WWF Moves and My Sister

My sister and I when we were still nice

Back in the day when I was an annoying 12 year old, my parents had gone out to dinner so my sisters, my best friend and I were supervising ourselves.  We decided to watch some TV.      I was sitting on the couch with younger sister Mindy sitting on one side of me and my friend sitting on the other side of me.  My oldest sister Marti was sitting on the floor right in front of me so that her head was by my feet.  Picture this, I was sitting so that my bare feet were up on the couch cushion and my knees tucked up by my chin. I would call it a sitting fetal position. My toes were possibly touching her hair.    

You're thinking that I had stinky feet right?  Nope.  Marti said, "Your toes are touching my hair.  Move them."  Instead of removing my toes from her hair or Marti moving her body either direction, I just wiggled my toes in her long, brunette, 70's feathered hair.  This is how the body slam of 1972 began.  

Marti turned around and cranked my toes backwards then turned back around to watch TV.  I proceeded to do the sisterly thing and just kicked her in the back of her noggin.  

Marti stood up and grabbed the offending foot of mine and pulled me off the couch.  My tailbone hit the hard floor first and it wasn't pleasant.  All that went through my mind was "GAME ON!"  My friend who was sitting right next to me on the couch saw the escalation in our violence and promptly stood up and announced that her mom was calling her so she should go home.  I didn't want my friend to go home just because my sister and I were having a tiffle.  I looked over at her and I very firmly said, "You can't hear your mom calling from a block away.  Sit down and shutty."

Marti was 14 at the time.  She was taller than me, weighed more than me and had full blown boosies.  As sisters you all know that if you have those then you have all the power.  I don't know what came over me though, because I snapped.  Maybe it was the fact that both my big toe and tail bone had been injured or that I wanted my friend to know that despite my injuries and missing mammies, I still had some moxie.

Marti and I wrestling in our babushka's and bell bottoms

Marti and I stood there, in the middle of the family room, facing off, my eye balls staring at the all powerful bosom of my older and much larger sister.  Next thing I knew, I hoisted Marti up by the waist and did an amazing WWF bodyslam.  I'll be honest. It felt good.  You would think that I'd strut myself back to the couch to sit by my friend and younger sister to gloat but I didn't.  First, I was so shocked that I was capable of body slamming Marti that I just stood there looking down at her in a heap on our green shag carpet. Next I started feel bad.  Marti started to cry and slowly stood up, brushed off her bell bottoms and straightened out her halter top.  She looked me right in my evil yet powerful eye and said, "I don't cry very easily but when I do it's really bad."  

As she walked toward the bathroom door, all drama and stomping platforms, she turned to me and said in her snarkiest voice, "Just wait until mom and dad hear about this!"   I knew I was toast if this got back to my parents.  I grew up with 4 sisters and no bothers so this kind of fighting was not tolerated well in our house.  Where were my much needed big, bad brothers that would have really big, nasty fights.  If I had some brothers, then using my WWF moves on Marti wouldn't be such a big deal. 

The thing is though, I had dirt on Marti.  Just a few weeks prior to this incident Marti had snuck out of the house to go to a friends house and I caught her in the act.  I had been holding onto this info until just the right moment and this was it.  I marched myself to the bathroom where she had locked herself in to have a cry.  I rapped on the door and reminded her of her recent sneaking infraction.  The door immediately popped open and Marti's red rimmed eyes appeared around the door.  She cry-whined, "What do you want."  I told her that I saw her sneaking out so she better not tell on my bodyslam.

Mindy-You did what? Me-Marti did it!  Marti-She's so mean

She was mad but she was guilty too.  We both agreed to never tell our parents what transpired that night or the night when she snuck out.  It was the classic  "I won't tell if you don't tell."  

We both walked back into the family room, satisfied that we had an agreement.   Of course we sat at opposite ends of the couch so no body parts would touch each other.  My friend had skedaddled by then.  Sitting between us was my little sister Mindy, just 2 years younger that I was.  She looked at both of us and said, "I'm telling mom and dad on both of you."  

Ahhh.....sisters.  

I guess we were always stinkers.  Looking at this picture I can clearly
see that I'm the pill on the left, Mindy is the scared infant in the middle because she's
wedged between her sisters and Marti is the guilty party on the right.
 

Bare Chests and Arachnids

My family has always loved their petty tortures.  Mickey Sr. especially loves to persecute our kids, that's why he wanted so many.  

For instance Mickey decided that our teenage son Whitey should hang the Christmas lights one year.  In order to do that, Whitey, who is terrified of heights, had to get up on the ice and snow covered roof.  As if that wasn't bad enough for Whitey, Mickey decided to make things even more scary by hauling out the air soft guns.  He proceeded to shoot at Whitey as he tried to hang the lights.  I stood in the doorway, hollering at the shooter, "Mickey, stop shooting the kids."  I'm sure the neighbors heard.  We were new to the hood so I'm also sure they were worried. Don't feel too bad for Whitey though.  He always gets even.   

Another time while Whitey was out on a date, Mickey put about 20 mouse traps in his bed.  When Whitey came home from his date, he climbed into bed only to be attacked by 20 snapping mouse traps.  All we heard was the snapping and Whitey yell, DAD!"   A couple of minutes later Whitey came upstairs with an air soft gun and shot Mickey while I hid under the bed covers. 

Mickey put two of our neighbor boys down in our window well and poured motor oil and condiments from the fridge on them.  It may not sound so bad but they were wearing shorts and it was a snowy, February night.  He did that to those poor boys just because they took a can of shaving cream and squirted it into Mickey's ear hole.  Mickey deserved it too.  

Our kids were raised enduring these abuses AND learning from the master.  They also practiced on their siblings.  

The first clip is of my son Whitey.  He was mountain biking and saw a tarantula on the trail.  A genius idea come to him.  He put the tarantula into the back pocket of his biking jersey (yep) and rode home.  He then put the arachnid into a big bowl and waited for the perfect moment.  

Later that day, Whitey went into the living room to find Rocky napping peacefully on the couch, bare chested and in shorts. This made for the perfect situation to dish out some brotherly persecution.  Just a side note....Rocky HATES spiders.  

Whitey retrieved the bowl with the ginormous spider and quietly crept into the living room where he ever so carefully dumped the spider right onto Rocky's bare chest.  The following is the mayhem that ensued. 

In the next clip you will notice that the chairs, tables and pillows were strewn about while Rocky screamed like a soprano.
.  

You will also see Mickey Sr. loving every minute of this while I shout in the background "Mickey, please make him put it somewhere!  I'm not kidding!"  In that sentence the IT refers to the tarantula. As far as my family is concerned, if you lose something like a tarantula in the house, then you just act like you don't know how it happened and wait until it ends up in someones bed.   

Mickey's has trained his children well.  The petty tortures will probably continue for generations to come but at least it gives me something to blog about.

Whitey and Rocky

Insurance, Gender and The Proof

Not too long ago I was applying to get health insurance.  It's not as easy as you think to get health insurance especially after you hit the magic 50th birthday and the insurance companies think you are now decrepit. 

After filling out several forms and sending money, you wait.  You wait to see if you're in or out.  After a month of waiting, I called to see if I was accepted into the insurance fold.   I was told that the application was being processed and that they would get right back to us.  

Three more months went by.  I had called them every month and each time they would tell me our application was being reviewed.  I was living in health insurance limbo and my current policy was set to expire by the end of the week.    

Finally after 4 months of paying premium and not knowing if we were officially insured, I SNAPPED!   I was a donkey on the edge when I called in for the 6th time. This is the conversation and I'm not kidding:

Insurance guy:  Hello Mrs. Taylor.  How can we help you?

Me: I've been waiting 4 months for an answer as to whether or not our insurance application has been approved and if we are covered.  We've already paid the premiums for the past 4 months.

Insurance guy:  Yes, I see.   There is just one more piece of information we need from you.   We need proof of your gender.  We are just waiting for documentation on this. 

Me:.................crickets.............silence................really?  This is why I've been waiting for 4 months to get approved? 

Insurance guy:  We need that information before we can approve your application.

Me: What do you have in mind exactly?

Insurance guy:  Just something that tells me you are a female.

Me: Ok. I'm a female.

Insurance guy: You telling us that you're a female doesn't work.  I need something official.

Me: (In my snippiest voice). Well, you made me miss my mammogram a month ago. 

Insurance guy:  We're sorry about that but we can't do anything until this issue is resolved and documented.

Me: Can you hear my FEMALE voice telling you to put this in your documents?

Insurance guy:  Ma'am, we're doing the best we can here but we need some kind of proof that you are, in fact, a female.

Me: You're calling me Ma'am so you must think I'm a female.

Me on the left looking a bit like a dude
but note the swimsuit please.

Insurance guy:  That doesn't work either.

Me:  Hum, I was born in a family of 5 girls.  I was the son my dad never had and sometimes I looked like a boy when my mom cut my hair cut like a boy, but I think they were always pretty sure I was a girl. 

Insurance guy:  Cute but not what we need.

Me on the right and Mickey on the left

Me: When my husband and I travel, I stick my head through the board on the women's side in those fake swim suit pictures.

My proof

Insurance guy: Nope

Me: Well, I've had a bunch of kids, do you want the number of my OB/GYN?  

Insurance guy: No (and he used a bad tone of voice)

Me the day before I had my twins
I'm being very brave posting this

ME: I have a pregnant picture of when I had my twins and it's not pretty.  I can send you that or would you rather I send a picture of ALL of my kids so you'll feel sorry for me and quit hassling me.

Insurance guy: We need official type proof.

Me:  My husband married me thinking I was a woman.  I even have a marriage certificate. 

Our wedding announcement pic
Clearly a man and woman.  Check out the 80's hair

Insurance guy:....................silence (he's thinking about what he wants for proof).

Me: Do you need me to come to your office and flash my boosies at you? 

Insurance guy: Ma'am, thats not helpful either.  Let me transfer you to someone else.

The poor guy can't think anymore so he transfers me to anyone that'll take the call.

Brenda:  Hello, My name is Brenda.  I hear we just need to know your gender and then we can finish up your application process.  

Me:  I hear that too.

Brenda:  Are you Shari on this application.

Me: Yes

Brenda:  Ok.  You're all finished. We'll get the cards sent right out.  


At least I know I'm female for sure.  



*That insurance company dumped us at the end of the year due to cutbacks in individual insurance policies?   I guess I need to come up with more proof for the next time.

Wally's lawn shrooms

I want to tell you about a grandchild of mine named Wally.  Wally has a particularly colorful personality.  I'm going to focus on his eating habits to begin with. Wally is an extremely healthy eater.  He eats lots of green veggies.  He has green drinks with Romain and bananas every morning (I think they taste like slimy grass) with a side of eggs or oatmeal.   He has not experienced foods like cookies, ice cream and treats, therefore, he doesn't have a taste for them and doesn't even know what those foods are. 

 

Wally posing for the picture like
he's about to eat a cookie!
(note there are 0 nibbles)

One time we took Wally out for lunch and I did a lab test on him.  I sometimes use my grandkids and husband for my own little lab tests (unbeknownst to them).  To test Wally, I lined up a slice of cucumber, a strawberry, a piece of bread and a cookie with M&M's all over the top.  I watched to see which one Wally would pick up and eat.  His mother said, without a doubt, that he would eat the cucumber. Sure enough he picked up the cucumber and ate it without hesitation.

So to test Wally a bit more, I picked up the cookie and handed it to him.  He turned it over and over in his hands, looking at it like it was a frisbee.  I told Wally to eat it and I pushed the cookie up by his mouth like all good grandma's do.  Wally stared at it and got it near his mouth but he wouldn't take a bite! 


Wally is so used to eating green things that he'll go outside and pick something off a plant and ask if he can eat it.

                                                                                  

Wally bringing home a tumble weed for dinner.

  

Wally asking if he can eat these leaves

Sometimes he'll even pick up things, like a tumbleweed, and bring it home for dinner.  He's going to be a fine husband.

One Easter, almost a year ago, I had my family over for Easter dinner.     


While dinner was being prepared by most of the adults, the kids were outside playing their own unsupervised version of corn hole. 

Two of my grandkids, Wally age 3 and Millie age 4, were among the grandchildren.  They are inseparable and love nothing more than to play together.   Everything was going great and dinner was just about ready when Millie came running into the house.  She tugged on Wally's mom and said, "Sid, Wally's eating mushrooms from the outside."  Sid followed Millie outside to find Wally picking the mushrooms out of the lawn and popping them into his mouth.  

Sid ran over to Wally and  began digging mushrooms out of Wally's mouth.  Sid,  "Wally! Have you been eating the mushrooms out of grandma's lawn?"  Um, DUH Sid.  She grabbed the rest of the shrooms out of Wally's hand and brought them inside.  She asked me if I knew if they are poisonous or not and I told her that I didn't think they would be good to eat or I wouldn't be buying them at the grocery store.  

I told her to call poison control (I've had experience with them before) and find out what they recommended.  In the meantime, I started googling lawn mushrooms and comparing them to the mushrooms Wally just picked and ate.  I found that the mushrooms that Wally ate are non-poisonous but have a small amount of hallucinogen in them.  

Much to our relief or not, poison control confirmed this and said that we should watch Wally closely for any signs of hallucinogenic type behavior. (Not sure exactly what that could be?)

Sid and I glanced over at Wally and Millie playing in the family room.  Wally was doing front flips off of the back of the couch and landing on the coffee table.  After a few flips he screamed like a wild man and ran off to chase Millie around the house while making strange animal-ish sounds.  I turned to Sid and said, "Sid, how exactly can you tell if Wally's having hallucinogenic type behavior?"   Sid said, "I have no clue.   I guess if he passes out or something."

Wally has already knocked out half of his front
tooth and killed the other front tooth

Wally has also had a skull fracture
and had a whole slew of scrapes and

bruises.

Wally is a very busy little boy with lots of energy like most 3 year olds but I like to think of him as a special little guy with lots of talent however I keep thinking..............

God bless my daughter for the next 20 years.