I hope this post doesn’t get lost inside the last post I shared 16 hours ago. Perhaps it will be plucked from the pair and bestow at least one giggle. One can only hope! (it is also a tad long…)
I’ve mentioned this character before. He was one of my favorite super heroes from the 70’s. Letterman from The Electric Company. He’d be proud of how often I found the letter ‘P’ on Saturday.
Mum has always been a collector. Often her collections could be categorized. Fabric, yarn, lighthouses, books, and so on. Sometimes, however, they defy description. I do have to point out, the final ‘P’s is not hers, but mine. It amused me, so, I’ll write it up while I’m perfecting my pancakes.
Ages ago, I read a book to a group of preschoolers. It was called, ‘If you give a pig a pancake’. Fun story by Laura ..(She also wrote, ‘If you give a moose a muffin’). I read it to the kids on ‘P’ Day (in lower grades we’d often have a day to practice the use of certain letters and numbers). Many of the kids grew up on farms with cows, but they’d have loved this crazy keychain I found in mom’s lighthouse stash. I’m not sure why this little guy was hidden in the darkness behind the towering lighthouses, but he was still smiling. I have no idea where the pink piggy came from, he obviously was happy among the dust bunnies. I carefully pulled him out of his spot on the shelf and thought he was cute. He is. Oddly, there was a brownish greyish dusty blob off his butt. I gingerly picked away the fluff and discovered it was soft!!! Then, it dawned upon my unbelieving brain, the pig’s blob was supposed to be poo! I almost dropped him when I realized just what he had been doing for decades in the dirt. I dusted the plastic of the pig and noted his huge smile, then I accidently squeezed the pint sized porcine pocket pet and he pooped more! The most disturbing part of the poop and the pig, is that when you release the tummy, the excrement exuded returns from whence it came!!
This second ‘P’ is also a ‘T’, but it baffled me for years and then when I discovered more, I was even more confused. Mum brought back from Minnesota, a piano. It isn’t a good piano, but it has been in the family for generations. (Probably why my sister wants it. I’m not sure where she’ll put it, but that is her call, not mine.) Anyway, the top, like most level surfaces in this house, has become a catch all. As I cleaned it off, I moved a glass gazebo sort of thing with a tiny priestess inside. All around it were angels (another of mom’s collections) and things depicting Norway and photos and whatnot. I realized the gazebo thing didn’t have a door, you lifted the top off. Like a cover on a dish. Yet, the robed priestress holding a manuscript within made no sense. I picked the resin ecclesiastical portrayer of the faith from where she’d been standing, pontificating to nothing since 2014 or earlier and placed her on the piano lid (she was probably glad to get out of there!). Gently I dusted off the container and when I turned the bottom over I read the thing was a terrarium! Why on earth would you put a priestess in a terrarium?? An empty terrarium? Is she attempting to recreate Genesis one? Lord knows there was enough dust outside the container. Is she actually a replication of a reincarnation of Dr. Who only with a terrarium instead of a booth? Maybe my sister put the priestress inside, she probably gave her the pig, too. Jake has an obscure sense of humor (remembering to when she bit off all the tops on the candy corn and put it back in the dish. Mum was convinced the candy corn was a different variety. Not triangular and the white was missing.). In retrospect, the tiny lady may have been from when mom portrayed a nun in ‘Sound of Music’, but that still doesn’t explain why she was in a terrarium!
This last ‘P’, as I mentioned, was really something of mine. I was looking in the empty cupboards and fridge (they aren’t exactly empty, only mostly empty. The fridge has some cheese and condiments. The freezer has a package of frozen veggies, aged burritos that I’d not eat if unless you paid me well, and a diet pepsi in a plastic bag.) Surprised, I removed the crystalized pop and placed it outside to thaw. I’m a fan of slushy beverages. Dairy Queen used to have this drink called a Mr. Misty, basically a slushy, and if you added vanilla ice cream to it, it was perfect. My youngest likes a frozen watermelon drink I’ve made on occasion and I now like a slushy diet cola. I’ve also wanted some bubbles since my return north and was pretty excited to find this treat. After a few hours, I noted it starting to melt and brought it inside. I had been cautious because frozen pop can distend bottles and make a mess if left unsupervised. After a bit longer, my impatience was at its limit. The bottle was mostly full of ice, yet there was a smidge of thawed Pepsi and my tongue was craving the flavor. It took a bit of force to crack open the lid that immediately exploded across the kitchen! Quickly, I sealed it back up and started to laugh as I surveyed the places the carbonated potion had landed. On me, on the counter, on the cupboards, and the walls. I managed to get it tidied and opted to perform the opening outside. Once again, Pompeii was recreated in fizz and foam in the palms of my hands. As you can see, I lost quite a bit of the Pepsi and now it is flatter than the pancakes I made and consumed for my brunch.
Perhaps, as I empty the bell cabinet, I’ll find other letters to share! Although, I do love the letter ‘P’!!
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