Peculiar Presents #AtoZ

The infamous "they" has always stated that it's better to give than to receive. I tend to agree with this because I've often had more fun in the planning and giving of presents than in actually getting them. My daughter Erica has also enjoyed gift giving adventures as demonstrated a few years ago when she and her two buddies gave Ben a gift of 520, er 517 pieces of bubble gum. They purchased a huge tub, opened it, each snatched a piece of gum out of the container, and corrected the amount with a Sharpie pen.

Rhonda's Blog - It's pretty darn funny!

My favorite gift giving experience happened back in college with my former roommate Rhonda author of http://www.laugh-quotes.com. She had a crush on a ZBT pledge who she had never actually met, and I snatched the opportunity to buy him for her at the fund raising pledge auction. I secured him for the bargain price of $5, placed a bow on top of his head, and sat him on her bed. Then I told Rhonda, "I have a present for you. It's on your bed."

Owner of Brahmas Pro Ice Hockey Team? 
Uh, er, Sorry Sir.

Can you spell a-w-k-w-a-r-d? That it was at first, and she wasn't letting me leave her with this one. So Mr. Cute Slave painted her nails and I can't remember what else. It was the eighties, and we were a lot milder with our slaves back then.

She got over her anger when she formed a friendship with the young man, and he asked her to the ZBT formal, but the slave purchase never went any further than that. I am glad to say that Rhonda has a wonderful husband and is happily blogging from New Zealand. http://www.laugh-quotes.com

And once the sun goes down, I'm ready to observe another thing that starts with the letter P- Passover. If you celebrate it, have a good one! 

This was only one of our many college adventures. I'll share another one in a couple of days for the letter R - Roommates; but, between now and then, we have a big, fat Q.

Oops! Oliver--The Class Pet #AtoZ

Erica in First Grade (left) & her Best Friend Leah

When my littlest one was in the first grade, she was most honored to be chosen by her teacher to take Oliver the Parakeet home for Spring Vacation. So, we gathered up the little bird, cage and all, and carried him to the most frightening experience of his short life. 

Once we arrived at home, we set his cage on a kitchen counter where he happily chirped while perched on his wooden rod. My son, finding Oliver interesting, opened the cage to pet his furry head while I was engrossed in a phone conversation. Seeing a chance at freedom, Oliver flew out of his prison and lapped the kitchen. 

As the loose bird soared, my children tried to cup him in their hands, but no, children's paws are not good for capturing birds. To trap a bird, it takes a professional; it takes a golden retriever. That's right. Snap! Our dog Swaz thought he was helping by catching little Oliver in his toothy jaws.

I dropped the phone, let out a panic scream, and ascended on the bird-catching furball to pry his thick jaws open. Oliver fell out of the Swaz's dark mouth and landed on the floor. I picked up the slobber-soaked bird and placed his shaking body back in the cage.

Oliver didn't sing anymore. Not his high-pitched flute sounds nor deep-pitched oboe; not country, rock, or rap. He just hugged the wall of the kitchen and shook like a schizo. Every time our dog sniffed or even passed the cage, he squeezed even closer to his corner, shook harder, and his beady bird eyes grew as large as ping pong balls. Okay, they stayed small and beady, but he was scared.

Finally the day came for Erica to bring Oliver back to school and share her journal about Oliver's week. The shocking truth proved a bit of an embarrassment, especially when Oliver mysteriously kicked the bucket over the summer. I think it was heart failure from plaguing nightmares of sharp teeth. RIP, Oliver.

Nudity & The Ninth Wonder of My World #AtoZ

Having a title starting with the word "Nudity," I wonder if this little post will gain top hits status. Yeah! Admit it. You clicked on my blog. I'll tell YOU exactly what I told my pediatrician when he asked five-year-old me to take off my clothes: I said, "You're nasty." But that's not exactly what this post is about. Here goes . . .

It's great to be alive; it's even greater to be in Colorado; but it's best to be at Shwayder Camp --"Uncle Max" Frankel

One of my most embarrassing moments occurred at a youth group convention held at Camp Shwayder in Idaho Springs, Colorado. After spending a full summer working that camp, I knew my way around inside and out. So when we got stinky by riding horses, I found myself at the end of an extremely long shower line. I mean I could have climbed to the top of one of those mountains, jumped in a frigid lake, and hiked back before I'd have a turn at getting clean. Not to worry. Remember, I knew the camp inside and out. 

A lone shower stall existed in a meeting room cabin that few people ever entered, so why not? I grabbed my clothes, towel, soap, etc. and snuck into the private shower. This would have been fine had I not been greeted by a cabin full of boys being friendly while I showered, in the nude! Their cabin shared a wall with the meeting room cabin.

"Hello, Joyce!" They all shouted through the walls.

Feeling a bit shocked by the greeting, I didn't worry too much because after all, no one was in my part of the cabin.

"Where are you?"

"Watching you shower."

"Ha. Ha. No, you're not. No one's in this room," so, "Where are you?"

"Look up. There are holes in the wall."

Sure enough, at the top of the shower, several holes punctured the wall. Uh, er, I didn't know about those. Although I couldn't see any eyeballs goggling through, I had to wonder, could they really see me? I sure hoped not. I believe they were just messing with me after seeing me enter the cabin with a towel et al.; however, my friends wouldn't tell what they did or didn't see, so I guess this remains the Ninth Wonder of the World. Feel free to look at my most popular posts if you're curious about the Eighth Wonder of the World.

See you Monday when we explore the letter Ooooooo, which is for Oops and Oliver--the class pet who didn't enjoy his visit at our house.