The time I thought one thing meant another

In the spirit of the Olympic Games I felt it fitting to tell a short story about my English language misconceptions as a child.

As a small child I was fairly neutral when it came to bath time. I didn't get really excited about it, but I didn't resist much either. I kind of just went with the flow. I do remember spending a fair amount of time "dancing in my underwear" before we (my sister and I) hopped in the tub. There was an incident that also sticks in my mind having to do with a ball point pen and hand drawn tattoos of stars on my bare butt. The tub times that I speak of took place on the farm in Elk Point. This is the same upstairs "Family" Bathroom where I would stand on the tub to get a drink out of the toothpaste crusted community cup and it was always warm because the warm handle and spout were all I could reach while standing on the tub. Warm, farm water.......not great. But I digress.

So my mother and father would both bathe us as we were about 5 and 7 years of age. We did a pretty good job on our own, but they were mostly there just to make sure we scrubbed behind our ears and actually washed our hair. When my mom helped us rinse ourselves off it was just your basic spray down with the telephone shower head. My father on the other hand must have been overly cautious of "touching" us wrong because I remember him specifically telling us where to wash and what to do. When it was time for our rinse, he would have us stand in the tub and he'd say, "Spread Eagle" and we'd both jump with our legs apart like a jumping jack in the tub for the spray down. I guess he just wanted to make sure we were rinsed completely. Now, the only time I'd ever heard this term was at precisely that moment of nakedness. When I first heard it on the olympics at probably age 8 or 9 I gasped and ran out of the room. It was like I'd heard a dirty word. My mom came and found me and explained to me that all it meant was that you spread your legs and arms apart. It had nothing to do with nakedness.

The funny part is, to this day, while watching the Women's moguls last night, when they were talking about the 35 year OLD woman from the US doing the Spread Eagle jump. I have to admit, I blushed a little.

The time I camped out

Ah, there was a time in my life when things just worked! I had moved halfway across the country to live with my "summer romance" crush that I had been in love with since I was 12. My parents had basically disowned me, but I was free, independent, I was working a job that I really enjoyed (Pharmacy Tech at Walgreens) and I was getting a 4.0 at the University of Wisconsin-Oshkosh. Finally, My major was that which I was interested and also excelled. Life was challenging, but just predictable enough that I felt safe. I was sure that "Mr. Summer Romance" was the one and he told me almost daily that I was his ONE.

Let me just say right now, I am so glad that he wasn't the one. It turns out so much better that he ended up being the "NOT THE ONE". Because what came along after that, SOOOOO much better. I can't really even say more about that.

So, the night I camped out.

Like I said, life was candy and roses. I was in this amazing bliss. There was just one thing I didn't consider. This guy, was a cheater. He had always been a cheater, but somehow had masked it well and possibly had even been clean for a while. Regardless, we were coming to the end of our lease at the Archie Bunker Houses and decided to lease across the street at "RIVERSIDE" apartments. These places were Pimp! Underground parking, elevator, giant pool, hot tub, balcony overlooking the Fox River. Basically it was the SHIZNIT. We moved in around the end of May or June. We had been living together for a little over 2 years. All I can say is that everything (and I mean EVERYTHING) was perfect. That was why we decided to buy some furniture together. Bedroom set, Living room set and all of it new and very modern NOW stuff. Dropped about $1200 total probably.

We move in in June and his Birthday is June 19th (I think) yeah so he turns 21 and let me tell you, THE FIT HIT THE SHAN. He was out every night, not coming home, lying, sleeping in his car the works. We finally had a huge blowout at Country America (This huge 3 day festival of country music in Oshkosh). You see, he wanted to drive drunk with his buddies in a Winnebago up to some po-dunk town 20 miles away at 1 in the morning and .......well, I didn't think it was a good idea. He didn't care what I thought. Didn't turn out well.

I left and went to stay with my sister in Minneapolis for a few days and when I came back things just fell apart slowly. He left and moved out (This was July 4th approximately one month into our 12 month lease). He didn't really even give an explanation. I know this sounds like a pathetic crazy freak, but the day I came home from work and all his stuff was gone, I couldn't breathe. I had like a mini panic attack and I thought the world was ending.

Lucky for me the world didn't end. It was great actually. After I found that I could no longer sleep in that $800 bed without waking up gasping and knowing full well I hadn't been breathing I decided to bring up our camping gear from storage and I set it up out in the empty living room (He had taken all the living room furniture except my big green chair). I camped out there for nearly 2 months. It seems strange now to think about it, but inside that tent, it was a different world. Even though I couldn't leave that horrible place we shared and get rid of every memory of us,I honestly could zip that tent shut and it was gone. Best sleep I've had in most of my life.

Next time: I really don't know 'til it just comes to me in the middle of peeling an apple or something.

The time I made Jell-o Jigglers

At my same little "Archie Bunker House" in Oshkosh I was up to dinkin' in the kitchen. I was making Jell-o Jigglers for no particular reason. Now, I'm not sure how to reveal what happens in this story in a climactic type way. Here goes. My cat, he is very skilled at using his paws. He can extract a single pounce out of the canister with his paw and eat it right out of the palm of his kitty hand. He has been also know to "Scoot" food, undetected, to the edge of a coffee table, knock it off and snatch it in his gob. This little trick is amazing to watch with pizza crusts. He has been doing this crap for years. The strategy is to hide under the coffee table during a distracting movie or juicy conversation with a friend (that usually involved comfort food). Once he has been silent for a good period of time he will reach a paw out from under the table (picture the arm of a pro basketball player hanging on the hoop after he's dunked the ball) the extension is more of a HOOK than a grab. Usually, there is a moment or two of feeling his way around the table for the food. Many times at this stage he is caught. A simple, "Marten, NO!" will cause the paw to retreat and he will not try again for at least 5 minutes. Eventually though, the movie or conversation is so distracting that he manages not only to locate the food with his "hook paw", but successfully drags it to the edge where it inconspicuously falls to the floor and is devoured in seconds.

Now I feel as though I've given it away already with that set up. Oh well, it's still a fun story. So Marten decided to use the "hook paw" to find out what I was making on the counter in the kitchen that day. All I'm going to say is there were 2 full packets of gelatin mixed in with that Jell-o and it was still very warm. An entire 9X13 inch pan full of RED, super gelatin, not yet firmed up Jigglers was "hook paw"ed down on Marten. He was so surprised that he immediately darted out of the room and up the stairs, leaving a trail of RED goo behind him. I caught him in a towel, but he was so mad, violently slashing at me that I couldn't even get him cleaned off. He refused to be touched, much less cleaned. So, I just let him go.

It took him 3 days to lick that pan of Jell-o off of himself. Matted little hairball with a red tongue he was. I didn't really mind cleaning up the mess in the kitchen. I think the look on his face and all that time he had to spend licking up Jell-o were very much worth it. He occasionally will do the "hook paw" from under the coffee table, but he has never again tried it at the kitchen table or counters. Curiosity didn't KILL the cat, but the crime scene sure looked like a homicide.

Next post; Some humorous story from my journal circa 1997

The time I heard the Donna Lewis song, "I Love You Always Forever"

Living in Beade Hall in Vermillion, SD. My freshman year of college and I had a major crush on this guy named Kevin. He was a little like Conan O'Brian meets Kirk Cameron (Hey, be nice Growing Pains was a huge hit when I was growing up and I crushed on MIKE for years).

Lucky for me I knew a guy. One of my friends in the Mickleson part of the building lived on the same floor as Kevin. In fact, Kevin was the RA on the first floor. Needless to say I did a lot of visiting. Although Joe was probably crushed to hear it, I wasn't really ecstatic about spending that much time playing xbox with his football friends. The guy from Alabama with the moronic accent and his little packets of Cream of Wheat that he ate with salt on them like grits. Honestly, the things a girl will do to get to the one she thinks she can't live without.

On with the story. One night I am walking the hall looking for Joe. He's no where to be found. I knew, however that Kevin was on duty as RA that night so he was likely out and about. The halls were empty. I walked up one side and down the other looking for any sign of community and an open door where Joe may be hanging out. The place is like a ghost town. Finally I decide to just head back to my room when I hear that Donna Lewis song,"I LOVE YOU ALWAYS FOREVER" playing behind one of the doors nearby. Now, at this time I am totally in love with the song. I can't just go on itunes and download it for 99 cents, I'd have to buy the album in VERMILLION which was easily like $16.99. I didn't hear it often enough that I was bored of it yet so I wanted a free listen. I walked a few doors down tuning into the song trying to find which room it was coming from.

Yeah, "I love this song" I whisper to myself as I'm leaning in, pressing my ear against the door. I'm starting to think the walk down there was worth it just to hear the song. Then I'm feeling a grumbling in my belly. Well, let's be honest, it was more in my guts. I didn't really pay much attention to it because it was fairly normal around that time of night that I would have a little gas. Not a problem cuz there's no one around for like miles and they usually slip out slowly with little evidence detectable to passers by.

"BOO" someone screams and I jump like at least 3 feet in the air slamming my head against the door and falling slightly backward due to the jet blast that exuberantly exits my rear end. I turn around and to my horror, it's Kevin. His face is just as beet red as mine having witnessed the gas attack first hand. "Wow!" he says, "I must have really scared you"

"Yup", I mumble and start blurting about the song and just whatever I could think of to distract him. We then walked on his rounds for about half an hour just chatting. Nothing ever really developed with my love interest and I blame it all on cafeteria food, bad timing and that Donna Lewis song.

Tomorrow: How curiosity turned my cat red.

The time I first went to Woodmen Valley Chapel

This should be an inspiring one right?
I get invited to a lingerie party at Eden. At this time, Eden was still fairly new and this was an invite only party. I figure I'll go and wear some sexy outfit that basically looks like a dress. No booby tassels or fishnets, wait- I did wear fishnets. Anyway, so I wear this hella tight little body sock thing that goes under a dress. It's all black and it covers everything that's important to cover. Breasts, belly, back, butt and came about 2 inches above my knees. Fairly conservative for a lingerie party if I say so myself.

The party's fun, but gets boring and Eden is not a great fun place to dance (at least it wasn't at this time) We decide to go to Rum Bay. Now, Stop right there cuz I know what you're thinking. RUM BAY?? Seriously, but understand this was KARA B and at this time life revolved around 3 things; Gin Martinis, Dancing and Karaoke. C'mon people, Rum Bay has all these things, plus tons of crazy bastards to just watch and shake your head at.

So the decision was made. Rum Bay. My (so-called) friends were headed home to "change clothes" which I later learned meant, crash for the night and never come back. I didn't need to go home and change cuz I had brought my favorite black strappy dress to just put on over top of my underwear thing. I ended up at Rum Bay by myself, but I honestly barely noticed. When I got to the door, I asked the bouncer if I had to put my dress on to get in and he just kind of gave me this look like WTF? So, I was carrying my dress in one hand and cell phone in the other. My money and ID were stuffed in my fishnet stockings............Wow, never really realized how bad this story is until I sat down to type it out.

I went straight to copy cats to sing Piano Man and Hurt So Good. While I was up singing I left my dress draped over the chair and disposable camera and phone on the table. When I came back from singing the second time, my effects had disappeared. I searched all over that bar (all 7 bars) looking for that dress and my phone. Every time I said it I got weirder and weirder looks. "Someone stole my dress and my phone" and then they just looked at me like, WTF?? So I just quit telling people.

I looked all over and finally gave up the search. I was outside Rum Bay crying when a group of people came up and asked me if I wanted them to pray with me. I was kind of like, Well......couldn't hurt. Maybe I can find my phone and dress through some divine intervention. We pray, I feel a little better. Still mad about the dress and then now that I'm feeling bad about those other things,I'm also feeling pretty bad about being out at the bar BY MYSELF without a phone or a ride. These nice praying people offer me a ride and I accept. The condition is that I go with them the next day to church and they will take me to my car afterward. I happily agree thinking they'll never come get me for church the next morning and I'll find a ride down here later.

The next day I woke up, got ready and went to church. Dude was there on the dot to pick me up. That was the first Sunday that I ever went to Woodmen Valley Chapel. See THAT!?!? Sometimes you get drunk and robbed and end up crying in your underwear while weirdos just try to help you by saying a prayer for you and it's just like my Mother-in-Law says, "It always works out in the end." Pshhhhaaaat.

Tomorrow: I love that Donna Lewis Song "I Love You Always Forever"

The time I made home improvements

During college I had been living in one of those old row houses like Archie Bunker lived in. There was a very low pile carpet on the 15 super steep steps all the way to the top, but the same carpet that was in the hallway upstairs, wrapped under the top step instead of being a part of the "stair strip". Anyway, that top flap of carpet was loose and had been flapping and catching on my foot every time I climbed the stairs. I had tripped on it more than a dozen times since we moved in and one of those times I just happened to be carrying my new imac (As in, ALL IN ONE, HEAVY AS CRAP, MOSTLY MONITOR.

My roommate borrowed a staple gun and said he would fix the stairs. I didn't really know when that would end up being and I got really sick of waiting. So, after a week of looking at the stupid stapler in the kitchen, I decided that I'd just fix the thing myself. I'm actually pretty handy. Most of the time I'd be able to handle a job like this no problem.

This particular staple gun was a newer model. Not like my Dad's old trusty rusty. I was poised at the top of the staircase. Please try to imagine.I'm holding the loose carpet down to the underside of the step with my thumb and middle finger of my left hand. My left knee is resting on the lower step. I'm holding the staple gun upside down to get the staple to go up into the step and hold the carpet. So, my right hand is twisted down around the underside of the step all ready to pull the trigger.

I must mention,here, that my father's staple gun always made staples exit from the blunt end (at least that's how I remember it) I ,of course have the blunt end facing up under the step. Then, I'm thinking to myself that I need a little leverage, some counter pressure on the stapler so it doesn't just go flying when I fire.

I brace the other end of the staple gun with my right knee, aim and fire. Whoa Damn,that thing has got a kick like a shot gun. I am pretty impressed with myself. I move my hand down about 2-3 inches to secure the next section of carpet when I start to feel a HEAT in my kneecap. It's the strangest sensation. I look down at my bare knee (I was wearing shorts) and there is a staple just fixed right in it. And when I saw it I got a little shaky but pulled it out right away. It kind of just looked like a little snake bite for about a week. Two little puncture wounds.

Quite obviously the staples come out "not the blunt end" of this stapler. Whoops.

Tomorrow; The time somebody stole my favorite black strappy dress and phone at Rum Bay

The time I didn't pass in the passing lane

Driving home from DIA in July on I-25 just 5 miles North of Castle Rock or so. I am in my Honda Civic.Let's just, as a side note here mention that although I've been driving a stick for nearly 15 years I tend to forget about down shifting to increase my speed in order to pass other cars. Okay, that being said I am driving in an area where A) the elevation is kicking my car's ass, B)there are like a million hills that are also kicking my car's ass and C) the afore mentioned spacing of the down shift to increase speed and pass is kicking my car's ass.

I pull out to pass this rover cuz I'm headed downhill and I'm easily going 4-6 mph faster than her when I pull up from behind. So I'm coasting past and we start heading uphill. Shit, so I start to kind of chug cuz I'm in 5th gear. I'm keeping neck and neck with her though. Because I've now failed to realize that this is when I should downshift and just get around her, I continue to just cruise along right beside her. Well, this pisses off the guy behind me cuz he's obviously in the passing lane to PASS. He flashes me and I'm starting to sweat. I get really nervous on the road when people are on my tail. Anyway, I've got my gas pedal floored (in 5th gear) and I can't go any faster. I try to slow down a bit, but the guy is right up my tailpipe, so I just pray for another hill and wait. Terrible! I start loosing ground to the rover and the guy behind me is not letting up. He brights me AGAIN. K, so now I'm getting more than nervous. He's, frankly, pissing me off.

I slam on my breaks, throw my hands up in the air in a huge shrug to say, "What on God's Green Earth would you like me to do with you shoved up my butt?" and then I just go right ahead and flip him the bird.

Just about then, the red and blue strobes fire up on his dash.

Seriously? I just flipped a cop the bird. Shit.

So I pull over and I am steaming. He walks up to the car. Here's what he says,"That is what we call Road Rage and in Colorado, it's a big problem".

I'm shooting the guy daggers and all I say is, "You were on my ass, you wouldn't give me a break. That's all the faster my car would go. What the Cripe (only I didn't say Cripe) did you want me to do?

I think he actually felt bad for me. He did also mention that when driving a 10 year old 5 speed Civic "'round these parts" it would be beneficial to DOWN SHIFT to pass.
I thanked him and said I'd try to remember that. Good Day. Good Day.