Day 7 – Four Memories

Day 7 - Four Memories 1-26-13

Four Memories

  1. Happy…  The day me and my Daddy became “me and my Daddy”.  Skype happy  We had read about it, thought about it, talked about it, and on October 5th, 2012, we finally decided to be about it!  Roll2  I remember waking up the next morning beaming from ear to ear and thinking, “I have a Daddy!”  Not just any Daddy…MY Daddy.  Who is, by the way, utterly wonderful.  *purrs happily*  No one I’ve ever been with before has held a candle to his way of being.  I love you, Daddy!
  2. Scary…  While driving down a two-lane mountain road at 40 MPH, I rounded a corner only to see a car speeding towards me in my lane, with an unbroken line of cars to their right, a cliff to their left, and nowhere to go but straight into me.  We both slammed on our brakes and stopped twelve inches away from each others’ bumpers.  Apparently they thought it was a brilliant idea to try to pass an endless line of cars, going up a mountain, around a curve.  None Smilie  The bitch proceeded to glare at me, since clearly it was my fault that she nearly rammed me head-on being a fucking idiot trying to pass in a no-pass zone around a mountainside.  That was the first time I used the f-word in front of my mom.  She started bawling as I drove away.  I was shaking for about twenty minutes.  She never chastised me for my language.  Tongue Smilie
  3. Crazy…  At my first job, I had a pretty flirtastic manager.  He was twenty years older than me, married, with five kids.  At his 40th birthday party, he sidled up to me outside and told me to go upstairs and lay down next to his wife and he would follow me up.  Yep, that’s right, bi threesome for the sweet, innocent Christian girl.  Um.  I was tempted.  But I still said no.  BigGrin
  4. Awesome…  When I was sixteen, my best friend and I went on a (chaperoned) road trip to another state to see our favorite band, Plus One.  We met some of the guys before the concert and got lots of pictures and autographs and they did magic tricks for us and all kinds of stuff.  Then after the concert, we went through the autograph line…twice.  Then, their manager told me where they were having dinner.  So we got to go hang out with them for several hours, it was great.  We mingled with Plus One as well as their opening act.  A few of the guys sat in the booth with us and we just chatted about all kinds of things for a long time, took more pictures, and just chilled together.  It was awesommmme!

Here are Daddy’s.  Love2

Four Memories

  1. My Baby and I were talking earlier about dreams, and I related a particularly intense dream I had a long time ago about an arsonist setting fire to the house where my family and I lived. It was a very vivid dream, so it’s stuck in my memory.
  2. My surprise on my 17th birthday when I received my dog Jubal. I’d wanted a dog for awhile, but Dad always said he hated dogs and didn’t want one. I’d pretty much just accepted that it wasn’t happening. Then both Mom and Grandma got involved. My sister woke me up of a Saturday and we drove to Grandma’s. I knew it was birthday stuff, but when mom came walking out with a copy paper box the LAST thing I expected was a puppy. One of the very few times in my life I’ve been speechless.
  3. Getting pulled over for a DWI because I was drinking cream soda. I used to know where I could get liter glass bottles of IBC Cream Soda by the case. There was no label, the IBC logo and all that were just molded into the glass. So when a cop drove by, all the saw was me swigging an amber fluid from a liter-sized glass bottle. Made for an interesting story…
  4. Meeting my Baby. I was massively depressed and considering suicide, and I went to a depression chat room as a coping mechanism. Little did I know I was going to meet someone who would rock my world there. I didn’t actually know she was even a girl at first, cuz her pseudonym was gender ambiguous. I thought she was a guy. Boy was I in for a surprise… (and she loved springing that surprise.)
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Memories of Grandma

Kundo Clock Edit

There are so many wonderful memories I have and things I loved about my Grandma…

The day she re-married Grandpa.  She looked so beautiful with her beaded shawl and her blue bouquet!  Grandpa couldn’t keep the mist out of his eyes.

Playing Shanghai Rummy with her and my aunts and uncles.

The way she’d always find ice skating on TV no matter what time of year.

When she used to come pick me up and drive me to work with her.

Her grabbing a red rose out of a vase and holding it between her teeth and dancing around.

Her John Wayne fandom and how she’d always let us take home two or three of his movies she’d taped off the Western channel.

The smell of her and her house.

Finding out she used to be great at the jitterbug.

Going to Chicago with her and Grandpa.

Playing Speed Scrabble with her at the ritzy hotel.

Designing Christmas and birthday cards for her and Grandpa to send to their friends.

The time she took us to see Into The West.

Her voice.

Playing the old Nintendo with her – and getting beat!

How football games were always white noise at her house.

The sparkle in her mischievous blue eyes.

I love you, Grandma, and I’ll miss you forever!  Kiss

My Earliest Memory

I’ve just discovered a flurry of Writing Prompts and thought I’d start giving them a spin!

What is your earliest memory? Describe it in detail, and tell us why you think that experience was the one to stick with you.

My earliest memory is from age three.  I was sitting on the cement porch steps in front of our house, and the neighbor girl was sitting with me.  She had brought over her little jewelry box, and was letting me look through it.  I remember feeling very special, because she was older than me, and was letting me play with her jewelry.  I think that’s why the memory stuck with me.  :)

Things I Used To Believe

I thought pickles were pickles, I didn’t find out they were cucumbers until I was twenty-three.

I thought vegetarians only ate vegetables until I was probably sixteen.

I thought Michael Jackson was white until I was a teenager.

I thought it was illegal to drink ANYTHING, and drive.

I thought the Arby’s sign was a giant weirdly-drawn cowboy hat, and it took me years to figure out why they said “I’m thinkin’ Arby’s” when they had that hat floating above their heads.

Until I was probably thirteen, I always wondered what honeydew melons had to do with the list Mom would make for dad on weekends…  “The Honey-Do List”.

I couldn’t figure out why artichoke hearts weren’t red and bloody, while they seemed like a vegetable.

Once in a grammar book I came across the word “sandwich”, and told my mom they spelled “witch” wrong, and what was a sand witch anyway??  I thought it was samwich.

I couldn’t understand why it was okay to eat grapes when I was little, but not drink wine.

I thought sheep, dogs, etc. were born with docked tails.

I thought my mom was joking when she said she made me a baloney sandwich…for years I heard it in the phrase, “What a bunch of baloney!” and thought it was only a word.

My friends were baffled when I said I’d never heard of Ramen Noodles.  We called it Itchy Bon.

I thought coleslaw was Cold Slaw.

It dawned on me at twenty-three that pancakes are called that because they’re cakes made in a pan.

When I was little we went to TCBY and I pointed out “Ice Cream Sundae” on the menu and told my mom they spelled Sunday wrong.

I was in my late teens when I asked for those “special” giant marshmallows…only then did I discover that all my life I’d been eating miniature marshmallows without knowing it.

I was baffled that a family friend wanted to eat at an Indian restaurant…he wasn’t an Indian!

I was confused when I ate corned beef for the first time and there was no corn.

I thought lobsters at seafood restaurants were like fish at the dentist’s office…  Thankfully I figured it out on my own and never had my little heart crushed when I was young.

The Sledding Hill

I remember being woken up in the middle of the night, when it snowed.  Everything outside my window would be blue and shimmery.

We’d stumble downstairs and dig into the coat closet underneath the stairs, rummaging around for the basket full of snow clothes.  Snoopy hats and thick gloves that were too big for me…  Several layers of clothes, and hiking boots that were big enough to be my brother’s.  Fuzzy pink earmuffs.  And off we’d go, into the snowy night.

Sometimes it was windy and cold, other times just quiet and still.  Our sleds scraped over the fresh snow behind us.  We’d tied ropes through the front so we could pull them.  Mine was pink and my brother’s was orange.  Snowball, our Samoyed mix dog, would thunder around us, kicking up snow and chasing out sleeping rabbits from under the bushes.

We’d follow dad up the road, past my best friend’s house, and all the way to the main street where we’d fight past our heavy snow clothes and climb onto the wall made of stone and brick.  Then we’d carefully march up and down the steps of the wall, over the big humps of the posts, and on, the frigid air tingling in our noses.  Whoever went first was lucky, because they got to shove off the piles of fresh snow from the fence posts.  Early on, I was so small I had to sit on the posts and spin around to get over them.  When I was older, I could step up onto them, or over them.

Sometimes we could see the stars, but sometimes it was still snowing and there were huge clouds covering everything.  Dad would help us off the wall before we reached the ditch where the cow skeletons were, and we’d start on the long trudge up the sledding hill.  It was all covered in weeds, and even cactus here and there, but it would snow so much, you didn’t really notice.  It took so long to climb up the hill, but when you reached the top, the air was so crisp and you had such a long way to sled down the hill, it was all worth it.

Sometimes I’d be scared, looking straight down that huge hill all the way to the bottom, or be afraid I might slide all the way into the ditch.  But I never did.  Sometimes dad would sit behind me, or push me so I’d go fast.  Sometimes my brother would go with me, and sometimes we would race each other.  Snowball would run along beside us, trying to climb into our sleds on the way down.  We’d laugh and scream and our voices were the only sound in that huge empty field.

It was fun sliding down the hill but took so long and it was so hard climbing all the way back up again.  My boots would slip in the snow and so I would try to walk in dad’s footprints, but they were always too big for me to reach.  But up I’d climb, over and over, until we couldn’t breathe from the cold and our noses were red and our toes were numb.

Then we’d climb back up on the wall and make the trek back home, where Mom would always be waiting for us to tell her how much fun we had sledding, while we drank hot chocolate and tried to warm up.  Then we would finally curl up warm and tight in our beds again and fall asleep, waking up the next morning to a beautiful white world.

Several years later, bulldozers leveled my sledding hill flat and built a school where it should have been.  But every time I drive down that road and look at the wall, I remember walking on it through the snow in the dark, and smile.  I will never forget the sledding hill.