Good Morning lovelies, and it is a good morning because of your love. We are now moving onward, upward and back to the insanity of my thoughts.
One of you sweeties out there, her initials are Georgina (and now I've come back in here to edit and tell you, read her story in her comment. It's a whole funny post all by itself), told me yesterday about an adventure she had with her Dad and brother Fred. Seems they went camping and fishing at a place called Blue Lake in Arizona. Cold she claims, but then it's Georgina right???, even in July. After catching the fish, they went to the same place to clean them everytime. So, as she watched the silvery heads of the newly caught fish sink into the waters of Blue Lake, the disturbance of that caused the old nasty, already becoming part of nature, rotten fishy heads to churn up to the top. Yucky picture huh? Well, it was the analogy of my situation and it has helped greatly. Fish heads ya'll. It's only fish heads.
Now to my fishy tale. My brother loved to fish. He also loved to be a stinker. Always was a big tease. Miss him lots, especially his "evil", I'm thinking of something to get into grin. Keep in mind he was 11 years older than me. So as a young child I would do anything for him. I loved to help him make my Sis scream.
After fishing he would clean the fish and let me "see, feel, experience" all the inside information of the fish. I loved that. Guts, goo, fish heads, LOL. So on his advice, I took his pocket knife and extracted the fish eyes. They are pretty cool really. I really thought I would grow up and have some kind of scientific job, boy was I wrong. I would have made a great pathologist or mortician with my sense of humor. But as usual,I digress. I took the eyeballs, put them alcohol in a pimento jar, and put them in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom that I shared with my Sis. Remember I am 4 at the time.
Well, I forgot all about the fish eyes, but the smell was getting pretty ripe to my sisters nose. She went looking for the offending "smelly thing". I can remember plain as day, that I was sitting at the kitchen table, with my brother and mother having oatmeal cookies when Sis found the eyes. She let out this gawd awful scream, threw the jar against the wall, (drama has always been her thing), and came running, tears streaming down her cheeks, screaming she was going to kill me. I got up and hid behind my brother, who was howling with laughter. Sis, regaled us with her tale of woe. Mother's brows began to knit with frustration and disgust.
Mother never even asked us if we did it. I mean it's not like I hadn't put worms under Sis's pillow, or pill bugs (rolly pollys) in her shoes, or got paid a quarter to bug her while she was on the phone with her boyfriend, or got a dollar to sit between them on the couch. But, hmmmmmm how did Mother know??? Funny about that huh. She turned to my Brother and said you will clean it up. And to me, go get a switch.
I don't know if you will know what that means to get a switch, but when time came for us to get spanked, she would always send us to find a branch, albiet small, from the willow tree in the back yard. If you came back with a twig, she would go find the appropriate size required for the crime and trust me, you didn't want to do that. In many ways, it was a time, looking back as an adult, for her to calm down, for us to think about the crime and give us all the space to begin to deal with it. And I have to say the switch was a hellofa lot better than her hand. My sister volunteered to find the switch, really????. And while she did so, my brother told me a secret. Rotten brat. "If you laugh while Mother is spanking you, she will not spank as hard or as long". Yep, you see it coming, my naive self buying the whole song and dance from this crazy boy I adored. Remember I am only 4.
I go to meet Mother in the backyard and she commences to spank and talk. Maybe it is in all of us. Found myself several times as an adult, folding laundry, hand beating a cake, or kneading bread and talking at the same time. Doing this kinda talking. It is sort of a strident, left, right, left, right cadance. So as she spanked the words came out .....don't-you-ev-er-do-that-a-gain-do-you-hear-me? And I tried to laugh. It pissed her off. So she gave me a couple more whacks and then called my brother to join us outside. The smirk was gone from his face right quick. She sat us down and told us not to pick on Sis anymore. We agreed and got while the getting was good.
Yeah and today is what day??? The day John and his evil little sister sidekick give up picking on her "heinie, the queen of scream". I think not. Sad to say, John moved on the next year to cars, guitars, girls and dancing. We still had some good times and I did, when "she" wasn't looking try to smile while she was spanking.
I have pictures of his skinny self with a cowboy hat, guitar, sitting on his jalopy looking way too cool for school. He was my in house Ricky Nelson. What a character. Taught me all I know about not being afraid of touching icky things, how to short sheet a bed, how to tune a carborator (when you could do it yourself), how to finger C, G and F chords on the guitar and how to miss your big brother when he joined the Air Force.
But never fear readers, tomorrow, I will regale you with the tale of the Holy Toast.