May 10

 

We're on day 10 of this here Blog Every Day in May challenge. Ambitious I know, but there are topics posted for every day. Go check it out. Today's topic is most embarrassing moment(s).  Spill.  So here goes.

I am not a crier at the movies.  It’s not real and I pride myself on my hardy stoicism.  One Christmas my mom took to me to see the movie Prancer and as I remember it was an incredibly depressing and emotional movie.  When it was over my mom looked at me with her puffy eyes and tear-streaked face in surprise because I was detached and unmoved.  Awkward.

An embarrassing fact:

There is an episode of The Simpsons that weaseled its way into my icy disposition and gets me all weepy every time it’s on.  Not Bambi, not ET, not Fluke, not My Girl, not even Old Yeller can bring tears to these peepers like Homer Simpson can.

The episode is called “And Maggie Makes Three.”  

Basically, after Bart and Lisa were born Homer was able to quit his hated job at the nuclear plant and nab his dream job of working at the bowling alley.  He was happy as a clam at the bowling alley and life at home was good.  Then, Marge finds out she’s pregnant again and Homer has to beg for his plant job back because he needs more money for the expanding family.  Here’s where the waterworks start:

Mr. Burns puts this sign up in Homer’s workspace to remind him that he cannot quit again.

 

Maggie is born and Homer falls in love.  It turns out there weren’t a lot of baby pictures of Maggie in the family photo album because Homer used them for this:

 

Pass the Kleenex.

Smack Talk, Shuttlecocks, and Ducks

I enjoy games. Not a whole lot will make me happier than playing Yahtzee on the patio on a summer day. I also really like Jenga.

I am by and large not a competitor as I do not have an athletic bone in my body and never really get psyched for the big game. Badminton is about as badass as I get. Plus, shuttlecock is a hilarious word.

Invite me to play a board game, cards, or trivia though? BRING IT ON.

My trash-talking, ready-for-action self is ready for the cut-throat competition. I turn into a different person. One who uses phrases such as IN YOUR FACE! and PUT THAT IN YOUR PIPE AND SMOKE IT! There are other phrases loudly expressed but I can’t really think of them when I am not under pressure during an intense game of cribbage.

My best girlfriend Jillian is similar. She’s even more competitive and also has a knack for talking smack. Our cribbage games are interesting to overhear. We almost got into fisticuffs once over a game of Trivial Pursuit. If Jillian ever reads this: I am still right. Luckily, our friendship survived and we were able to carry on with our games.

Camping and Cribbage

Bobaloo is awesome and will play Yahtzee with me. He’s not such a fan of the trash-talk so I keep it to a minimum. Cooperation, not competition.

We also have had a two-year rock-paper-scissor tournament going on. He has consistently won EVERY game for the last two years up until a couple of weeks ago. I won, and the smack talk began. It went on for a good half hour or so. Yep. He wins 100 times; I win once and won’t shut up about it. He reclaimed the title last Sunday so my victory was short-lived. He is a quiet winner. Never bragging, never rubbing it in. Dignified.

Then something happened. Something unprecedented. The 4th of July duck races.

He won the first race (well his duck did).

He cheered his duck on.

Pictures were taken of the winning duck.

We even held a ceremony for the duck: Bobaloo won a tee shirt. We celebrated the duck victory hard (with a pitcher of beer).

He was a proud champion.

He was happy as a duck in water.

Gimme Shelter

There weren't a lot of boundaries when I was a kid. There were a few rules to be followed and with the rest, my parents just kind of hoped good old common sense would kick in.

My dad has always been weird about safety. Safety Dave. He was a boy scout. If you take me camping, I'll be really prepared.

I will have my raingear and maglite, promise.

If you count from a flash of lightning to the next thunder and divide the seconds by five that is how many miles the lightning is from you.

I was three when I remembered hail for the first time. It broke the kitchen window and I sobbed when dad went outside by the tree to take pictures of the ice stones. The front steps were AstroTurf and the railing was wrought iron.

There, you can feel a storm coming. The barometric pressure makes your bones feel peculiar. The sky becomes eerie and the clouds develop into worrisome formations. Colors change. I am afraid of storms. My heart drops down to the pit of my stomach and I worry.

In the warm months of Minnesota, the tornado and thunderstorm and flash flood warnings are a fairly regular sound. Then, a lady's voice comes over the emergency broadcast speakers and tells you to seek immediate shelter.

This was a Safety Dave rule. Get home, get in the basement, have flashlights, listen to the radio, or watch the weather report.

My brother David was always in the garage watching the storm approach, the clouds change, and the lightning. I wanted safety. Sometimes my mom and dad were home. Sometimes I was alone. Sometimes I was with one brother or the other or with both. Thunder so loud it would reverberate in your chest. I waited storms out in the basement.

Weather can be terrifying. Especially, when you're a kid.

Colorado monsoon season is happening. Almost every afternoon for the past couple of weeks there have been thunderstorms. Rain, hail, lightning, thunder, fast water, etc.

The storms come in and roll out quickly here. Sirens don't go off very often.

Still, when the rain begins and I am rattled by the claps of thunder and the lightning I cannot help but want to go home and get in the basement. I don't use the phone or shower when there is lightning either.

I know I am safe. I keep myself safe.

Why are some fears more difficult to outgrow than others?

Do you watch the storms come in?