Sunday, January 13, 2013

Musings

I still can't get over the fact that Jameson (Parker; JP) responded to my comments on his blog yesterday. (Okay, so I'm still a little star-struck... I had such a huge crush on the man back in the 80s when he was on Simon & Simon (he played AJ)). But I do enjoy his posts. A few days ago, he wrote an amusing entry, and now he writes something like his "Gun Appreciation Day" entry. And he writes so well! That's the kind of writing I aspire to do. Of course, I don't have the kind of life experiences that he does, so I can't write about the same types of things that he does. (Maybe I'll get one of those emails promising me great riches if I send my personal info to some bank I've never heard of in London or where ever. You know, the ones where an African patriarch died and they haven't been able to find his family, blah-de-blah... Those are always fun to read. Or the lottery somewhere in England. Hey, if I could win a few zillion pounds (how much is a pound in American dollars, anyway?) I could forget about renting a house and just flat-out buy one. A house big enough for me, my friend, our dogs, and maybe more dogs.)

Okay, maybe not. But it's fun to dream about having lots of money. Be as rich as Oprah, or Bill Gates, or Donald Trump... I'd buy the biggest house and property I could find and become the crazy dog lady. :-) I'd adopt as many dogs from shelters as I could, or even right from people who couldn't keep their dogs anymore. And they would live in the lap of luxury, of course. Only the best food and shelter for my babies.

Have y'all heard about that Publisher's Clearinghouse sweepstakes they're doing now? The $5,000/week for life one? What I could do with that much money! And then I might leave it to my friend if I died before she did, or to one of my brothers. Of course, I'd bury most of it in the bank. (Find the best interest-bearing account I could.) I'd make almost a quarter of a million dollars the first year alone (before taxes; I have no idea how much I'd have to pay in taxes. I might be lucky to have $100,000 at the end of the year.) But hey, that would be a heck of a lot more than I'm making now!

Hmmm, I'm getting way off what I was writing about at first, lol. (I tend to do that.) Getting back on topic, I might see if I can go back to school or take a few online courses in creative writing. I've always loved to write, and it probably wouldn't hurt to beef up my skills. My grandmother took some classes when she and my aunt lived in AZ, and she wrote some stories about her life. One of my favorites was a story she used to tell all the time about when I first moved to OK to live with her and my step-grandfather.

It seems a couple of ladies from Green Country MHMR (that's the closest I can come to what it was called) came out to evaluate me. (I have no idea why, and neither did my dad or grandmother.) Anyway, they did a bunch of tests (which I passed with flying colors; I was an intelligent kid!), one of which involved raisins and a bottle. They put the raisins in the bottle and watched to see if I could figure out how to get them out. Of course the neck of the bottle was too small for me to reach my finger into and get them out, so after puzzling over it for a bit, I turned the bottle over and shook them out. Grandma said that as the ladies were leaving, one of them turned to her and said, "Mrs. Merritt, if that child's retarded, I'd sure hate to see a smart one!" lol (Retarded, no. Scatterbrained in the extreme, but definitely not retarded. I'm one of those people who'd lose or forget their head if it wasn't firmly attached.)

I wish I could remember more of my childhood. It's funny (weird) that I have such a great memory, but except for a few little things, I can't remember much about growing up in Oklahoma or visiting my parents in Richland Hills (or even after I moved to Texas full-time). I remember watching my brothers Pat and Lonnie playing football, I remember things like chasing the bus down when I missed it. I remember my brother Lonnie carrying me to the end of the driveway on cold winter mornings. I remember a few of my teachers (like my first-grade teacher, Anna Milligan, who taught me to read. I picked up on that really quickly, needless to say. You can hardly find me without a book these days.)

I remember going to Six Flags when I came down to visit my dad. I even remember the first time I rode the Shockwave there. I was scared of the loops, and ducked my head, getting it trapped between me and the restraining bar. My brother Frank and his then-wife had to work hard to get my head unstuck. I spent a few Christmases with my parents, and I remember one year I got a baby doll that I loved. (I don't know what happened to that doll. I think her name was Angel.)

I do remember one year my grandmother made me a doll (a Cabbage Patch-type doll). She had curly yellow hair, and I named her Elizabeth Ann. I ended up giving her to my Aunt Annette because she had a childhood friend named Elizabeth Ann. (My grandmother made me another doll, of course.) And there were the soft sweaters that all the girls were wearing in Jr. High. I wanted one so bad, and I asked my Aunt Jessie for one for Christmas. Unfortunately, what I got was a purple wool winter sweater. (Okay, that makes since. It was winter, after all, and she didn't know about the fashions in Warner, OK, being from Michigan.)

Jeez, I talk to much even when I'm writing, lol! I'll probably post more memories (such as they are) later.