Monday, October 24, 2011

Choir Practice

Mom and Dad joined the choir at church. That left us at home with a baby sitter.

Poor baby sitter...she never knew what hit her.

I enjoyed many acrobatic feats while my parents were away and the baby sitter wanted me to like her, which I quickly figured out, so she let me do pretty much whatever I wanted...

Use the stair railing as a ladder, stand on the coffee table and pretend it was a stage, pretend the edge of the back of the couch was a balance beam, use the floor in the kitchen as a bowling alley...

But, the absolute best was the slide I created...

Our couch was so ugly. It was brown with some kind of harvest gold design on it. The pillows were detachable and it had one long, very long, cushion that stretched from arm to arm. This very long cushion came in quite handy.

My sisters and I would pull the cushion off, carry it up the stairs, set it down, climb on, wrap our legs around the person in front of us, and then...SWOOSH!

We pushed off and slid, and slid, and slid down the stairs! Over, and over, and over again! It was amazing and fast and fun!

The wind wisked through our hair, the room lit up with our giggles, our cheers, our cries of bravery! We were fearless and reckless!

And...don't worry...I always put myself in front so if someone got hurt, it was probably going to be me.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

First Concert

Did I mention I can sing? And that I sing all the time and at the top of my lungs?

You'd think that would turn my music teacher off, but she seemed to appreciate me. Of course, she was pretty kooky herself. She was a child of the 60s and had Fawcett hair and a Mary Tyler Moore wardrobe.

She ran concerts for every grade level. In first grade, we had some kind of square dance thing. And I had a solo.

I don't remember the song, but I felt pretty important standing up there singing and I wasn't embarrassed, or nervous. When one is already loud, boisterous, and constantly excited, one gets used to being watched.

Though, this time, the stares and glances were not ones of shock, discomfiture, or fright.

I was a good singer. It was my talent and no one was going to tell me how to do it, or what to sing.

So, if you're keeping score...I can sing and I read more than just Dr. Suess. I am paving the way to feeling united with Little Orphan Annie and Anne of Green Gables.

Do you find it odd that both are orphaned, named Anne, and are red-headed?

Thursday, October 6, 2011

It's A Hard-Knock Life

Saturday mornings were almost as bad as Sunday mornings in our house.

On Sunday, you were forced to get up and stuff yourself into tights and a dress, not a twirly one, and sit on a hard, sharp, pointy church pew for an hour, listening to someone spout words so foreign in meaning it made your head hurt if you tried to make sense of them.

Saturday mornings were almost as bad.

While I was up at the crack of dawn and did get in some playing time before Mom got up, she usually appeared before I had a chance to accomplish everything I had planned for the day.

She would emerge from her boudoir in her maroon, or pink, satin pajamas, robe, and slippers and say, “Girls! It’s time for a family meeting!”

Those words pained me. They wrenched at my gut and made me want to stomp my feet and scream at the top of my lungs.

We never hopped to right away and she would have to summon us a second time. Someone would shout, “Coming!”, and she would say in her best teacher voice, “Coming is in the process of.”

Wendy, Maria, and I would trudge into the living room and sit down on the poop brown couch with frustrated moans. It was like going to our deaths.

Then Mom started talking. No, ordering.

“Kara, you will pick up the living and dining room. Dust the surfaces, to include the window sills and blinds.”

“Maria, you will pick up the girls’ bedroom and bathroom, to include taking the towels to the laundry room.”

“Wendy, you will pick up Bill’s room, to include putting away the folded laundry in the basket on his floor.”

She would look at each one of us as she spoke, her words succinct and deliberate. Her black eyebrows would raise over her blue eyes and we knew she would remember exactly what she told us to do.

“Do we all understand?” she would ask.

Nods and sighs and groans were her answer.

“Good,” she would say. “Now get started.”

Maybe Saturday mornings were worse than Sundays. At least I could say I didn’t understand what the man in robes was saying so I didn’t have to pay attention.