So, here I am.....

The girl that said she'd never blog. The far from computer savvy girl that is always up for a challenge despite a serious lack of time.My blog goals. Do I have blogging goals? Hmmm, I guess I should. So I pledge to be funny, lighthearted, not vent or complain to much and maybe just maybe share a crumb of wit and wisdom on occassion.I will most likely chat about etsy, my addiction and muse. the incredible artsists and friends I have found in a community that oozes with creativity, friendship, support and a home for all things handmade.You will hear me ramble about the insanity of my life including my 3 boys, ages 12, 16 and 53. Yes, that last one I am married to, but trust me, he is just as much boy as man. After 17 years of marriage I find myself raising him along with them. Then again, he would probably say the same of me at times. I will often speak of friends I would go to the ends of the earth for and a family that more often than not defines dysfunction. Then again, I strongly believe a functional family is the stuff legends are made of.I am a lover of music of all kinds and not so much the TV ( except maybe Glee). I have an addiction to handmade glass, especially venetian and lampwork beads as well as unique pottery. I have made a concerted effort to tame my jewelry fetish with my own creations which can be seen at you haven't figured out by now, I can jabber my jaws and my fingers as if someone could care what I have to say.

Friday, October 31, 2008

Memoirs of a Punk

Yep, that would be me, or should I say was me. At times I do actually appreciate that I am not the person I once was. Halloween is one of those times (sort of). That sick, twisted part of me still grins at the thought of my youthful antics but the responsible adult in me cringes as she wonders why I am 1) not dead and 2) not in jail.
As the trick or treaters ring the bell, I am reminded of my meanager days. Yes, along with my "so called" friends, I too rang bells on Halloween. The difference is I usually ran as soon as I did, often leaving a not so pleasant remnant of my visit. These remnants varied house to house and year to year but had the potential to include explosives, excrements and toilet paper among other things.

What was I thinking? well, chances are, I wasn't. I was 14, 16, 17 and stupid.

Now, you may think that a horrible prank and it was. I only wish it was my worst.
Before I go incriminating myself beyond belief, there was plenty of innocent fun to be had as well. Clancy the ghost is definitely a favorite memory. It's amazing what grocery ad dispay soap bottle, a sheet, some chains and fish wire can accomplish. Every kid in the neighborhood became enthralled with Clancy. He was our mascot.
Oh, and there were hours and hours or trick or treating with the biggest pillowcases we couldn't carry. Soemtimes 2, 3 or more hauls in a night. Some years were highlighted by parties with peeled grapes (eyeballs) and oily spaghetti (veins) and a cauldron of dry ice. Cupcakes and brownies amongst the sugar overload finished with a kick-the-can game the size of Chicago or a mass viewing of The Holy Grail. Afterall, it's not really Halloween until someone chants, "bring out yer dead!"

Now back to the good stuff. I will preface with a slight disclaimer. I was never the mastermind and never the instigator but fear not, I was a willing and able sicko just the same. Lastly, if you happen to be my offspring reading this, don't. Don't continue reading and by all means DO NOT do such things. Be a better person. Know right from wrong, show restraint and think things through. For you too may someday sit down to write a memoir and want something positive to reference.

And so it is. My most vivid of Halloween remembrances. The dead man hanging. He was great. A true collaboration. A youthful prank with no limits. Vivid, life-like and memorable.
1 rubber mask
1 set of clothes
1 sutrdy knife
1 bottle ketchup
lots of sturdy fishline

1 dark, tree lined suburban street
a few semi alert drivers
good tennis shoes (for running)

a recipe for hysterical laughter and traumatic stress. You see, we built the dummy, stabbed and bloodied the dummy and strung the dummy from trees to hang in the middle of the street, just above eye level, dead center. Fish line is NOT visible after dark but a dangling, bloodied body (fake) sure is. It would be fair to say we can all probably sprint at olympic speed still today at the drop of a stopped car. The driver I remember the most was the pair of police officers that stopped, approached, and then laughed hysterically. Of course, they ended our fun, but they admitted it was clever, scary and funny, but dangerous as hell.

so, that was the end of Guts McGee, or so we thought.

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