Wednesday, August 08, 2007

staying out of trouble

OK, I have a lot of opinions about shetland sheep.
And perhaps my writing style, with it's "meant to make you laugh" style, is confusing. However, when my good friend starts thinking I am hinting negative things....about anything shetland....that refers to anyone in particular. Then it's time for me to stop.
Yes, I have strong opinions, they may not always be right....heck...they may be off the wall...but I write them here in my blog...and that, I thought was OK...and I like to talk about sheep a lot....there isn't anything else out in these parts lately. A lot of yellow leaves falling in the pond....some dead fish...some crazy cat that likes lamb. Some very brown dirt that the ewes keep sticking their noses in and puffing up little dust devils. We only have two more orange days on the weather calendar...that's if they could figure out how to draw clouds.
So I'm just going to talk about my childhood.

I grew up in one of those ideal fifties homes. You know, the one with both a mother and a father. I have a big brother too. He is seven years older...and spent much of his childhood baseball practice rocking my crib. By the time I was big enough to go outside and play....I would have been by myself....but I had my dear cousin living next door. Dick was almost my same age, and we played everyday. Well, he would come to get me in the morning....but I couldn't go outside to play until my mother had combed my hair into long curls....kind of those very same ringlets you see on old bopeep pictures. So we played Dick and Jane stories together....well it was really Dick and Mary one was allowed to call me anything but both my names. We played let the chickens out of the coop, and other games of tag. We made hats and umbrellas out of Rubarb plants. One time we stripped all the bark off the wheeping willow tree in their yard, that must have been fun....In the evenings we all played red light-green light. Kind of a you're it game, and caught lightening bugs in glass jars. Some summers we made rubber-binder guns....Boy, those hurt if you got hit in the face....we cut inner-tubes into binders, and used clothes pins for the triggers. Dick and I played invisible people lots. They were outer space folks that came and captured us.
I have old snapshots of us playing in a sand pile, and sitting together on my very own rocking horse. Who is still in my living room. I found a wonderful man to live my life with....and he also has his old rocking is in the kitchen.
Such is the stuff dreams are made of. What is it about little girls that makes them horse crazy? I'm sure I pestered my parents about having a rocky horse is named trigger. After my true love Roy Roger's horse. Since my parents told me I couldn't marry my cousin Dick....because he was my cousin. As if that made any sense to me? I decided the next best thing was Roy Rogers. I was going to marry Roy...and that was that. One mean person told me Roy was already married to that Dale Evans person....I have never liked her since. I remember crying and crying. I can't hear Happy-Trails-to-You without being still pissed. Oh , I am sure they had a happy life without me. I had a black holster with some silver things on the belt...and a cap gun that had white grips with a long horned cow on them. We may have gotten real caps around the fourth of july....otherwise you just said bang bang! I lived pretend. Riding my rocky horse, and swinging on my swing. Those were the days when swings were made of long ropes tied to the branches of a tree. None of this gym stuff. If the branch of the tree was perfectly straight....the swing would go back and forth. If the branch was was the ride on your swing. I could sit "side-saddle" on my swing and pretend I was going off into the sunset on my horse.
My swing was made of wood. None of this old tire stuff at my house...those things made your clothes dirty. And the sand in my sand box, that my daddy made for me....that was white sand. No ordinary dirty type sand for this little girl. Every week the ladies would have a tea party.
That was an activity at my Granma's house. She was a lovely little german lady, who smelled of face powder and hair pins....if they had a smell. And I was the only girl. Believe me in those days you had better act like a little girl too. I wore frilly dresses, and had curls in my hair...and I went to every tea party. Even tho I was too small to do the sewing and crocheting like the real ladies. Dick and I....yes, he had to come too. We had our own set of tin dishes in the china cupboard. I'm sure he would have rather been playing football with some boys. But he sat and played tea party with me....We even had a working egg beater. Little girls and boys were to be seen and not heard. But Grandma had both a front and a back we could play in the one the ladies weren't using.
When kindergarden came....I was the one that had to go to school...and my only pal in the world would sit on the bank and wait for my school bus to bring me home. Not long after that, my Dicky and his family moved to town. My mother and his were not often on speaking terms. So I only got to see my life-long friend at family doing...weddings and funerals...when our mothers were wearing white gloves and hats, and acting lady-like. Did I mention kindergarden yet?
I didn't fit in well. "Does not play well with other children"....that would be me. I only knew one other children well....and he wasn't there. We had to do icky things at school. Like glue paper together with little wooden sticks that we scooped that library paste stuff out of the jar with. The paper got wet and tore of you tried to squish the lumps out of it. The paste could be eated if you got to like the taste of it....must have been real healthy, as I remember it would grow mold over the weekends. When the paste dried on your hands, you could tear it off in sheets that looked like your skin. I remember getting scolded for being immature, I used to hide under my rug at nap time.....I would never get to the music box in time to find anything but wooden blocks to clap together. No cymbols or triangles to make beautiful music with....just wood blocks...clap clap....My school career went downhill after that.
Did you really read all the way down to here? That was silly....I have nothing to say.
I hope you have a wonderful day anyway. Do something something delicious...and I hope you find someone to play rocky horse with in your old age too.


At 8:57 AM, Blogger Pat's Place said...

My goodness, but your sheep "friends" don't know you very well, do they? You do have an unusual, quirky sense of humor and your writing style lacks something called punctuation - but that's how you talk, too! Some friends they are if they can't call you up and clear the air before going into a huff.

O well, I liked your trip down memory lane. We had similar kindergarten experiences - they didn't know we were real artists frustrated with their paltry art supplies...

You had a playmate - wow... I didn't have any of those until I was about 4 or 5. No one was exactly my age in the neighborhood, but there were a few other "unusual" kids that would play with me. At kindergarten, not so much. I ran away from it once or twice. My sister (5 years older) had to find me and bring me back. Since we lived a mile from school, she wasn't at all pleased about that. Fortunately, she only had taken me via one route, so she didn't have to deviate any to find me. My younger sister (5 years younger) did the same thing when she got to kindergarten. How is it that so many other folks have fond memories of kindergarten???

Thanks for the memories.

The Old Shoe

At 3:52 PM, Blogger Karen B. said...

Guess I'd have to agree with Pat's comment concerning the misunderstanding. It should be a lesson to all of us-don't jump to conclusions and get upset-clear it up on the phone and be done with it.

Loved the Dick & Mary Ellen stories.

Purebred Spotted Shetland lover-

At 4:25 PM, Blogger Michelle at Boulderneigh said...

I thought the walk down memory lane was interesting -- and educational. I like to think I know you a bit better now. From someone who knows you not at all outside your blog posts, I WILL say that to me you do often come across as "snarky," for lack of a better word. And BECAUSE I don't know you, I don't take it personally. I like reading a variety of viewpoints, written by a variety of personality types, even if I don't agree at times those viewpoints. Perhaps those who DO know you should know better than to take your comments the wrong way, or maybe you still don't "play well with others." Interpersonal relationships: can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em! I, for one, hope you keep on blogging AND breeding the Shetlands you love.

At 8:25 PM, Blogger Tammy said...

Hi Mary Ellen - well, I for one have to say, I enjoy your blog - and I've enjoyed talking to you privately over the last few weeks. Maybe it's just us Kelly's get along well together.
And as for blogs - and the internet - people will read what they want to into your messages- whether you intend it that way or not. I tend to tick people off too - apparently, I'm too blunt and say the wrong things - but I learned a long time ago -life is too short to sweat the small stuff.
What's important is that you enjoy your life, your sheep, your farm, and your family - Oh - and get rid of that BIG cat.

At 12:42 AM, Blogger Gail V said...

Hi Mary Ellen,
I liked your memories a lot, but I LOVE your sheep advice, so I hope you never stop writing your opinions and lessons.
I'm sorry if you found a barb on the internet blogs-- I hear there's a bit of it going around lately.

At 3:00 PM, Blogger Highland Hollow said...

Hey, I grew up with Dick and Jane myself. I like the way your friend Pat calls you quirky! I knew you were quirky the first time I met you, especially when you said I'll take all 3. My kind of girl.
miss ya lots


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