Padiddle

"Padiddle!" i yelled excitedly as we drove home tonight. my husband looked at me strangely and smiled slightly, wondering what the heck made me yell out gibberish.

i repeated it again. "padiddle. puh-diddle. don't you know what that means? didn't you see it? don't you want to kiss me?!"

he looked at me even more strangely, no longer smiling, as if i'd lost my mind. obviously he grew up with an incomplete childhood because no one should grow up without the padiddle game.

when you're driving at night and you see a car coming toward you with one head light burned out, you yell "padiddle" at the top of your lungs and then you get to kiss the person of your choice in the car where you're riding.

as a kid, i think i learned this game from my aunts who were young and hip and cool and knew about things like kissing boys. i spent many nights as a young teenager riding in cars where boys were present and hoping that we'd run across one of those lovely padiddles so i'd have a perfect and legitimate opportunity to smooch a boy. i'd see a solo headlight coming our way and i'd hold my breath, hoping it was an elusive single lighted car and not another stupid motorcycle out to trick me and spoil my fun.

years went by and i never saw one of those buggers at the right time. i was always with my parents or maybe my brother when i'd catch a glimpse of one.

finally, one night i was riding in a car with several friends on our way to a youth group activity with our church. i was probably 15 years old. along the road toward us came a padiddle, unmistakable, definitely not a motorcycle. i yelled it out gleefully and then started looking around, thinking of who i was going to kiss.

it wasn't going quite the way i'd imagined in my head. i wasn't crowded into a backseat with several cute boys to choose from. there was one cute boy driving, one not cute boy in the passenger seat and then 3 or 4 girls crammed into the backseat together. i quickly decided the driver wasn't a good option because of the potential crashing factor. i had no interest in kissing the un-cute boy in front of me.

i couldn't bear to let the opportunity pass me by altogether, so i turned to my best friend who was sitting beside me and gave her a big smooch right on the lips.

all the other passengers started squawking and yelling about what had just happened. they couldn't believe i'd kissed her.

in my mind, it wasn't sexual, it was just funny. i'm not sure i'd ever even heard of lesb!ans (trying to trick the naughty google searches) before so i didn't think much of it or understand the dramatic reaction of my friends.

looking back on it now, i guess it shows just how naive i was at that time. i thought i was a lady of the world, but clearly i was wrong. it makes me smile to remember those times and the innocence of hoping for a chance to give someone a quick peck on the mouth. childhood is a wonderful thing.

naked in public? of course not! except for that one time...

i had a friend many years ago named Kate. we spent a lot of time together my senior year of high school and for a couple years after that. then i got married, moved away and Kate and i mostly lost touch.

i decided i wanted to get my group of friends together for a little reunion after about 12 years apart and as a chance for us to meet each others' husbands and wives. invitations were sent out, rsvp's arrived and as it turned out, only two of my girlfriends who were invited were able to make it and neither brought a spouse.

that was fine and i was secretly glad because they were the two i was closest to and sometimes less is more when it comes to having a good time of remembering the good ole days.

during the evening of chatting, Kate mentioned that her husband wasn't there because she didn't want him to meet me. i was temporarily speechless. my feelings were kind of hurt. i think i did the head tip and brow furrow as i tried to process what she'd said and figure out what she meant. she elaborated. "every bad thing i ever did, i did with you. i don't want him to know that part of me."

it was interesting how the memories i had of our time together didn't fall into the "bad things" category. i've got another friend who shared most of those times with me, but she still loves me and doesn't mind a bit if her husband knows me and we laugh over those stupid memories.

since that night, (i chose to disregard that comment and still have fun with my girls) i've thought about it a lot. i've trolled through my stash of brain files. am i remembering things wrong? i don't think so. we hung out before i started drinking and she never had a drink in her life. we didn't smoke or fool around with boys or any of the things i usually associate with being bad.

then i remembered the night. i'm pretty sure there was only one that might land in both of our "bad things" mental files.

we went to visit a friend at their apartment. it was summer and we were about twenty. we were silly and lively and always looking for something fun to do. our friend had to leave, but we decided to use their apartment's community pool without the friend. unfortunately, we didn't have bathing suits. so we went into the pool fully clothed and had a grand old time hopping back and forth between the pool and hot tub. it was late, no one else was there and we giggled up a storm while splashing around merrily.

we sloshed back to my car and then stood there in the parking lot debating what to do next. we dripped rivers onto the pavement because we didn't even have a towel, wash cloth, or tissue to blot ourselves with. after some discussion, we decided that the best course of action would be to strip off our clothes, throw them on the floor in the backseat and drive home naked.

yes, completely naked.

it was around midnight and we had a fifteen drive back to my house. the house where i lived as a nanny and had a nice place to park in the garage. we screamed and laughed like it was the funniest thing we'd ever done in our lives. i drove really fast whenever i passed anyone, but not so fast as to attract potential police attention. if we'd been stopped, there was no way we'd have even been able to scramble into our clothing because it was in a twisted, soaking heap on the floor behind me.

we arrived home, incident free and filled with the adrenaline rush that comes from doing something outrageous and getting away with it. we snuck up to my bedroom, clutching our dripping clothes and found some comfy jammies to curl up in as we laughed over our nudie dash through town.

looking back now, i guess i can see how she might not want her husband to hear such tales. she's a pretty prim and proper kind of person and her husband probably likes that about her. it might spoil his image of his wife if he knew about the night she drove through town, bare as the day she was born.

thumper jr

it's been a good weekend for me. facebook's been treating me right; i found two old friends and an ex-boyfriend (who i wrote about in the beers and tears post last year) and it's bringing back so many happy old memories.

my friend TJ showed up in my life in high school. he arrived in our church youth group with a bang and i've been hooked on him ever since. there are certain people who, when you meet them, you wonder where they've been all your life. he's one of those friends. even when i moved right before my senior year of high school, we kept in touch through letters and phone calls for a few more years. but we both moved too many times. addresses and phone numbers changed too many times. we got lost.

we used to stay up til all hours of the day or night talking on the phone until the phone cord was 15 feet longer than it should have been and when hung up, was lying limp on the ground like a sad, abused noodle. we'd giggle over the stupidest things ever and he'd sing to me. he had the most amusing southern accent which was pretty unusual in new york and he sang country songs.

i'd never had a friendship with a boy before that who i didn't conjure up some romantic feelings for at some point. i was ever in search of my next boyfriend, but tj was never that guy. he was the one who you'd run toward and yank him around a corner to show him where you'd ripped your pants wide open and then you'd laugh until you fell down and one or the other of you peed.

while talking on the phone this morning, i gave tj my blog address in hopes that he might visit me over here in my little corner of the internets. i was nervous and giddy to see what someone from my past might think to read my stories. and not only did he read me, he shared me on his facebook wall for his friends.  he's spent hours reading back through my old posts and i can't stop smiling when i think about it. it's kind of like having someone from your past meet your husband or child for the first time. what if they don't like each other?

tj my dear, i'm so glad i refound you. don't disappear again!

want to come over for dinner?

imagine the scene if you will. . .

you're making dinner for friends who are coming over. there will be at least 10 extra people sitting around on your couches and folding chairs tonight. you're scrambling to get every little thing ready before the first guest arrives. the potatoes are roasting. the burgers and dogs are ready to be tossed on the grill that's heating outside the kitchen door. drinks are in the cooler and the macaroni and cheese is finished.

you've got the washing machine and dryer in the corner of the kitchen covered with a cute table cloth where you'll line up all the food, buffet style since you have almost zero counter space.

you've got almost everything finished so it's time to start the salad. you pull all the fresh fixings out of the fridge and start getting things washed and chopped. you wash off the lettuce and plop all of it into a lingerie bag and toss it into the washing machine over in the corner and turn on the spin cycle to get all the excess water spun off so it'll be clean and crispy.

the doorbell rings. you answer the door and let in two of your closest girl friends. you run back into the kitchen and invite them to follow you while you finish up the salad. you open the washer and pull out the bag of clean, dry lettuce and then recover the machine with the table cloth. you proceed to the counter to chop up the lettuce and get everything tossed together when you notice a strange thing. it's silent in the room.

the two ladies you invited in aren't known for being quiet. ever. why aren't they talking? you look over at them and they're both staring at you with a look of mutual horror on their faces. you don't understand what's wrong. you look around trying to figure out what they see that you're clearly missing. you find nothing amiss.

you ask "what?" they start sputtering and pointing to the lingerie bag you're holding in your hand. one points to the washing machine and says, " you just.... you took that... that bag out of the washing machine." the other one jumps in. "there was... LETTUCE in it?"

you still don't see the problem. of course there was lettuce in the bag. and of course it was in the washing machine. you consider yourself fortunate to have a washing machine so handily positioned whenever you're spinning your lettuce dry in the clean lingerie bag that was purchased specifically for that purpose. doesn't everyone do that? how else to get it perfectly dried without having to wipe off each piece top and bottom?

every other guest that arrived was greeted with news of the salad in the washer. and the story got bigger and more elaborately outrageous as the night went on. i became the hostess of questionable standards. the one who couldn't be trusted to make responsible choices in what she fed to herself or her friends.

and oddly enough, there was a lot of salad left over after everyone went home.

what about you? do you vote for it being a great idea or are you reading this with the look of horror on your face to match my loud mouthed friends? it's okay whichever way you vote. i'll still like you. i might even invite you over for dinner. and salad.

sheri-licious

my good buddy Karen over at Ow, My Angst did a fun post a few days ago where she gave herself a makeover, jersey-style to show her love of the tv show Jerseylicious. it's a show about some jersey girls who do hair and makeup ~ and when i say they do them, i mean they do it all excessively. tons of makeup crammed onto their faces and big, big hair.

i thought it would be fun to do one of these myself, so i asked her to make it into a meme in order to make it seem like i wasn't just being a lame copycat, even though i am. you'll see her linky and note at the bottom of this post if you want to participate too. men, that includes you. please, feel free to indulge your inner diva and take pics to show us your creative process.

that means i'm the first to jump onto the karenlicious bandwagon with a makeover of my own.

with no further adieu . . .

i filled my bathroom counter filled with various and sundry hair and makeup items.

then I started with a blank canvas. scary, I know.

then i painted my face with waaayy too much concealer, foundation and powder.

next comes the choice of what color to put on my eyes. those are always the most fun to create.

 this was done with brow liner, 6 different eyeshadow colors, plus black liquid eyeliner out the wazoo.

i guess it's time to do something with my stupid hair. hmmm.... i don't have a bump it to lift it up. or any extensions. or a flat iron. dang it, i'm just stuck with my hair dryer and standard curling iron. well, it's not big enough to look like a proper jersey girl, but it's bigger than usual. let's just overlook it, shall we? look at my lipliner instead, okay? niiiccee!

smile pretty for the camera!

okay, i'm starting to feel weird about taking my picture all alone in my bathroom with a face caked in goop. maybe if i make some faces, that'll help.

i've got some great stink-face going on here.

it's feeling less and less like jerseylicious and more and more like glamor shots gone horribly wrong. in my bathroom.

 okay, that was fun. now it's time to go cook dinner and toss in another load of laundry. i'm so glamorous i make those licious girls jealous.

brooke decided to let me make up her face and floof up her hair today too and she wrote about it and included pictures on her own blog. to see and read about it, check out hers here. it's funny.

if you want to join in the face painting fun, here's karen's blurb and info.

The "Karenlicious Meme"

Make yourself delicious!  

Karen is a blah, boringly natural housewife and mom most of the time.  But she made herself DELICIOUS. 

 

Here's what you do:  throw a shovel-full of makeup onto your grill.  Take as many before and after photos as you want of your transformation. Post these insane photos for all the world to see, with the "karen-licious" banner.

Invite your friends to pass it on and be ridiculous too! 

Then go wash your face.  You're fine just the way you are.  But not today!  Today you are

KARENLICIOUS!

first impression fail

do you give any thought to first impressions? i hardly ever do. i've been told that i come across as "short and snappy" and then latter had it clarified that she wasn't referring to my lack of height, but my big mouth. and i've been told in more recent years that i seem really conservative, but that turns out to be a pretty big surprise after you dig a little deeper and hear some of the stories of my life.

but there's one story of first impressions that stands out to me. it pains me to remember it.

when chris and i first got married, we lived in a little duplex in a little college town in east armpit tennessee. he was in school during the day and at work every evening, so i didn't see very much of him. i was lonely and bored because i couldn't find a full time job, i had no friends and we didn't have internet.

some guys moved in next door and they were just a little bit younger than us. it seemed like we would probably get along and we all smoked outside together a couple times over the weekend when they were moving in.

a few days later, chris was at work and i'd rented a movie that only had a one night rental time, so i would need to watch it without him. i didn't feel like spending yet another night alone on the couch, so i went and banged on the door of the new neighbors. i had the movie in hand and said i was wondering if they might like to watch it.  the guy, daniel, said yes and tried to take it out of my hand and close the door, but i held on and said that i was asking if they'd like to watch it with me.

this seemed to be surprising to them, but not necessarily unpleasant, so it was decided that we'd watch it in their place since smoking in the house was allowed over there and was outlawed in my house.

it was a little bit awkward since we really didn't know each other, plus i was a married woman approaching two single guys to hang out while my big husband was at work. but we all settled in to watch the movie and i was feeling pretty good about maybe making some new friends.

the problem started about halfway through the movie when there was suddenly a pretty raunchy scene. there was definitely some boobage and some awkward noises which caused my face to flash hot and red. i was afraid to look away. afraid to look at either of the guys. i felt sick to my stomach, but frozen to my seat.

no one spoke through the rest of the movie. when it was finished, daniel said, "i think we all need a cigarette after that."

thankfully we were all able to laugh about it later and i assured them that i normally don't take soft porn to strange guys' houses and ask to watch it with them.

i'm pretty sure that was one of the worst first impressions i ever made.

there comes a time in everyone's life

sometimes when i write my facebook status, i like to put some thought into it. figure out a way to use words for the optimum punch. other times i go through a dry spell where the best i can come up with is, "went to the library" or "cheese is my friend."

last night i was feeling the need to status update and i was wracking my brain for a good one. i kept hearing the line "there comes a time in every woman's life when she..." but i couldn't come up with a good ending. so i decided to throw it out there like bait and just see if anyone else could come up with a great suggestion or wisdom or humor. of course it didn't take long before i got a bite. and then a couple of my girl friends copied it to their own status and got some great bites of their own.

here are some of the gems that i've peeled off the statuses i've seen where people contributed their wit and wisdom. there comes a time in every woman's life when she...

"realizes her body composition is literally 42% sharp cheddar cheese. Oh, wait, that's just me....."

hmm, that slicer looks disturbingly like that thing i used to slice up my feet.

"takes off her bra, lets the boobs drop, and has a little 'o' right there, standing in the living room."

"Realizes she should have used wrinkle cream BEFORE the wrinkles appeared."

"Prefers pants with an elastic waist."

"renounces perfection in favor of joy"

"wishes she was a man"

"looks at the guy next to her and says, "I married that!?" (this from our very own al penwasser)

and my very favorite of the night was actually the first one that arrived on the scene. my fantabulous friend rachel who never fails to make me laugh said, "throws away her crotchless panties."



in following with a couple of the other posts i've written that stemmed from something on facebook, like "if we woke up in jail" or "how did we meet, but make it a lie" i'd love to see what delightful suggestions my lovely and unerringly funny blog friends can come up with.

"there comes a time in every woman(or man)'s life when s/he..."

dead man whacking

this story has been percolating for a long time & i've finally decided that i'm going to write it, because it's just too bizarre and it wants to be told. and even though it sounds like i've made parts up, i assure you, i do not daydream up stories about such things.

when i was 21 (a lot of my stories seem to have happened around that time. they were sort of my glory days. i did lots of stupid stuff that makes for great story fodder, but i would never want to live it again.) i went to a movie theatre with a girlfriend to see "Dead Man Walking."  if you haven't seen it, there's a link to the trailer, but essentially, it's the story of a convicted murderer on death row & a nun who is his spiritual advisor. it is a sad drama.

the movie had been playing for at least half an hour. there weren't many people in the theatre because it had been out for quite a while and it was a weekday. then a man came in & sat down 3 seats away from me. it seemed odd to me that with all the empty seats in the theatre, he'd chosen to sit with just 2 empty chairs between us. it was also odd that he'd come into the movie so long after it had started. other than thinking those two things, i didn't pay any attention to the man.

a few minutes later, i got the feeling that i was being watched. i glanced over & saw that he was staring at my legs. both myself and my friend were wearing shorts & we had our feet up on the empty seats in front of us and that man was very clearly & openly looking at our legs. i nudged my friend and pointed at him. at that time in our lives, we were used to getting checked out by men, so it didn't strike us as surprising, just tacky to be so obvious about it.

shortly after that, i noticed movement out of the corner of my eye and peeked toward him again. there was movement in the region of his lap. i was elbowing my friend & whispering frantically that i thought the dude was handling himself. she wasn't shy at all about turning to stare straight at him to determine if i was right. and sure enough, he wasn't just handling his business, he had pulled it all the way out.

we were pretty shocked to be sitting in a sad movie in a public theatre and to have a man sitting beside us, spanking his monkey. we didn't know what we should do. we would have had to climb over him to get to the aisle or else climb over a seat to get into a different row and neither of those options seemed good, so we just sat there, unable to even notice what was happening on the big screen because we had our own drama unfolding right in our row.

we started saying "gross!" and "dirty old man" in loud whispers, hoping that would make him leave. it didn't. we put our legs down and tucked them under us so he wouldn't be looking at them anymore, but still he kept up his obviously pleasurable activities. we started hissing out phrases more loudly, like "that's disgusting!" or "put your nasty thing away, no one wants to see that!" it seemed as though our complaining was adding to his enjoyment and before too long, his head was thrown back and his pace increased until it was finally over. then he looked straight at us and grinned, adjusted his pants and left.

we were very relieved when he left. the movie had climaxed along with the man and we were just waiting for it to be finished so we could go out & shriek about what we'd just seen. unfortunately, that's when a different man came in & sat in the same seat that had just been vacated by the first perv. we could hardly believe our eyes when he sat right down, and whipped out his meat wrench with no hesitation or warning and started petting it.

this guy looked nothing like the first guy. they were at least 30 years apart in age, different races and dressed in such a way that they appeared to be from very different socio-economic groups. we couldn't figure out how it could happen once during our movie watching experience, but twice was just too much to comprehend.

we'd had more than enough by then & we started talking loudly & guesturing toward him to try to draw the attention of the others in the theatre. it worked and he didn't stay long before he buttoned up & skeedaddled out of there.

once the movie was over, we carefully stepped over the puddle on the floor in front of the dirty dude's seat & raced out to our car, terrified that we'd be followed. we made it home safely, but were left with a story we can never forget.

bugaboo

when i was single and about 20, i had a guy friend who was cute. actually, i had a lot of guy friends who were cute, but this story is only about one of them. we didn't know each other well, but we had several mutual friends and often hung out in the same group of people. he was nicer than most of the guys i knew and never seemed like he was trying to be cool or impress anyone with his "game".

we kind of checked each other out for a while and eventually he asked me out. i was glad that he did and happily said yes. i think we went out for dinner or a movie and then afterwards, we went to a little ice cream shop. we were having fun, but i wasn't feeling like there was a romantic connection between us. it felt like going out with a friend or maybe my cousin.

while we were eating ice cream and laughing, i noticed that he was looking at my boobs. then he wasn't laughing or smiling anymore. he was staring very intently at my deep cleavage and didn't seem to be listening to what i was saying. i stopped talking & just stared at him, wondering what was going on.

then he reached out his hand & started slowly reaching toward me. and not just reaching toward me, but reaching toward my chest. this was completely out of character for him, especially since we were on a first date & sitting in a public shop surrounded by families. i just watched him, almost mesmerized by the oddity of it.

then he suddenly SLAPPED me, right on the top of my left boob! my jaw dropped, my eyes popped and i was speechless. that's when he looked up at my face & noticed the shock and he started stammering. he finally managed to explain that there had been a bug crawling down my shirt from my collarbone, heading into the crack of my boobs and he'd managed to slap it away before it made contact with skin.

he turned red in the face and i burst out laughing because of how crazy it had all been for a minute there. we didn't have a second date, but stayed friends, and i still like to tell his wife that story sometimes.

hey girlfrand!

i've had some really great times with my female friends and family members since i moved here 2 months ago. it's been wonderful reconnecting with old friends & making some new ones. for the year and a half before moving here, we were down to only one car and with my husband working second shift, i had almost zero social life. it was like a vital part of me was snipped unceremoniously off and i was shrivelling up in some ways because i had no one to talk to except my computer. you guys became my social life and my feedback since i wasn't able to have much of it in the real world.

but i'm way too sociable to not get together with my lovely lady friends for regular rounds of laughing, joking, complaining and commiserating. there's something so wonderful about being with someone face to face that i missed badly. there's something delicious about getting a case of the giggles over something you see or talk about that makes you laugh until your stomach hurts, you can't form words or swallow food. you can only cover your mouth and laugh your guts out. cross your legs and try not to pee, but even if you do, it'll totally be worth it because the laugh was just that fantastic.

i hope for all of you that you have people in your lives with whom you can share that too. people who you can talk to about all the nitty gritty bits of parenting and marriage. who you can remember or relate old stories together that are just too great to forget. someone you can compare and contrast life situations with to help you gain some perspective. someone you can confide in when you have doubts about choices to be made. someone who shares your value system or maybe someone who doesn't, but due to your mutual respect of each other, it almost makes you like them more because it doesn't matter. you expand your world view when you talk to that person.

i also want to thank all of my regular readers and especially my commenters for taking the time to stop by here and say hi. thanks for sharing your opinions and stories and laughs with me. i feel like we're friends and i appreciate you.

and to you, amy, thanks so much for that wonderful card i recieved from you in the mail today. she's a bloggy friend who actually sent me a lovely card in the mail with a recipe for something delicious. i'd love to put a happy little piece of mail in the snail mail box of a couple of you who would be willing to email me your addresses. if you want some mail, contact me at sherilinr@gmail.com.

now go call someone & make a date for coffee or wine or a pool day or just a chance to sit around in your yard and chatter and laugh while your kids run around in the sprinkler, covered in grass clippings, but smiling and happy.

oh, to be classy

the first time i can remember hearing anyone refer to someone as being "classy" was when i was about 10 years old and i was at summer camp. there was a girl in my cabin, around the same age as me, and i heard 2 different "adults" (i put it in quotes because they seemed like adults to me then, but they were probably about 18) say that this girl was classy. i wasn't entirely sure what it meant, but it was clear that they said it in an admiring and somewhat surprised way. i deemed it to be something that i should strive for, whatever it was, so i watched this girl, heather, and studied her behavior and mannerisms, trying to learn something that would make me a better person.

i noticed that she shaved her legs, dry, sitting on her bed. she ate less candy than most of us. she showered daily without anyone having to tell her to. she wasn't a participant in the out-of-control giggle-fests that ran rampant during the evenings at camp. she had naturally curly hair.

i tried to emulate some of those qualities in the weeks and months to come. i tried to willingly eat less junk food. i tried to laugh less and shower more. i tried out the dry shave, but owie with the post-shave razor burn, so i gave it up after one round. i didn't have curly hair, but i sure had a tight perm (thanks, grandma).

i had another friend, my childhood bestie, who i've talked about in several of my childhood story recountings on this blog, who i learned was also a classy kind of girl. her family had significantly more money than my family did & she was an only child, so i thought maybe that was part of it. but there was nothing i could do about my family's income or my multiple siblings. i couldn't afford to dress expensively, but eventually i realized it wasn't so much about how you dressed or where you lived, but more about how you carried yourself and presented yourself to the world.



i tried to be this



i wanted to be a girl who others admired for her style, maturity, and sophistication. i wanted the adults around me to tell each other that i was classy and wish that their kids were like me. i really did try.

but i never quite managed to be that girl. i was loud. i laughed obnoxiously and often. i spit on the ground after snorking up big loogies. i burped out tunes. i talked about my period. i kissed boys and told everyone about it. i ate large quantities of nachos and didn't wash my hands. i carved my name into benches and walls. i made weird faces and talked in stupid voices. i was rarely subdued when my friends were around and i was the first one to stand on a bench and scream over the heads of a crowd in order to get the attention of someone i wanted to speak with.



but i was more like this



eventually i realized that i was never going to be someone who would be labeled as classy. however, i did discover that i had earned the label of fun. and while fun isn't admired in the same way that classy is, it was something that people liked to have around. the fun girl is a good time at a party or a on a road trip. the fun girl knows how to make the best of even the most embarrassing situations and rather than hide those moments, she celebrates them. the fun girl is chattery and outrageous and noisy.

there are still days when i think i could become a classy lady, but then i find myself digging a bug out of my cleavage in a very public place while squealing and spinning around on tip-toe and i realize, yet again, that it will never be.

stupid, stupid girls

i've had a couple people write out a story from their childhood memory bank for me lately & that's gotten me to thinking about my own ancient history. one certain thing keeps coming to mind, but i cringe every time i remember it.

between the ages of 9 and 16, i lived in this one house in a suburb in new york state. it was typical suburbia, with neighborhoods never far from shopping or restaurants. i'm not sure how old i was when i finally convinced my parents that i was old enough to walk to the store, but eventually i was allowed to walk down to the stores and fast food places about a mile from my house. at first i could only go if my older brother went, but eventually i was trusted to go, as long as i was with one of my girlfriends.

it was an easy walk, no hills, and we'd just meander along the shoulder of the road since we were really only going for fun, not because we needed to get somewhere. sometimes, when we girls were walking, people would honk at us as they flew past in their cars. at first it startled us. but then we realized that many of the drivers were actually guys who we presumed were checking our fine selves out. sometimes they would yell things out of the window as they sped past, like "woohoo!" or "yeah, baby!" or "nice rack!" it was shocking and offensive and amazingly exciting all in one rush of wind as a car went past, leaving us foolish girls in a wake of exhaust and excitement.

one summer, somewhere between the ages of 14 and 16, a friend and i spent a lot of time walking. we walked in my neighborhood, her neighborhood, the mall, the local pool, the beach on vacation together. anywhere we could freely go, we went. and we were getting so many honks and yells that we decided to start counting them. i have no idea what our final count was, but it was fun trying to keep track of our percieved awesomeness by seeing how much honky feedback we could collect.

sometimes a car would slow down or stop to talk to us. we knew we should get away from cars who stop in the road for girls like us, but there were times when we couldn't resist the urge to see if maybe our parents were wrong. if maybe the world wasn't out to harm and destroy us like we'd been warned, but instead might have wholesome intentions and just want to ask for our phone numbers or tell us we were cute. there were times when a driver would stop and ask us where we were going or even offer us a ride. there were a few times when it was adults, generally couples or a mom-ish woman who probably legitimately wanted to be helpful, but mostly it was teenaged or young adult guys. and i'm horrified to admit that sometimes we would climb right into those cars with strangers and accept a ride to the nearest grocery store or hardees.

we would huddle together in the backseat, scared and thrilled to be living dangerously. we made small talk with our drivers and hoped that this wouldn't be our last day on earth. we hoped that the person who's car we were riding in would actually drop us off where we intended to go rather than drive into the woods & do unspeakable things to our clueless, naive selves.

every single time we accepted rides from strangers, they really did take us to our intended destination. the couples and moms would warn us that we really shouldn't be getting into cars with people because not everyone was as nice as them. the boys would ask for our names or numbers and we'd give our aliases and fake digits, thinking we were the smart ones by not giving out our real info.

at this stage of my life, as a mom of a little girl, i pray and teach and warn my child about the very same things my parents told me. i thank God that he never let me or my friends be stolen or hurt or even really scared, in spite of our own stupidity. all i can say is that i think the prayers that my parents were praying really worked because my safety and well-being clearly cannot be attributed to my clear-headed thinking & wise decision making process.

yes, she showed me her scar

i believe i'm going to need to apply the kitty rule again for this post. i'll use one i took yesterday since it's handy.

i try to never make fun of anyone other than myself on my blog and since there are miles and piles of things for me to choose from in my own list of stupid or embarrassing events, i rarely need to look elsewhere for blog fodder. but there's a story from many years ago that just makes me giggle every time i even think about it, so i'm going to tell it tonight, in spite of the fact that it involves my husband and a moment of delightful (for me) confusion.

i was newly pregnant with brooke, so it was about 9 years ago, when a friend came for a visit. she already had a baby, which of course meant that there was lots of talk about pregnancy & baby stuff during the visit. she mentioned, in the company of our husbands, that she'd had a c-section with hers. i asked if i could see her scar, so we went into another room and she showed it to me.

here is a diagram of what a c-sec scar should look like if done in a hospital around this time in history, just in case any of you aren't familiar with such nitty gritty. and yes, i did crop the boobs out of the picture cuz i get enough google hits from people looking for naughty stuff that's really not here. and my dad reads this blog sometimes & i don't want to distress him cuz i'm usually nice like that.

after our friends went home, my husband asked me about the c-section scar viewing.

he said, "did she show it to you?"

me, "yeah."

him, "how big was it?"

me, "like, this long" & held my fingers about 4 inches apart.

him, making a horrible face & cringing.

me, "i think that's pretty standard. though i haven't seen many of them. that's a scar that's rarely seen by others."

him, "no kidding! i'm surprised she showed you."

me, "what's the big deal?"

him, "how did she show it to you?"

me, "she pulled her pants down a little."

him, "... and then what?"

me, "what do you mean, then what? she pulled them down & showed it to me."

him, "but how? did she bend over?"

me, staring blankly, trying to work out just how i'd see a scar on her stomach if she was bending over. "of course she didn't bend over. it's right here!" and i drew a line across the bottom of my stomach.

we stared at each other for a few seconds, both of us totally discombobulated, before i realized what was causing the confusion. being that he was new to this whole pregnancy/baby/delivery business, he'd mixed up the words "c-section" and "episiotomy" (thank you, wikipedia for teaching us everything we need to know and want to share) and he'd thought that she was showing me the OTHER scar. no wonder he was so surprised at how nonchalant we were being about the whole topic. and no wonder he was cringing when i said the scar was 4 inches long!

new mexico trip

we spent a week out in the high desert of santa fe, new mexico, and brooke flew like a champ! we breezed through security the first time with no hitches & the second time only lost a tube of kids toothpaste (you know how bombers love to use kids crest to blow stuff up). brooke insisted that she needed to wear the coyote ears that i made for her & she mostly enjoyed the comments from strangers, but was slightly pissed off when they asked her if she was a reindeer or a cat or a horse or some other foolish animal. funny how personally she takes it when someone guesses wrong.

as we boarded the first plane, she told the flight attendant that it was her first time flying & that earned her a trip straight into the cockpit where she got to sit in the pilot's seat & have a little photo shoot with the pilot & co-pilot. it cracked me up as i peered around the doorway to see her posing with her new found buddies like she's a flying pro & does this every day.

we had a hard time putting our cameras down for most of the whole week we were gone & came home with tons of great pics that i won't force you to endure. what's that? you want to see them? ok, you talked me into it, so maybe i'll just share a few.

my friend, cristi, who we stayed with has a huge great dane named moses & brooke spent a large portion of her trip caressing him. she was mesmerized by his sheer magnitude and his mouth. she loves dog jowls & teeth & likes to poke into there for a peek at the goods whenever a dog will allow it. i think mo had more attention lavished on him over the 5 days we were there than he even knew what to do with.

it was great to stay up late & talk to one of my childhood friends. we hadn't seen each other in 5 years, but we jumped right back in like no time had passed at all. it just took some time to catch each other up on all the things that we've missed. the good, the bad & the ugly.

brooke & i took ourselves out for a walk in the freezing, windy, beautiful air a couple times while cristi was working and one of those times i managed to get us just a smidge lost. we actually walked straight across the road where we were supposed to turn & kept right on trekking along until brooke started crying that we were lost & would never get back. we sat down on the sidewalk for a few minutes to recover and then kept going - in the wrong direction. my cell phone had died while we were out because i was chatting up my mom while my service was roaming. oops. but eventually we found our way back & didn't get eaten by any of the wildlife that roams freely in that area. and we got some great pictures while we were on our never-ending walk, so it was worth it!

i also wanted to tell you guys that i missed you. i feel like i left my blogging buddies behind while i was away & i'm trying to get caught up on all the happenings in the blogosphere.

how to not make friends

you know how sometimes you meet someone & you decide that you really want to be friends with them before you even know them at all? well, i had one of those experiences with a lady who lived on our street when we first moved in here.

we'd been living here for a couple months & it was summer, so naturally brooke & i were sitting in the driveway in the baby pool trying to not sweat to death. we don't have a usable yard due to hills & trees, so the only flat space for our pool parties is the driveway. i try to place the pool over the oil puddle so as to keep the child's feet from scampering through the oily sludge & therefor soiling the swimming water. but i digress.

so brooke & i were splashing around in 7 inches of water, when up the hill comes a woman & a little girl about brooke's age. they were coming over to introduce themselves & welcome us to the neighborhood. they were dressed nicely, clearly having just come from work in a place that had some dress code standards (unlike my job cleaning houses where i dress as gross as i want & no one notices or cares). i was sweating all in my greasy hair & probably had some bugs & dead grass stuck to myself in places i couldn't see (as in, anywhere below my boobs). i was wearing my tacky bathing suit that came from walmart & didn't hold up my monster fun bags because i wasn't anticipating socializing with anyone other than brooke, and i didn't want to dirty up a good one.

they introduced themselves & i crawled, dripping, out of the kiddie pool to try to reclaim some of my dignity. we discovered that our daughters are only about 3 weeks apart in age & they were also home on many of the days that we were, so we'd make perfect play date buddies. i really wanted to become friends with this woman. i wanted our daughters to be buddies because we didn't have anyone else in the neighborhood who we knew & it would be really convenient to have someone just one house down.

she told me that her husband had mentioned wanting to drop over & say hello ever since we'd moved in, but he thought that i'd be scared to have a big black man who i didn't know show up unannounced at the door. and because i'm always really classy & tactful & think quickly on my damp, dirty feet, i said, "that woulda been fine! i love black people!" she looked at me strangely, so i tried to fix it by saying, "before i met my husband, i dated LOTS of black guys." umm... that didn't seem to be fixing it. maybe actually it was making it worse.

awkward silence... and on that note, she left & walked back home.

we'd made arrangements to get together at their house a couple days later. i showed up at the designated time & they weren't even home. hmm... i probably should have taken a hint, but nope, not me. i called & we set up a time on another day. and they were home that time. we walked into the living room & there was a huge, very unique rug on the floor & i had a flashback to a duplex we'd gone into when we were looking for a place to rent a few years earlier. right then the husband walked into the room & introduced himself as chris - same name as my husband. and that's when it clicked and i realized that these were the people who had owned that duplex & were trying rent out the other side. i'd spoken to the husband at the time & he'd told me that he had a wife & a daughter the same age as my girlie. i'd thought then that it would be interesting to share a duplex w/ another couple where the men had matching names & the girls were the same age & that i could probably be friends w/ the wife.

i thought it was pretty cool that even though we'd passed on that duplex at the time, here we were living next door to them after all. it felt like destiny. i told my new friend later, after her big black husband was gone, the story of how i kind of  knew them & how we should be friends because of the destiny & all. i told her that i remembered their names because i'd carried her husband's name & number around in my purse for months after we'd met at their duplex years before.

whoopsie doodle - here comes that pesky awkward silence again....

we didn't become BFFs.

and the moral of the story is, if you meet someone & you want to be friends with them, don't look dirty & trashy & then give the impression that you have the hots for their husband.

the end