When I moved to DC it was in the fall. I can't believe it was 29 years ago. 29 years. I had my whole life in front of me. I remember my first paycheck. Going to Woodward and Lothrup and buying my first designer suit with the whole pay. It was a navy blue Sassoon suit. Boy, I thought I was hot shit. I wore than thing until it fell off my body.
I didn't know what life had in store for me yet. I was so ready for whatever it threw my way. I was thinking it would have thrown me something along the lines of the Mary Tyler Moore Show. Yeah, I was Mary......... For about five minutes.
Anyway--I'm just sitting here in my kitchen. Thinking what to write about this week. Then I remember my June Cleaver phase.
I have two dinners cooking on the stove. The fireplace is on. The dog is passed out in the middle of the floor and the kids are watching the original version of King Kong on TV. They have all the lights off and are laughing there butts off.
I just smiled to myself. I guess I already wrote it.
Sometimes parts of my old June Cleaver life come back to visit every once in a while. If only for a moment.Like a snap shot.Tonight was one of those nights. When I close my eyes, right now I can listen to the old movie coming from the other room. Smell dinner cooking on the stove. Hear my kids laughing. Maybe I can stretch it and pretend like we're just waiting for Dan to come home before we eat dinner. Because the only thing missing is his laughter mingled in with my kids.
Every once in a while my life doesn't seem as fucked up as it really is.
Then reality sets in.
It's fucked up.
It's then I realized I ended up Roseanne!
I think this article that I read today is responsible for this melancholy mood of mine.
Didn't every street have a lady like this. In my childhood it was Mrs. Siebert. In my childrens day it was Mrs. Krinsky and the two old ladies on private Mintwood that actually called me a Pig Shit Irish Bitch. (You think I would at least remembered their names after calling me such a thing)
So to all the Mrs. Sieberts, Mrs. Krinskys and "Wicked Witches of Sherrod St" out there. I only have one thing to say.
Nah-naah-naah-naaah-naaaaaah
Reminds me of my favorite SPUDS song.HEY YOU GET THE HELL OUTTA MY YARD
4 comments:
Irene,
The real question at this point is this: are you the lady keeping the ball OR are you ponying up the attorney's retainer?
Our lady was Mrs. Vogel. She scared the tar out of us. In retrospect, the poor lady lovingly maintained a garden we wold routinely bounce balls into.
When we'd play "I DARE YOU" one of the most horrible things we'd force other kids to do was to go on to her porch and give her some version of heartburn. We were on the bobsled to hell early on.
Happy trails,
Ruti
Funny.
Ya know, I thought about that very point when I was writting this.
I think I am on the bubble.
I could turn into Mrs. Krinsky in about a year and a half.
I know this, becuase I am not immediately siding with the kids or their parents when I read the story.
Eileen.....
You actually had me a little teary here!
Your life is not fucked up, you are not fucked up....you just need fucked. How do I know?
I just know.....
Judi
A picture party! It's Mt. Lebo's version of the Oscars or the Emmy's!
Families with big homes take turns hosting these "red carpet events" before the dances. The kids are in groups and meet at the designated house with their families in tow (in our case, it's usually Carmen, my sister and I). There's always cocktails for the adults and fancy non-alcoholic drinks for the dance goers and a spread of appetizers, desserts, etc. They do the group pictures and the individual pictures--formal and non formal. They do some Paparazzi type things. The picture party is a huge part of the entire event here in the great state of Mt. Lebo. After all these dances (with Toni...NOT with Vince....oh my NO!), I guess we think a "picture party" is very normal.....ha!ha!
Who would have thunk it?
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