Wiggle Tail--Monday Memory

This is not Wiggle Tail, but this cute puppy reminded me of Wiggle Tail. This puppy just wandered into our yard looking for food. She is wild as a march hare and smart as a whip. We have taken her to the vet for shots, now we are deciding whether to keep her or give her to a friend who is looking for a dog.

HERE IS MY MONDAY MEMORY:
Wiggle Tail was a Daschund. We were living in Germany. We didn't have a name for her yet so we were going to have a family council, everyone would submit a name and then we would vote on the name we all liked best.

I was 8 years old and had a little book about a dog named Wiggle Tail and I wanted that name for our dog. Before the vote, I secretly went to every family member and told them that my name was a stupid name and no one would vote for my name and asked if they would vote for my name. I won with 100% of the vote.

Some would say that I was conniving, but those who know my true insecurities would know, I really thought no one would vote for my name and that if I asked everyone, at least one person would vote for my name and then I wouldn't feel stupid.

One Christmas we found that with all the humidity in Germany, the Christmas candy Mom kept out in a dish was sticking together. She would just break it apart and leave it in the bowl and we all had a little from time-to-time and gave it to company.

One day Mom saw Wiggle Tail going up the stairs. Right next to the stairs was a table with the candy on it. Wiggle Tail walked up just high enough to be able to walk out onto the table. She licked all the candy in the dish and then went back onto the stairs and walked on up.

Mom moved the candy dish.

Post Script: We are keeping her, she has won our hearts and we named her Ruby.

A Fun Mom-Monday Memory

I gave a long dialogue about my Mom here. She is fun. Today I remember another story.

It was Christmas. Mom put cans of colored hair spray in our stockings, blue, silver, pink and green. It was the latest craze, streaks of color in your hair, everything cycles you know.

We finished our Christmas morning present opening and decided to experiment with the colored hair spray. No one can remember who started it, but...

A chase ensued around the house and we each had our own can of colored hair spray. In the end, my crazy sister, Inez, and I took down our Mom and held her down while we sprayed the bottom of her feet blue.

When she got up and started the chase again, she tripped and broke her toe. We rushed her to the emergency room and when she put her foot up on the table there it was in all its shiny blue glory.

As I recall, the doctor just looked at it and shook his head. He knew us well.

Happy Mother's Month Mom!

Mom in Jail-Monday Memory

If you know me, one look will tell you which one is my Mom. For those of you who don't, she's on the left and her sister Pat is on the right.

This month my Monday Memories are all about my Mom in honor of Mother's Day.

I have read all the beautiful blogs others have put out about their wonderful Moms and I wanted to blog something mushy and sweet like that. However, we are not the sentimental type. Our greeting cards are all funny. Our terms of endearment are all sarcastic. We live funny lives.

So... Mom, you know I love you, you know I would die for you, you know I think you are the best Mom in the world and here is my Monday Memory.

We were living in Germany. There is a celebration in Germany known as Fasching where everyone wears traditional costume and then parties like Marti Gras. The basic idea is that you can do whatever you want to on this one day with no consequences, "repent" the next day and move on.

The party, at that time, was so wild that, during the party, all military personel and their families were banned from one particular little town close to where we lived. My Mom, in her innocence and some of her friends talked it over and couldn't think what could be so bad that they couldn't at least see it.

You guessed it, they all got traditional German dresses and went to the party with a vow of silence so no one would know they were Americans. They were standing on the street watching the parade when a man reached out and grabbed one of the women and began dragging her down the alley. She started screaming for help in English and several airmen who were there in traditional costume with a vow of silence came to her rescue.

They were all thrown in jail.

When the military police came to get them out, my Mom todl me the jail cell was just around the corner with a partial wall separating them from the front desk. She heard the military police come in and was mortified to be in such a situations, but her mortification got worse when one of the soldiers said, "Who have you got in here?" and started reading the names, when he got to her name he said, "That can't be the I know, her husband is my Bishop."

Need I say more?

Mom will be there--Monday Memories

I wrote this in 1996.

It's funny how you think they will always be there. The first time I realized that feeling was when my Granner died and I walked in her kitchen and expected her to come bounding out of her bedroom singing a song, but she didn't and I had to inhale and smile and make the homemade chocolate chip cookies to put in the red pottery cookie jar for Digger. Digger was next and I realized he wouldn't answer anymore at 373-1688. Then Bert and there would be no more cowboy stories and there was no one to be with Mom. And Uncle Howard who wasn't even sick, he isn't there anymore to fix things when they break and squeeze Aunt Pat.

Then Jason and there would be no one to cause trouble at the family get-togethers. But now my Mom, she's not going anywhere. My Mom will always be here. I know, I don't worry, because she can kick the hell out of the world wearing high-heeled combat boots.

But I saw her through anxious eyes when she almost died and now I fear. I think I'll call her tonight and say, "Hi, Mom, when are you coming to visit? I miss you."

Mom-Monday Memory

I thought I would do a memory of Mom every Monday for the month of May...

My Mom is way kewl. She is 86 and still wearing high heels after 2 hip replacements. Her entire life is filled with exciting and fun experiences along with heartache and pain. Yesterday, her younger brother, Uncle Lynn died. I wish I could get her to blog, she could keep you in wrapped attention as you read about her fun-filled life.

Today's memory--

My mother was consistent in her discipline.

When I was 5 years old, we lived in Tucson. The family was planning a trip to Dairy Queen. On one particular occasion (though I'm sure not the only one), I had behaved so badly that my Mom told me if I didn't shape up, I would not get to go to Dairy Queen with the family and they would leave me home alone.

I was deathly afraid of being left alone.

As you guessed, I didn't shape up and the whole family got in the car and drove off. I can still see the scene. I sat on the counter in the kitchen where I could see out the window in the kitchen door. I just knew I was never going to see any of them again. I cried uncontrollably.

To me it was an eternity, I didn't know they only drove around the block. Mom tells me that the neighbor boy heard me crying and came over and stood by the kitchen door consoling me, which still makes her mad when she tells the story. I don't remember him being there.

I don't recall if I got ice cream or not, but I never forgot that when Mom said a punishment was coming, it came.

By the time I was 15, you would think I would have learned this lesson. Not so.

I wanted to sing in the choir. Mom warned me to behave when I was sitting in the choir seats. One particular Sunday, I was chatting with my friends during Sacrament Meeting and my Mom, who was sitting on the back row of the church, stood up in the middle of the meeting and said in a loud voice, "Sandra Conant, be quiet."

I melted down to the floor in embarrassment, but I can tell you this for sure, I never talk to my friends during a church meeting EVER AGAIN.

Our Moms

Tarzan and I love our Moms. We visited Mom Nellie in Memphis last week.

Mom Phyllis visited us in December

The trick is getting all the skin tones right in one picture. LOL

My Mom

This is a rambling post about my Mom. First, you should know she is --hmmmmm--I think 85. She was 30 until she had grandchildren who were 30, then she had to start having birthdays, so I'm not sure of her true age.

She called me today and told me "I feel so obligated to be kind to old people." It seems she had a friend who got really senile and it became uncomfortable to visit her so she didn't go visit her for a couple of months and the woman died. I assured her that the woman would have died anyway and she replied, "Yes, but I could have made her life a little happier during those last two months." Isn't that a great part of life, no matter how old you are, there is always something you could do a little better and being able to recognize that gives you strength.

Mom says that the worst thing you can do when you begin to age is have nothing to do. So, she has this social life and a volunteer life.

Social: She invited an older couple over to her house to play cards. Then she forgot. She lives with my brother and his son came upstairs to tell her that her friends had just pulled up. She shreeked and my sister-in-law came running up and the two of them spuced up her room and got the table ready and treats and drinks out in the time it took her friends to get out of the car and walk up the steps to the house. She said, "Thank goodness they are old. It took them 10 minutes to get up to the door." LOL, LOL, LOL

Volunteer: She always has a job. She won't let anyone pay her because if they pay her she feels obligated to go to work and she may wake up some day and not feel like working or want to go on a trip to Africa. For years she volunteered as a principal because she was bonified and some private schools needed a real principal to continue in business. Now, she is volunteering in the critical care unit for babies at the local hospital. She does all the stuff like keep the drawer for each baby filled with supplies, keeping all the records for each baby with the right baby. She says she doesn't hold the wee ones. However, one day all of the nurses were busy and they had a baby that had been crying non-stop for 2 hours. They asked her if she would hold him and she did. She worried because he wiggled so much and she couldn't keep him wrapped in the blanket they had him in. She told one of the nurses and they informed her that he was a drug baby and could not hold still. Her instructions were to wrap the blanket around him tight and hold him close to her body. It nearly killed her. So, she doesn't hold the babies.

She does one other thing at the hospital. She helps "old people" get registered. I bet she is the best person to do the job.

Oh, yes, and did I tell you she still wears high heels even after 2 hip surgeries? Yes, I have fantabulous mother.

Snake Story

Last night, my husband fixed a wonderful dinner of gazpacho soup with shrimp, a green leafy salad and crusty bread. While he, my crazy mother and I sat talking the conversation somehow turned to snakes. Here is another story about my Mom that must be preserved.

We were living in Mountain Home, Idaho. My father was stationed there at the newly reopened Air Force base. The base was out in the country and not too many people had been assigned to the base yet, so they were a really small community.

Mom had to go down some steps to the outside to her washing machine. (It was an old ringer washing machine). One day, when Dad was gone on a mission somewhere, she went outside to do the laundry and when she opened the lid, she found a large rattle snake curled up inside the the washer. She slammed the lid back down and ran upstairs to call the MPs (Military Police).

Five MPs came out. They were all from Chicago and New York. She says they knew less about what to do about a rattle snake than she did. One of them carefully lifted the lid while the other four drew there pistols to shoot. She screamed and said, "You are not doing that to my washing machine." They slammed the lid back down and began discussing how they could get the snake out.

Just then the milk man came by (this was in the 40's when milk was still delivered fresh from the truck rather than purchased in the grocery store). He knew just what to do. He got a stick with a fork on the end, carefully lifted up the lid to the washing machine and pinned down the snakes head. He then grabbed the snake and quickly threw it into the field next to the house where five MPs emptied their guns into it.

Life returned to normal but Mom still looks before she puts laundry in the tub.