Easter...

I found out in 3rd grade that I had allergies. I'm told I sounded like a cat coughing up a fur ball every two seconds and it was disturbing to everyone around.

I went to the doctor and got tested. I found out I had the same DNA as the boy in the plastic bubble.

I was allergic to everything.

Chocolate
Strawberries
Dairy
Wheat
McDonald's
The entire Universe
Et al . . .

If I liked it... I was allergic to it.

I wish the doctor had said something like, "Liver, green bell peppers, lamb, and chores." I could live without all of those things. Forever....

I found out that I was allergic to the food I loved a few days before Easter.

What in the world would the Easter Bunny bring me?

Carrots? Celery? Lettuce? Radishes? ...an I.O.U????

I was pretty concerned as any kid would be.

I wrote him/her a letter.

Dear Easter Bunny,
I just found out that I am not supposed to have any chocolate in my Easter basket this year...or ever. If you hide some under the plastic green shred I would appreciate it. My parents won't mind. They are used to me sounding like a fog horn. It's somewhat melodious once you get over the initial shock. I would also like you to leave out the Peeps. Those things taste like stale marshmallows dropped in the sand. I would also like it if you could take out the black jelly beans. Licorice gives me gas. Worse than my allergy sounds. I am leaving you an extra carrot for your efforts.
signed,
a very concerned kid

Easter Sunday rolled around and I jumped out of bed and ran to the living room to search for my bountiful basket. I saw 4 baskets lined up on the fireplace. The usual spot. Our Easter Bunny obviously came down the chimney like Santa Claus. I noticed very quickly that the three baskets for my two sisters and brother were full of large chocolate bunnies, jelly beans of all colors, multiplying Peeps in purple and yellow and pink, and lots of chocolate eggs. I saw my basket. It was full of something white. White bunnies. Lots of white bunnies. White eggs. Lots of white eggs. White jelly beans. About a hundred of them scattered in the shredded plastic Easter grass. I counted them.

I quickly set to work tasting each and every piece for flavor. After the 50th jelly bean I gave up. I'm pretty sure they were the "Mystery Flavor" which means they were factory rejects that the manufacturer cleverly marketed. I bit the ear off the largest white bunny. It tasted like sidewalk chalk. I licked a white egg. It left a coating on my tongue that tasted like Crisco. I gave up and grabbed a chocolate bunny out of my sister's basket and stuffed it into my mouth. It tasted like heaven. Two seconds later I woke up the entire family with my honking fur ball cough.

Turns out the "Easter Bunny" had given me an entire basket of white chocolate and yogurt flavored goodies.

???

I have no good explanation for why the "Easter Bunny" thought that white chocolate and yogurt were not part of the chocolate and dairy family.

the end...

Friday musings . . .

Not a glass slipper...

Not Cinderella...but close...the pretty part...not the indentured servant part...

Not Goliath's foot...but close....

further proof...

Not incredibly appetizing to look at...but incredibly appetizing to eat...

Not my size. . .

also not my size . . . but close . . . if I was still a newborn . . .

and didn't eat a lot of these. . .

Happy Weekend everyone. . .

The Spelling Bee . . .

I was in a Spelling Bee when I was a kid.

I made it to the final two.

My competitor, Lori, and me.

In order to get to the Spelling Bee competition I had to out spell all the kids in my school. Then I had to out spell all the kids in the county. Then I had to out spell all the kids in the city, on my block, at church, in the store, waiting for a bus, and so on...

I did that.

It was a piece of cake.

C-A-K-E.

The day of the Spelling Bee arrived. I woke up early and read the Encyclopedia Britannica and the Webster's Dictionary before breakfast. I wanted to make sure I knew how to spell every word there possibly was in the English language. I had no idea that I should have been reading romance novels too. It would have helped me ace the competition with my final word.

I went toe-to-toe with Billy DeLunamore on such words as, spoliator, elegiacal, pococurante, and ratoon. Easy-peasy...until....Billy was knocked out of the competition and I was left with Lori. Lori spelled every word correctly just like me, but with added flair. Lori would spell the word and use it in a sentence. I tried this. And was almost disqualified. Spelling Bee judges do not have a sense of humor. They do not enjoy hearing every word turned into a rhyming joke. I quit...right after ratoon.

Lori's last word was something like, fergalicious. My word was something straight out of a romance novel title. I was a kid. I didn't read romance novels. I also didn't know how to spell the word. I must have skipped over the letter "r" in the dictionary, and the encyclopedia and everywhere else. I did glance over a few pages of "r" words. I stopped after ratoon. I never ventured further. I should have. I lost on a really easy word. I will never forget that word. In fact I am writing a romance novel just so I can use the word in the title and write it many times over so I never, ever forget. Believe me when I say I haven't forgotten. To this day it haunts me.

I remember standing up on the stage with the hot lights shining in my eyes and the foul smelling microphone perched on the stand in front of me. I remember the whine of feedback from the speaker as I asked the judges to use the word in a sentence while I stalled for time. The judge said something like, "R----is the last word you need to spell in order to win this competition." I asked for the meaning. "R---- is a word not fit for children's ears." What? Then why give it to me?

I pointed out that I was a child and maybe they should reconsider and give me a more age appropriate word to spell. The judges conferred with one another for about a second and said, "No," and "Spell R---- please." Then someone hit the timer and I began to sweat. Time was ticking by at warp speed. I was searching my brain for the correct way to spell the word. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Lori pull out her Spelling Bee acceptance speech and study it. I was a goner. I spelled the word. I spelled it wrong. A trap door in the stage opened up and I fell through and joined all the other losers in the orchestra pit. Lori was the last man standing. She spelled the word. Correctly. Used it in a sentence. Correctly. She won the Knights of Columbus Spelling Bee.

I crawled out of the pit and asked someone to check her I.D. Maybe she wasn't really 10. Maybe she was older. How did she know that word?

Lori said that her uncle was one. Her father was one and, in fact, every man in her family was one. Her confession did not make me feel any better. Lori's mother did not feel any better either now that the secret was out about her family.

My mother was not too happy either. I told her she should be grateful that I didn't know how to spell that word. I was pure. Innocent. And as far as I knew - didn't have any male relatives who were one.

The word you ask?

It was . . . "R-O-G-U-E", ROGUE.

the end...

Tubby...

This is Tubby a couple months ago...he sat in my arms forever and made funny dolphin sounds when I tried to put him on the floor. French Bulldogs do not bark like other dogs. They sound like a cross between someone letting the air slowly out of a balloon and "Flipper". It's part charming and part unnerving. Tubby belongs to my niece. She sounds like a normal human. This is Tubby today... he continues to be a little lethargic, boneless, and likes to be carried everywhere. He still sounds like "Flipper" and squeaky balloons. Just louder. And deeper. Like he means business. Watch out.That's my nephew pushing the "ON" button. . .

It didn't work. Tubby just sat there until someone picked him up. He's trying to live up to his name. We love him anyway.

the end...

Pillow talk...

My daughter and I were lying on my bed talking.

We were having one of our very mature conversations discussing world peace, the State of the Union address, and global warming...or maybe it was "Gossip Girl", the "Rock of Love Bus" and the pros and cons of hair extensions. Very important stuff if you ask me.

Toward the end of the conversation she thrust her foot in my face and with a huge grin said, "Mom, eat my toes."

I looked at her with a straight face and said, "I'm too full."