How I Tattled on My Six-Year Old Self

My little sister and I were very opposite growing up. She was active and social to the max. She could instantly become best friends with random people she met at the grocery store. I was a little more reserved and had the ability to stay in my room all day just reading a book. My contentedness to stay still and quiet for the day was not my sister's style and unfortunately led to her often playing by herself. AKA getting into mischief. I can't remember exactly how old we were (around 4 and 6 years old) when she started learning how to write her name. On everything. Except, it wasn't quite her name. For some reason O's and H's must have been the easiest letters and the result was HOHOHO. Much to my parents chagrin, paper was not worthy of this new found name business and it appeared in the strangest places. 

My poor dad found it on his wood workbench in permanent marker.

Then my mom found it in ballpoint pen on their headboard. 

  My parents were at a loss as to how she had so much unsupervised time to accomplish these masterpieces. 

It was like she was some kind of Christmas/Santa ninja. Spreading Christmas cheer even in July. 

She must have had mad skills to know when to leave her calling card. 

Hanging out in rafters. 

Or under and behind beds.

 The other mystery to my parents was how she got her ninja tools. Where were all of these permanent and damaging writing utensils coming from? No matter how high or tucked away, she found them. 

None of this was too concerning to me and my six-year old life. My stuff was fine...or so I thought. I had a lock on my door to keep her from getting into my things. 

 But one fateful day I left it unlocked and the Santa Ninja struck. For some reason, the Santa Ninja decided that it would be appropriate to label all my things with the only letter of my name she could write: L. I am sure Santa Ninja thought she was being very kind and that I would be so happy for this act of labeling. I, of course, was horrified. 

I went crying to my parents. I expected justice. Instead my parents started explaining to me about how little Santa Ninjas are too young to know better and that she will be told not to do it again. 

  I went back to my room indignant. Where was the lifelong time-out? Where was the "we are disappointed talk"? The "no more candy for you ever!" declaration. I pouted and mulled over these things for quite some time while holding my electric piano (the only thing unscathed). If only she would do it again. Then she would have to know better and be punished. 

 And that is when I had a most horridly evil scheme pop into my head. It was so perfect, so schemey, so easily executed that any conscience I had once had was squeezed out by the shear ingeniousness of it. 

I would copy the Santa Ninja's M.O. and write the fated HOHOHO on my most prized possession (in non-permanent pencil of course) and then tell my parents it was the Santa Ninja's fault. Muhahha!    

I went out into the garage and copied the Santa Ninja's handwriting off of the workbench.

I worked up some tears for about a half an hour. It took some work but after purposely remembering how much injustice had been sent my way I found the proper sadness to induce tears. I took my piano and, making sure to hold it so my parents could see the offense, I approached as pitifully sad as possible.  

My pitifulness and my forgery were convincing. My parents were off to do the grounding for life with a sprinkle of "so disappointed" jargon. I had done it! And for around .5 seconds I felt an uber sense of accomplishment and mastermindedness. 

 The glee was very quickly and rudely interrupted by something I had totally forgotten about; my conscience. It snuck back into my brain and thoughts and whopped me in the head. 

Suddenly I remembered I had a soul. A tarnish-able soul. Oh, and a heart. Which I was pretty sure now had some blackish, nasty blemish directly from my evil scheme. 

 At first twinge of guilt I resorted to blaming my conscience. "Aaaand where were you before I acted out my evil scheme?" I accused. "What kind of conscience lets the heart get black and then reminds you of how awful a plan is? This is all your fault. You and your work-after-evil deed policy."  

 But then I remembered that my mom had explained that it gets easier and easier to do one bad thing after another because you dull your conscience. Sometimes it gets so bad that guilt isn't a zinger, its just a bland thing easy to ignore. In my six-year old mind the only logical explanation for the day's events is that I was starting to become the person my mom had told me about. Soon I would be doing all sorts of terrible things without even thinking a spat about it. Yep. I was well on my way to becoming the worst thing imaginable. A robber. 

I lamented my fate as a future woman of crime unable to control her evil stealing impulses because I had stupefied my conscience and ruined my soul. I would probably have a hideous gold tooth or two. 

Unless....   

That is how I ended up telling on myself. To save me from a life of crime I went to my parents and in great detail (that probably came out in weird spurts of random words) told on myself. I don't remember what the punishment was, just that it didn't seem enough to completely prevent me from a terrible future. I resolved from that day forward to make my conscience my best friend and never ignore it (if only one could always keep such resolutions all the time). I do not yet know how to master that. 

 All I know is I am amazed at how my parents are still sane after raising the Santa Ninja and the Possible Future Robber. 

Morality According to a Cat.

Meet Snookels. A dear little cat who looks like a tabby and a calico mated and the results were inconclusive. Snookels is a deeply conscientiousness and disciplined cat. She believes there is a certain order to the universe that only she can maintain and humans are woefully unaware of. Her moral standards go past instinct and she has taken a solemn vow to preserve the cat standards and laws of life.   

First rule of Catdom: Window dressings of any kind are inherently evil. The humans, completely unaware of the danger, actually invite this evil into their habitats. They must be combated daily if humans and cats are to survive.  

Since it is impossible to permanently remove this evil, a good strategy is to daily stretch the window dressings with your claws and if necessary your teeth. This subdues the evil enough to protect all inhabitants. 

 Second Rule of Catdom: Furniture, especially couches, are a highly unstable and excitable bunch. Establish control. 

The best way to do this is to dig your claws into them at least once a day to ensure their instability stays at a minimum. This will also sharpen your claws to enhance your ability to fight other evil.  

If you fail to complete this task on a regular basis you never know what the excitable bunch might do when a stimulus like music enters the equation. They might even dance uncontrollably causing great destruction. 

Third Rule of Catdom: Display dominance. It is vital that all in your territory know who is boss. 

This is, of course, accomplished by putting on your most crazy expression to show you are not to be messed with. Then proceed to tear around the territory as fast as possible to terrify your enemies. 

Fourth Rule of Catdom: Everything is much too dependent on cords. Remove this vice. 

Best method: annihilate with teeth. 

Fifth Rule of Catdom: Anything the size of a quarter should be batted at a few times. This will keep your evil fighting skills at their best.  

Sixth Rule of Catdom: (Perhaps the most important) Meow every morning. This will help your humans wake up and be aware of your presence. 

 

Seventh Rule of Catdom: If a visitor to your habitat is allergic to cats you must smother them with affection. It is illogical that anything could have a natural bad reaction to cats. Therefore, it is your duty to release them of their imagined allergy and cling to them until they are purged. 

Eighth and Final Rule of Catdom: Be cute. Humans most likely will never understand your quest for vanquishing evil. They will often yell, wave their arms, cry out to the creator of cats, or clap their hands in an effort to cease your brave actions. Avoid this by putting on your saddest expression and pretend to be sorry. 

Following their outburst, make sure to wait until it looks like they are really busy and try to sit directly on what they are working on. Eventually their anger will subside. 

What Having a Big Family is Like on Holidays

This is the year we have Thanksgiving with husband's side and I cannot wait. There is something crazy and fun about having holidays with mega amounts of people, especially when it is family. For those of you who do not know, my husband has 11 siblings. That means huge holiday gatherings. One of my favorites is Thanksgiving. My sister-in-law is hosting this year and we are going to try and fit everyone in the living room.   As you can see, everyone means a lot of people. 

I always imagine that we must somehow stretch a house out when we all gather because it seems impossible to fit so many people under one roof. 

 My hubby's dad and mom are always busy in the kitchen the day of. I have learned that dinner is just never on time. That would be just weird. The first Thanksgiving I had with them I made the mistake of not eating before dinner...I was one grumpy person by 6pm. This year I am prepared to eat snacks. There will be plenty. This is the one meal the Emmons spare nothing. I do not think I have even seen as many pies at a bakery by the time the day is over. Mr. Emmons cooks a variety all day and soon we are putting pies in the oddest places so there is still room to cook. There is also no shortage of jello salads. Never in my life have I seen as many varieties of jello salads as we have on Thanksgiving. The shear volume and variety puts all church potlucks to shame.

 

The activities for the day always include large groups. There is no shortage of wiis and wii remotes as the entire family pools together their collection. This year I have been practicing for the Mario Cart Tourney. Not because I want to win (that is a few more years of practice away) but because I just want to keep up enough to cross the finish at each race.

We also place numerous board games and card matches all day long. 

Dinner is always more than filling and we get a chance to discuss what we are thankful for. Then we stuff ourselves full of dessert. 

And we Emmons never forget about left overs. Therefore, at least three turkeys are cooked so that we can all take home the golden combo of mashed taters, turkey and cranberry sauce. And jello salad. And pies. Lots of pies and jello salad. 

Living In Podunkville: Episode 1- First Impressions

When I first heard we were moving to Prineville, Oregon for sure I was a little apprehensive but as a couple weeks past I had conjured up all kinds of expectations of the little podunk town. I had come to the conclusion that it would be quaint, full of cow boys and girls, wholesome, innocent, a haven from the degradation of society. The town would be full of historic houses and everyone would own a horse. So when we visited Prineville for the first time in order to find a place to live it is no surprise it did not go as planned. As we neared Prineville it was well after dark. Hubby and I were in a pretty good mood and were singing to country music (mostly because that's all the stations in the area play and partly because we were excited about becoming county bumpkins).

We came to the welcome sign and entered Prineville. "Don't blink!" I joked, "You'll miss it."

There were about 6 large industrial looking buildings and then before we could blink...

 ...there was only blank road ahead and the backside of the ugly industrial buildings behind. 

 I looked at Zeph and asked, "Was that it?"

The horror set in.

Zeph broke the silence that had settled in, " I guess I will find a place to turn around up here?" 

But the road ahead had no turn outs. It was a long stretch with dirt and dead stuff. 

We finally came to a bend in the road and as we rounded the corner...

...lights! Glorious town lights below in a little valley.

We returned to being cool. We knew it was all going to work out the "whole" time. 

As we reached the valley floor we entered the as expected quaint Main Street and drove past a few shops.

All seemed fairly normal until we drove past the hair salon. 

I kid you not, the hair salon in Prineville is called Cougar Cuts and as we drove by there was a STUFFED COUGAR on lighted display in the salon.  

 Unsure what to comment on about that we proceeded to the hotel and got a good nights sleep in a surprisingly modern room. 

The next morning we were again in good moods because the sun was shining and it was raining 31/2hr away in Corvallis. We went to the local renting office "Wild West Properties" and asked for listings in our price range. Full of optimism, we headed for the first listing on the edge of town. 

The house looked nothing like the picture. 

 It was hideous, shocking and plain unsanitary. Most of the paint was gone, the roof was caving in, the windows were cracked and the door did not latch. It was the kind of house that only roaches would like. It provoked the irrational fear that we might catch drugs from it. 

Despite our fear of coming down with crack, we entered briefly. The smell was a mixture of poop, drugs, mold and grease. 

Unsure of what to do next, we pressed on to a couple more listings. There were a whole lot more trailer parks than I envisioned. At one point we got lost. This is extremely frustrating because Prineville is so tiny. How can one get lost? 

 We were looking for NW 6th Street. We found NE 6th, W 6th. But no NW 6th. Finally we found NW 5th Street. 

"Perfect!" I said to Zeph, " All we have to do is turn down here and then we will find NW 6th." 

Logical. But incorrect in Prineville.  

We instead found 5 1/2 Street around the turn and no 6th.  Who has a 5 1/2 Street?!?!  

 We reached our limit at this point. We were convinced we had entered the Twilight Zone or Prineville has an outsider defense system intent on frustrating visitors. 

I burst into tears and went on a rant about how it is already hard enough to leave Corvallis and our friends behind and then this and what kind of town has a 5 & a 1/2 street and everyone here is a country bumpkin and life will be terrible here. I finally calmed down to a resigned sniffle and we resumed our hunt for NW 6th Street. 

Somehow we ended up on NE First Street which, of course, is in the SW part of town. We took a turn onto Ewen Street to get back to Main Street when I saw it. The perfect style house for rent! 

 It was in our price range, had hardwood floors and new appliances. We called about it and left feeling much better about living in Prineville. 

Totally knew everything was going to be fine the whole time.