Blast from the past

Mb and I went to return some books at the library Tuesday evening, and she told me about the plot of hers, where one of the characters was motivated by something "unfair" that happened in their childhood. It reminded me of something that happened 40-odd years ago which has bugged me all this time.

My sainted Aunt Mary took me with her on a visit to her cousin in New Jersey. I'd been there before over the years, and was acquainted with the cousin's family and had met the neighbor kids. The kids next door to the cousin had a wading pool. Just a dinky little above-ground kiddy pool, nothing fancy, but more than I had at home.

So, I was over there in the pool, and the kids who owned the pool were really possessive about sharing their pool toys. They'd let me hold one for a short minute, then demand it back. I was keenly aware of the unfairness of this; I wasn't hurting it.

The way I was raised, if I had a visitor who wanted to play with something of mine, I let them, because I could play with it any time. I guess not everyone got that message.

Yes, I can carry a grudge like nobody's business over all kinds of piddly shit.

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Blast from the past

Mb and I went to return some books at the library Tuesday evening, and she told me about the plot of hers, where one of the characters was motivated by something "unfair" that happened in their childhood. It reminded me of something that happened 40-odd years ago which has bugged me all this time.

My sainted Aunt Mary took me with her on a visit to her cousin in New Jersey. I'd been there before over the years, and was acquainted with the cousin's family and had met the neighbor kids. The kids next door to the cousin had a wading pool. Just a dinky little above-ground kiddy pool, nothing fancy, but more than I had at home.

So, I was over there in the pool, and the kids who owned the pool were really possessive about sharing their pool toys. They'd let me hold one for a short minute, then demand it back. I was keenly aware of the unfairness of this; I wasn't hurting it.

The way I was raised, if I had a visitor who wanted to play with something of mine, I let them, because I could play with it any time. I guess not everyone got that message.

Yes, I can carry a grudge like nobody's business over all kinds of piddly shit.

.

Well, that should make things interesting

It looks like Tropical Storm Emily is going to be rolling through this weekend.

It's not for sure yet, but the prediction cone gives it a good chance.

She's just a little storm, at this point, and as long as it doesn't stall out and flood us, no big deal.

Non-Floridians freak out about tropical storms and hurricanes...I had an aunt you used to call in hysterics any time there was any "major" weather. OMG, there's a Hurricane Watch for the coast!---er, yeah. Two hundred miles south of me, thanks, Tante.

Live through a few of them, though, and you start to get blase---"I'm not going anywhere for less than a Cat 2!"---and that's only if you live on a barrier island or in a trailer, and maybe not even then.

.

Well, that should make things interesting

It looks like Tropical Storm Emily is going to be rolling through this weekend.

It's not for sure yet, but the prediction cone gives it a good chance.

She's just a little storm, at this point, and as long as it doesn't stall out and flood us, no big deal.

Non-Floridians freak out about tropical storms and hurricanes...I had an aunt you used to call in hysterics any time there was any "major" weather. OMG, there's a Hurricane Watch for the coast!---er, yeah. Two hundred miles south of me, thanks, Tante.

Live through a few of them, though, and you start to get blase---"I'm not going anywhere for less than a Cat 2!"---and that's only if you live on a barrier island or in a trailer, and maybe not even then.

.

Dream a little dream

First, I was walking down a highway to go to a frozen yogurt stand. I got there, and realized I didn't have any money. In fact, all I had on was my long-but-not-that-long sleep shirt and flowered panties. I started finding quarters on the ground in the parking lot,

Some guy sold me a tiny little two-seater Italian convertable, an old Fiat, I think, for $200. Nothing fancy; terra cotta-colored primer and rusty. I guess I went home and got the money? His was selling it because the previous owner had disappeared owing him money.

Anyway, I started dressing the part: I had on a black leather jacket and matching driving cap, and I was zooming down the highway at 2AM...had on a big gold wristwatch (Reminded me of the 150th anniversary Burberry special edition) and someone gave me another watch, also gold, leather band, Mickey Mouse, which I stuck in my inside jacket pocket with parts of another watch, because I knew that way it wouldn't accidentally get trashed. (Yesterday, Mb had on one of the TV shopping channels, and they were touting pleather jackets at premium prices, which I thought/think is absurd.) I knew I wouldn't casually chuck my REAL leather jacket in the washer.

It turned out that unbeknownst to the guy who sold me the car, there was a body in the trunk. (Previous owner.) The killer had put it there so as not to leave evidence in his own vehicle. (The Casy Anthony trial has left its mark.) The guy who sold the car ended up as a flame-broiled corpse, and the killer stole back the body.

When I looked in the trunk, there was no body, just rusted-out holes you could see the ground through. There was a snagged piece of thread or cloth that gave me a clue, though, and I took it to the police with my suspicions.

Then, I wasn't in the car any more, I had this...flying seat. It was about four feet long, like a cross between a banana seat and a motorcycle double seat, blue vinyl-covered, no steering, no visible power source, but it sure was fun to fly/drive.

I had a meeting with my handler, because apparently I was some kind of agent---and it was Gordon Ramsey, who took me into his study and was getting ready to explain the code I'd be using, which was on his wall as some kind of Gaelic motto, when I awoke.

I recounted this to Mb---she thinks I've watched too much TV. That still doesn't explain the fro-yo and panties....

.

Dream a little dream

First, I was walking down a highway to go to a frozen yogurt stand. I got there, and realized I didn't have any money. In fact, all I had on was my long-but-not-that-long sleep shirt and flowered panties. I started finding quarters on the ground in the parking lot,

Some guy sold me a tiny little two-seater Italian convertable, an old Fiat, I think, for $200. Nothing fancy; terra cotta-colored primer and rusty. I guess I went home and got the money? His was selling it because the previous owner had disappeared owing him money.

Anyway, I started dressing the part: I had on a black leather jacket and matching driving cap, and I was zooming down the highway at 2AM...had on a big gold wristwatch (Reminded me of the 150th anniversary Burberry special edition) and someone gave me another watch, also gold, leather band, Mickey Mouse, which I stuck in my inside jacket pocket with parts of another watch, because I knew that way it wouldn't accidentally get trashed. (Yesterday, Mb had on one of the TV shopping channels, and they were touting pleather jackets at premium prices, which I thought/think is absurd.) I knew I wouldn't casually chuck my REAL leather jacket in the washer.

It turned out that unbeknownst to the guy who sold me the car, there was a body in the trunk. (Previous owner.) The killer had put it there so as not to leave evidence in his own vehicle. (The Casy Anthony trial has left its mark.) The guy who sold the car ended up as a flame-broiled corpse, and the killer stole back the body.

When I looked in the trunk, there was no body, just rusted-out holes you could see the ground through. There was a snagged piece of thread or cloth that gave me a clue, though, and I took it to the police with my suspicions.

Then, I wasn't in the car any more, I had this...flying seat. It was about four feet long, like a cross between a banana seat and a motorcycle double seat, blue vinyl-covered, no steering, no visible power source, but it sure was fun to fly/drive.

I had a meeting with my handler, because apparently I was some kind of agent---and it was Gordon Ramsey, who took me into his study and was getting ready to explain the code I'd be using, which was on his wall as some kind of Gaelic motto, when I awoke.

I recounted this to Mb---she thinks I've watched too much TV. That still doesn't explain the fro-yo and panties....

.