In 1972 we moved from TX to CO and the entire house was painted with coffee w/cream color. With three little kids, I repainted the whole thing in an off white because the carpet and curtains were boldly colored. We had three bathrooms and I wanted to make the one for the boys bright so we tried a stripe- never choose a stripe for an old house – it was a disaster and caused a thrown – not by me – measuring item to make a divot in the tile floor😂. Later we tore that out and put in a black and white funny cartoon wallpaper. We papered the kitchen in that home too. As a rule I think wallpaper is great for others but too much of a mess for me.
When we moved back to CO from TX in 2000 and were close to the grandkids I would “paper” our walls with drawings, finger paintings, and other media art they made. Creating anything and everything with them was the most fun!
Monday again, time for ceenphotography.com ‘s SYW. Take the time to join in and answer her questions every week so we can all get to know each other better. Don’t worry, it’s a good thing!
1. What was the last URL you bookmarked or saved?
I rarely bookmark anything. I try to keep my memory cache clear.
2. Do you believe in the afterlife? Reincarnation?
I guess my belief or hope actually, is that our spirit or lifeforce moves into another dimension of sorts? I’m not afraid to find out. Reincarnation? I know many people believe this, to each his own. Sometimes I think, how do I know that, or why is this so familiar? So, who knows?
3. If you were or are a writer, do you prefer writing short stories, poems, or novels?
I am not or never will be a writer. I’m more of a scribbler. I jot down something and hope someone thinks it’s okay to do so.
Joe’s part time passion was playing the drums. When he joined the orchestra, everyone knew the strings were the favorite but he liked joining in especially when the venue was the Fourth of July. Exceptional music followed with him striking the bass drum and using cymbals to emphasize parts of “Ride of the Valkyries” composed by Richard Wagner.
Who in your family was the person who made and enforced rules?
Did you grow up with many rules, or was your life a little more flexible?
Were you a rule follower or a rule breaker?
How were discipline and – in contrast – rewards managed in your household?
Were you given the opportunity to plead your case in matters of disagreement?
What tools did your parents use – ‘I’m going to count to three‘ or ‘don’t make me get up‘ or a time-out chair?
Did fear of discipline curb your desire to break or bend the rules?
Did your upbringing influence the way you (as an adult) managed rules in your own home?
Were you ever ‘grounded’? Do you want to share the story?
Did you break rules your parents never knew about? Want to confess and leave with a clear conscious? No?
***
Rules, rules? We don’t need no stinkin’ rules! (Certainly not my parents’ thoughts.). By the time they had filtered down to me, their fourth and final daughter, there were many more and much stricter—thanks a lot sisters.
Fear was my main deterrent of course, but I only remember being actually spanked once. It was the “go out and bring a switch back to me” and (you had better pick a big enough one) I hated to hear but that was rare for me. The reason was that I was smart enough to see the examples of discipline portrayed on my next oldest sister. My two older sisters broke the rules but were either punished, dismissed, or got away with whatever our parents determined unacceptable.
Unfortunately I also was sometimes a disciplinarian as a parent. I mistakenly wanted everything to be perfect—and naturally those expectations caused frustration. I realize this was a mental defect and I don’t hold this attitude with my grandchildren. I think this comes from expecting a romantic fantasy marriage, and never had a spoken determent from my parents; they were too busy to realize, maybe? It was unrealistic as I look back, stupid and doesn’t achieve a natural respect, just fear and resentment. We all learned the hard way.
This is a confession of sorts, a regret I hold daily, as do some of my siblings. Actions are usually mimicked and carried on in families—it’s an unfortunate fact, just as alcohol, drug abuse, bad behavior and attitude.
But I am extremely happy to report this ended with me in my nuclear family.
A fly in the ointment, sick as a dog, down in the dumps, close, but no cigar, tickled pink, and my personal favorite—driving me up a wall; all idioms most of us use.
“Might get well? Might? What the heck are you talking about, doc? She only tripped over the rug!”
Chuck had taken his wife to the ER after she tripped and hit her head on the side of the couch. There was no blood or even a cut, but she said she felt dizzy.
“Chuck, we did an MRI. She has a small tumor on her brain—probably caused the dizziness and her fall. We will operate and hope for a full recovery, but I don’t want you to count your chickens…”
Chuck was so mad about the doc using those words when he had just said they were going to operate and she only “might” recover! What kind of quack was he, anyway? Chuck took his wife home and packed for their trip to the Mayo Clinic where she could be seen by a “real” doctor.
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