08.16.09
My mind is flooded with memories, all of which I’ve shared with my husband. Today I asked him what he thought my best white trash moments were. He came up with two, here is number one…
My sister Amee is about four years older than I. When we would get home from school we were bored. We did what most kids would do…we headed straight for the kitchen cabinet and played a spirited, and appropriately coined, game of “Name that Spice.”
“Okay, close your eyes and stick out your tongue!”
Ahh, those words still ring sweet in my memories. And the taste of basil, thyme or oregano sprinkled on your tongue. Eager anticipation while the other person tries to guess.
Don’t underestimate the hours of enjoyment that Name that Spice can bring. Try it at your next family get-together! Remember, cayenne pepper is off limits, but alum or cream of tartar can bring just as much fun and laughter when added to the mix.
I know what you’re thinking, but you’re too late. We’ve already signed with Milton-Bradley!
08.15.09
I think everything traumatic happened to me when I was about nine years old. Why is that? Well, for THIS particular story it’s likely because my sister AMEE was just entering her hellatious (word?) teen years….and she hated me.
We were at John’s Pet Shop here in Spokane (now Trade-a-Game) and they had a caged monkey in the back. I think it was a chimpanzee, probably the size of a 2-year old kid. It had toys. It HAD toys. But my loving sister, Amee, TOOK the chimp’s toy from him. Okay…no big deal. Yeah, right, tell that to the monkey!
The monkey freaked out…I mean really! He couldn’t get to his toy (as Amee is laughing) and so he reached out with his long, gangly arms and grabbed me by the hair. Of course there are bars separating us, and he’s trying to jerk me into the cage, but the bars are stopping me…slam after slam. Klunk. Klunk. Klunk. Nope, my little screaming head will not fit through the bars. The whole time my Mom is trying to pry the monkey’s fingers off of my hair…EVENTUALLY with some success. The pet store owner, of course, is in a frenzy…probably thinking “lawsuit, lawsuit.” Finally, Mom yells at Amee to give the monkey his toy back. And all is well.
My scalp was so sore that day. So, so sore.
08.15.09
It was a hot summer day. I was sitting in the dining room. My sister, Amee, was at the typewriter (this was before computers came along) and she was wearing an open-backed swimsuit and shorts. That was her normal attire for summer.
Well, she was typing along, minding her own business. I, however, was looking at her smooth, mocha-colored, inviting back-skin. I stared at it for awhile, but the urge overtook me. I walked up and whacked her right square in the back with my open hand, as hard as I possibly could. The sound rang through the trailer.
Amee immediately arched her back in horror and gave out a shriek that could be heard around the world. She started to cry–I think she cried because she wanted to get me in trouble–but she said it burned with a fiery rage.
So realizing what I had just done I, too, started to cry (for fear of our Mother) and I ran and hid. Honestly I didn’t know it would hurt her THAT bad. I was grounded for a week and Mom took my cowboy boots away (that hurt).
I don’t regret it, but rather remember it with sweet satisfaction. For all the mean things she would do to me in the future, that one memory made it all worthwhile.
It was preemptive revenge….”Prevenge” if you will.