Tag Archives: I love my family

Announcement for May:

This is just a heads up to everyone. Posting in May might end up being a bit…spotty.

May 8th:

Season 4 of Lucifer premiers on Netflix, and you can bet I’ll be livetweeting the shit out of that. Join me over on Twitter if you’re watching, too!

May 15th:

Ravi from VIXX will be performing in Dallas, and guess who has tickets~ I will obviously not be livetweeting that one, but you can expect massive amounts of spamming on Twitter afterwards.

May 24th:

I have an appointment with a cornea specialist who will, hopefully, be telling the other doctors “Oh, no, that’s fine. It’s just scar tissue, you’re free to go.”

And somewhere in all of this, I’m supposed to go out and visit my family in Arkansas before the kids get out of school on May 31st.

Yeah. This is going to be fun…

The things we realize…

It’s interesting how a random thought can turn into a realization about your entire childhood. A couple weeks ago, someone on Facebook posted about how they liked horseradish, and it got me thinking about my grandfather.

In the entire time that I knew him, and I’ll grant you, it wasn’t very long, but in that time, he never asked me to bring him anything. He would ask my cousins, or my aunts and uncles, but never me, and I think I finally figured out why.

To borrow the good ol’ sports analogy, I was born with two strikes against me. Let me explain…

First, my mother.

My mother is easily the most kind hearted person I know. Sometime early in my parent’s relationship, my mom was helping make sandwiches for lunch. My grandfather asked for horseradish on his. Mom, never having horseradish before, proceeded to slather it on to the bread like it was mayonnaise, and gave it to him. Grandpa took one bite, and spat it back out, yelling, “You trying to kill me, woman?!”

That was strike one.

Then, my sister.

My brother and sister are both 9+ years older than I am, and grew up when my family was especially church orientated. When I say “church orientated”, I mean, my father was a deacon, and my mother was a Sunday School teacher. So it was church every Wednesday, twice on Sunday, and every single day during Revival. This might not seem relevant, but bear with me.

Now, my grandfather liked to drink beer. He also liked to sit in his comfy chair, which left him with a problem: how to get a nice cold beer from the fridge…without getting out of his comfy chair. His solution was to ask my sister to bring him a beer.

Remember the thing about the church? Here is where it comes into play, because, you see, the church taught two major things: respecting your elders…and alcohol is bad. So, grandpa’s solution…became my sister’s problem. Alcohol was bad, but so was refusing to do what he asked her to. Fortunately, my sister has always been smart and came up with a solution to grandpa’s “solution.” She brought him a beer from the fridge, alright. But first, she gave it a good shake.

He made it through the unexpected beer shower the first time. And the second. And maybe even the third, I don’t remember how many times she did this to him before his cogs started turning, but eventually, he stopped asking her, and turned to my brother instead.

I love my sister, let me just get that out of the way now. She is the usually the sweetest little thing. However, she has her moments. And when grandpa asked our brother to bring him a beer? Well, she had a moment. She got our brother, three years younger than her, in on Operation Respect Our Elders/Beer is Bad. It eventually got to the point where grandpa would look around, realize that they were the only two there…and get up out of his chair to go get his beer, rather than risk another shower.

That was strike two.

By the time I came around, grandpa decided it was better to change sports than to worry about any curve balls I might’ve thrown him, and – just to be safe – he also wrote my name on all of the benches…with permanent marker. Now that I’ve had time to think about it, of course, I’m surprised he didn’t take a knife and carve my name into the wood.

At any rate, it’s a childhood mystery solved.

Challenge accepted.

For the past three years, I’ve been pranking my youngest niece and nephew. It’s been easy because it’s fell within the school year. They would come home and find their bed sheets switched around, or their closet rearranged. Just little stuff that made them go “Huh?”

This morning, my niece, Koda, made sure to tell me: “You can’t fool us today! We’ll be home allllll day, and we’ll be watching you!”

tried to warn her that I could still get them. She refused to listen.

So I waited. After lunch, she’s doing her chores, and my nephew was sitting at the table, playing with his figurines. I have my tablet.

Me: “Oh…my….GOD! Koda! Koda, come here! Look!”

Both of them came running to see what I had on my tablet. I got two smacks upside the head, but I think I proved my point. With minimal effort, too.

Bonus: Less than an hour later, I nonchalantly said: “oh hey, look at that…” And they both came running again. Same picture. If looks could kill…

My mother is made of amazing.

She just bought me a laptop. How did I repay her? By singing “The song That Never Ends” until she finally found the button to hang up on me.

Hey, in my defense, the woman tried to kill me last night! See, her doctors told her not to eat red meat anymore. She didn’t realize that BEEF was red meat until yesterday, apparently. So we’re talking about what she eats. She likes hamburgers, which okay, she knew THAT was beef, so it counts as red meat. Then she said she likes Arby’s roast beef.

Me: “That’s red meat too.”
her: “It is?”
me: “Yes…it’s- “
her: “but it’s not beef, it’s roast be-….oh.”

I was choking on AIR. I was still coughing at six am this morning. So yeah. It was justified, even with the laptop!