Nan’s Picture

Mouth Drop

In exactly 100 words creatively describe one moment when your mouth dropped open, chin hit the ground, and tears rolled down your face (figuratively or not). If you prefer to develop this into a longer post, that’s fine too!

When me and my husband and our kids moved back to Mountlake Terrace, I  only had two ‘valuable’ things to move.

One was my cat Wolfgang- and the other was a picture that used to belong to my Great Grandmother Nan.

Nan was a force of nature in our family- she was tall, red headed I’d seen her make grown men cry- and not in a good way.

I thought she was grand and one of my goals in life was to look like her when I grew up. Of course, that wasn’t going to happen but she and my Grandpa Bert ( her son ) would swear up and down that I looked like her.

The print was very old and the frame was delicate and I loved it. I hung it above the sideboard I’d inherited from her.

I packed it ( the picture, not Wolfie, I bought Wolfie a dog crate  that was designed to withstand blah, blah blah it was EXPENSIVE) and a special little crate for the picture.

When we got to Terrace we unpack the picture and it’s smashed to smithereens.

I was beyond angry.

I trashed it myself.

A few months later it was the end of Summer and we were pulling things out of our storage room for our Labor Day picnic- croquet set, babarque  stuff, pirate flag.

I was NOT looking forward to having my Dad and Grandmother noticing the picture was gone and having to explain how something that had been in our family for so long was gone and having to tell them it was pulverized and in a land fill now.

All  of the sudden two of my sons are not just calling me from the storage room,  they sound panicked.

Spider I figured.

I go into the storage room and the boys are pointing in a corner and I figure spider but instead  of a spider.

There it is.

Nan’s picture.

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Nan was a force of nature, like I said.

I picked the picture up without blinking an eye, hung it above the sideboard where it is to this day  and my husband and sons have spent years ignoring it.

I don’t ignore it.

Ever.

Volcano Birds, WheelChairs And Santa Claus

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You’ve heard the debate- do you tell your kid Santa is real or not? It’s a lie. So do you lie to your kid or tell them the truth.

Oh piffle.

My Dad used to tell me whoppers and he was usually backed up by his cousin and nobody went out of their way to write books about it or discuss how it would effect my life as an adult and how I could be scarred for life.

On the other hand they were great stories and even after I learned the truth I’d spread those stories so fast and so far I’d put Super Viruses to shame.

Like

THE  VOLCANO BIRDS

My Mom’s family lives in Hawaii and when I was little we lived there too.

My Dad was from Seattle and he used to love to do the tourist stuff while we were there  and he took tons of slides.

One place he really loved to go to was to see volcanos.

My Dad would pack us all up in the car ( which took some doing because I HATED to be separated from my Grandmother)  And he’d grab his camera.

The only thing I hated more then leaving my Grandmother’s side was having my picture taken.

I’d run around screaming like little tiny banshee until someone could catch me and stuff me into the car- and in those days nobody used seat belts but my family used them on me because I couldn’t get them off once I was buckled in.

So there are a bazillion pictures of me looking ticked off in front of some beautiful scenery because my Dad was going to have our family outing, he was going to take a million pictures and a sullen three year old wasn’t going to stand in his way.

batcar( I got a ride in a Batman car, a rootbeer float, a new toy and the dress I’m wearing dress was made by my Grandmother to wear  on Volcano Day and was I happy? HA!)

So on one outing we are at this volcano and I start in:

” What happens if you fall in? What does lava taste like? What’s lava made from? Is the volcano going to blow up with us on it? WHEN is it going to blow up?  And the one that sealed the deal as me as the family brat:

How come it doesn’t blow up NOW because I really wish it would SO WE COULD GO HOME.”

My Dad looked like he was ready to chuck me in when these little birds flew over us and I shut up and watched them flying around.

I was enchanted.

And then I asked why they were grey and my Dad looked at me and said, ” Those are volcano birds and they’re grey because they live in the volcano.”

” They live in the lava?”

” Yes.” he said snapping a picture  of me looking happy.

He carried that picture in his wallet for the rest of his life.

And I ran around and told people about the Little Volcano Birds Who Live In Lava for years. I told my sons about them at one point too.

THE LADY IN THE WHEEL CHAIR

One Spring we went to Mount Baker with my Dad’s cousin.

I was around 10 or 11 and I was in a good mood on this outing because my Dad’s cousin brought his Saint Bernard Nicky with us.

Nicky was a champion show dog so I was able to walk him around and hey, a day trip with a great dog. What’s there not to like about that?

Well, we get up to Mount Baker and we’re walking around and my Dad is taking pictures from one of those scenic lookouts and I start with THE QUESTIONS because, that was me.

We are all standing there soaking in nature and I look down and say, ‘ I wonder if the railing ever broke and if people have fallen down there and died.”

My Dad’s camera quits clicking, my Mom wanders off and lights up a cigarette and my brother and sister jump back from the railing and start crying that they don’t want to die too.

Cool as a cucumber my Dad seems to ignore me and said to his cousin. ” So that’s where that woman  in the wheel chair died.”

” I remember that.”  his cousin says.

” Yeah. It was bad. The brake on her wheelchair broke and she just rolled down the path and went over the edge and into the wet cement on that road way down there.”

” Is she still down there?” I asked hopefully.

Click.

I told that story at school- one week before my class took a field trip to Mount Baker.

My teacher said it wasn’t true and that I needed to fess up because some of my classmates were scared to go now.

I said no.

And then my teacher said he was going to call my parents.

Fine I said. Because my Dad was going to say it was true. He told me about the Lady In The Wheelchair.

By the time I spread that story around I knew it wasn’t true.

I just wanted to see what would happen when the Teacher called.

Touche’ Dad.

Nobody Wants To Hear It

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I went through this phase where I would not answer a question- I’d either give the wrong answer on purpose or I’d just stand there with my  mouth frozen open- I think I resembled the screaming mummy remembering the looks I’d get when I did that:

screaming mummy

Ok. I exaggerate but I just learned about Pentewere, the alleged treasonous son of Ramses III and I just wanted to find a way to work him into this post.

But the point is, I would play stupid. Nope. Didn’ t know the answer, why would I know the answer, dumber then a box of rocks- that’s me.

So why would I do this?

When I was about 10 I found a book about archeology and before you could say Akhenaten I was the biggest Egyptologist  Geek in the world. I Geeked over ancient Egypt the way little boys geeked over Dinosaurs the only difference is- yeah. I was a girl.

Anyway, years later King Tut went on a world tour and my Dad was talking to some of his his friends about it – I was there soaking it in and as they started to talk about the artifacts and mummies they would  speculate on something and guess who knew the answers?

So one of his friends kept asking me questions and I kept answering them and he said-

” Wow Anita. You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

From the look on his face I knew that was no compliment.

When my Dad and his cousin bought tickets to the exhibit there was no question it was not going to be  a party of 3- I opted out. I didn’t even ask. Instead I insisted on seeing KISS who was in town at the same time.

Honestly. I liked KISS but not more than King Tut.

But from that point on for several years I wouldn’t ask for help if I was on fire and if I was engaged in a conversation I would agree with you and tell you how right you are.

Even if I knew you were dead wrong.

Do you know how long I’ve been listening to people insist that Mars would stop spinning and then it would rotate BACKWARDS and that’s why or TV’s got messed up. I dunno, I think since I was like 11 years old. That’s 40 years of making humanity feel better about itself one person at a time.

So over the years I  have  played dumb less and less and the people in my life who knew me as the not so bright but really nice, good old Anita  really didn’t like it.

I spent several years being called a ‘smart ass’

And then one day I started owning my space and my smarts.

Here’s the point of this post: Being smart isn’t bad, being enthusiastic and  passionate isn’t something you should ever temper or tap back.

There are only so many minutes we get on this world and you need to make them all count.

Don’t  waste them like I did.

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Anita Marie! How Could You Do That To An Innocent Song?

Your Number One
What was the #1 song when you were born? (not sure? you can find out here.) Write about how the song relates (or not!) to your personality.
 ALWAYS SOMETHING THERE TO REMIND ME
SANDY SHAW
November 5, 1964
Sandie Shaw (born Sandra Ann Goodrich, 26 February 1947) is an English pop singer, who was one of the most successful British female singers of the 1960s. In 1967 she was the first UK act to win the Eurovision Song Contest. She has been described as “the barefoot pop princess of the 1960s”. –
A love song?
Urp.
facepalm
Not into love songs- especially ones from the 60’s,
They’re not bad, it’s just that they just don’t speak to me.

Here’s the bright side- the #1 song on the chart on the day I was born was a love song about a woman who is being haunted by the memory of her lost love and of course that means…I can totally get behind this  as a horror story.

YAY.

I’m thinking, maybe he’s gone because she poisoned him or maybe she pushed him off of a bridge or in front of a bus or maybe he started to choke and she watched him die…and for as much as she wished him dead and when it  happened.

She was sorry after the deed was done,

Cause you know, once he was drained and embalmed and dressed in a spiffy suit and buried on a sunny spring morning she missed him so bad it hurt.

And now she sees him everywhere and she knows she always will and she accepts that.

She doesn’t care that he’s an angry ghost, bound to her because she’s wicked and can off somebody and trap their soul in a jar that she buried in her basement (and of course there is more then one jar because she’s demented).

I think the woman in this song is psycho, she’s dangerous, she’s evil and she almost has you feeling sorry for her…

almost.

Lyrics

walk along those city streets you used to walk along with me
And every step I take recalls how much in love we used to be

Oh how can I forget you
When there is always something there to remind me?
Always something there to remind me
I was born to love you
And I will never be free
You’ll always be a part of me
Whoa-ooo-ohhh-oh

If you should find you miss the sweet and tender love we used to share
Just go back to the places where we used to go
And I’ll be there

How can I forget you
When there is always something there to remind me?
Always something there to remind me
I was born to love you
And I will never be free
You’ll always be a part of me
Whoa-ooo-ohhh-oh
Whoa-oh-ooo-ohhh

if you should find you miss the sweet and tender love we used to share
Just come back to the places where we used to go
And I’ll be there

How can I forget you
When there is always something there to remind me?
Always something there to remind me
I was born to love you
And I will never be free
When there is
When there is
When, there, is
Always something there to remind me
Always something there to remind me
Always something there to remind me

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