Nothing peculiar about the day. Mom and Dad went to work. My brother and I stayed home. We had unwritten and unspoken understandings kindled by the fear of the belt. Of course, we were still kids, so we had our differences.
We were never really a 'sit down at the dining room table for dinner' type of family. I can only remember one time that wasn't a holiday. It was a weekday…..(insert flashback music here)
"Will you two just behave?" my father asked less than patiently.
I tried to keep quiet. I tried to keep my cool and be the older, wiser sibling, but what do you really want from a 10 year old?
"But he jabbed me with his fork!" I cried.
The glare I received told me that there would be no more discussion on the matter. I slouched back in my chair and gave up. Better to eat my dinner and be able to sit down than to make my point and have a sore bottom. Don't talk back was always rule number one.
I used to really put away the food when I was little. It's amazing that I'm the size I am instead of 2 or 3 of me. As I dug into my plate, I realized that ketchup would make everything better. It was, after all, my favorite condiment. I got up from the table to retrieve my red savior. Unfortunately, my brother decided that it would be the perfect time to continue pestering me.
I tried. I tried as hard as a 10 year old can try to ignore the squealing that was my brother. It was incessant. he wouldn't stop. He followed me to the fridge. He kept at it. Would. Not. Stop.
Sidebar: If you've ever played the game Killer Instinct, I compare myself to Timberwolf. He takes it and takes it and takes it until he just snaps and goes nuts on someone.
I stood at the door to the fridge trying to keep my composure. I was an uptight child. But he got to me. I don't remember now what he did or said to push me into KI mode, but without thinking, I grabbed the ketchup bottle (it was plastic) and swung it at the closest thing, which happened to be my brother's head.
Ketchup everywhere. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, my brother's face, my shirt. And then the real squealing began. To this day, I don't know if he was in pain, shock, or taking the Academy Award for Best Youth Actor in a Kitchen Drama, but he started screaming like I had lopped off his hand. My father's immediate reaction was one of "girl I'm going to kill you" until he realized that my brother wasn't in fact bleeding, just covered in ketchup. Upon this realization, he promptly ordered us to clean up the mess that we had made and then retire to our rooms. I'm sure there was punishment, but that part is never as fun as smacking your kid brother with a ketchup bottle.
I reminisce about that moment every time I pick up the ketchup. 🙂
In your ultimate dream house, what does your favorite room look like?
Well, if I'm in my dream house, then I must be living my dream life, i.e I'm not working for the rest of my dream life. Were that the case, my favorite room would be my library. It has a minimum of 400 square feet. Along 3 of the walls are floor to ceiling bookcases filled with every book I've ever read or wanted to read, and trust me, that fills up a lot of space. Since it's my dream, one wall will be for paperbacks, but the other two will be for hardcovers. The third wall will have floor to ceiling windows with a fireplace smack dab in the middle of that wall.
Two ceiling fans will rotate on low at all times to push the heat from the fireplace down, as the center of the room will be sunken. The flooring around the sunken area will be a spectacular tile, but down below, in my special area (get your mind out of the gutter), will be a deep, plush carpet, comfortable enough to lay down on, but there will be no need for that as there will be beanbags, reclining chairs, and anything else I can think of as furniture.
Did I mention that my library has a bar and a bathroom off to the side, accessible through a hidden panel like Batman? Well, it does. Now be quiet so I can read.
Some time back, I had the opportunity to go to the zoo. This isn't just any zoo, mind you, it's the Mexico City zoo. Yup, D.F. I really loved my time in Mexico, but I digress.
You see, I was under the impression that the five-assed monkey only lived at the top of the hill in the crazy genetic scientist's lab. He may even have been just a figment of someone's deluded imagination, but I was wrong. He lives in the zoo in Mexico City. I even got a picture of him.
I hope that you can see him well in all of his glory. He's a beautiful five-assed specimen.
Sure the zoo has other critters too, you know, lions and tigers, and bears, oh my. Bears. It was bear feeding time when we got to the bears. So adorable the pandas eating their lettuce and apples. The koalas and a couple other random bears. All hanging out, having a little party, a luncheon if you will. So cute, until you see that one poor bear was left out of the party.
Poor guy, all alone, no one to bear talk to, no one to give a bear hug. Poor black bear. Whatchya havin for lunch buddy? Apples, lettuce, carrots? No? So what do you have there? What? Really? They gave you that?
So what do you think the black bear was eating all by his lonesome? And really, I couldn't just make this up. One black bear, separate from the other bears, eating watermelon. I kid you not. I'm sure that I nearly busted a gut laughing at this. Since when do bears know about segregation and stereotypes?!?!
This capped off a wonderful day at the zoo. I got a great tiger picture too.
Mexico City rules! Don't let anyone tell you otherwise and if you go, make sure to stop by Litros where all the drinks, no matter what they are, come in a one litre container. That's a whole different post though. 🙂
The last two nights, my boyfriend and I have been hammering out some plans for a new business venture (stay tuned). So the last two days have looked like this:
- Work (where it's been a little hectic lately)
- Home (pick up daughter, do homework for the classes that never end, have dinner, do more homework)
- Talk for a couple hours about the new business
- Try to go to sleep
Everything is fine until that last step. I think I've been overloading my brain lately. Last night and the night before, I laid down to go to sleep and the strangest thing happens. I close my eyes and I start seeing random clips. The weird thing is that these aren't movie clips or memories, just crazy ideas I guess. They're very vivid, almost in 3-D and they only last ten or twenty seconds before jumping to a completely different scene.
I open my eyes and it stops, but the second I close them again, it starts up again. I figure this lasts for at least 15 to 20 minutes before I actually fall asleep. What the hell is happening to me? Is my brain just trying to get rid of some information? Am I going crazy? Oh wait, I'm already crazy. Does this happen to normal people? Dammit, just remembered that I'm not normal either. Well, has it happened to you?!?!
What's one family recipe that you wish you knew how to cook?
Many moons ago, my grandmother would make a dessert that would just knock your socks off. It never had an official name. It was some sort of cross between a pie, a cobbler, and an upside-down cake with peaches. My brother and I lovingly called it "Peach Junk".
I spent a lot of time in the kitchen with my grandmother, trying to pry recipes out of her, but she was old skool and had no recipes or measurements for anything. I do believe that I somehow picked up the brunt of the mac and cheese recipe, but to this day, Peach Junk eludes me.
It is truly a sad day on this earth when there is no one that can re-create the delicacy of Peach Junk. Gram, you are sorely missed.