Mother to my three teenage nieces, Spendy was on her way to the movies with the middle one, Brainy, when somehow the subject of my blog came up. Imagine my surprise when I found out Brainy reads Reality Covered in Chocolate! Now that is blog-worthy!
Anyway... after Brainy asked me when I was going to stop fooling around on vacation and get back to work writing the blog (Brainy is also a little Bossy), Spendy and I took a little walk down memory lane, as we often do.
Spendy - "Remember when we were little and we used to sleep in a tent at Poppy's camp?" Poppy was my grandfather, camp was his cottage on the lake.
Me - "Of course I remember."
Spendy - "Well, we never did that. Ha! Gotcha!"
Me - "No, wait. I camped outside several times in a tent. You weren't there I guess. You didn't like the mosquitoes so you slept inside all the time."
Spendy - "Oh, that's right. I forgot about that."
Me - "Um, no. It really never did happen. Ha! Gotcha!"
I don't remember how or why I started this, but many years ago I would ask my sister to recall a memory of childhood. Maybe this is where my storytelling first began, who knows... I would get her so wound into the story that I could make her believe what we were reminiscing about actually happened.
Now every so often Spendy tries to get me at my own game and, well, you see where that gets her. Not sure why she even tries. An attempt so pathetic I almost feel sorry for her. Almost, but not quite. No one gets me at my own game, I mean, puh-leez!
Our childhood wasn't all picket fences and puppies. But I can make anyone believe that it was, even if they were actually there. So when I find myself in need of amusement, which is pretty often, I weave a big fat lie around a tiny bit of truth and sure enough, she falls for it every time. Sorta like this:
Me - "Hey remember that babysitter we had when we lived in Hicktown? What was her name, Flo? Jo?" There really was a Flo. This is me, dangling the bait.
Spendy - "Flo, it was Flo. She was horrible, huh?" She's circling, nibbling a little.
Me - "Most of the time, yeah. But there was that once... Remember that day she played store with us? We set up our toys in our rooms to sell to each other? And then we took it a step further and emptied our piggy banks?"
Spendy, reaching back deep into her childhood memories - "Piggy banks? Uh, I had that green-ish glass one." Oh yeah, bite the hook baby, bite the hook. I totally forgot she really did have a piggy bank. Perfect!
Me - "Yes! That's the one! So when Flo went to watch her show we bought and sold our stuff, cramming it all into shopping bags and trekking it back and forth across the hall to our own rooms. I think by the time dad came home we had completely sold every single thing in our rooms to each other except the furniture. And we had spent all our money, too. Boy was he mad! Remember how he made us keep the stuff we bought and didn't let us swap back for like a week?"
Spendy - "He sure was mad! And I don't think you ever gave back my day-glo Barbie, did you?" Not only has she been reeled in, she's been skinned and breaded and I'm frying up some sister-fish up with a hint of lemon.
Me, giggling uncontrollably, diet coke coming out of my nose - "Ha ha ha ha, thpendee, ha ha ha, rutpht, ha ha ha, vevvah, ha ha ha, humphanned."
Spendy, eyes narrowed - "What? What's wrong with you? I can't understand you, retard."
Me, taking a deep breath, wiping the laugh tears from my eyes. "Spendy, it never happened."
Spendy - "What never happened? Huh? You lost me."
Me - "None of it. None of that ever happened. Whose the retard now?"
Spendy - "Yes it did! Flo was our babysitter! I remember!"
Me - "Yes, she was. But that's it. We never played store. We never bought each other's stuff. It. Never. Happened."
Spendy - "You're a witch. And still a retard. And you're buying dinner now, too. Retard."
Me - "Yeah, I think you said retard twice there."
Spendy - "Retard, retard, retard. Now I've said it three more times. Want to tell a story about that too, retard?"
I paid for dinner anyway. It was worth it.