Tis the season and all that. So here is a story from my childhood.
One year my Grandma came to stay with us for Christmas. By that point in her life she slept maybe five hours a night. So she was in bed by ten and up by three or four in the morning.
So naturally she was up by the time myself and two of my sisters were awake. (At this point there were only two official Sisters of Professor Matthew. The Youngest was yet to join the party).
Somehow we convinced ourselves that rather than waiting the relatively reasonable amount of time for our parents to wake up that it would be acceptable for us to begin since with the presence of Grandma we had an adult observer. Surely that is all that is required on Christmas morn.
And somehow we convinced Grandma this must be true.
Shortly after we began opening the offerings under the tree, our mother struggled halfway down the steps. Not surprisingly, she was in no way full of Christmas cheer.
We were ordered to re-wrap all of our presents and then to return to our beds until released.
Let us just say that I was particularly ... enthusiastic that year about the unwrapping. And in case you were wondering it is a huge pain in the ass to try to cover presents when all that is left is scraps. It took a lot of time and tape just to get them up to half-assed.
Once my parents actually got up they took extra time preparing coffee before we were summoned from our rooms.
To this day I am still not sure how we decided that it was okay for us to unwrap without our parents there. And I am really not sure how we managed to trick our Grandma in to this (pretty shitty that we took advantage of an old lady like this).
So happy holidays to y'all.
And I'm sorry Grandma.
Showing posts with label nostalgia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nostalgia. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Here piggy, piggy, piggy
Spoiler alert, this story may upset some people (if curiosity got the better of you M. then "hey there!").
So a Friend of Professor Matthew and her wife got a couple of cavies as pets (that's the technical name for guinea pigs. Now you've learned something). And that reminded me of a story from before I was Professor Matthew and was just Youngster Matthew.
The Sisters of Professor Matthew frequently had cavies as pets. So when Middle Sister of Professor Matthew asked for one as a present for her birthday one year, the Official Parents decided that she was old enough to handle the responsibility (which meant that she was old enough that Official Father would not end up doing all of the waste management).
Off to the pet store we went. Official Middle Sister picks one out. It gets brought home and put in a temporary home. We children observe it. Much speculation is made that it is acting odd. But if you've ever had a cavy as a pet you know that pea brained and nervous rodents. How can you describe them anything they do as odd? Odd is standard operating procedure.
Still, this one seemed "Just not quite right."
Next morning Official Older Sister and I are first up. We head to the kitchen for breakfast and also to check on the critter. It is not moving.
OOS: "I think its dead."
Me: "Nah, it's breathing."
"No, it's dead."
"It's asleep."
"You're wrong."
"I'll show you." And with that I scoop it up.
It was stiff. Dead long enough for rigor mortis to set in. I responded with something eloquent like "Glaaaah!" and dropped it.
To this day I will swear that it bounced a little.
For a sense of closure, I'm pretty sure that the corpse was taken back to the store and exchanged for a more "alive" one. I'm not sure if a receipt was necessary.
So a Friend of Professor Matthew and her wife got a couple of cavies as pets (that's the technical name for guinea pigs. Now you've learned something). And that reminded me of a story from before I was Professor Matthew and was just Youngster Matthew.
The Sisters of Professor Matthew frequently had cavies as pets. So when Middle Sister of Professor Matthew asked for one as a present for her birthday one year, the Official Parents decided that she was old enough to handle the responsibility (which meant that she was old enough that Official Father would not end up doing all of the waste management).
Off to the pet store we went. Official Middle Sister picks one out. It gets brought home and put in a temporary home. We children observe it. Much speculation is made that it is acting odd. But if you've ever had a cavy as a pet you know that pea brained and nervous rodents. How can you describe them anything they do as odd? Odd is standard operating procedure.
Still, this one seemed "Just not quite right."
Next morning Official Older Sister and I are first up. We head to the kitchen for breakfast and also to check on the critter. It is not moving.
OOS: "I think its dead."
Me: "Nah, it's breathing."
"No, it's dead."
"It's asleep."
"You're wrong."
"I'll show you." And with that I scoop it up.
It was stiff. Dead long enough for rigor mortis to set in. I responded with something eloquent like "Glaaaah!" and dropped it.
To this day I will swear that it bounced a little.
For a sense of closure, I'm pretty sure that the corpse was taken back to the store and exchanged for a more "alive" one. I'm not sure if a receipt was necessary.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Parade Rest
TonyN's comments on my last post reminded me of a time when I could take a shower in under 30 seconds.
See, when I was a teenager a number of people in the peer group I was in joined the Civil Air Patrol. I was in the cadet program which is like Junior ROTC but for the air force and members are civilians. Even though we met on an air force base. Hard to say their greatest claim to fame but CAP pilots did manage to sink two Uboats in WWII.
In order to hang out with them I joined too. For a year it was kind of interesting and some of it was fun. What was weird was how quickly you can get sucked in to the quasi-military mindset. It's built around testing self-esteem and then giving tiny little rewards that make you want to try and get the next little reward. And creating a sense of belonging to a group that exerts more pressure on you to conform and fit in. And this wasn't even the real military.
The best part about it was the group I was in "won" and got to represent the state I grew up in for a cadet competition. I say won because we were the only one in our state to enter. The cool part was we got to fly to another state in a C-130. It's a big prop plane and equipment transporter. It was like flying in a bus with wings. Back then I didn't get airsick like I do now. That and the plane flew low so we didn't have to deal with full pressurization.
We did poorly in much of the competition, though far from the worst, and did manage to win best spirit. The team from New York was an unstoppable juggernaut that lived for the competition and was among the best in the country. Yes, they can be very proud of their ability to march as a group in both preordained and creative patterns. I'm sure it is a skill that has come up again and again in life.
What does this have to do with showering? We did a separate week long retreat and training thing while I was there that involved groups from our geographic area. One of the things they did to "break you down and build you up" was we got no more than 30 seconds for a shower for most of the week. So you learned to lather up in the sink and use that time to rinse and not much more. The weird thing, the last day we got all the time you wanted to shower and after about a minute you were clean. Anything longer seemed wasteful.
I do have to say though, to this day I'm still not sure how making perfect hospital corners helps a soldier in the field.
See, when I was a teenager a number of people in the peer group I was in joined the Civil Air Patrol. I was in the cadet program which is like Junior ROTC but for the air force and members are civilians. Even though we met on an air force base. Hard to say their greatest claim to fame but CAP pilots did manage to sink two Uboats in WWII.
In order to hang out with them I joined too. For a year it was kind of interesting and some of it was fun. What was weird was how quickly you can get sucked in to the quasi-military mindset. It's built around testing self-esteem and then giving tiny little rewards that make you want to try and get the next little reward. And creating a sense of belonging to a group that exerts more pressure on you to conform and fit in. And this wasn't even the real military.
The best part about it was the group I was in "won" and got to represent the state I grew up in for a cadet competition. I say won because we were the only one in our state to enter. The cool part was we got to fly to another state in a C-130. It's a big prop plane and equipment transporter. It was like flying in a bus with wings. Back then I didn't get airsick like I do now. That and the plane flew low so we didn't have to deal with full pressurization.
We did poorly in much of the competition, though far from the worst, and did manage to win best spirit. The team from New York was an unstoppable juggernaut that lived for the competition and was among the best in the country. Yes, they can be very proud of their ability to march as a group in both preordained and creative patterns. I'm sure it is a skill that has come up again and again in life.
What does this have to do with showering? We did a separate week long retreat and training thing while I was there that involved groups from our geographic area. One of the things they did to "break you down and build you up" was we got no more than 30 seconds for a shower for most of the week. So you learned to lather up in the sink and use that time to rinse and not much more. The weird thing, the last day we got all the time you wanted to shower and after about a minute you were clean. Anything longer seemed wasteful.
I do have to say though, to this day I'm still not sure how making perfect hospital corners helps a soldier in the field.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
I should be in bed
"I should be drinking a toast to absent friends instead of these comedians"
-Elvis Costello
I just got done sending a message to one of my oldest remaining friends. It's put me in a bit of a mood. It won't last long hopefully. My bad moods seldom do. On a certain level I'm grateful for that but on a different one they never really last long enough to spur me to do anything about them to ensure they don't come back.
Anyway, to focus on the business at hand, I'm real good about letting friends get away. I've moved a lot as an adult, trying to find my place in the world or what have you. Six states since I've left home for college, if you count the two months in Delaware one summer. I've made eight major moves in my life since graduating from Penn State. And what happens every time is I lose most of the people I've managed to make some level of friends with. Out of sight and it becomes way to easy for them to become out of mind.
Most of the time I prefer the company of my wife to any other person on the planet. Which should only make sense since I married her and all. But there are those rare moments when either she's busy or working or I want to do something that I know she has no interest in or the rare times when I want to talk about her but not with her.
Like this weekend. There's a scooter rally and it is about a five hour ride to get there. Six if you count the stops for gas, water, bathroom, and just resting your back and shoulders. And I have no one to ride it with. So I'm probably not going to go. And some guys I know are doing an event in Alabama but I don't feel strong enough in the relationship to figure out how to get invited along.
Bottom line, I feel lonely but I just don't want to deal with having to go through the effort yet again to make new friends. I want my old friends back. But I'm kind of doubting any of them plan on moving any time soon.
Well, at least it won't last for long. Hopefully.
-Elvis Costello
I just got done sending a message to one of my oldest remaining friends. It's put me in a bit of a mood. It won't last long hopefully. My bad moods seldom do. On a certain level I'm grateful for that but on a different one they never really last long enough to spur me to do anything about them to ensure they don't come back.
Anyway, to focus on the business at hand, I'm real good about letting friends get away. I've moved a lot as an adult, trying to find my place in the world or what have you. Six states since I've left home for college, if you count the two months in Delaware one summer. I've made eight major moves in my life since graduating from Penn State. And what happens every time is I lose most of the people I've managed to make some level of friends with. Out of sight and it becomes way to easy for them to become out of mind.
Most of the time I prefer the company of my wife to any other person on the planet. Which should only make sense since I married her and all. But there are those rare moments when either she's busy or working or I want to do something that I know she has no interest in or the rare times when I want to talk about her but not with her.
Like this weekend. There's a scooter rally and it is about a five hour ride to get there. Six if you count the stops for gas, water, bathroom, and just resting your back and shoulders. And I have no one to ride it with. So I'm probably not going to go. And some guys I know are doing an event in Alabama but I don't feel strong enough in the relationship to figure out how to get invited along.
Bottom line, I feel lonely but I just don't want to deal with having to go through the effort yet again to make new friends. I want my old friends back. But I'm kind of doubting any of them plan on moving any time soon.
Well, at least it won't last for long. Hopefully.
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