Paper Towel Confession

Growing up, us kids caused all kinds of things to break around the house. Mostly not on purpose of course. One time, I remember we had ran out of toilet paper in the primary bathroom. Somehow, a roll of paper towels ended up in this bathroom. Uh oh. As you probably know, paper towels are NOT made to easily break apart but instead pride themselves in how well they can hold together when wiping up messy spills. Thus, it is highly recommended NOT to flush them down the toilet.

Well, kids don’t think of such things. So, in lieu of having toilet paper to use after one had completed their doodie duty, paper towels were used. Unbeknownst to my poor parents.

Unfortunately, everything did not come out okay. It turned out so badly that a plumber had to be called. He told my parents what he found in the clogged pipes: paper towels. Poor little Karen confessed to the crime. I don’t think she got in trouble, but I do think that it was quite embarrassing for her as I think both our parents and the plumber reprimanded her for it.

Here’s my confession: Karen wasn’t the only one who had resorted to using those paper towels. In November of 2005, I admitted it to my family for the first time that I had also used those paper towels at least once. They were dumbfounded and asked why I didn’t say anything at the time. Well, I guess I figured since someone else had already stepped up to the plate and taken the blame, I didn’t feel the need to.

Plus, I am sure I was old enough to have known better.

Micro machines

I remember when we used to play micro machines on that peice of sheetrock dad gave us. It was fun drawing our towns with roads and parkinglots for the cars, but I especially remember how Cindy and I were on one sad...the sadder looking, crappier side, and Amber and Brian were on the other. They barely EVER drove to OUR little towns though, if we wanted to play with them, we had to drive to THIER towns, or just play with each other. One time I got mad at being ignored by Amber and Brian and I said, in frustration,"Brian, I bet if Amber wasn't your sister, you would MARRY her!!!" It seemed logical to my little kid mind, since they would kinda play on their side of the board and hardly even acknowledge us...like they were in a whole other room...hehe

Dandilions

Well, this post is from something i did today that was out of habit from the years upon years as a little girl growing up. I picked a dandilion. Karen and i probably did this the most, but each spring when the first dandilions would begin to overtake the yard, we would run out there and pick as many as we could to give to mama. Being her favorite flower (its was never a weed to us but a yellow flower). She would always put them in the same little cup which use to be a jelly jar, i think it had Tom and Jerry on it (and it is probably still in the cupboard). So backto today, i picked one loan dandilion on campus today and carried it around for a good hour before i realized it was going to welt so took a picture of it and sent it to mama on our handy camera phones. Yay for Spring!

This is not a funny one, but just a nice memory I have. When Brian was 15, for my birthday, he bought and put on my "purple" bike some new cranks for me. I thought that was really sweet of him to do that. I love this bike, and with those cranks, it goes up hills much easier for me. My purple bike is pictured here. (is purple ok for a bike?! hehe!, refering to Ambers post below.)

The Color Purple

I guess I will go first. This is posted on my personal blog as well, but it is one of my favorites.
---

When I was a teen, I was working as a cashier at Jack & Jill’s (a grocery store). Since it was a small grocery store, it attracted many elderly customers.

During my three years of employment there, I noticed something about our elderly clientele. The ladies had a penchant for wearing purple clothing. Well, heavily-applied/dark makeup too, but in particular, they liked to wear lots of purple.

One evening, I was commenting on this old lady purple outfit phenomenon to my sisters. I went on and on about how it seemed like every elderly lady would wear purple. Unbeknownst to myself, my mother was around the corner in an adjoining room and overheard the entire conversation. She was wearing all purple: a purple sweatshirt and purple sweatpants.

I found out later that she immediately got up, changed clothes, threw the purple sweatsuit away, and hasn’t worn purple since.

This is our memories blog. who wants to be first?