanted to crack up laughing, but I was just beginning. “Harry Houdini, if you are holding hands with someone, gently squeeze their hand. I KNEW one of the 9 would squeeze someone’s hand. Everyone started screaming, which meant, more than one person decided to be a funny guy. I then started shifting my weight back and forth and the light was going crazy and people were screaming. It was a fantastic evening. It also helped that people were intoxicated.
I then announced. “Someone has broken the chain. He has left the room.” I never told anyone what I did. I had three more “drinking seances” after that.
I’d like to think that the famous escape artist paid a visit to us during one of those seances. Even if he didn’t, I hope he was having a good laugh watching from above.
Halloween is approaching and it reminds me of the things that really scare me about this fun holiday. A lot of people would vote for the shower scene in “Pyscho” or Michael Myers in the backyard in “Halloween.” But for me, Vincent Price would be at the top of the list. I was afraid of him, but at the same time, I just had to watch his movies. His voice was menacing, but yet peaceful, soothing. I thought he could probably put people in trances. He had this look that would send shivers down my spine.
He was Hannibal Lecter of the 1950′s. He could be the Pied Piper with that voice, making the children follow him out of town, hypnotized and ready to be eaten. Well, except I don’t think he was like Jeffrey Dahmer or anything in his films. He was too sauve and cool to eat flesh. He smoked cigarettes, wore a suit most of the time in his movies, and was just crazy, again,in a suave and cool way.
I used to think “House on Haunted Hill” was the scariest thing ever. We would watch scary movies every Saturday night on Chiller Theater, before Saturday Night Live took over Saturday late night. Vincent Price starred in this movie, and gave me nightmares for days.
I remember staying overnight with Cindy, a friend who lived down the street, one night when “House on Haunted Hill” was on tv. We watched it. I was creeped out as usual, and went to her bedroom to go to sleep. Her closet door was open and Cindy asked me to close it. I guess she was scared also. But, of course, that wasn’t the case. Her mom was standing in the closet with a panty hose over her head. Surprised I didn’t pee myself. I sure showed the neighbors I had healthy lungs, though. When I rented the movie when my children were tweens, I professed that this movie will scare them to death, they laughed at me. It was sort of 1950′s goofy-scary to them. I thought that a skeleton making a woman back into a vat of acid was pretty darn scary. I believe they used the word, “lame.” The disappointed me so.
Vincent Price could have been in Heidi and I still would have been creeped out. It was his voice. There are many actors who are known for their voice, such as say, James Earl Jones, or Pee Wee Herman.. But, this guy left an impression. I loved it when Michael Jackson used him in “Thriller.” It really added to the creep-factor. There was another movie that he was in called, “The House of Wax,” which I thought was pretty scary too. I think Tim Burton used the scene of the burning dolls in “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” as a tribute to House of Wax. Don’t even get me started on his Oompah Loompah’s in that movie. I can get side-tracked talking about that creepy movie.
I don’t think there will be another scary movie that will affect me the way “House on Haunted Hill” did as a child. As I grew older, I found When a Stranger Calls and Invasion of the Body Snatchers to be the next best thing. But, in the end, no one can touch Vincent Price, the king of horror.
When I was young, our family lived in a neighborhood. People and houses were all around us. We didn’t really have deer in our yard too often. The only thing we really had come into our yard were crazy hummingbirds. Hummingbirds need to go to anger management classes. I’m serious. Even if they aren’t hungry, they will buzz right back over to mess with the hungry hummingbirds. My mom had several feeders out on the back porch and we had all the hummingbirds in North America visiting the nectar in our yard.
But, that was the extent of the wildlife. When I got married and we moved to my husband’s hometown, I remember hearing owls when it was almost dark. I loved it. For weeks I heard the owls. Until my husband informed me that they were just mourning doves. “Just” mourning doves. I had no idea what a mourning dove was. And why the hell was it coming in the evening. Nobody told me it was spelled like a really sad dove. So, what I thought was an owl was really a depressed pigeon. Welcome to wildlife.
Who knew that when we built our house out on 13 acres that I would become a wildlife whisperer. See http://dyingbraincells.wordpress.com/2010/08/12/elly-may-clampett/ I was a stay-at-home mom and took daily walks through the woods and was amazed at all the wildlife. I loved it. I could tame anything. I am surprised I never got bit, especially during, “the Episode.”
We went to the animal shelter and brought home an outside cat. We didn’t know that people dropped off cats in the countryside, so I guess we could have just waited for a stray to show up, as they regularly did. But, we rescued Tiger and he lived outside. One evening I went outside to sit on the front porch. It was almost dark and my babies were in bed for the night. We hadn’t purchased porch furniture yet, but had 2 folding lawn chairs out there on the corner of our long porch. In the darkness I could see that Tiger was sitting under one of them, so I plopped myself down and then tried to get Tiger to come out from under the chair.
I sat in the chair, saying his name like I was a nutcase. “Ti-ger…come here, baby…Ti-iiii-ger…”, all the while trying to put my hand under the chair to try to pet him. I couldn’t reach him. My hand was moving under the chair some more, calling to him. Cat’s sometimes don’t do what they are asked to do. So, I just sat there, quietly waving my right arm sort of under the chair.
All of a sudden, I saw Tiger jump up onto the porch. Uh-Oh….My dangling hand froze. If that was Tiger……what was under my chair? My eyes grew huge…like cartoon, out of the head eyes. I slowly got out of my chair and ran out into the yard.
I turned around to see a oppossum. It must have been playing dead under my chair. I was ready to be dead for real out in the yard. My heart was racing.Dear God, the thing could have taken off my arm.
Well, after a while, I got very used to wildlife at my door. The oppossum came back almost every night to eat out of Tiger’s food bowl. I named him Poopy Butt. I think that is a fitting name for an oppossum.
I will never forget that evening. My eyes have never been right since.
I often stop by a place called Colassessano’s Pizza to pick up a pepperoni roll with sauce and cheese. Many of you are probably wondering, “What in the world is a pepperoni roll?” Well, let me tell you. I know them quite well. I have been eating them since 1974.
Many years ago, Italian immigrants traveled to North Central West Virginia to work in the coal mines. Many of them settled in or near the city of Fairmont, which is about 2 hours south of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Miners used to carry hunks of bread, cheese, and pepperoni in their lunch pails.
In the early 1920′s, Giuseppe, “Joseph” Argiro, a miner himself, realized that it was awkward to bite into the hunk of bread and pepperoni at the same time. The conditions weren’t the best for the underground miners. So, he decided to slice the pepperoni into smaller pieces and bake it into the bread. It was an instant success. It was so successful, that he later quit work in the mines to open his own bakery, Country Club Bakery.
He passed the recipe on to his son, Frank “Cheech” Argiro who owned the Country Club Bakery until 1997. Cheech was good friends with my husband’s grandmother, so we were able to hear from her all of the details of the famous pepperoni roll invention. Others have claimed to be the first, but don’t believe them. Frank Argiro was King Pepperoni Roll.
A pepperoni roll is a few thin slices of pepperoni baked in dough. Pepperoni grease seeps out of the ends of the roll as it’s baked, leaving an orangish-red coloring at either end. Some places, like Colassessano’s Pizza, which is famous in of itself, split their buns open and place cheese, marinara sauce and peppers (if you like) on the bun before baking.
There are many bakeries in the area that make pepperoni rolls. There used to be a place in the small town of Monongah that I stopped by often when I was pregnant with my son, Adam. I ate there so often, that the owner told me that I was going to have a child with red hair because of all the sauce I was eating. After his birth, I took him into the shop and place his car carrier down on the counter. Lo and behold, red hair.
If you ever get the chance to travel through West Virginia, stop and have a pepperoni roll. I guarantee you that you will order more to take with you. They travel well and don’t need refrigerated. I think most West Virginian’s stop and buy a bag of pepperoni rolls if they are getting ready to go on vacation or a long car trip.
One word of advice- If you have never had a pepperoni roll before, don’t buy the ones that are sitting on a counter in a convenience store. They are ok, depending on the vendor, but your first experience should be at a table, perhaps with a beer and music in the background.
North Central West Virginia includes cities such as Morgantown, Fairmont, and Clarksburg. Interstate 79 runs right past those three cities. If you want to see the true Pepperoni Roll Capitol of the World, you would get off Exit 132 at Fairmont, also home of gymnast Mary Lou Retton and me, a mediocre blogger.
Just in case you didn’t know it, wooly worms are not made of wool. Not at all. They are worms. Made out of worm-like material. That’s such a lie. They are caterpillars. So, who the hell named them wooly worms? That’s as bad as Jumbo Shrimp. Well, ranting aside, I do think wooly worms are misunderstood. I am going to try my best to explain their purpose in life, and why they crawl across the road when they know they shall most surely die.
I brake for wooly worms. I brake for anything that is alive. And things that I think are alive. I remember braking for an alligator while driving through Florida. Well, except that as I came upon it, we saw that it was a shredded tired from a truck that had pulled over just beyond it. Well, from far away they do look like alligators.
One time I braked (broke?) for a rabbit, and my son yelled from the backseat, “Great, Mom! Save the rabbit, kill the family.” Last fall I hit a squirrel on the way to school. I cried all the way to the parking lot . Squirrels just don’t know what the hell they want to do. “I want to go this way. No, wait. Maybe not. I will go back. No, I think I will go back. No…” It was just so sad. But, when I got to school, and pulled myself together and started taking roll, one of my students raised her hand and asked, “Ms. Mendenhall, how come kids have to go home when they get pink eye, but teachers don’t have to?” I guess it was obvious that I had been crying over my “squirrel encounter.”
So,once again, I have meandered off of my intended topic. Wooly worms. Ok, the misunderstood wooly worms are roaming all over the countryside. But, you are probably asking yourself, “Self, why are there wooly worms in the fall?” Wooly worm is the common name for the larval stage of the Isabella Tiger Moth. But, it doesn’t look like a tiger at all. Seriously, who is the Einstein who made up these names? You may have seen an Isabella Tiger Moth, or ITM as I call them (another lie) at night. They are nocturnal.
Anywho, they over winter in the caterpillar stage. If they are disturbed, they will roll themselves into a tight, little ball.
Woolly worms are often found in autumn after they have left their food cache in search of a dark and sheltered spot where they can hibernate for the winter. With the warmth of spring, the little caterpillars become active again and make their little coccoon to hang out in until they morph into the tiger moth.
There is a lot of folklore about the little critter. There’s even Wooly Worm festivals. The most famous weather prognosticator is, of course, the groundhog, who uses shadows to determine the length of winter. Like a little shadow puppet. The wooly worm faithful believe that the colors and width of the bands of those colors on the worm determine the severity of winter.
Oh, but not so fast, my wooly worm friends. The coloring on these little guys do not predict the weather. Not at all. Sorry to burst your wooly worm bubble. The coloring varies depending upon their age and their diet. “You are what you eat,” in other words.
Wooly worms can survive ice cold temperatures because of the bristly hair that covers their wooly body. But, here is the fact that makes them a “kick-ass” creature. (I made that up). Wooly worms produce an antifreeze-like coating made up of glycerol and other chemicals. Wooly worm scientists estimate that wooly worms can survive temperatures of up to -90 degrees Fahrenheit. They make their own anti-freeze. So, dear God, don’t eat a wooly worm. I mean, I don’t know why the hell you would want to. If I wanted to murder my ex-husband, I could grind a bunch up into a wooly worm juice (add some grape or orange juice of course) and have him drink it. Columbo would never be able to prove that he didn’t swallow one that dropped out of a tree and landed on him while he was sleeping and his mouth was open from snoring and he swallowed it. (I have such an active imagination when it comes to plotting). But, seriously, if someone realizes this, they will begin making wooly worm coats out of the little bodies. Someone call PETA.
So, the next time you are out walking and see the little wooly worm, give him a little salute. He is quite worthy of admiration.
It’s pretty bad when fourth graders are asked to find Rhode Island on the map and point to Georgia, but I am amazed at the amount of people who think West Virginia is in the western part of Virginia. They don’t know it is a state all by itself. Even a commentator from ESPN called WVU, Western Virginia University. Stupid goof-ball head. Someone asked my daughter one time how we like our beaches. Say what?
See, we are like a little tea-pot…
Why can’t people take a look at maps once in a while? I am an atlas geek. When I was little, I would just sit and look at the maps that came with the National Geographic. I just loved following roads and noting weird towns along the way. Which brings me back to the strange names we have in our mountain state. Which, again, does not have a beach.
A lot of places in West Virginia have Indian names. I am sure that is the case in many states. They were here first, after all. It was nice to keep the names. Names such as Seneca Rocks, Pocahontas County, the Monongahela River, Kanawha county, and even a state park called Tu-Endie-Wei.
Just like every other state, we have our share of weird names, such as Albatross, Algeria, Alaska, Amigo, Black Betsy, Box, Buttermilk, Buzzard’s Glory, Coffee Town, Cow, Crack Whip, Cucumber, and Pinch. I live near Hog Lick Hollow. I guess you can tell I am not living in a city.
West Virginia became a state in 1863. I think that is long enough for people to realize it is a state. But, they don’t. I just think people don’t care where things are. Even John Denver got it wrong when he wrote, “Almost Heaven, West Virginia.” We don’t have the Blue Ridge Mountains or Shenandoah River…both in Virginia….sigh…
I remember being embarrassed a long time ago when I found out the Winter Olympics were in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. For some reason, I thought Calgary was someplace in India. Pretty hard to have winter olympics in India. I mixed it up with Calcutta. And I was about 30 at the time, so I knew better.
I wonder how many people would do well with a geography quiz. Try taking this quiz and let me know how you did.
See how there is a line separating Virginia from the blob of mountains to the west? Well, that is in fact, West Virginia. Not Western Virginia, but WEST by GOD VIRGINIA, whatever the hell that is supposed to mean.
So, next time you want to go to Virginia Beach, don’t forget to ask the person at the front desk if there are any good restaurants in the western part of the state. We are well known for our pepperoni rolls.
Have you ever left your home, only to turn your car around and head back because you weren’t sure you unplugged your curlers? Well, I mean, bald guys wouldn’t have this to worry about. But, some women do. Like me. I worry that I don’t have things unplugged or turned off. I am a “turner-arounder”. That is a person who turns around and comes back home to double check. I guess you could call it a “Double checker”. Or a “Go back homer”. There are many things to call people like that. But, do we have OCD? Obsessive Compulsive Disorder? I don’t think I am OCD by any means. If I was OCD, I would first have to re-arrange the letters to CDO so they would be in alphabetical order.
I am going to share a few of the things that make me a “Go back homer” or a “Turner-arounder”, or a “Double checker.” I really like all of these phrases. I just don’t know which one to use. I will have to think about this for a few hours, OCD-like…But, read on and see if you can relate. Maybe we have one or two in common.
1. “Did I close the garage door?”-This is really important, because if you left the garage door open, thieves could just walk in and take your…paint cans or wheelbarrow or tool (I am sure we had more than one). Better yet, raccoons could walk in and then fall asleep and then when you come home at night and drive your car into the garage, and shut the door, they would become trapped in your garage and poop all over your car and scratch, “LET ME OUT, YOU JERK” on the side of the car. Or, someone like Ted Bundy would be waiting in the dark, and when I would step out of my car, kill me, well, just because. Then he would leave a note like, “She really should have shut her garage door….Love, Ted.”
You have left your garage door open...5 times....
2. “Is my toilet running?”- Yeah, that gets me all the time. I always use the bathroom before I leave the house. Isn’t it great how I can share my “pee time stories” with strangers? Well, I have to drive 30 minutes to work and I drink a lot of water. Anywho, I usually wait by the front door until the toilet stops making that “I’m filling back up with water now” noise and then I shut and lock the door.And drive off. ”But, wait. Did I wait this time? I can’t remember. Did I go to the bathroom before I left? What if my toilet ran all day? I wonder what the hell my water bill would be?… Shit…I better turn around.”
3. “Are my curlers unplugged?” This is the worst one, because I never can remember. I know in my mind that I unplug after I put the last curler in my hair. But, did I really unplug this time? My poor family would all pile in the car to go somewhere and we would get halfway down the driveway and I would say, “I am not sure I unplugged my curlers.” It got to be to the point where as soon as we would get in the car, my husband or kids would ask me. And I would ALWAYS go back. Now that I am divorced, and live by myself, I stare at the plug outlet and say to myself or sometimes out loud if I was really feeling like a loser, “Unplugged.” And I would wrap up my curlers and put them under my bathroom sink. But, my mind is not free. While driving, I would then think, “hmmmmmm, I wonder if I put those curlers away too warm? Could they start a fire?”
4. “Did I leave food for the cat?”- Well, this is important, because if I have a car accident and my head is wrapped in gauze, they won’t be able to hear me saying, “My poor cat has no food.” Therefore, it is imperative to leave her dish full of food and…just in case, the bag nearby. That way, she can knock the bag over when her dish is depleted of food and she can just eat out of the bag until I am released from the hospital. I do have one of those self-feeders, but my cat won’t eat out of it. I guess the food gets stale tasting if it is out too long and she sticks her nose up at it. Well, think about it. Would you eat a piece of toast with butter and jelly after 6 hours of being on the counter? I didn’t think so.
5. “Off, off, off…off..off..off..”-In OCD talk, that means, “Go make sure the oven knobs are all turned off.” I can’t begin to tell you how many times I have turned around to make sure my oven was turned off. And as I touch each knob, I would say those words..”off, off, off, off, off, off.” And then I would stare at the oven, just one last time. Yes, they are off ….for sure. I would even ask the kids to check. I could hear them say, “off, off, off, off, off, off” in that mocking manner. They were probably thinking, “What the hell? We’ve eaten out for the past 2 nights.”
I guess we all have our idiosyncrasies. That word looks weird….I guess we are all weird in some way or another. I forgot to mention that I make sure that the match I use to light a candle stays in a little jar of water for at least an hour before I throw it away. I heard about a match being in a garbage bag and then smouldering and then burning down a house about a year ago..I like to burn my hazelnut cream candle about every day and don’t want to burn my apartment down. So, the match gets to drown to make sure it is not a fire hazard.
But, did I unplug the curlers?
So, do I have OCD? Should a “turner-arounder” be labeled as having an obsessive behavior? I really don’t know the answer to that.
I do know that I have to stop writing this blog now because it is bed time. I have to go make sure my alarm clock is set. You never know when the electric will go off and you would then sleep in for work.
I am pretty sure I have it set… Maybe…..shit….maybe not….I will have to check after I make sure the tires on my car are not flat for the drive to work tomorrow.
Well, I am on a roll now. I really am the Queen of Halloween Costume Ideas. It was wonderful to see the great comments from my first hit, “Queen of Halloween Costume Ideas….’Tis True”, and to prove I am not just any one hit wonder, I will offer up my next Halloween blog for your approval. I think I have better ideas on this one. Enjoy! These are easy, quick ideas that are cheap or will not cost you a penny.
Uh Oh....
Dog
“On a short leash”-For a guy, dress like a dog and wear a collar and a very short leash.
Dog with the words of the week written all over him. “Every dog has its day”
Dress like a dog, carrying a book with the title “New Tricks” X’d out (Can’t teach an old dog new tricks”
Cat
Couple- One dresses like a cat with a little brown bag, bloodied…the other is himself, but with fake blood all around his mouth “Cat’s got your tongue”
Dress like a cat, carry a bag – “Cat’s out of the bag”
Couple- one is a cat, the other looks disheveled, unkept “Look what the cat’s dragged in”
Heaven, Hell, Devils, Angels
Dress like the devil, carry bells -”Hell’s Bells”
Dress like the devil, tie a plastic ice cube tray on top of your head “Hell freezing over”
Dress like the devil, carry a mirror. When someone asks what you are, make them look in the mirror..”See you in Hell”
Dress like an angel and put a 7 on your chest “seventh heaven”
Dress like an angel and carry a stuffed animal pig “Hog Heaven”
Queen of Hearts- tiara and red hearts all over your body. King of clubs-crown and a golf club.
Queen Bee- tiara and a big B on your chest.
Pat on the back- sign “Pat” on your back.
Brain freeze- ice cube tray tied on top of your head.
Ice Princess- gown, ice cube tray tied on top of your head.
3 children- Indians with the numbers 1,2, 3 on their backs-One Little, Two Little, Three Little Indians
Stuffed bunny tied on the top of your head-”Hare-Brained”
Husband, Wife and Child- Child-baby bee (lowercase “b” on its chest) Wife-Queen B, Husband-Bee Keeper (3 or 4 necklaces with B’s)
Get a sweatshirt and velcro a deck of cards (minus one) all over and go as ” 1 card short of a full deck.” (That’s what I am going to school as I think)
Draw a picture of a shark on poster board and cut it out and just carry it..”Card shark”
Draw a square with the number 1 inside of it and put it on your back “Back to square 1″
Roll some guaze around your neck a couple of times and put a sign on your chest that says Charley- “Charley hoarse”
Buy one of those fake birds and just throw it at people when they ask what you are and you can say, “Flippin you the bird.”
Wear one of those yellow slickers and put a big check mark on the back and go as a “raincheck”
Make a red heart and put it on your sleeve “Wearing your heart on your sleeve”
So, if you decide at the last minute to dress up for Halloween or if you really don’t want to, but your significant other is pressuring you to dress, I hope you will be able to use one of these quick and easy costume ideas.
I’m sorry. I can’t get through an episode of Hoarders without wanting to strangle the professionals who go there to help.I listened to my favorite radio personality on the Eric and Kevin Show on WVAQ in Morgantown, WV, discuss hoarding, and I agreed with him. He said the lady should be taken somewhere and then driven back to a clean house. So, I took the subject and started a conversation about it at lunch, and apparently, I am wrong. I think the cat feces lady should be taken somewhere for a few hours and brought back to a clean house. When she freaks out, have Sgt. Carter from Gomer Pyle, or some other tough-as -nails marine, shout, “Get over it, you pansy. Your house is clean!”
Well, my co-workers say I can’t do that because the poor hoarders have issues and would just go back to their hoarding ways. Okay, I will play along. Well, except for the fact one friend took away my Coke and said, “How would you feel if I took your Coke away? That’s how hoarders feel.” Ok, sure, I do love to have my daily Coke. I don’t want it taken away from me…..pause….pause…WTF does that have to do with anything?? Coke vs a cat urine soaked house smelling to high heaven because a woman (or man) decides to quit washing her dishes and likes back issues of TV Guide. I just don’t get it. I guess that is the point. My lunch bunch also pointed out that you can’t make an anorexic eat and you can’t make a hoarder de-hoard. Ok, wasn’t said like that. But, I understand the problem…to an extent.
Hoarders shows us the inside of a person’s home, which can’t be described as a home, but rather a storage facility area. Oh, and on one episode, rotting pumpkins. (That episode was gross). I remember my mom saying when I was growing up that you always have to worry about a person if they start collecting newspapers. I think we are beyond newspapers with this tv show.
Hoarders apparently have a hard time parting with their belongings. They think that those 25 plastic ice cube trays all have value and they need each one of them. Even if a couple of them have holes. “Dear, you should probably turn the water off. Those trays will never fill with water.” I really do try to understand their fears and frustrations, but why can’t you use “Tough Love” with the hoarders? This is what I would do.
Ok, I think that the hoarder should be taken away for a while. Maybe intensive therapy at a sanitarium disguised as a resort, say like Disney World. Some happy place. While she/he is gone, people come in with shovels and get to work. Cats are dragged out from behind couches, poop is scooped and then everything is cleaned up. And then they tear down the house. I guess they could just tear down the house, but you’d have to grab the 22 cats first, I’d imagine.
This is where Sgt. Carter from the Gomer Pyle Show comes in. ”Well, Go-lly, Sgt. Carter.” (Ok, I realize the poor guy has passed away, but you know what I mean.)
The hoarder is then driven back in a white limousine and she gets to yell, “Bus driver, move that bus!” Ta-Da….a new house…
Ty Pennington and his team can circle the hoarder and say sweet things like, “We know it has been hard for you to live in a house full of useless household goods…the broken vaccumm cleaners, the expired frozen food….the cat feces. Go on in and take a look at your new, clean, organized home.”
The hoarder will not freak out because it is a new house. He/She will forget what she was hoarding when she sees her new Kenmore refrigerator.
But, that’s not all. The contractor that built the new house with closets filled with empty Rubbermaid storage boxes, will give the hoarder Sgt. Carter. Yes, that’s right. If they can pay for the 6 kids college tuitions on that show, someone can give a hoarder a live in, Hoard watcher. You know it can be done this way. I really think I have something here. Sgt. Carter will just follow the hoarder around and make sure the hoarder lives like a minimalist. It could work.
If you haven’t figured it out yet, I find both of these shows intrusive and explotative. But, yet we watch in shock and astonishment, because we actually like to intrude. Shame on the so-called professionals who participate in this program. The are exploting people who are in dire need of help and they go to their house and let a camera follow the hoaders around. I mean, how the hell is this helping them? All these shows are crap. And we watch them. Because, in the end, humans are curious creatures.
Now, for you hoarders out there who read this blog, after locating the whereabouts of your computer, I apologize. I really do.
Also know, that I monitor comments and won’t let any bad comments through. (See, we all have issues..mine are of the control type).
So, get over it……………………………….and get that freakin cat off of the counter.
I know that some of you were just knee high to a grasshopper when the song, The Name Game, came out. Some of you weren’t born yet. I won’t hold that against you. But, people, you really missed out on peddle pushers, pogo sticks, and candy cigarettes. That has nothing to do with this blog, but ya know, I am feeling the era this evening. Anywho, The Name Game was a song written by Shirley Ellis in 1964, and one that we sang all of the time. That’s such a lie. We sang it just a couple of times.
I will use my name as a demonstration Vickie-Vickie-bo-bickie , Banana-fana-fo-fickie, Me Mi Mo-Mickie… Vickie!
I realize that the lyrics just tug at your heart. But, it was fun putting everyone’s name in the mix. Mine was fun. My best friend, Ramaine’s name just didn’t jive. I felt bad for her.
Ramaine-Ramaine bo bamaine, banana- fana-fo -famaine, Me Mi Mo-Mamaine…Ramaine.. I wonder if that’s why she sort of changed her name to Sam in college. I’m thinking it is. Probably crushed her.
We couldn’t wait until someone wanted to use Chuckie…or Bart…or Maggie…. or Mitch. Go ahead, you know you want to try it.
The Name Game is what we all have to go through. Not the song, but picking out names for our babies. Some people like to wait to see if the name fits the face. I’m sorry, but I think babies are ugly when they are born. I have had two babies, and I will be the first to admit that they were unattractive for a few weeks. But, I knew they would come around, because their momma was so pretty. The only ones that are cute are the ones born from a C-section. Everyone else has weird heads for awhile. If I named my kids after they were born, they probably would have gone home with names like Ralph and Ethel. I mean, not that there is anything wrong with those names. And don’t say your kids were the exception. You’re living in denial. All babies are ugly.
It’s hard to pick a name because there is always someone who had the name when you were growing up and you just couldn’t name your kid that very same name. We named our son Adam. My husband wanted a name that couldn’t be turned into a nickname, so Adam it was. Of course, I am not sure, but there was either an Adam or a Willie who ate his scabs in my fourth grade class. I’m pretty sure it was Willie. Thank God my Adam didn’t eat scabs. He was a booger flicker.
My daughter wasn’t named until she was a day old. I sort of liked the name Adrienne. But, my husband kept saying, “Yo, Adrienne”, in his bad Sylvester Stallone impersonation. Jenna Rachelle was another one that was a contender. In the end, we named her Alexandra. Of course, when she was in third grade she had enough of writing her long name, and decided she was going to be Alex. People then asked me if I named her Alex from the Glenn Close character on “Fatal Attraction.” Say what? Yeah, sure. I named her after a murderous nutcase. She murdered a rabbit, remember? And put it in a boling pot of water. Sure, I will name my child after her. I wish her kid’s name was Teddy so I could ask her if she named him after Ted Bundy. Stupid people…
Even though Alexandra was now Alex, her teachers still called her Alexandra. Or Alexandria. Which pissed me off. I don’t call you Donnia do I, Donna? Ok, that was just a bad example. One day Alex got fed up with her scatter-brained Social Studies teacher for calling her Alexander all year. She couldn’t take it anymore. The next time she called her Alexander, Alex yelled out, “My name is NOT Alexander.” The teacher looked at a pissed Alex and apologized. “Oh, I am so sorry, Stephanie.” Are you serious? I know that this teacher sat up at her desk and ate all day and when she talked kept blinking her eyes. Why the hell are you blinking, Blinky? It’s a wonder Alex knows where North Dakota is.
One thing soon-to-be-parents need to watch out for are initials. You don’t want their future monogrammed towels to read PIG or WTF.
William Tanner Ford? WTF is wrong with you parents!!
In the end, parents need to pick a name that a child won’t be ashamed to use. And parents should know how to spell. I know a small child named Hunner. Hunner is actually spelled Hunter, stupid parents. And it is too close to Hummer. That kid is screwed.
Just use a name that will pass the Name Game song, and you will be ok.
Don’t have a Kindle? No problem. You can download a Kindle app FREE.
********************************
For Halloween, I want my fellow teachers to dress like medical professionals and put a sign on our backs reading, “Staff” Infection. I don’t know why they just look at me like I have a third eye. I think it is funny.
Every since I was in college in the 70′s, I have been the Halloween costume “Go to” person. Sure, people are posting ideas on the internet, but yeah, most of them have come from me….’Tis true.
In college, a friend of mine wanted to go to a Halloween party at a bar, but you had to dress to go. He wanted to look good and wasn’t into wearing a mask. You know you make the face behind the mask, right? You know you do. Anywho, I told him to wear a suit, and put a tape measure around his neck and one of those tomato pincushions on his wrist and go as Elizabeth’s Tailor. I know, creative, right? He got in not really wearing a costume.
Ok, how about if you want to wear a costume, but your spouse/significant other does not. Well, dress as an old man and put a big C on the other one’s chest and go as Old Man and the C.
One year at school I just wore a tiara and a B on my chest and went as The Queen B
Two years ago I wore a white sweatshirt, put on some bunny ears and tail and put one of those plastic dusters around my neck and went as a dust bunny. Last Halloween, I just wasn’t feeling it, so I just got a huge cardboard quarter and put in on my back and went as a Quarterback
If you don’t have much time to make an outfit, cut out pieces of a map and hot glue it to a cap and go as a Head Trip
If you want to look pretty, wear a gown and a tiara, get a box and a rope and go as a Drag Queen
I wanted my daughter to wear a tacky gold outfit, everything gold, and spray paint a kid’s plastic shovel and go as a Gold Digger
Get a witch hat, a lab coat and stethescope and go as a Witch Doctor or a couple could dress like doctors and have a sign on their backs Which Doctor
I dressed my kids as bees and put the letters on their backs 2 Bee or Not 2 Bee
Black Eyed Peas- Blacken your eyes and wear the letter P all over your shirt.
Don’t really want to dress up? Cut out little clock faces and tape them on your hands..Too Much Time on Your Hands
Illegal Alien-My daughter dressed like this when she was younger and was pissed because only the teachers understood what she was. Jailers outfit, green face with alien antennae.
For a guy, Make a cardboard window, with saran wrap as the window pane (or nothing at all), write Tom on the window and he can go as a Peeping Tom
This is too old for many, but I had a friend name Judy in college and I gave her the idea to wear a Christmas garland wrapped around her neck like a boa and she went as Judy Garland. I guess your name wouldn’t have to be Judy. Just put the name Judy, on our chest and the garland.
For a guy who doesn’t want to dress up, just carry an umbrella and go as Rain Man, you know, like the movie, (I just made that one up..’Tis true…)
A group could carry plastic hatchets and knives and put B’s on their chests and go as Killer B’s
Dress like any kind of animal and wear a party hat with it and go as a Party Animal
Couple-Guy could be a Knight, girl could go as the sun- Knight and Day
I guess I could keep writing for a while. Coming up with a Halloween costume is fun and a little creativity goes a long way.
If you need a costume, drop me a line. I am the Self-Proclaimed Queen of Halloween Costume Ideas after all.
I saw a commercial from Ortho today for mice called KILL and CONTAIN. That’s a little harsh. Why don’t they just call it Maim and Dismember and put blood spatter on the box? Poor mice. They can’t help they are mice. Why can’t they just make a product called TRAP and TRANSPORT? I would buy that..I mean, if I had mice…
a lemur mouse...Yeah, that's right
I am quite the animal lover. I don’t kill anything. Well, flies and cockroaches don’t count. Flies land on your food and lay maggot babies. Cockroaches hiss and are too damn sneaky, coming out at night..what cowards. So, yeah, I kill both of them. I mean, I don’t have cockroaches in my house. I remember when I was young, my dad brought an old stove home for some stupid reason and put it in the basement. Well, I guess it was full of cockroaches. My mom was so mad at him. She went on a cockroach rampage until they were all gone. I never saw one upstairs. I think my mom caulked every little nook and cranny, even after the bug guys came and went.
I guess I wouldn’t have a problem killing termites. They kill houses and make them crumble.
When I was married, my husband couldn’t stand when ladybugs would find their way into the house. I heard lady bugs in the house were lucky. Maybe someone like me made that up. I had a physically challenged cricket in my kitchen window. I let it live among my potted plants. I mean, it only had one leg. That would make hopping a problem. I called it my kitchen cricket.
I don’t kill ants. I know you are probably saying out loud that I am a nut job, but you know, those ants are organized workers. They are the definition of team work. People who destroy ant hills are just jealous.
A varmint is defined as an animal considered as a pest. Vermin is defined as small common harmful or objectionable animals (as lice or fleas) that are difficult to control.
Lice are objectionable. I hate lice. I teach school. No need to discuss this any further. I will say that there is a policy that allows students in school with nits. I don’t understand this policy. How do they know when a nit is at, say, 99% and ready to hatch into a baby lice? Just the thought of lice makes my head itch. It will itch all damn day. Shit, it is itching right now.
I don’t have problems with fleas because I dont’ have a dog and my cat is an inside cat. But, I imagine I would probably kill fleas if they became a problem. They are too little to be significant.
There’s one creature I would kill if I lived in Japan. I mentioned this only because my daughter lived in Japan for a year and there were mukade all over the place. Yeah, the dreaded mukade.
They look like they have little faces. These things are scary. It is a poisonous centipede. Needless to say, I am glad my daughter didn’t have one of these in her apartment. She had a friend that was bitten by one, though.
When my daughter studied abroad in Mexico, her roommate was stung by a scorpion. Well, that sucks. It was hanging out on the handle of her dresser in her bedroom. I guess they didn’t have screens in their windows, and everyone leaves their windows open at night. Alex would wake up every morning with bites all over her body. It didn’t take long to figure out why there was a large rock in her shower an her sink. Take a shower, then put the rock over the drain hole so the creepy crawlies won’t enter the house..Yikes!
I guess in the end, I would probably kill a lot of little critters. Lice have no purpose in life. I think I would freak out if I got into a bed and there were bugs hanging out, eating dead skin. That’s just wrong. I know in some places groundhogs and rabbits are considered varmints. I would never kill those poor animals. I had a pet groundhog named Mrs. Daegle, after a character from one of my favorite movies, The Bad Seed. Groundhogs are cool.
My little rant here was supposed to be directed to Ortho for their awful new product. I really got off subject, I realize, but, sometimes you just need to talk about things….
I have a sore throat. It made me think of homemade remedies. Which made me think of old wive’s tales,
"And if you put pig poop on your forehead..."
which made me think…I wonder how many were made up out of spite? I mean, if I didn’t like someone, couldn’t I easily make up something that would be funny, and not work?
For example, let’s say a friend who really isn’t my friend tells me that they were going to the beach. I could say, “Don’t forget to pack some glue…..in case you get stung by a jellyfish. Pour glue on it and then rub it in with sand.” And then add, “I read about it on the internet.” And if you don’t lie, write it on your blog, read it, and then it isn’t a lie.You did read it on the internet. There are all ways to cover yourself from going to hell.
Years ago, people didn’t have the communication options that we now have. They lived far apart from each other and had to travel a long way to get to town. You had to make due with what you had on your homestead. So, if you got injured or sick, let’s say, burned, you just went and stood in the backyard, and thought, “hmmmmm, what to do, what to do…” and then you would grabbed some butter from your cold storage place and rubbed it on a burn. Actually, placing butter or similar greasy ointments directly on a burn is counterproductive since it can seal in the heat. People used plants like purple cone flower and herbs to help. Trial and error. Someone had to be the first to try it. I always wondered about the first person who drank milk..”See that cow over yonder…I think what I am going to do……” Yuck.
My mom used to tell me things all of the time. I am sure they were passed down from her mother, and so on and so on. Momisms..I have used a few myself. But, not the ones my mom used. Here are some of the Old Wives Tales my mom used to tell me…
1. “Quit cracking your knuckles. You will get arthritis like Grandma.”- Well, hell, Grandma’s fingers went every which way but they way there were supposed to. I could stare at her fingers forever. Well, not forever, because that would be stupid, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of those fingers. There were like bird claws. She was in pain alot. That’s why she took her “medicine.” Yeah, Grandma was a regular Granny Clampett. For real. I did ask her one time, “Grandma, did you crack your knuckles when you were little?” She replied, “Why do you ask me that, Vickie?” Well, hell, Grandma, take a look at your knuckles… I really wanted to know if her toes looked like that. She did walk weird…
2. “Don’t sit on the cold cement. You’ll get hemorrhoids.”- We didnt even ask what those were when we were little. I thought they were butt boils, but kept that to myself.
3. “Wash behind your ears or you’ll grow potatoes back there.”- I mean, seriously? Like I was going to fall for that one. Who the hell made that one up?
"And this is what I dug out from behind your ears, dirty child"
4. “Quit wrinkling up your nose. It will stick like that for the rest of your life.”- Ok, that only happened once…on an episode of the Twilight Zone. I always wrinkled up my nose. I was a picky eater, so that went hand in hand with, “Vickie, eat your carrots…..Quit wrinkling up your nose, it will stick like that for the rest of your life…..What do you mean, name one person?……Vickie, eat your carrots…..I can think of plenty of people whose faces have stuck……..Well, Reverend Harold for one.” Ok, I almost believed her then, but what I didn’t know is that Reverend Harold had a stroke, so every thing on one side of his face drooped. Harsh.
5. “Don’t swallow your gum. It will stick in your stomach.” -Well, I think it would be wrong if you shoved 5 pieces of bubble gum in your mouth and then swallowed it. You are just asking to choke and die. But, my mom said that gum stays in your stomach for 7 years, so if you keep swallowing it, your stomach will stick out. And then she added..like a Biafran baby. Well, I knew what a biafran baby looked like..we had the National Geographic in our house. That would be sooo politically incorrect nowadays. But, that’s mom for ya!
6. “Don’t so close to the tv. You will go blind.” Sometimes she would change this to “Don’t sit so close, you will go cross-eyed.” -Uh, wrong Mom…I could see going to school on a Monday with glasses and a cane. “Awww, poor Vickie, she must have been sitting close to the tv.” But, we liked sitting close to the tv while watching Casper and Romper Room. We didn’t have color..Just static from the rabbit ear antennae.
Ahh, so this is why he is cross-eyed?
7. “Put that toad outside! It will give your warts!”- I was always bringing critters into the house. It was nothing to bring home salamanders, lizards, or baby bunnies on any given summer afternoon. She always told me I was going to get warts. I never did. Well, I had planters warts on the bottom of my foot. I guess she would say that is from walking barefoot where toads hopped..
and the warts will slide off of him and right onto you...
8.” You have to wait a 1/2 hour to get back in the pool or you will die!” We heard that one all of the time. Like we were going to jump right back into the pool and do 50 laps. Come on! We splash and yell, “Hey, Mommy, look.” We are not going to get cramps. Other kids were able to go swimming. Not the Mendenhall kids. We sat out, with our towels wrapped around us, watching the big clock on the pool house wall. I didn’t understand. “Mom, why can’t we go back into the pool?” “Vickie, do you want to die? Do you?”
Poor guy went back in after only 18 minutes..
I enjoy reading Old Wive’s Tales. They are amusing and possibly painful. So, the next time your kid swallows 7 pieces of bubble gum,…..
I have never been a fan of zoos. I know that they are important, but I just feel sorry for the animals. You know they would rather be frolicking with their friends back home. Would you be happy if someone plucked you off your couch and put you at a desk in an office and that is where you had to stay? Well, I’m sure a polar bear knows he is not home. I mean, it is warm and there are people looking at him. And where the hell are the daily ration of penguins? Next door in the climate controlled habitat.
I think that many animals are depressed that live at zoos. Some zoos go above and beyond to make their animals happy. I think that is a good plan. Animals need space to roam. I used to think that petting zoos were a great way to get kids acquainted with animals. Well, until my son was accosted by goats.
I think my son, Adam, was 6 or 7 when my mom and I took he and his sister Alex to a petting zoo at a local resort.
Looks innocent enough. It’s actually a wonderful place, so I won’t mention its location.
This park has many different kinds of animals that the children can interact with. It states in the brochure that you can “Visit our barn filled with friendly domestic animals such as llamas, pigs and donkeys. You can even feed the goats.”
Well, it did say friendly. I mean, who doesn’t love pigs, and llamas, and goats, and rabbits, and donkeys? It was going to be a good day. It couldn’t get any worse. I was with my mother.
Well, Adam and Alexandra were having a good old time at the petting zoo. Here is a picture of Adam still smiling. The goats took a liking to him and the food he held in his hand. There was first just one. Adam was a happy boy. The little goat liked him too. And ate some of the food in is hand. Then another one came and stuck his face right in Adam’s face. And then a third. And then a fourth. Eveyone was still behaving themselves at this point.
Goats about ready to go wild..
I asked Adam if he was okay right before I took this shot. He was smiling from ear to ear. Those goats didn’t scare him. Afterall, they loved him. Next thing you know, there were 8 or 9 goats surrounding Adam. He walked. They walked. They were in his face and after what he had in his hand. And then one raised up on his back legs and came down, brushing Adam’s backside. Uh Oh!
Adam raised his hand with the food because the goats were attacking his hand. The goats decided that that wasn’t too high, we can reach that, and then they all started reaching for Adam’s hand. It was a little bit too much for Adam. Alex didn’t want any part of the goat feeding. She had already been nipped at, and was standing beside me in no time flat. I was getting ready to walk inside the pen to dislodge the goats from my son, who was nudged over by the biggest goat, but quickly got back up. An employee came out of nowhere and shooed them away from Adam.
I was hoping that the experience didn’t harm Adam too much. He did take a picture of a mountain goat when he went to Europe and the Alps last summer. He didn’t run away from it or anything, so that is good. Would be strange to see a 24 year old guy running from a goat. So, he survived the goat attack. I guess it really wasn’t an attack. He was stood on for a second, but no real harm done.
I did see in their recent brochure where they are now having “Animal Encounters.” “Have a personal encounter with some of the animals. We are offering new “Animal Encounter” programs that allow zoo guests to get into animal exhibits with the keepers to help feed and train some of the zoo’s animals! ”
I don’t know about you, but would you want your child this close to a red panda? I mean, maybe it is like a Tazmanian Devil. It will growl, and then lunge at you? You read every day about a chimpanzee that eats his owner’s face. I think we really need to revisit letting kids get too close to animals.
I think we shall stick to not going to any petting zoos anymore. I guess it would look weird seeing a 25 year old feeding goats with the 6 year olds. Well, unless you had issues you needed to resolve…closure perhaps…
Adam, if you need to revisit the petting zoo, just let me know.
When I was little, I was allergic to Mohair and bee stings. I was a tiny, fragile thing, probably no bigger than a chihuahua. I had an intense love of animals and had my first experience going into anaphylatic shock after putting a wasp to my cheek after I accidentally stepped on it with my shoe. The poor thing was half-dead, so I picked it up to console it. It promptly perked up and stung me. Yeah, I wasn’t too smart. I was rushed to the hospital.
Fast forward many years. My family is hanging out in the kitchen, chowing down on some food. I know it was around Christmas, but I can’t remember how old my son was when this happened. I am pretty sure he was 8 or nine. He looked at me and held his hand to his throat. He was able to talk, so we knew he wasn’t choking. He said something was stuck in his throat. My father-in-law had a sliver of a fish bone stuck in his throat one time, so I was thinking whatever it was needed to be dislodged. Drinking water didn’t help.
Einstein here decided that he should try to swallow a small piece of bread to see if he could dislodge the item stuck in his throat. That didn’t work either. I decided not to mess around and got my shoes on and told my husband I was going to take him to the emergency room. “Why you taking him to the hospital?” He asked. Mother’s intuition. Something was not right.
On the way to the emergency room, I asked him to tell me everything he had eaten. The last thing he said before he mentioned that he was having a hard time breathing were the words, pistachio nuts. Uh Oh! My heart raced. Oh shit….I felt my foot press harder on the accelerator. My son was having an allergic reaction to pistachio nuts.
Deadly little nut
Yeah, took me a while to figure that one out. And here I was, trying to get him to eat bread. Sheesh. So, after sitting at 2 hospitals (the first one didn’t see us as quickly as I wanted) and a shot of epenephrine or something, we came home with a diagnosis. Adam was deathly allergic to pistachio nuts.
Hundreds of people have died from a severe reaction to peanuts. It made me a very nervous mother.
We did pretty well watching what Adam ate when he was growing up and it wasn’t until he was 18 that he had his second attack. We were all sitting at a wedding reception near the table with the mounds of dessert. Adam remarked that he must have eaten something with pistachio in it, because his throat was closing in. Thank goodness we were about 2 minutes from the hospital. My husband decided to drive him. After all, he drove like Mr. Magoo and could get there quicker. The only thing I said as they left was, “Make sure they give him a shot of epinephrine.”
They weren’t gone very long and we hopped back into the car for the ride home. I was mad because they didn’t give Adam a shot or anything. The only thing they gave him was a pepcid for an upset stomach. We were pulling into the driveway when Adam said he didn’t feel well and his voice sounded gurgly. “Oh my God, he is going into anaphylatic shock, damnit.” We jumped out of the car and my husband raced Adam back to the hospital. They had to put him in ICU under oxygen and shots to settle it down. I was so mad at the hospital for giving him a pepcid and sending him home. What a crazy place. He could have died. Can you believe the hospital charged me twice? After threatening a law suit, they took off the second bill.
Adam didn’t have anymore episodes. I was nervous when he told us he was going to study abroad in Morocco for 6 months. I had him go to the doctor to get a prescription for an epi-pen. When he landed in Morocco, the custom people didn’t understand what this strange thing was. Adam performed sharades for the people, and I guess they understood what it was for.
Adam had to spend Thanksgiving Day away from home. It was nice, though, because the university people in Ifrain cooked up a great turkey dinner for the Americans who were studying there. Adam was excited, because he was hungry for some American grub. When they brought out the turkey, it was smothered with a pistachio paste of some sort. Adam couldn’t eat any of it.
Adam is 25 now and has stayed away from all things pistachio.
And I stay away from that stupid hospital… Giving a person a pepcid and sending them on their merry way….
One of my favorite things about being a mom was making Halloween costumes for my children. It is not a requirement for motherhood, of course, but I took Halloween very seriously. I didn’t have a sewing machine, so I sewed everything by hand. I was Little Susie Homemaker.
2 bee or not 2 bee.....
I dressed my son, Adam, for Halloween when he was 1 month old. I did. Of course, he just sat in his little seat as I passed out Halloween candy, but he looked adorable. I made him a little jesters outfit out of his onesie.
The picture on the right was my first real test at Halloween costume design. It’s a bit rough, but remember, I didn’t have a sewing machine. I had letters on each of their chest to read, 2 Bee or not 2 Bee, mainly because I am a sick individual, but I took them off right before we took off in the neighborhood.
I think I know how pageant moms feel. Well, not really, but I was loving the compliments my kids were getting. It validated me as a good mom. Halloween was fun. I would sit at the table and jot down ideas for crazy Halloween costume ideas. Some of my best costumes came from watching The Benny Hill Show.
Some of you young grasshoppers don’t remember Benny Hill, but he was an ornery British comedian who had wacky skits. He was hysterical. I used to watch his shows and then try to sketch some of the costumes people wore on his show. And then I put them on my kids for Halloween. One year, my son, Adam, won for best costume at McDonald’s. I dressed him like the scarecrow riding Piggy Back on the tinman. I don’t know why. Benny Hill had some man riding piggy back on an old woman. It looked so real. I even dressed my husband like that for one of our adult parties. It looked pretty good.
After the little parade walk at McDonald’s, we bought him his first hamburger and when they announced that he won, he started crying because we took the hamburger away from him so he could go get his picture taken. There was a picture of him in the newspaper and I was just beaming. I knew he was going to win because there were only a handful of homemade costumes. And homemade costumes always trumped an expensive store costume every time.
Another Benny Hill costume I took was the GunSlinger. Adam was dressed like a gunslinger, with his arms crossed, but actually his real arms were behind his back. Benny Hill had a skit where he was dueling with another gunslinger and all of a sudden, his real arms took the guns in each holster and shot his opponent. I liked that. Now, Adam looks a bit possessed in this picture. He was mad about something.
possessed gunslinger
It was a little obvious that his arms were fake, but hey, a mom can do only so much. I thought he looked like a bad guy. Maybe the manic expression was a bad boy image.
He looks a bit scary.
Now, at first, my daughter, Alexandra, loved letting me sew costumes for her. One year I dressed her like a baby chick coming out of an egg. I hand sewed each of those damn yellow feathers on her costume. She won the McDonald contest the next year.
I have to admit that I did get a bit goofy as the years wore on. Alex looked adorable the next year as a doggie. But, what you don’t see in the picture is the homemade window I made for her to carry.
How Much is that Doggie in the Window..
Yeah, that’s right. She went as How Much is That Doggie in the Window. She got mad because I made her carry it. I’m sure she didn’t understand my purpose. I didn’t even know the damn words to the song as I tried to get her to understand. she did look cute. I even found a little plastic bone to put on top of her head.
I took the scarecrow/riding on the tinman apart and Adam was just a scarecrow one year. That was the year he decided he was done with homemade costumes. I guess some kid at school called him Farmer Jones at school all day and perhaps for the rest of the year.
Well, that was the end of the homemade costumes for Adam. The next year he designed his own. He wanted to buy the Ninja turtle costume in the store, but I talked him into creating his own. He did pretty good. Alex was a cat that year.
He made the goggles out of a paper bag and brown crayon. I was proud of him.
As they grew up I had to let them do what they wanted. That’s the part of being a mom that is hard. Letting go. That year Adam was a Pittsburgh Penguin killer?? and Alex was a witch. I made the design on my sweatshirt, so that’s what was homemade that year.
The kids grew up and wore what they wanted. Alex turned into her mom and created great costumes for herself in college. I was so proud. She sent me a picture of herself in Japan when she had a hard time finding things for a costume. She ended up going as Cupid. Have a great Halloween!
So, I packed a bag this morning and had grand plans to drive to the gym right after school this afternoon. I was ready. I haven’t been on the elliptical for a month now, and was excited to get back into my exercise regiment. But, alas, it was not to happen.
After school, I changed in the teacher’s bathroom, put my hair back in a ponytail, and I was off to Healthplex. Just the thought of going put a spring in my step. Or I just liked the feel of my ponytail swishing back and forth with each perky step. I know myself, and if I drive home right after school, the chances of me going to the gym are slim. Once I sit down, I’m done. I haven’t even been walking on the Rails to Trails. And it is seriously right outside my apartment. So, I was ready.
I hopped in the car, pulled out onto the main road and looked at my watch. It was 3:45. I should be at Healthplex in 30-35 minutes. I got behind a school bus and about 5 other cars, which is normal every day. No biggie. The bus driver is great and pulls over after about 2 stops and lets the traffic go by. I wave to thank him every day and then I am off. But, wait. Why is this goldish Buick not speeding up? The bus just pulled over for us.
Dear God, I couldn’t see anyone driving. That only meant one thing- Old Lady Driver. And it was. And she had an even older, shorter woman as her passenger. She was driving about 10-20 miles per hour and almost came to a stop every time a car came toward her. Are you kidding me? It was a winding road and too narrow for her liking.
The old lady had her foot on the brake all the way down the hills. I guess she thought there were some icy patches on the road…in October. I am a patient person, but the speed limit is 40, and I think people are obliged to drive the speed limit. I don’t think she saw the 25 cars behind her. Every time there was a place to pass, there was someone coming in the opposite direction.
I started talking to her. Yes, I realize that she could not hear me, but I needed to start ranting. Some of the things that were coming out of my mouth were-
“I bet you’re going to Walmart to get cat food, right?”
“Oh, Dear God, lady, pull over and adjust your pace maker.”
“Figures….Are you freaking kidding me?…….Do not turn right…Do NOT turn right…..Shit…Figures….Of course you’re turning right.”
“Don’t you see me? I can see right up your nose , I am so close to you. Speed, up, damn you, old lady.”
“Freakin turtle………………..”
“Don’t even turn left!!!! Shit…….I am going to hit you!….I should hit you….and bump you out of the freakin road and into that cow pasture….How would you like that?”
“Come on!!! It’s 4:00..Why the hell are you out this late anywho? It’s going to be dark by the time you get to Walmart and drive back home……Shit, it will be midnight…Come onnnnnn!”
I am sure the person who was behind me was highly amused. I didn’t even look in my rear view mirror to see if it was a fellow teacher or anyone I knew. It was probably one of my student’s parents, laughing at my venting. Vickie venting. I had one hand on the wheel and was talking with the other like I was Italian. I thought the old lady would get the hint and pull over. Then it dawned on me. She wouldn’t be able to look in the rear view mirror, because that would make her drive off the road. She never used her mirrors once. Her eyes were above the steering wheel looking straight ahead. She wasn’t even talking to her passenger. Maybe her passenger was dead.
My rant continued for 30 minutes. ” Freaking Blue-Haired Turtle, pull over!!! She went my entire route. I just knew she was going to Walmart. She never went over 20 miles per hour the entire drive. I was thinking that it would be amusing if she flipped me the bird as I passed her, but she didn’t. I would have flipped me off. I was right on her butt the entire drive. She had to know I was behind her.
Well, I was quite mad by the time I pulled into the Healthplex parking lot. And the parking lot was about full. So, I just parked and sat there for a second, and then said, “Shit.” I was spent. I was done. I had no desire to punish myself on the elliptical. I could have taken my frustrations out on the machine, but I just wasn’t feeling it. I didn’t even turn off the car. I was pissed.
When you are that mad, there is only one thing you can do….
I went through McDonald’s, ordered a Quarter Pounder with Cheese meal and drove home.
My son, who just turned 25, is in his third year in grad school at WVU, working on his PHD in Economics. He is so smart. He can thank me for his general intelligence, because I am quite brilliant. I just act dumb every once in a while so people won’t feel so inferior. Tis true. ( I have friends who are chuckling right now because they call me “Blondie” every frickin day).
Adam was a Math wiz. He could tell time when he was born. His Math skills were unbelievable, really. I guess he gets that from his dad, because I ain’t too swift with math. (My fourth graders are so screwed). But, sometimes he would do something that would make me re-think this whole, “the kid’s a genius, I tell ya,” mentality. Take for example, the following story…
My husband and I were at home one evening when the phone rang. I answered it, and a voice on the other end of the phone said, “May I speak to Jessica, please.” I replied, “I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.” And I hung up. It rang again. Same lady. “May I please speak to Jessica, please.” I told her she still dialed the wrong number and I hung up again.
The phone rang a third time. “Yes, I need to talk to a Jessica Patella.” Ok, does this woman not understand? “I’m sorry. There is no one here by that name. We have had this number for years. You have dialed the wrong number.” I hung up. I just stood by the phone, because I just knew we weren’t done here.
It rang again. “Could you please put Jessica on the phone now. I need to talk to her.” What the hell? “I’m sorry, but what part of “There is no one here by that name” do you not understand? There is no Jessica Patella at this number.” And I slammed the phone down. Sheesh. This is getting monotonous.
My husband (now ex) is Italian and people think that if your last name starts with a P and ends in a vowel, that you can call someone pretty much whatever you want. We would get calls for Perrella, and Pallotta, and even Peluso. They don’t care. I was really getting tired of it. Plus, there was no Jessica in our household.
So, of course the phone rang again. I don’t know how many times I answered the phone. She was as pesky as a gnat. The phone rang again. I answered it and spoke slowly. “He…l….lo?” The lady was mad also, which I could not understand. She, after all, was the one who didn’t know who she was calling. “I need to talk to Jessica Patella right now. She called me from this number.”
“Uh, you must be mistaken. There is no Jessica Patella at this number. My daughter’s name is Alex and she is not home right now. My husband, son, and I are the only ones home.” You obviously are looking at the number incorrectly. I’m going to hang up, once again.” And I put the phone down. My husband told me not to answer the phone again.
She called seven more times, all in a row, before I couldn’t take it any longer. I answered it. “This is the last time I am going to answer the phone. Look, lady, you have the wrong number. There is NO ONE here by the name of Jessica Patella. Okay??”
She tried to be calm, but you could tell she had a bee in her bonnet. “I’m sorry. But someone by the name of Jessica Patella called in. We have the number on caller ID. It is your number. Maybe she made up a name when she called in.”
I was so confused. “I’m sorry. And who are you, if I may ask?”
“My name is _____ ______, and I am answering the phone tonight for the pregnancy hotline.
Pregnancy hotline? Dear God…
“A girl by the name of Jessica Patella called in from your number and I am not permitted to talk to you about what was said. I can say that the girl was clearly upset, crying and moaning on the phone.”
What the hell? “Pregnancy hotline?” Again, what the hell? My husband jumped up and came to stand by the phone. Pregnancy?
I was so confused because we were the only ones home, and Adam was upstairs in his room. …. With the door shut….. Oh shit. I remember Adam making up something one time for school about a patella (which is another name for a knee cap). Jessica Patella must be Adam…Great…
I asked the lady to please hold on for a second, and I called Adam downstairs.
“Adam, were you on the other line a couple of minutes ago?” He said that he was on a three-way-call-conference talking with his best friends, Evan and BethAnn. “Adam….did you just call the pregnancy hotline and tell them your name is Jessica Patella, and ……moan and hang up?” I knew it must have been Prank Phone-call night for the tweens. He said no. “Adam. Uh, there is such a thing nowadays as Caller ID. It came from this number.” He was a terrible liar. He just looked at me. He knew he was dead meat.
I didn’t even know we had something like a three way conference call. I guess they were messing around and called the Pregnancy Hotline and cried and moaned and then hung up.
And then I will cry and hang up...
After I apologized to the lady and listened to her line about calling with false information, I politely told her, “Um, excuse me, we understand the severity of calling a pregnancy hotline and moaning, and we shall take care of this.” And I hung up.
I just stared at Adam. “You are soooo grounded. Go to your room.” I gave him my death stare all the way up the stairs. I mean, seriously, a pregnancy hotline? In days of caller ID? Adam wasn’t so smart, after all. When he shut his bedroom door, I looked over at my husband.
Mothers often suffer from guilt. Many women don’t have the luxury to be able to stay home with their children. Some women don’t think of it as a luxury and don’t want to stay home. And that is ok. I lived in both worlds and they both have their pros and cons. But, that’s not the kind of guilt I am talking about here. I’m talking about not giving children what they want for Christmas. What they dream of when they are tucked in bed at night. What they want so badly that they just may die if they don’t get it.
I stood in lines to get the newest Ty Beanie Baby. One Christmas, my daughter got like 60 of them. Yeah, I went a little bonkers in my bid to get them all for her. She wanted Beanie Babies, so I delivered. My son had the Ghost Busters and Ninja Turtles that he wanted. He had the cool Ghostbuster car and all the accessories. They had Lego’s galore. I got them everything they always wanted for Christmas. They were great kids, so I acknowleged that with a fantastic Christmas each year. And that meant hunting down every single item on their list.
Sure, it was hard to find some items, but I was an awesome mom. I camped out and called places. I had connections.
But, there is such a thing as a veto. Yes, a Mom Veto. (I made this up, so it is real in my mind. If any mother would like to borrow and use the Mom Veto, by all means, have at it.) Anywho, A Mom Veto is when a mom thinks a particular item on a want list is lame. That can happen one time per child through their thirteenth birthday. I elected to use my veto one time, on my daughter, Alex. And I am still hearing about it..For the love of God….
My 23 year old daughter reminds me every once in a while that she never got an Easy Bake Oven for Christmas or a birthday.
Kid, it’s just a light bulb. Nothing will cook
That’s right. An Easy Bake Oven. I never fell for that gimmick. No Easy Bake Oven was going to come into my house. It was a frickin light bulb that cooked the cake. She had it on her Christmas list once or twice, but Santa thought that it was dangerous and messy and stupid, so he didn’t leave it under the tree on Christmas Eve.
Ok, I never told my daughter this, maybe because I filed it under For the Love of God, Things that You Do That Remind You of Your Crazy Mother. No one wants to be compared to their mother, especially if she is a loon.
But, the truth is, I wanted an Easy Bake Oven when I was like 7 or 8. I had it on my Christmas list. They came out in 1963 and I wanted one. Everyone wanted one. It was the hot topic. My friends got them on Christmas morning. I didn’t. I remember my mom telling me that they didn’t work. Well, how the hell did she know that? And if they didn’t work, why did Santa bring my friends Easy Bake Ovens, but not me? I wanted answers, damnit. And I wanted them now.
I went to my friends house and was very disappointed in my hearts desire. We mixed the cake, and patiently waited for the “ding.” When it finally dinged?… dang?…. dung?…. whatever….it was still gooey. I was pissed, yet happy, that my Santa Claus brought me something else instead of an oven that cooked a cake with a small light bulb. They must have had a different Santa Claus. A retarded one, perhaps. Because, this damn thing could not cook. Should have just been called Easy Stir for the Real Oven.
I know it’s not Christmas yet, but since they put out the Christmas items beside the Halloween and Easter and Valentine’s Day displays (I shall save that rant for another day), I was just thinking about my kids and what to get them this year. Well, it’s not going to be an Easy Bake Oven, that’s for sure.
I found out that there was a recall in 2007 for the Easy Bake Oven. Since 1963, there have been about 11 re-designs. Seems that during 2007, there were 249 reports of children getting their fingers stuck in the oven door and 16 cases of second or third degree burns and a finger amputation from the oven. Well, looks like they changed the light bulb wattage over the years. Wow. Poor little children. They will grow up to eat take-out. You know that, right?
Every girls dream in 1963…
Finger amputation….. Don’t think my future grandchildren will be getting an Easy Bake Oven.
Maybe my daughter will pass the tradition of not getting one for Christmas down to her daughter.
Enjoy this story? Jumping in Mud Puddles is now an ebook that you can download on your Kindle. Don’t have a Kindle? No problem. Amazon will let you download their Kindle app FREE…Yes, free. Have a look see. My literary debut….. Amazon.com for $3.99. It’s sort of funny.
I was a stay-at-home mom until my youngest was a junior in high school. I wouldn’t have traded the time I was able to spend with them for the world, but it was just too much “staying at home”. It was at its worse when my son, Adam, was in third grade.
We had just had a terrible winter and the kids never had school. I was so tired of the Snow Bird report on tv early in the morning. “Hey kids, there’s no school today in Marion County.” I wanted to kill that damn penguin.
Damn penguin....
One day I told the kids I was driving them to Wetzel County because they had school that day. Gonna drop them off at the door. I think they believed me. I had a bad case of cabin fever. Cabin fever like Jack Nicholson in the Shining cabin fever.
My niece and sister-in-law used to call me early, before the announcement was on tv. They had connections. Or a scanner. Anywho, they would call and just say,”No school”, or “2 hour delay.” I always had some smart-ass remark for them, especially as the cabin fever became more pronounced. “Stick a fork in me, cuz I am done” became my phrase, I guess.
One day, when the snow had finally melted and it looked like I would be able to send their butts to school, Adam became sick again. Poor Adam was sick so much when he was little. He had pneumonia several times. There is nothing worse than a child with a 105 degree fever. He had drainage all the time. It was so bad that his teacher sent me a note that his clearing his throat was driving her crazy. Well, she didn’t write that, but that is what she meant. So, after trips to his pediatrician, who I swear put him Augmentin 300 times, I took him straight to an ENT, who announced that his adenoids were so huge, he could see them. I guess you aren’t supposed to be able to see adenoids. His tonsils had to come out. The scheduled surgery was right when it looked like school was going to be back in session after the perpetual snow event of that winter. Figures..
Adam;s surgery went well and when he came home I made him a bed on the couch in our Hearth Room so he wouldn’t have to go up and down the steps for awhile. I made the HUGE mistake of giving him a bell to ring for me. I walked in after only 2 hours, and snatched the bell away from him. So, the mute improvised, and started tapping his pencil against his glass of water. I created a monster.
I really don’t remember how long he stayed home from school after he had his tonsils taken out, but I think it may have been 6 months. Ok, not 6 months, but it felt like that. His tonsils were healing nicely and he was ready to go to school. Well, that would have been nice, but that’s not what happened. He woke up one morning, and said he didn’t feel well. I felt his forehead and he felt a bit warm. I noticed that there was something on the tip his nose. At first I thought it was a booger. Kids wear boogers sometimes. I hurried and raised his pajama top. Shit. “OH MY GOD!” I said out loud. I never cursed in front of the kids, but if I did, I would have said something like this-” Are you shitting me?…… Damnit!” Yeah, Adam was breaking out with chicken pox.
Chicken pox. A stupid disease. I mean, what the hell? I was just in the house all winter, then he had his tonsils removed, and now chickenpox. Real funny. Poor kid…… Poor Poor Mom.
So, in the house we stayed. We played with PlayDoh and colored and played with Lego’s. I loved my time with him, but I really needed to get out of the house. After another six months (ok, I exaggerate), he woke up one day, and was ready to go to school. Yay.
Not so fast. I have two kids.
Yeah, that’s right. Alex broke out with chicken pox.
What a rough winter. Don’t get me wrong. I loved being home with my kids. But, when you are stuck in the house because the snow has piled up and you are stranded, it just gets to you. I wish I had a maze like they did in the Shining, so I could have chased my husband with an axe.
Cabin Fever
He got to leave every day. He got to see people. “You got to see people at the hospital,” was his explanation. Big Whoop. Like I wanted to enter Room 122 and talk to someone with The Elephant Man disease….I had to get the hell out of the house. I NEEDED to get in the car and drive around. But, you can’t. It is snowing non-stop and Snowbird is singing his stupid song. Adam had a penguin collection when he was little. I swear it is because he anticipated the SnowBird Report every morning that winter and liked seeing that penguin.
I was pissed when a chickenpox vaccine came out for children. That’s what’s wrong with the young parents of today. You don’t have to walk two miles to school every day with a piece of cardboard placed in their shoe like I did. Ok, not me, but I heard that from one of my damn relatives. You young grasshopppers have it too easy. Your child should get chickenpox like everyone did before…… In fact, I think you guys should line up for a shot of polio to the shoulder like I had to…. And put butter on your burns…And breathe in some asbestos while you are at it…..
Sorry for ranting, but you get my drift. Or you will this winter.
My literary debut. Amazon.com for $3.99.
