Growing Up, When I Was Not Down With Religious Up-Bringing.

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I had this great, great aunt who I am sure was alive when prohibition was on and if she wasn’t .. she definitely felt cheated. It was her mission in life to tell other people what to do … including God. Like the day she died she called everyone and told them she had decided to die that afternoon and could they please come by in the morning so she could give them her last instructions … not about what to do with her .. about what we needed to do with ourselves. By 2:00 she was real pissed with God that He was running a little late and by 5:00 (fashionably late) she was finally on her way. She was a part of the non-silent, aged, religious majority in my life. … a NARM!!

If you were talking on the phone, it was not uncommon for her to pick up her line and cut in and start telling you about how to treat that cold (always involved some combination of obscure and common plants, food items and cleaning products that should be ingested and/or rubbed vigorously on your body) or why you shouldn’t talk like that and btw remember to tell Humpydora that the quilting bee was at her place next week. Hey,party lines were cheaper, phones were for practical use and no-one had time to just sit on the phone and chat for hours anyway so who cared? I cared deeply about my time on the phone, but as she pointed out, I didn’t count.  Continue reading

The Bees Knees And Other Assorted Body Parts

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Hubby likes to make sure that he gets really natural foods. We used to get our honey from the markets and a little stall complete with a woman wearing a bee costume, with black and yellow signage and a declaration signed by some 1000 bees, authenticating that they have picked her picture out of a 12 face line-up as the woman who had indeed, stolen their honey. She had bandages all over her body with penned wording and arrows stating “bee stings.” Of course, there could have been nothing under the bandaids but the visual was pretty impactful. This was a woman who almost died trying to bring us authentic , natural honey. She also had pollen hanging from the end of her nose. Again, no-one scientifically PROVED it was pollen … but we all hoped. When a whole community closes its eyes tight and pretends not to see something or agrees it is something else, it pretty much is. It is called mass imagining and I am pretty sure that it is the explanation behind why anyone thought it was a good idea to vote Tony Abbott in as Prime Minister. I have to believe that or else I have to go kill myself.

The bee woman swore her honey was raw and natural.

I tend to believe anyone who swears. Continue reading

When Memories Fail Us.

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We went to visit some people once.  I don’t know why.  If you knew someone years ago and never stayed in touch, I don’t get why people think it is a good thing to renew things.  Like maybe the people were doing you a favour and keeping Uncle Herman from eating another one of their good friends?  Maybe the people never liked you in the first place and they are just too polite to tell you that “no, they really have no interest in seeing you again.”  Maybe they only are having you over because they can’t remember who you are and have you confused with someone they actually like.  Or maybe, they forgot all about you  and they hate to miss out on an opportunity to rub it in someone’s face that they hit the big times.

Oh ya I know, maybe they really missed you too and are dying to have you come over.

Get real, and stop reading my blogs ok?

We went to visit people that were from “way back” to my grandparents.  We drove for what seemed like 3 weeks to get there but any time confined in small places with my grandparents made time stand still so it might have only been 3 minutes, I don’t know.  When we got there everyone hugged and we were introduced and pushed into place and head patted until the adults went off to have coffee and left us with their absolute little snotball of a daughter – so we could “play” together and not be bothered with all the grownup talk that would probably “bore us to death.” Continue reading

The Reason for the Season And Why You Thought I Died.

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I escaped over the past few months. I slipped off the restraints and ran naked into the night.

Ok that sounds a lot more poetic than it actually was. I packed and drove to the airport. Then I came back, only I had a bunch of shit to do and ya … Christmas . . .

Anyway I am sure many of you are lying on your death beds waiting for some word that I have returned so consider yourself worded. I have returned.

Running away used to be fun. First there was that panic in the adults voice if you disappeared because they were still so sleep deprived and possibly on post natal drugs, that they believed you were some angelic being that transformed their life into little shimmering lights of meaning. Of course I am talking pre-teething and pre-two-year-old. Continue reading

The Supercalifragiamazing Gift.

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Don’t hate me for this but my hubby bought me a special “gift.”

He bought if for me after he tried to kill me one night in bed by handing me a hot water bottle that ruptured.

Thank God I was wearing a thermo heat control wet suit at the time . . . with goggles

Don’t ask questions, this is not a blog post about that kind of thing. We were very resilient and versatile, we just got changed into our doctor and nurse outfits, grabbed the aloe vera, smeared it everywhere and carried on … with the stuff we are not going to discuss . . . after I stopped screaming from the pain.

The next morning he offered to pick me up a new hot water bottle.

I thought about giving him instructions but then I thought, come on, he has been an adult for a long long time, he can do this. The hot water bottle section is one space on the pharmacists shelf. The choice is usually red or some other colour and who cares what colour it is. Continue reading

One Bad Apple and I May Die

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I think I ate a bug  . . and I might die.

I was home alone, calmly eating an apple.  I am allowed to do things like that alone … at home .. . unattended …. on my own.   And I bit into the apple and took a big bite.  Then I chewed and chewed and swallowed and then the phone rang or something – I can’t remember all the exact details because I am suffering with PTSD from the whole thing and my therapist said that I have probably blocked some of it to prevent myself from being triggered and losing it all over innocent people’s heads.

When I got back to my work and the half eaten apple lying on the desk, I almost died.  I had bitten through to the core and what was clearly a grotesque, rotten, slimy mess, black and orange and grossly grotesque, that had been created by some kind of bug/worm … thing.  (I had to type and retype “thing” 473 times just now because my hands are shaking so bad from the memory) Continue reading

Lessons from the Little Red Haired Girl Next Door. Fairies and Imaginary Friends.

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Today she is out in the backyard in a bright green fairy outfit with little wings that are kind of on her back and sort of on one butt cheek. Her hair is done up in double pony tails however their placement seems to have taken into consideration the displacement of the wings and is offsetting those so to keep her balanced. I have a feeling that the little red haired girl completely understands and pursues balance as an integral part of her daily routine.

Oh, and she is wearing bright yellow mud boots.

It is about 30° C today.

This is just the way a little red haired fairy rolls.

She is skipping and laughing, and talking to someone. I can’t see the person because well … I am neither a child, nor a fairy … but she alters between wagging her finger and instructing, to laughing and slapping her thighs as she leans forward and makes funny faces. Every once in awhile she falls over into the grass and starts to roll, gets carried away, and rolls and rolls until there is a little dust cloud as the grass is still recovering from the long winter. She gets up, dusts off her dress, adjusts her wings, checks that her pony’s are still there, and continues on. Continue reading

The Etiquette of Public Hugging by a Survivor.

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Don’t you think that “huggers” should adhere to some kind of hugger etiquette or that they should, at least, be policed in some form?

I find it awkward to stand around in a large group when a new person is introduced who happens to be a “hugger.”  You know exactly what I am talking about.  They show up, know no-one and presume it is alright to greet everyone with a hug.  First of all how do they know there aren’t committed huggers in the group who don’t adhere to open hugging?  How do they know anyone is open to hugging and that they are not some tour group out for the day from the institution where they are all being treated for a high startle response to human contact?  I mean someone could end up dead here.

And when you are the new person and clearly everyone hugs, how does it go?   Do you hug the ones you know best first? The host? Family? The people you like most? And what about skipping over someone and coming back to them? Like what is all that about? And how does one address a hugger who has clearly passed you over and comes back to you like they purposely left you for last?  Does it mean something bad or something good that you might actually consider bad, but they think it is a good?  And if you refuse the hug will you end up offending everyone . . . or again, dead? Continue reading

Dear Son

Letters From Home.

Dear Son – on the occasion of not having heard from you for months now …

Hi … It’s mom… remember me? Tall lady? You remember mom and dad? I was the shorter one on the team. I wore dresses and had breasts?

Try it with me now,say the word ? “MMMMMom….Mommmm….MOM ….” That’s it put your lips together and make a sound. Ring any bells yet?

Hope you got the money we sent you last time you called. Hope the car we bought for you is still doing well. Your dad and I hope to have one just like it when we finish paying for yours. It is hard sometimes to get my walker up the steps of the bus. Don’t worry, nothing serious, I slipped on the ice and fell on the sidewalk and lay buried in snow for several hours on my way to wire you more money. I am on the waiting list to get a new hip, if the local church is able to raise enough money to pay for it at the next Doily Extravaganza next month. Don’t worry if they can’t, I think hips are highly over-rated anyway, and it is not like I don’t have another one right? Continue reading

Lessons from the Little Red Haired Girl Next Door. The Soccer Ball.

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Her father took her out to kick the soccer ball around the yard. She was suitably attired, she had some green tights on which actually suited a 4 year old … much better than 40 year olds whose legs stretch the fruit or cute little faces into some kind of grotesque monsters from another world . She wore a flowered top, her runners, and a black ball cap, which needed a lot of adjusting. She matched the swagger of her father, as they strode out into the yard. She swung her arms around and did some on the spot jumping to limber up. She was a quick study.

The father put the ball down and kicked it to her. She kicked it back. She jumped up and down, it was fun. He kicked it to her and she, concentrating, tongue out, thinking about which foot, changing it, focussed … and kicked it back.  Her dad had to run a little bit to get it but it was a good effort.

This time dad kicked the ball back and forth and bumped it with his knee before kicking it back towards the little red haired girl. She had been waiting patiently and being a good sport, she clapped for her dad’s amazing talent. She got the ball and focused, tongue in place and kicked it as hard as she could. Continue reading