Caterwauling

I love green. My new template belies that. My eyes are green, and I wear lots of it to try to bring them out. (Case in point, this old photo. And for the record, do I have any non-cleavage shots? Yeah, didn’t think so.)

Ahem. Anyway, my mom sent me a valentine today, and in it she gave me a sheet of Muppets postage stamps.

I called her to see just how large of a crack rock she was smoking thank her for thinking of me, and she said, “Yeah, I know you like Kermit, but they wouldn’t do a full sheet of those.”

And I had one of those horrible childhood flashbacks.

“Mom,” I said, “I didn’t like Kermit. In fact, I didn’t much like the Muppets in general. YOU were the one who liked Kermit. You’re the frog collector.”

She was stunned. “But you liked frogs.”

“Because YOU did,” I said.

And then the downward spiral in my mind began.

HERE’S THE STORY …

Maybe my mom was just overly excited about everything when I was a kid, but she liked “Kermie” (as Miss Piggy called him), so much so that I always associated him with her.

One night, I was happily parked in front of the TV when the Muppets came on. I must have been 4 or 5, and I ran to get Mom so she could see her froggy beau.

So I ran into her bedroom to say, “Kermit’s on TV!”

Yeah, that might’ve been true, but my stepfather? Was on HER.

Ewww.

I had no idea, of course, what the hell I’d walked in on. All I remember is her underwear and her beloved Virginia Beach T-shirt lying on the floor.

(That’s where they’d eloped to, and the day before they ran off, I as a precocious 3-year-old had said, “Mommy, don’t do it.” I hated him and didn’t want her to go do whatever it was that meant we were going to have to live with him. No wonder my grandmother thought I was the smartest kid on earth.)

So, I didn’t know what to do, so I closed the door and went back to the TV. And I never much cared for Kermit after that. 😉

I told mom the story today, and she’s more than horrified and is probably killing herself as I type this. But what else is a child to do than to torment her mother for all the things that contributed to screwing (heh) her up in life?!?!

On a Monday

1. Is there snow on the ground where you are?

Yup. Although I have to give D.C. major props as they were actually prepared for the latest odyssey. That and I live/work off of major interstates, so the roads were wonderfully clear.

2. When is the last time you played in the snow?

I was never allowed. Mom never let me get dirty in any way, shape or form. I was always dressed up and you seriously don’t want to see that woman freak out over so much as a ring on the coffee table. She used to be wonderfully neurotic like that — now she couldn’t give a shit less.

3. Do you generally like snow?

I’m accustomed to it (28 years lived in Pittsburgh, I tended to see it occasionally!). I don’t hate it. But the ice drives me mad, so no, Mother Nature and Old Man Winter need to quit cavorting, thanks.

4. Have you ever had a snowball fight?

I was trying to remember whether I did at recess in school or not. I probably would’ve been the kid who packed snow around a rock and beaned the popular kids. I’ll never tell. 😉

5. Do you like to ski or snowboard?

Is that multiple-choice? ‘Cause the answer would be no to either. I was kind of upset with myself that I didn’t ski when I went to Aspen — they have a lovely beginner run called Buttermilk, where you’re pretty much walking on flat ground in skis. But I can barely stay upright on solid ground, so I took a pass. Maybe I’ll grow a set if I ever get back there.

6. Have you been watching the winter Olympics?

Not if I can find anything better to watch.

7. If so, what’s your favorite even to watch?

My boss and I were watching men’s curling. Seriously, we needed our own show because the snark was flying a hell of a lot faster than those idiots were running in front of the Roomba-type object with their brooms. High entertainment value, I say.

8. Have you ever built a snow fort?

If I’d sat in my car this morning, with eight inches of snow on it, would that have counted?

9. What’s your worst snow-related injury?

I fall on my ass all the time on ice. I remember years ago, I got off the bus and waved for the driver to turn the corner so I could try to waddle across the street unnoticed.

But he was wonderful and insisted on sitting there so that I could cross with the lights of the bus (it was really late at night). Well, leave it to me to go ass over teakettle in the middle of the street — my feet went up over my head and I landed on my back. In a skirt. My ass? Bruised. It was that day when I realized that having a bejunked trunk is something to be thankful for sometimes, ’cause I bounced right back up!

10. Ask me something.

I’m going to be in your neck of the woods this weekend. Will the snow be melted by then?