Posted tagged ‘teasing’

“I couldn’t shed the cold; it clung to every bit of me.”

January 31, 2017

I walked out of the house to get the papers and was totally taken aback at how cold it was. It was sunny then but the sun was just a backdrop providing some light but no heat. Since then the sun has been replaced by whitish clouds. Snow will be coming later but only an inch or two. I’m staying home today where I’ll be warm and comfortable.

When I was a kid, winter usually meant staying inside after school. I’d do my homework and then watch TV. The only exercise I had was walking to and from school. We, the four of us, must have driven my mother crazy. My brother and I would tease our younger sisters. He and I would sit on the couch on each side of one sister and point at her. That drove her crazy and she’d yell to my mother about us. We’d yell back and say we weren’t even touching her, but my mother knew. She’d tell us to stop.

I didn’t my bike out much in the winter. Mostly I walked everywhere. Some Saturdays I’d ride with my father when he did his errands. My favorite stop was at the Chinaman’s as everyone in town called it. The shop was where my dad left his white shirts each week to be cleaned. Behind the counter on shelves were bundles of cleaned shirts wrapped in brown paper tied with string. The laundry was always steamy from the big ironing machine by the window. I used to watch the Chinaman iron.

On Sunday, if I was up and dressed early enough I could ride with my father to church. He was an usher at the eight o’clock mass. He’d give me a dime to put in the basket. I always sat in a pew where he collected the money. The ushers never sat. They just stood in the back entryway and talked in whispers until it was time for the money offerings.

One of the best parts of being retired is staying home on the coldest of days, a day like to day.

“The cookie-verse is infinite”

November 28, 2016

Trying to find something to watch on TV is a losing battle. I told my remote to find me science fiction movies. The choices were strange. Cinderella was one. I guess it is the talking mice and the fairy godmothers. The only scifi choices I wanted to watch I’ve already seen or they cost money. I don’t get that money piece as many of the films are old and have already been on regular TV. If I had my druthers, I’d have a free channel devoted to B science fiction movies, the old black and white ones. I’d totally binge on those. Luckily, though, I don’t really need movies. I have books from the library, a couch and an afghan. I might even make popcorn.

The plastic dog door fell off again so I had to shut the back door because of the cold. It’s a good thing this is Gracie’s nap time or I’d be standing at the back door waiting for her to come inside. Later, I’ll try yet again to attach the new plastic door piece to the dog door frame. Because I did it once on the old plastic, I am determined to do it again.

My mother used to start calling around this time. She’d say, “Guess what I bought you this weekend,” and then she’d chuckle. I’d guess a few things, but I wasn’t ever right. On another call she’d tell me I was going to love what she had just bought me. Teasing me part of the fun of Christmas. My mother loved these days leading to Christmas with all the decorating and the baking. We’d discuss what each of us was making. I always made date-nut bread, coffee cake for Christmas morning, fudge for my sister and my dad, orange cookies for my mother and English toffee. My mother made sugar cookies, chocolate chip sometimes, biscotti one year and cookies press cookies another year. She’d also make a pie or two. The dining room table always had trays of goodies. My dad used to make several trips each night. He always drank milk with his cookies.

Every week I keep track of the number of miles I drive. Why I do that, I have no idea, especially now. I don’t go out every day. Tomorrow is my only must go out to do something day as Gracie has a vet appointment. Maybe on some other day, I’ll get a sudden urge to hit the road, if only for a ride, but then again, my house is warm and cozy and, best of all, I love being at home.

 

“Reality can be very boring.”

February 8, 2015

The new snow makes the world look pristine, but I don’t care. We only got an inch or less, but it doesn’t matter. I am becoming unhinged. I can see myself running down the street with my arms waving over my head while I’m yelling a jumble of nonsense, my mind unable to form coherent sentences. The only distinguishable word is snow said over and over.

Yesterday I cleaned shelves, watered plants, changed my bed and swept the kitchen, negative effects of all this snow. In the afternoon, I finally saved myself by taking a nap.

I can’t imagine my mother having four kids stuck in the house. She must have gone crazy. The diversions back then were limited:  TV, with shows only in the late afternoon, books and our all time favorite: teasing my sisters. They’d scream and yell to my mother. My brother and I always feigned innocence. Our favorite was when we’d point and hold our fingers a few inches from our sister’s face. When she screamed as she always did, I’d yell, “We’re not even touching her.” My mother, wise to our ways, told us to stop whatever we were doing.

My sister has and is continuing to get have snow. She got about 7 inches last night and more will fall over the next two days, up to a total of two feet. This morning she saw a cross-country skier on the sidewalk.

The bird feeders are empty. I’ll have to go through the unshoveled snow on the deck to get there, but I will. I don’t want my poor birds wanting.

Life is boring right now. I can read only so long, the TV offers little to watch despite the number of channels and I haven’t any reason to be out and about. Maybe I’ll do more cleaning, but the mere mention of that is further proof I am losing my grasp on reality.

“When you give a lesson in meanness to a critter or a person, don’t be surprised if they learn their lesson”

August 14, 2011

Today is heavy with humidity. It has the look and feel of rain which won’t come, but its possibility will hang in the air all day. Nothing stirs, not a leaf, not a spawn, not a dog named Gracie. I’m already thinking nap, and I only woke up a couple of hours ago.

Yesterday I went grocery shopping. I was out of cat food, the only thing which forces me to shop. The aisles were filled with abandoned carts leaving no room on either side to pass. The cart owners were checking shelves and jars up and down the aisles. I moved a couple of carts to give me space and got such looks you’d think I was abusing children or small animals.

Sunday by its very nature is languid. On the seventh day he rested seems still to be a piece of the day. I went to church, stayed close to home and ate a big Sunday dinner. It was the same every week, and I think remnants of those Sundays are still part of my every Sunday. Seldom do I go anywhere other than breakfast. I do a wash every now and then, but that’s a leftover from my working days when I stayed home, changed the bed, did the laundry and corrected papers every Sunday afternoon. I also took a nap.

Elaine Clapper was always the target in my class. Every kid, make that mostly every boy, said she smelled. That Elaine was not especially attractive or smart or funny made her an easy target. The teasing was covert: laughing behind her back or pointing at her as she walked away. Most kids had little to do with Elaine. She was usually isolated. I think we girls were afraid of being drawn into her circle and becoming another Elaine. We all said hi, but that was the extent of our interaction. Once I invited her to my house. I don’t know why. I think I just felt sorry for her. She came. I have no recollection of how we spent the afternoon. I never invited her again. She went to the local high school, and I didn’t. I never saw or heard about Elaine Clapper again. I wish I were braver back then.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

May 24, 2010

It’s the sort of a day that ought never to be wasted. It’s a day to be outside. While the coffee was brewing, I did a walk around the yard and picked up the inside toys Gracie sneaked out, stood the bowling pin back up and reattached covers to the tulip lights. On the deck, I watered the plants and herbs in the window boxes. It is a glorious day.

On one side of my elementary school, a seldom used door led to a narrow driveway, an exit from the parking lot also seldom used. Houses, separated by a fence, were on the other side of this narrow way. In late spring, the driveway was mostly in shadow and the sun only dappled here and there. Branches from huge trees hung over the fence, and it was their leaves which kept the sun at bay. I used to veer out of line and go out that side door instead of the main door we were all expected to use. My yard, much of it now in shadow, reminded me of my secret walkway in springtime.

Step on a crack and break your mother’s back was what we’d sing song when we’d jump across the sidewalk cracks on our way anywhere. It was just one of those things we kids said, and we had a bunch of them back then. We knew the last one in was a rotten egg. It was an indisputable fact. “I know what you are, but what am I?” was one of our snappiest comebacks as was, “It takes one to know one.” We were clever kids with repartee. “I’m rubber, you’re glue, everything you say sticks right back to you.”

The worst was to accuse a boy of liking a girl. It was great fodder for playground harassment. Peter and Bonnie sitting in a tree K I S S I N G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage.

We seldom made fun of differences. The taunts were generic, good for everybody, male and female alike. I don’t ever remember name calling. We were into teasing and laughing and running for our lives afterwards.