In Case You’re Wondering

I’ve been busy visiting with my family.  Amoeba seems to be holding up well.  He has even admitted to enjoying himself a couple of times.

I am keeping up with all of your comments on my blog via my phone.  I can’t actually read my blog — operator error I am certain — but I do get your comments emailed to me.  The reason you haven’t heard from me more is two fold: busy (I already said that) and stupid.  I packed my mouse and my keyboard, but I managed to leave my computer at home.

I am currently using Amoeba’s laptop.  That means my time here is limited.  I am sorry I can’t get around to visit all of you.  Likely I will see you soon.  We are traveling home tomorrow.

Family Calls

As the summer comes to an end, the pass between here and there will close, and none of us will venture across it lightly. Mind you, many people do and it is as safe as winter traveling ever can be. Even so, me and mine don’t venture over Snoqualmie Pass for purely social reasons after the snow falls.

For the next several days my presence here will be sparse. We will be enjoying some time with my family. I will show Amoeba the house I grew up in, the grade school I attended, and where the cliff used to be that I rode my bike off of when I was a kid. They’ve filled the gully in and it is a beautiful, flat perfectly safe park now. Isn’t that sad?

I am taking my camera. I will think of all of you often, but I can’t promise I will be online playing much. Our time on the other side of the Cascades is very brief and my family has probably packed it full of activities. I’ll see you when I can.

Watchin’ Banana

In last week’s Friday Flashback, Linda asked about our bedtime rituals, and I was too tired to conjure up any really good memories.  I just wrote a ho-hum post and made do.  Since then I have resurrected a memory I’d like to share.  I may have shared this in the past, but if so, I couldn’t find it.  I know this story not from my own memory, but because my grandmother told it to me:

When I was very small — I had to be about 3 since we still lived in the big red house in Spokane — I was always sent to bed when Bonanza came on TV.  Apparently I really liked the show, which I called, Banana, and I would cry and pitch a fit.

My brother liked the show, too.  He would sneak out of his bed and sit at the top of the stairs where he could peek around the corner at the TV set.  Apparently I joined him at least once in this illicit TV watching and managed to fall asleep and roll down the stairs. In so doing I put an end to any and all late night TV watching by my siblings or myself, because my dad got a huge mirror and hung it over the TV set so he could watch the staircase and the TV at the same time.

Flashback Friday ~ Good Night, Sleep Tight

This is the Friday, Late Night Edition of Flashback Friday
brought to you by Quilldancer.

Flashback Friday is brought to us by Linda of Mocha With Linda. This is the meme that takes us back in time to the days of our youth. Linda says, This meme’s purpose is to have us take a look back and share about a specific time or event in our lives. It will be fun to see how similar – or different – our experiences have been!

What was bedtime like when you were growing up? Were your parents strict in enforcing bedtimes? Were you a difficult one to get to bed? Did your parents share stories about getting you to sleep when you were a baby? When did your parents turn bedtime over to you? Were there any special rituals/routines a parent did – books, singing a special song, etc.? Nightlights, music, special doll/blanket or other things? Did you have your own bed or did you share with a sibling? Did you have nighttime fears and bad dreams? How did you handle them? Did you ever walk or talk in your sleep? Feel free to also share any routines you have done with your kids.

My brother and sisters all gripe about having to go to bed at 8:30 in the evening, even in the Summer time and all the other kids in the neighborhood were out playing.  I don’t have that memory.  I was in bed by 8:30 p.m. on school nights until the end of the third grade.  In the Summer I always set my own bedtime and got up whenever.

When I was 14 I went to live with my father (before that I lived with my maternal grandmother).  My father got up every morning at 3:00 a.m.  He was a logger and he had to be in the mountain ready to work at first light.  Because he got up so early, he was usually in bed by 8:30 p.m., which is likely why my siblings had to be, too.

All of my siblings were grown and had families of their own by the time I was 14.  I likely wasn’t sent to bed because there was no one for me to fight with or help me make noise that would keep dad awake.  I was expected to be quiet and, if possible stay in my bedroom, but I didn’t have a set bedtime.  However — and this is crucial — I did have a set “get up” time, and the excuse “too tired” wasn’t accepted.  I had chores and I was expected to be awake and execute  them properly before going to school.  That means I generally put myself to bed  between 9:30 and 10:00 p.m.

My step-mother (the second one, Shirley) and I liked to watch Nightstalker, which came on at 11:00 p.m. so on Thursday nights I went to bed at 9:00 p.m., but set my alarm for 11:00 p.m.  Shirley would sleep on the couch.  When my alarm went off I would wake her, make us tea (herbal) and we’d watch the show, then head for our beds.  We did the same thing for the late, late movie if it was playing a thriller.

Bottomed Out

He emerged from the closet with sweat pants in hand.  She said, “Are you wearing those to work?”

He said, “I have to.  I don’t seem to have any clean jeans.”

She said, “Yes you do!  I washed the laundry yesterday!”  She ran into the laundry room to get his clothes.  “Oh!”  She yelled.  “Apparently ‘the maid’ forgot to put your clothes in the dryer. I suppose you’re going to be picky and insist on dry jeans?”

He said, “No.  I’m just going to wear my sweats.  I’m already putting them on.”

She emerged from the laundry room. “That’s good, because after all, I spent yesterday ironing your shirts.  I think insisting on ironed shirts and dry blue jeans is just a little over the top, don’t you?”

He said, “We’ve got to do something about your attention span and memory, dear.  If all I wanted was something for “over the top” we wouldn’t be worried about jeans or sweat pants now, would we?”

She said, “No, but we might have to worry about you getting drafted.”