Swindled

Life lessons come fast.

5 year old Janelle was naive.  Hindsight is revealing.  This is the tale of the first time I was swindled.

Neighborhood frenemy, Megan, was fickle in her affection. At times, she was fun, and at others she could be more cruel than the most wicked internet troll.

On one of the friendly days, Megan came over for a play date at my house.  As any proud 5 year old would do, I showed her my trove of toys.  Barbies, My Little Ponies, Seawees, puzzles, crafting supplies... and my recently earned Strawberry Shortcake doll.  

Next to the Rose Petal dolls, Strawberry Shortcake was my hero.Given to me at Christmas by my grandparents, she was the sweetest (and I mean literally -the doll smelled of strawberries for god's sake) gift I had ever received.

On the day of Megan's visit, I proudly showed her my newly acquired doll.  After seeing me boastfully (and exclusively) play with the doll, Megan claimed to me "I have one just like that."

Soon after the claim by Megan, my mother called us down from my bedroom for some reason. I remember walking down the stairs from the upper level of the house, with Megan trailing behind.

We ended up going over to Megan's house later.  Upon arriving, she showed me her own Strawberry Shortcake doll. Surprisingly, it also had a scratch along the face, similar to my doll. Where was the little companion cat Custard?  Megan told me she had "lost" it.  

I remarked that our Strawberries should play together sometime.

Funnily enough, after that day, I could never find my Strawberry Shortcake doll.  I still had Custard, of course.

Looking back, the crime was clear.  

Megan, if you read this... I WILL AVENGE the loss of my Strawberry Shortcake.  Years of playtime have been lost.  But I am coming for her...

Getting Sappy

I have been waiting patiently all summer for this!

In May, I called the city and asked to participate in their boulevard tree program.  The dude on the other end of the phone was very sweet, and said "These are my favorite calls to take!" and helped me pick out the type of tree I wanted.

With all of the rain early this spring, the planting got delayed, so every day I would come home looking for my new tree.

I even had a sign out in the front yard for the planting team that was posted right in my desired spot with a note taped to it that read "Tree Location?" - even my note was full of hope.

And this week, just as I was packing my things up to leave work, I took a last minute call on my work line.  Before I even had a chance to say hello, I heard my sister's voice say, "You have a tree."

I let out an audible (frankly, loud) gasp of delight.  "Really?!"

I practically sped home through the rush hour traffic.  And turning down my street, I saw the little wonder - my new maple.  I got out of the car and walked up to it and said "Hi, Tree!"

This is probably the most uninteresting story to anyone else but me... but it is my little mark upon my land.  A little symbol of my independence.  A reminder that I can thrive and that small things will grow big.

Stand tall my little tree!

Sometimes I want to be this kind of hostess...

Life Lessons By Beth

When the weather is absolutely perfect, the first thing that I think of is the warm summer days and nights out on my family boat on the Mississippi river.  Growing up, I spent many hours sitting on the bow of the boat and enjoying all Mother Nature had to offer...

I casually mentioned this at dinner with my old Girl Scout troop last night, and my friend Beth immediately went to her favorite boat memory: Flirt Fest 1995.

The basic outline of the story is this: Two sixteen year old girls.  Five 18 year old boys that were friends with my brother.  Hormones. Parents are present, so harmless flirtation ensues.

It was probably the first time Beth had ever been flirted with by more than one person.  Five at a time?  It's like an epic tale of wonder.  Mention the boat to Beth, and she goes straight down memory lane to that day.

So here we are at dinner, 3 aging Girl Scouts and their mothers, and bell rings in Beth's brain when I mention the boat.  She grabs my should and starts laughing, "Do you remember Flirt Fest!?"

I joke with her, "You'll never let me forget it!"

And without hesitation, she guilelessly answers "How could I ever forget it?  It was the day I learned about the power of boobs."

And wouldn't you know?  I have photo evidence of this life lesson being learned:

Helicopter To The Throat!

Walking my dog today  I was assaulted by a seed.

A stiff wind... a brittle pod-wing twirling in the wind trying to find a place to take root... sounds charming, doesn't it?

No. This is not a fairy tale.

I'm pretty sure that a certain maple seed had envisioned itself as some sort of ninja throwing star.  That thing came hurling at me with INTENT.

I barely had time to comprehend the situation, my brain registering a golden blur in front of me when it slashed at my throat.

Startled, I could not even utter a scream, the stunning sting of the weapon silencing me and sending me into shock.

How could this have happened in my neighborhood?  What could motivate this seed to become a killer?  Why would the helicopter have chosen me, of all the people it encountered today?

I....really need to stop watching Investigation Discovery shows on Netflix.

Oh, The Craftsmanship

There really is very little I can say about this that would make it any more hilarious... I happened upon this because I am trying to get rid of some chain link panels from my back yard and this is what is next to my ad on Craigslist.

Available in 'western' or 'classic' looks, according to the ad, you have some options...(Is zebra stripes with nail heads considered classic or western???) "Designs are mounted on a new toilet seat or your design may be purchased separately and placed on your existing toilet seat to keep cost down."

There's even one with the charming quote "Git R Done".  How inviting!

P.B. Buns

I don't even remember why the subject came up or how it even slipped out at lunch with coworkers today, but there it was... something, something "like P.B. Buns".

It's crazy how (almost) 20 years later, little high school trivialities surface at the most random times - and today was one of the moments when I found myself reminiscing about a stupid nickname that had befallen a classmate of mine because he often chose to eat peanut butter on a dinner roll at lunch.

I'm fairly certain I was the one to coin the name P.B Buns, probably  in a quirky (and maybe just a tiny bit mean) comment to my friends in reference to the poor guy, and it just STUCK.  Never to his face, just within my little clique.  I'm sure P.B. Buns would be baffled as to why we would pick out that one thing to make fun of.  I'm a little unsure myself, other than I found it odd that he always spread the peanut butter ON TOP of the dinner roll, like a little brown mohawk instead of cutting the roll in half or even smearing the PB on the side of the plate to dip into.

I don't remember having any real problem or even that many thoughts about this guy at the time- I think my friends and I were just in love with saying "P.B. Buns".  There's just a certain ring to it that makes me giggle.

I kind of wish I could say it more often.

Ok, now I am just saying "P.B. Buns" out loud to myself over and over and giggling.  My dog, Ruby,  just gave me a look that was basically judgmental.

P.B. Buns.

UPDATE: I have no memory of his real name anymore.

UPDATE to the UPDATE: P.B. Buns.