BUSTED!

Just for the record, never try to a pull a fast one on your mother because she will ALWAYS find out! Once upon a time, I tried to get away with something that was completely harmless and relatively normal by most high school age standards. I tried to cut school. Yes, it's true. This girl could show a little rebellious streak upon occasion. Unfortunately, my rebellions always ended up an epic fail. I really should have learned from those... On this particularly warm spring day, a couple of girlfriends (who shall remain nameless)and myself decided to ditch out of study hall. At the time, we had two study halls- back to back- and had permanent passes to the band room. So, no one would miss us, right? I said Right?!? Wrong. Going out the back door of the band room, up the block, over a block and then down the block to head toward downtown, trying to avoid being seen from the high school windows and the students trapped therein. We were clipping along at a pretty good pace and chatting as we were walking along not paying attention to much of anything until we hit the Dime store (Schultz Bros.) downtown. We were checking out the albums and cassette tapes among other things when all of a sudden I hear "Ahem!" I looked up and felt myself turn pale as a ghost. There stood my mother with a look that would have frozen water. If looks could kill, I would have been lying on the floor. I swear to God she nailed us to the floor with that look. We stared at her in absolute horror- good feelings gone. Oh great. That's it. I'm toast. I am going to get the electric chair for certain. thirty seconds may have only passed but it felt like forever. She pointed a finger at us and then to the car outside the store. With each of us hanging our heads, we all but ran to the car and scrambled in. Mom stomped out the store, climbed in, started the car and drove us back to school. That was the longest 3 minutes of my life. She never said a word the entire time but, Boy Howdy! Did her silence speak volumes! You could feel the anger wash over you in waves and the tension was so think you could have cut it with a chainsaw. No knife could cut thru that type of tension, baby! When we got to school she drove around and dropped us off at the band room back door (which surprised us and made us very relieved to not be marched into the front office to serve a detention for skipping class). I could barely look at her as I opened the car door. My friends mumbled "sorry and thank you" and jumped out of the car as quickly as they could. I put one foot out the door and she grabbed my left wrist- not in a tight grip, but enough to let me know that I was in some very deep doodoo. I turned to look at her and she gave me a radiant smile and said "Have a good afternoon!" Now, don't be fooled by that smile. It wasn't the "hey, nice try, that was funny that you failed!" it was the "you better enjoy your afternoon, because this may be your last one on earth!" How did she know we were there? Simple. People saw us walking past their houses, one just happened to be my aunt's house, she called my mother at work and asked if we "didn't have school today because Jenny just walked past my house with a couple of other girls." It was 115 in the afternoon. Note to self...next time you decide to do something stupid like skip school, make sure you don't walk past a relative's house.

Heirloom

The greatest gift I could have ever received from my parents is my sense of humor. It has gotten me thru bad times and good times. It has gotten me thru difficult situations that had no possible pleasant outcome, it has gotten me thru arguments with family and friends, it has gotten me thru sad times, thru church services, thru graduations, thru weddings and funerals (some could argue that this is the same thing) and it has gotten me thru long and tedious car rides (so did sleeping). REcently I paused to reflect on my- some would say bizarre and twisted- sense of humor and realized that because of my parents, as well as my grandparents, I have learned to deal with a lot of day to day occurences with my wit. For example, when that guy flies by you on the interstate just to pull in front of you because he needed to be first off the off ramp, I generally quip "Well, that was productive. I was worried I wouldn't have some jackass to follow to work." Or, if they go flying by you at Mach 12, I say "What's the matter, cowboy? Are you late for your accident?" Now, some may call this sarcasm, and they would be correct. I am fluent in sarcasm. I practice it every day so I don't appear rusty when the proper situation calls for it. Which, is pretty much every waking hour of my life. Although, I have been known to be rather sarcastic in my dreams as well. Some people understand sarcasm, some do not. It is the ones that do not understand sarcasm that I have the most fun with. But then, I am a bit sadistic in that aspect. I have learned thru careful teaching and example that life is too short to be so serious all the time. Oh, don't worry, I know when it is time to be an adult and address certain situations in a serious manner. That I have learned as well. But it is when the situation that has been blown completely apart or you are dealing with a particularly difficult co-worker or telemarketer that the best sense of humor comes out. Me: Hello? Telemarketer: Yes is Mrs. Jan-dit there? Me: No, Mrs Jan-dit is my mother-in-law, you can call her at (555) 555-5555...click. If you cannot pronounce my name then obviously, you are not looking for me. Or when dealing with those annoying political phone calls...Me; Hello? TM: Who are you voting for in this year's election? Me: (in my best British accent) Oh, I'm sorry, dear, I'm not from your country so I am not allowed to vote. Cheerio!...click. I have a tendency to look at the humor in nearly almost every situation. To go around being serious all the time has got to be such a chore! I wake my children up each morning with a song. Generally a song I have made up and is particularly annoying to my school age children who find that 630 am is far too early to wake up on weekdays (but totally acceptable on weekends). I make up words on the spot and frankly, I think they are pretty brilliant. Even more-so when I get stuck on a word and one of my children sings a rhyming word that fits perfectly. Humor is hereditary. It is something you think of every day, goofy songs or jokes you remember doing as a kid and running gags within a family unit. So, I would like to say a great big THANK YOU to my parents, my grandparents, my aunts and uncles and cousins and my sisters and my dear friends for enriching me with their sense of humor every day of my life and for listening to my stupid jokes, silly songs and witty comments. It is the best heirloom there is.

Happy New Year!! zzzzzz...

I have come to the realization that I am becoming too old to enjoy New Year's Eve. Why? You ask? Is it because I am in my early 40's and I really just want to go to bed and enjoy a good night's sleep? Well, yes, that is part of it, but the main reason is, I find that I do not suffer fools gladly any more. I cannot tolerate people who become so inebriated that they either wet themselves or vomit all over themselves or poor innocent victims in the general vicinity at the time of stomach explosion. These people need to be slapped in a cab and driven to the nearest hospital for detox. I am too old to go hang out in bars full of college age kids or wannabe college kids who are acting ridiculous and spilling drinks and close talking all night even tho they are yelling in my ear above the outrageously loud and horrible music that is blaring. I don't like crowds. And that is fine. Everyone has their "thing." I would much rather spend New Year's Eve with a few close friends in my home having a nice dinner and some drinks and perhaps a board game or two and perchance a movie. Call me boring. I don't care. When I was in college I had a couple of New Year's Eves like the afore mentioned partying. Did I regret it the next day? Generally not because I do not enjoy the feeling of "being drunk" or out of control. I really don't. Most of the time I was the one driving people home or holding their hair while they worshipped at the "porcelain god" in the ladies room. I was a good friend. Now that I am older, I am thankful that I remember more New Year's Eve antics than most people have forgotten or can remember themselves. Most of the time I have pictures to prove that people actually really did dance on the bar or table, or they actually did wet themselves or perhaps do drunken cartwheels. I am a good friend.

That's Amore'!!

PIZZA!! What kid doesn't love pizza? That tasty lip-smacking round (and sometimes square in certain areas and countries)tomato-y, cheesey slice of heaven? I always loved pizza night at our house growing up. Mom would make some dough from scratch and other times from Peter Pan Instant Pizza Dough (just add water and oill)and whip out the pizza fixin's. Mozzarella cheese, hamburger, green olives...mmm-mmm! That's good eatin'! Nothing was better than Mom's homemade pizza. Pizza night rocked because we would get to drink Pepsi with our pizza. When we were much younger we would drink Kool-aid there was only 1 sccop of sugar in that. But, Pizza and Pepsi night was something we really looked forward to. It was usually before 4-H meetings or Trick-or-Treating because it was fast and easy and the caffeine/sugar rush helped to keep us awake for a few hours. When I was a teenager I would to stay at my friend, Lisa's, house and we would add our own toppings to a pizza. Extra cheese (nearly an inch and a half thick), a can of mushrooms (just the small can), green olives ( a lot of those...) and pepperoni. Had to make sure we had the meat on there for protein, you know. We had all four food groups on that bad boy...and it only took nearly 25 minutes to bake because it was so huge. It would take two of us to lift it to get it in the oven then, we would sit back and wait. in the meantime, we would play a game of Trivial Pursuit to keep us occupied. *DING* Pizza's done!! Do you smell something? Something...burning? NOT THE PIZZA!! Quick, throw open the oven, reach in grab the pizza, burn your hand before you remember to get an oven mitt, turn off oven because...DUH!, grab oven mitt while Lisa fans the smoke out of your face, grab the pizza pan quickly and throw it on the counter, throw baking soda on the burning cheese at the bottom of the oven to squelch the flames, run to the smoke alarm and rip the batteries out of it to shut it up, throw open the front door to get the smoke out of the house, remember that you burned the hell out of your hand, run to the faucet and put it under cold water to prevent blistering, ask Lisa about the welfare of the pizza. "Pizza's fine, oven is not.." Wait 10 minutes for the pizza to cool enough so you can cut it with a pizza cutter, pick up a slice and watch all the good stuff slide off and land with a plop on your lap, run screaming to the bathroom to jump into a cold shower fully clothed because you are burning a hole into your upper thigh, peel your wet cheesy jeans off and wrap a towel around your waist while asking where the burn ointment is, locate said burn ointment and slather it on thickly to injured area, find your pair of sweatpants that you were going to wear to bed and put those on so they don't rub against your injured thigh, go back to kitchen that is nearly smoke-free, cautiously have a seat at the table while smiling weakly to your best friend. "How's that pizza?" "Pretty good. How's yours?" Smartass...

Conniption Fit

"Your father is going to have a conniption when he sees this!" I heard this a LOT growing up and just recently found out just exactly what a "conniption fit" actually was. Mainly because, I was the one having the conniption fit. This was pointed out to me by my 8-year-old son after I told him repeatedly to pick up the pieces of cardboard box that he had strewn about the living room. He was cutting apart a box to make a pair of "wings" for God knows what, and had failed to clean up after himself. So, after telling him more firmly each time to "Clean up this MESS!", I finally lost it. I stormed into the living room and started picking up everything and throwing it into the garbage can. Cardboard, pieces of duct tape, entire rolls of duct tape, scissors, movies, pillows, cats, small children, couches...it all went into the garbage. The entire time I am yelling nonsensical phrases like, "I have had enough...crap.." and "how many times..." and my personal favourite, "shmiggermiggermahger." Now, I really have no idea what that last word/phrase was supposed to be, I was just so incensed about my request being ignored that I apparently started speaking in tongues. My 14 year-old daughter burst out laughing, "What the heck does that mean?!" she said laughing at me until tears rolled down her cheeks. I don't think she understood the threat of death at this point I was so furious, but seeing her laughing at my angry outburst made me stop and take a look from their point of view. A middle-aged woman stomping around the living room, hair flying, eyes shooting fire, arms flailing and throwing stuff in a garbage bag al the while muttering and yelling to no one in particular. At first I was astounded that they weren't terrified of the Wrath of Mom, but stepping back, I realized how ridiculous I must have looked. Less threatening than the Hulk and more bordering on angry/insane clown. "Don't laugh at me! I am really ticked off!" I tried the threatening voice but it came out more like a hysterical scream. That, of course, sent my daughter into more gales of laughter. At this point, I turn to glare angrily at my son, who turned twinkling big brown eyes to me and said, "Geez Mom, don't have a conniption." Deflated...rant over...

Better...Faster...Stronger...

I used to think that Lee Majors was pretty awesome mainly because the faster he ran, the slower he would go. I mean, seriously! Even tho the bad guy would see him running at a snails pace at him and try to run for some reason he was held back by some invisible force field that only allowed him to run in extreme slow motion therefore leaving him wide open for capture by The Six Million Dollar Man. For YEARS (ok, that is an exageration...it was only for about the first 30 minutes of the episode) I thought that the faster "Steve Austin" ran time would stand still for the villian no matter what his infraction was. It could have been jaywalking and Steve Austin would have tackled him to the ground. Then I figured out they just slowed down the film. That was a disappointment... My cousin, Tanya, and I used to play The Six Million Dollar Man and The Bionic Woman a lot as youngsters. And of course, whenever we were getting ready to pounce and capture the bad guy, as per the television show, we would start running real slow with exagerated movements. Even our speech was slow. Hey, sometimes art imitates life! I usually was Steve Austin (I was older and bigger) and Tanya was Jamie Summers (because she had blonde hair- duh). Unfortunately, we didn't have the cool track suits that they wore so we put masking tape down our sleeves and pant legs. That helped us to be "better...faster...stronger" obviously. And our "recharging tent" was a blanket hanging over the swingset. Hey! You had to make do with what you had available and we definately weren't running short on imagination! After an exhausting afternoon of saving the world from imminent peril and destruction, we liked to cool off with a nice Diet Rite. Because that is what the Six Million Dollar Man Lee Majors would drink after a long workout or a day of saving the world. Or maybe I should have had a Rondo... (google it)

Back To School

Ah! Back to school time... the time for notebooks, pencils, crayons and new tennis shoes! The time when parents go broke buying the required gear for the start of a new school year. As a kid I looked forward to getting my school supplies, a new backpack, new tennies and that treasured of all school supplies...a new lunchbox. Back in the day we had our choice of lunchbox themes and not only that, they were metal lunchboxes with a matching thermos! I recall my first lunchbox was when I was in First grade. It was a Peanuts lunchbox. Charlie Brown, Snoopy, Lucy, Linus, Sally and Schroeder graced my lunchbox in colourful cartoon panels and came with a matching thermos that had Snoopy doing his dance of joy that said "LUNCHTIME!" above his dancing head. For first grade, it was a pretty cool lunchbox. I used that lunchbox for two whole years until the hinges finally wore out and broke and frankly, I had outgrown it by Third grade. I was growing up and Charlie Brown and Snoopy were so First Grade. Mom took me shopping for Third Grade school supplies and it came time to pick out a new lunchbox. I scanned the shelves for one that fit my fancy...Dukes of Hazzard (nah, that's a boy's lunchbox), The Beverly Hillbillies (weren't they from the 60's?), the Brady Bunch (another oldie but goody), Scooby Doo,The Bionic Woman, The Six Million Dollar Man...and then suddenly...(insert Halleluia music here)there it was...a Wonder Woman lunchbox. Lights shown down on the beautiful sparkling red and gold double "W" and white stars on a field of royal blue. The front panel had Wonder Woman in action with her lasso of truth and the back panel had her in her invisible jet. I had to have it. The thermos inside had Wonder Woman on one side and Diana Prince (her alter-ego) on the other. It was mine. I used that lunchbox everyday for 3 years until I hit 6th grade. Wonder Woman was still cool but I didn't want it to break as the hinges were getting rusty. So, I moved on to a Miss Piggy plastic lunchbox. Miss Piggy was cool since 'The Muppet Movie' had just come out and hey! I wanted to trend! However, I still held on to that Wonder Woman lunchbox because, after all...I AM Wonder Woman. Recently watching an episode of "Toy Hunter" on the History Channel, the host of the show Jordan found that exact lunchbox, the one I treasured quite highly from my youth. He bought it from the owner for $35 without the thermos. He then proceeded to take it to Comic Con in San Diego and sold it to a collector who HAD the thermos but needed the lunchbox for (are you ready for this?) $300!!! All of a sudden, I am not feeling too attached to this lunchbox anymore...