Wednesday, August 20, 2008
I hate decisions. I couldn't decide which of these two I liked better. Now that I've spent four days waiting for both of them to upload on my dial-up internet, I think I like the one below better. But I like the one above too. Below. Above. Below. Above. Chocolate. Peanut Butter. Chocolate and peanut butter. Reeses.
Do you see how my twisted brain works? All day long it is just free association. Do I need to be medicated for this? (Please do not answer that question.)
How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!
Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
River and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside--
Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown--
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!
-Robert Louis Stevenson
I used to love to swing. I say "used to" because if I get on a swing now, I get dizzy. I hate getting old. (Three "gets" in one paragraph. My college professor would be so proud.)
Some childhood memories of swinging include:
* Swinging from a grape vine and dropping into the Piankatank River over and over and over again.
* Accidentally chipping fellow third grader Mary Blair's front tooth on a swing when we collided. We were rough housing on the swing. Her tooth hit the chain. Later in life, I saw her when she was visiting her brother at my college. Her tooth is still chipped. I feel guilty about that. For that reason alone, my only rule with my kids is no rough housing. Just ask them.
* Swinging really high and then jumping out. Fellow fourth grader Mary Beth did this and her jumper got caught in the chain of the swing. Good news: she landed safely. Bad news: Her dress was ripped to shreds.
This reminds me of another story about a dress that has nothing to do with a swing. When I was a kid my front tooth--that was not chipped because Mary Blair did not return the favor--was loose. It dangled and dangled but would not come out. I wouldn't let anyone near it. No way were they going to tie a piece of string to it and tie the other end to a door knob and then slam the door. We might have been freakish, but we were not the Three Stooges. And no way was I letting them near me with a pair of pliers. No way.
One day I came home from school and couldn't get my jumper off for some reason. My mother (aka Mamma, pronounced "mumma" as Mathews Native Who Comments so correctly pointed out yesterday), evidently a bit frustrated with my failed attempts at undressing, rushed over, grabbed the bottom of the dress, pulled it over my head and in the process managed to ensnare my tooth and ripped it out as she yanked the dress over my head.
I hate dresses to this day. And I hate dealing with my teeth even though one is practically falling out of my head. And what this has to do with the topic of this post is as follows:absolutely, positively nothing.
But I do feel like eating a peanut butter cup. I think I'll get one now.