The Life and Times of Florence Knitingale

Saturday, July 14, 2007

Odds and Ends

Ms. Knitingale herself being, unquestionably, one of the odds; and one end being supplied handily by Ed himself, who seems quite determined to have my entire body labelled "Property of Ed" and, as such, has made it his business to smear cat snot over 98% of me thus far, in a semi-even film without ever ceasing in his attempts to shove his tush in my face. I feel like a garden with slugs in it.

I got such great comments about my trashy background--you all made me howl with laughter. Monica, Babe, you're killing me over here. I think you grew up country, rather than trashy (which makes you at least 47% more respectable than me) but, fortunately, I can contribute there, too, having spent a bit of time in each of these very special worlds (do you think we might be related?). For instance, you might be country if:


  • you have a female relative who tried to kill a mouse in the barn...with a shotgun.

  • that same female relative once threw a coffeepot at the horse her teenage son brought into the kitchen one night.

  • your father tells fond stories about Saturday nights tipping over outhouses....while they were in use.

  • you have been chased by a bull while walking home from your grandmother's house.

  • you have a relative who had a pet turkey.

  • you have a relative who used to sit out on the porch and let a crow steal bologna off his sandwich (am I the only one out there, by the way, who has to sing the Oscar Meyer song to correctly spell bologna?)

  • when the family reunion was at a campground, you easily found your group by the child urinating in the middle of the road in front of it

  • your cousin once got bored and stuck an entire, home-canned peach in his ear.

  • that same cousin had to be pulled out from under the house naked because his mother told him he'd better not go under the house and get his clothes dirty again...or else (I suspect that could happen in a non-country setting, too...but it was so funny I wanted to put it in there).

  • you could get 30 recipes for apple cobbler, meatloaf, or pot roast with a single phone call, but not a one for mojitos or sushi.

  • there's a funny family story about someone getting her hair caught in the wringer of the old washing machine. And that machine was around a lot longer than the semi-bald relative.

  • you know exactly what an electric fence feels like. And you knew it each of the next 15 times you touched it, too.

  • you once had to restyle your hair to cover where the horse chewed on it.

  • you have eaten so many jell-o salads in church basements that the sight of a jell-o mold will make you bow your head in prayer (and not just because of the canned peaches and miniature marshmallows, either).

  • when your grandma passed away, no one was surprised to find home canned fruits and veggies from 20 years before

  • there was the living room, and the "company" living room. The latter had plastic on the furniture "to keep it nice".

  • anyone in your family has been injured by a broody pig.

  • or stuffed a pig headfirst into a boot in order to castrate it.

  • "checking the mousetrap" meant making sure the cat was still alive

That was my dad's family...my mom's was the other one. Imagine the mixture. That said, Mr. K spent some time in farm country and can offer this one: if you've ever held onto a cow's tail and gone skiing behind it in the cow manure.....yeah, you might be country. Behold, Mr. K at age 20, engaging in just this sport:

Lastly, Mr. K and I are repainting the deck today; I'm taking a break while he replaces a few boards (in my defense, I spent the last few hours scraping old paint off with a small tool and using appropriately bad language). On the list of things I'd rather be doing, the broody pig is starting to sound pretty good. So is the cowshit ski trip. Wish me well. And send wool if I start to become faint in the heat or overcome by paint fumes.


11 Comments:

  • At 7:02 PM, Anonymous Jill said…

    I am such a city girl. Wet sand still kind of freaks me out a little bit!

    My family gatherings consist of heated debates over which side of the roll the toilet paper hangs over.

     
  • At 8:36 PM, Blogger Gail R said…

    Quite a few of these fit - have you been spying on me?

    Really enjoy your blog entries - your sense of humor is terrific!

     
  • At 10:25 PM, Blogger Bobbie said…

    OMG! We MUST be related, because I recognize these people you're writing about! How about this one? When my parents decided to sell their cabin on the lake, the appraiser said, "Now, ma'am, you do realize that I can't classify this as a 'dwelling', don't you?" In their defense, it WAS a weekend place, but still! HEE HAW!!!

     
  • At 12:04 AM, Anonymous angie Cox said…

    I think I got the trailer stuff more . I can certainly identify with oldies with out of date products. I have to remove items from Mum's larder . As I am starting to show signs of not being bothered to put my glasses on how long before Holly does that for me. Mum won't wear her hearing-aid either . I think the fence means animals God forgive me I thought open prison for a while there !

     
  • At 12:10 AM, Blogger Charity said…

    Now these ones are much more my background! :0) Just a Manitoba farm girl here.

     
  • At 1:53 AM, Blogger Angeluna said…

    Hilarious, but for some reason it is the jello molds in the church basement that finally broke me down.

    Had a grandfather with a ranch, but somehow never went cow skiing, nor even heard of it.

     
  • At 2:39 AM, Anonymous MonicaPDX said…

    Heeheeheehee... Yep, it was country; at least for the years from 15-19. Before that, city, but in a section of Portland that's off on the peninsula at the confluence of the Columbia & Willamette rivers, so rather isolated, and felt more like a small town. Glad you got good laughs, and I really will make a post soon with similar, um, oddities! Lord knows there were plenty of 'em. [eg]

    ROLFMAO again at the new list! Especially the horse in the kitchen!! Closest we ever got to that was-- No, wait, gotta put that in my post. ;) Boy is the recipe thing spot-on, and the cousin? ::snerksnerksnerk:: Ahhh, man... families. Mr. K's cowshit ski trip, too - yay Mr. K, and thank you for letting us see that!

    Oh man. My ribs. Two days in a row, I'm gonna have sore muscles for a week.

    And y'know, we just might be related, Flo. Got any family in Idaho or Spokane with the last name of Carlson or Morrell, or anyone who has in-laws with either name?? [vbg] Except for the years out in Scappoose (the country), I was born and raised in Portland, but Mom had some family who'd moved to in Spokane...And she grew up in Idaho.

    Thanks for another hilarious post! (And love the 47% more respectable. You haven't yet heard what my father used to ask women once we got-- Nope, need to save that for posting too. [veg])

     
  • At 5:49 AM, Blogger Marianne said…

    Heh. I grew up on the outskirts of Tulsa, of course I could've thrown a rock and hit the 'city limits' sign...
    Love the photo of Mr.K...yippeeee yahooooo!

     
  • At 6:58 AM, Anonymous Vicki in So. Cal. said…

    Let's see. One house we lived in when I was growing up had a hole (not a little hole, it was about 2 foot square) in the bathroom floor in front of the tub. You not only had to be careful getting in and out of the tub but I always checked the room carefully before going in for fear that a snake would crawl up out of it. We lived there about 6 years and my dad never got around to fixing it.

    Another place, on a cattle ranch, had the back door opening directly into the bathroom. You'ld be all relaxed in there doing your bisness and someone would knock on the door. You were really lucky if another family member didn't rush in and open the door. I guess it's a wonder that I'm not having to see a psychiatrist for 'bathroom issues'!

     
  • At 10:46 AM, Blogger Jo said…

    I'm a country girl for sure! but that photo of Mr K, is priceless...absolutely love it!

     
  • At 4:13 AM, Blogger Terri said…

    You forgot choppin' the head off a copperhead with the hoe.

     

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