odd bits from a Sunday
It's Sunday afternoon. Poison oak, my constant companion, because I insist on walking my dogs in beautiful wooded places and am violently allergic to it, has once again raised red welts on my wrists and hands. This time there is a special bonus, and it's appeared on my right eyelid, causing it to squint shut, making me look like Popeye the Sailor, without the cute little corn cob pipe. My head being already shaved, the effect is really quite terrifying. Too bad it's Valentine's day instead of Halloween. Pity my poor, long-suffering boyfriend.
I'm in the midst of an ugly fight with school administrators, and it's engulfing me in anger and frustration. I had a dream I was trying to get to my class, but was caught in a crazy mall-from-hell full of glitz and style and couldn't find it. I was begging vain salesgirls to stop looking in the mirror long enough to show me how to get to my class. I kept taking escalators that led nowhere, and asking more people, and I was in tears because class had started without me.
Someone has left a comment on one of my blog entries twice now that are nothing but links to porn websites. My brother has sent an email to his friends, mentioning my blog, and inviting them to feel free to harass me, in return for years of disfunctional babysitting. He was kidding, of course. HE WAS KIDDING! No, I'm sure those two things aren't related.
It's true I did babysit my younger siblings a lot. They were six and seven years younger, and I was a very responsible child. The only time I really remember was the night they got in a fight, as usual, and brother hit sister in the nose, or the ironing board fell on her nose, depending on who is telling the story. It swelled up and blurred across her face. I put an impromptu ice pack on her and called my uncle, the doctor for a consultation. Meanwhile, in the other room, my remorseful brother had gone in to apologize, they had quickly gotten into another fight, and he hit her in the nose...
It's time to walk the dogs in the wooded area and no doubt invoke the poison oak demons once again.
posted by miss bean @ 3:47 PM
2 Comments:
I think that my sister is now seeing the danger in inviting her siblings to read her blog (sound of maniacal laughter goes here)
The ironing board incident. As I recall, Susan liked to play "restaurant" when my parents went out. She would serve us sugar sandwiches and 'Pink ladies' made with maple syrup and water. Zoloft? we don't need no stinkin Zoloft! I plead the sugar defense and rest my case.
Ah yes, the restaurant. I remember it well. The table was an upturned cardboard box with a cloth over it, the rather limited menu was as you described, except the sandwiches were cinnamon toast, not pure sugar. Pahleese. I was a sophisticate!
With all the other family food secrets you know, and there are many, isn't it amazing none of us has diabetes?
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