Rainy Days = Rainy Memories

Dear Readers,

Beyond the excitement from the Boise State football fans last night (all night), and my over active gallbladder, nothing too exciting has happened today. Thanks to the rain, I can't clean the parking garage. Thanks to my lack of energy, I can't clean the laundry rooms. And thanks to my new shoes that I don't want to scuff up, I'm planted at my desk until that magical moment in time when I lock my office door and walk upstairs to my apartment.

And so, Dear Readers, I would love to take this opportunity to travel down memory lane. This dreary, cold, rainy day reminds me of a kinder, gentler time. A time when I was young and carefree, living at home with my parents, David and Kristie, and sisters, Andrea (older) and Kate (younger)in Rupert, Idaho. To the outside observer walking 10 or more blocks away, nothing was amiss. But should you come within a 9 block radius of our humble abode between the hours of 3:00pm-4:30pm, it's possible you confused the screaming that my sisters and I produced for a witch burning. At the top of our shrill young lungs we would use our most colorful language to describe our "affection" for each other.

What's this? The Badger sisters fought?

Oh yes, Dear Readers. A typical day consisted of coming home from school, where left unattended and to our own devices we tortured each other with everything from hairspray in the eyes to two sisters ganging up on one and tying her up in front of the television to force her to watch the evangelical religion channel.

The form of torture that sticks out in my mind today was one that Andrea had mastered. Being the kind, sensitive child that I was (and still am), Andrea knew that the best way to drive me to tears was to involve my favorite stuffed animal, Lambie. Lambie was near and dear to me, having been a friend of mine since birth. A small, woolly stuffed lamb with a rattle inside and a darling little pink nose, it needed me as not only a friend, but as a sage and a protector as well.

And so, Dear Readers, on a day like today, my poor little Lambie found it's way into the hands of a most evil adversary, Andrea. I recall things around the house being unusually quiet. And then, Andrea calling me outside. Without a coat or a key, I run out to see what's going on, and am shocked to see Lambie hanging from a little noose from the apple tree. Cackling like a mad woman, Andrea rushed in doors while I frantically tried to release Lambie from the deadly knot. And, before I could make it back in, Andrea locked all of the doors and left me shoeless, coatless, and keyless outside in the rain, with my little pathetic stuffed animal and my tears for company.

When my dad pulled into the driveway a while later, he found me screaming and pounding on the door. Rather than offer me the sympathy I felt I deserved, I received some lecture about being able to hear me scream a mile a way and he then demanded that the door be opened. And that was it. Andrea, giving me a smirk, knew that she was leagues away from punishment. Justice, by the only person who could bring it, was denied.

The moral of this memory is two fold: 1) Don't leave your precious stuffed animals unattended, for they are helpless without you and, 2) If Andrea calls you outside, be sure to have a key.

More tomorrow.

Sincerely,
h.