Have You Been Half Asleep, and Have You Heard Voices

June 13, 2008

My grandmother lived on the banks of a pond, and I’d visit her every summer, often spending several nights sleeping in her small home with my family. One of my favorite sounds was the call of the bullfrog who we called Charlie.

My grandmother died when I was in my young 20’s, but I lived in her house after she died so that it wouldn’t fall into disrepair. Charlie was out there every summer night, singing his song.

My mom lives there now and although it’s been a while since I’ve spent the night (she lives only 20 minutes away, so we just make day trips), I would know Charlie’s song anywhere.

Which is why I stopped dead in my tracks when I entered my bathroom late tonight and heard his familiar song outside my window. A bull frog. Outside my window. In the suburbs.

I hope he sticks around.

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Filed Under: Fairly Odd Me, My-Not-So-Sordid Past 7 Comments

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow, Part IV

May 6, 2008

Thank you all so much for the kind comments about my short-blond-hair stage (from Part III. Also, part I is here; part II is here). Meg Ryan? Really??

Your compliments almost make me want to go back to that style, but then I remember that “short” and “blond” requires upkeep. I can see myself now with dark roots down to here, shaggy bangs, uneven layers. . . it just isn’t pretty. Maybe in a few years, I’ll have the time to try that style again.

Predictably, after years of short and blond, I got bored and decided to try red. Oh, how I loved the red hair on the boxes of hair color.

Here is day one, in a semi-permanent burgundy color (the year is 1996; I will meet my beloved shortly after making the switch to red):

Here I am in more of a “Carrot Top” shade. . .and, no, that is not my hairy leg in the photo.

Here I am with disastrously short bangs. . .


And now with hair that is in desperate need of a cut. . .


Now before you tell me, “UGH! You should never have done red!”, you should know that the person writing this has red hair on her head. So, be kind. I do have a box of blond color in the bathroom, though, in case I need to make a change, pronto.

Next up. . .my hair at marriage and after the birth of each of my three children. Trust me, I should never, ever go “natural” with my hair.

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Filed Under: Fairly Odd Me, My-Not-So-Sordid Past 19 Comments

Why I Married My Car

May 2, 2008


$16,000.

That was my salary my first year out of college. Ahhh. . .the glamorous world of advertising.

With this paycheck, I had to afford rent, food, gasoline (for my mom’s beat-up Chevette) and, of course, alcohol. . .while living in a top 50 metro. I remember that I budgeted $10 a week for food, and $10 a week for drinks out with my friends. Good thing I had my priorities straight.

At some point, the Chevette died and I had to get a new car. I got an Escort for about $8,000. I don’t remember what my car payments were, but I was drowning in them. While talking to my dad, somehow it came up that the cost of my car would be about the same as the cost they’d have to pay for a wedding should I get married at some point (hillbillies don’t need real fancy weddin’s). Because I didn’t really foresee a wedding in my near future, I asked them if they’d consider paying off my car loan with the promise that they’d never have to cough up money for some future nuptials.

The deal was made, they paid off the loan. In essence, I married my car. I married an Escort. Not surprisingly, that marriage did not last too long, and I traded the Escort in for a Jeep a few years later.

Less than 10 years after my “wedding for a car” deal, I married a real live man. But, I stayed true to my word and did not ask my parents for any money to pay for the wedding or honeymoon.

I never regretted this deal, because it helped me avoid the one thing my father had begged me to avoid at all costs: credit card debt. I don’t recall him ever warning me about drugs, men or sex, but I do remember his commandment:

Thou shalt not charge more on your card than you can pay off in a month.

So when I heard this on the radio today. . .

“The (average)* 18 year old owns an (average)* of four credit cards. . .”,

*am not sure where the ‘average’ goes and can’t find the original source.

. . .I think my dad must be rolling, er. . .shaking, in his grave (he is cremated).

Four credit cards at 18. I bet none of those kids are driving around in a lame Escort with a “Just Married” sign in the back window.

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Filed Under: Fairly Odd Me, My-Not-So-Sordid Past, The Outside World 7 Comments
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