Report cards, and testing time. I know I scored well; in the sixth grade I scored in an eighth grade education level, with ninth grade reading. I know I have mentioned it before, and I will again, it has become an integral part of me: I am not that smart. Common sense, barely. Street smarts,… Continue reading Looking down my nose
Back to school. Ugh. For lunch one day I had a sandwich that was crunchy, so I was thinking bacon? But it tasted weird, and Helen can cook/make stuff taste good. I think I tried to make myself eat it, but couldn’t, and threw it in the trash. I found out later that someone had… Continue reading If I grow whiskers
Helen was still doing her Army Reserve duties, so once a year she had to go to training for two weeks. One year she got a family to babysit us for the whole time (I have no clue where dad was), this year, camp. I was dreading it just hearing about it. So, off we… Continue reading Summer camp – yay…
Throughout this time I started randomly collecting different things, mostly what my family picked out for me. I had dolls from Holland with tiny wooden shoes, a woven Native American doll, several others that I can’t remember, and since Helen (step-grandma) used to be stationed in Japan, every Girl’s Day I would get a female… Continue reading Of dolls, horses, hats, and heavy metals
Ah, the good old days…. music was everywhere, MTv actually played videos, and the battlecry of insomniac comedy lovers was “I want my Al tv!” And yet here I am, a depressed and lonely teenager – yay. Songs that spoke to me made me cry – “does anyone love anybody?”, “wouldn’t it be good if… Continue reading If you’re Goth and you don’t know it…clap your hands??
All the road trips have kind of meshed together now, so I can’t tell you how many there were, or if it was all one *really* long ride. I remember visiting my dead’s mom (great-great grandma). She had a mulberry tree in her yard, and we would eat all we could reach. She had a… Continue reading Road trips, sulfur, and monkey’s blood
My parents always had a Buick. Don’t ask me why. I almost called this post “The old woody”, because we had a station wagon with the fake wood “panel” on the side (I found out later it was just really long stickers, because it started peeling). When my mom’s parents were with us, we rode… Continue reading Buick people