I was a weird toddler. When I was two or three, I would take pretzel sticks, dip them in the water running down the sidewalk gutters and eat them. University City, where we were living at the time, was an upscale neighborhood, but still…eeuwww!!! Back then I thought it was the gourmet snack of the century.
And after my pretzelicious repast, I would go inside and ride my rocking horse, Blaize, for hours on end. Mom has a picture of me on Blaize, a fierce, determined look on my face. A mini Paula Revere on a mission.
My older sister Lisa and I used to play with this wooden block set. We’d build these magnificent block edifices, homes for our collection of plastic animals. The tiger was the ruler (I still have him, along with the blocks and the rest of the animals), harsh but just. We would sacrifice my Barbie dolls to apease the animal gods. Hey, their heads had to come off so easily for a reason!
For a short while I wanted to be a ballet dancer. I would lock myself in my room, put on one of my mom’s old frothy chiffon nightgowns, play classical music and dance my little klutzy heart out. For all the fact I grew into a mega ham bone, I never wanted anyone to see me dance. It was my little secret fantasy.
My first crush was Roddy McDowell. As Cornelius in PLANET OF THE APES. I’ve come a long way since my fixation on gay chimps.
And you might not care, but I’ve been tagged (see yesterday’s post) and by thunder, I’m gonna do my part!
I once stole a dollar’s worth of dimes from the Brownie dues box when my mom was the Brownie leader in Lakeside, California. My sister was a Brownie, I was just a bratty younger sister. Why did I steal these shiny tempting dimes? Simple. When my mom went to get her hair done, there was a soda machine that dispensed Coke in ice cold bottles for a dime apiece. I figured if I had a good supply of dimes, I would always be assured if my icy old Coca Cola. It was a bit of an obsession. Something about putting the dime in the slot, pushing the button and then almost instant gratification of that bottle… Coke never tasted so good. So every time there was a Brownie meeting at our house, I’d sneak a couple of dimes out of it, figuring no one would ever be the wiser. Until the day my sister caught me. “Mom, Dana’s stealing from the Brownie box!” was immediately clarioned through the house in the clear self-righteous tones that only an older sister could muster. I was grounded for a good long time.
Oddly enough, during this same period I also stole a box of Milk Duds from a local market. I didn’t get caught, but I felt so guilty that after I ate the candy, I buried the incriminating box under a pile of horse manure.
And today I tag… Dani!!!!