Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Saved by the Bell

The front door slams and Jinxso sails into the living room. I ignore her and continue shredding cheese at the kitchen counter.

"We can't watch TV until our homework is finished." She tosses her books on the table and glares at me. "Turn it off."

Well I'm watching Donny and Marie, and I've graduated, so the rules don't apply to me. "No," I smirk, "go study in your room."

Her chin shoots up and she stomps toward the TV. I knock her aside with my hip and pull the knob from the set. "Go. Study. In. Your. Room."

Fine curls trembling, she howls and lunges over the back of the couch to pull the plug. I roll my eyes, shove the sofa with my foot and knock her into the wall.

She lunges.

I grab her shirt with both fists. She twists and cloth tears. If she'd listen to me in the first place, this wouldn't happen. With a sob she shoves her books off the table and runs to her room.

Victorious, I retreat to the kitchen and spread mayonnaise on a slice of white bread. When she returns, I launch into a speech about mental stability and wait for her reaction. She erupts and I shove the bread against her cheek where the mayo holds it in place.

Jinxso eyes are glassy with unshed tears. She snatches the knife I've left on the counter. Hair prickles the back of my neck. I've gone too far, so I stroll to the front door, turn and give her an airy little wave. "See ya."

The front door rocks on it's hinges as she hits the other side. I start to laugh, but now I'm stuck outside in the heat. Our old yellow station wagon is unlocked so I crawl inside and crank down the windows. Sweat trickles down my back.

Beamer and Brat saunter up the walk. Tail wagging, Bandit trails behind them.

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you." Playing for an audience, I fill them in. Brat's eyes go wide. Beamer smirks and heads for the house, but the doors are locked, the windows are bolted. Unhappy, they glare at me and then shrug and climb into the car.

Eventually Mom and Dad return. Bandit barks, Beamer and Brat whine, Jinxso, her cheek glistening with mayo, flings open the door and adds her voice to the chaos.

I am about to die.

But in the next instant, Mom's hand shoots into the air. "I do not want to hear it."

Five angry voices fill the air. She repeats herself and Dad steps in. "Girls, you heard your mother, now everybody get a bag of groceries and while you're at it, find a way to get along."

In that moment I hear angels sing, but I know, I know, Jinxso will win the next round.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Git Momma

A woman in her fifties should not suffer ice cubes in her shower. This is a rule.

Hubbie forgot to read the playbook, and as I'm shaving my legs, a frigid wave of water hits my back. I jerk, check for nicks, then howl for blood.

"Dammit Rob, I'm too fat to have a sense of humor."

Quicker than snot, he shoots back, "You're too fat not to." The dog slides under the shower curtain and tries to catch my ankle. I go down laughing, but I'll get even. Maybe I'll turn the water off at the source the next time he suds his hair.

Have I told you Rob taught the dog to bite me on command?

Now before you twist your knickers defending me, you need to know, our dog is more mop than wolf, more lively than disobedient, and absolutely as untrainable as my husband.

As the deadly duo streak from the bathroom, I snag a towel and step from the shower. They leave me in peace for all of five minutes but the moment I shove a toothbrush in my mouth I hear a shout.

"Git momma."

Simon's front paws hit the back of my knees, my legs buckle and I smack against the bathroom cabinets. "Dammit Rob." White foam dribbles from my chin.

Rob is laughing, the dog is wheeling in delighted circles and I know with absolute certainty that Mom was right. By the time you get man or beast trained, they go senile.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Well Crap.

And super crap.

Mom always said I was dangerous when bored. So ...

I'm posting reruns and taking a blog break this summer to chase my dreams.

See you in September.