Shenanigans

What Doesn’t Kill You…

Jeanna G1 Comment

When I was little, I loved having the attention of my older brothers. They’re 11 and 12 years older, so they had many other interests aside from playtime with their baby sister. Needless to say, whenever I got their attention, I was up for anything…and I mean anything. 

A common activity was being timed on how fast I could do things for them. “Go get me a soda! I’ll time you!”

Or when we’d play hide and seek and they’d stuff me under the couch cushions and sit on me and act like they didn’t know where I was. 

Then there was that time Jon tore up the neighbor’s yard on his dirt bike while I was riding piggyback. 

Or that time they both got tired of babysitting, so they threw me in the backseat of the car for a joyride. They pulled so many donuts in a cul-de-sac that I’m still unable to get on carnival rides. 

But my favorite activity was playing Monster with Joe. The story line was always that he was the Monster, like as in Frankenstein’s, and someone was always trying to take away his Dolly (yours truly), so he had to keep me away from the bad guys. He’d whip me around in circles by one arm and then let go. I’d fly and roll across the yard and then run back for more. 

Now I know what you must be thinking… You wish you had brothers like mine, don’t you? 

But Did You Live?

Jeanna G2 Comments

I catered an event last night that was out in the middle of Nowhere, NC. When I pulled in, the owner met me on his UTV, and told me to follow him through the hayfield to the backside of the venue, and that’s where I could park. Going in was no problem. After the event and a massive downpour, in the dark with no escort, I started to think twice about driving through a field. And in that moment, I thanked God for being so dumb in high school.

Where I grew up, we got pretty creative with our party spots in order to keep them out of the police spotlight. Woods, cornfields, creeks, sandpits, the quarry, mountain tops, the end of an airstrip… Been there, done that. We also had to be pretty adventurous to be willing to try to get there, mindful of all possible exits in case we had to flee in a pinch, and imaginative with our excuses of how that mud got all over the tires and that dent got in the fender. It actually takes a lot of brain power to be dumb.

Thinking back on all the risks I took, it’s a wonder I’m not dead. I get a kick out of that line from Hangover when Chow asks, “But did you die?” Sitting in that field last night, I was grateful for my near-death experiences. I’m a lot less dumb at my current age, but more importantly, I know I can say “yes” when asked, “But did you live?”

Don’t Tell Mom!

Jeanna GLeave a comment

Growing up in a full house meant chaos and mayhem more often than not. Things would get broken: dishes, toys, and body parts. Things would get hidden: those things we broke, bad grades, and beer. Things would get lost: pets and children. Things would get faked: innocence and parent signatures. But no matter what happened, someone would yell, “Don’t tell mom!”

With so many kids, there was usually a witness, which therefore led to some leverage, blackmail, or payback. But sometimes you were lucky enough to do something stupid without anyone watching.

I think I was somewhere around 7 or 8 years old when I decided to pick up my brother’s BB gun. (Also embedded here is a good lesson in gun safety.) I had seen my brothers shooting at a paper target out in the yard that was secured to a blanket which was draped over some wood. They carried it into the shed, and left it there…with the gun. The loaded gun. The loaded gun with the safety off. I knew better than to look down the barrel, at least. So I made the swift decision to pick up the gun, aim it at the target that was a mere six feet in front of me, and shoot off a round. As soon as my finger flexed I had the following senses: I heard the BB hit the target, I felt the BB fly through the hair hanging alongside my neck, then I tasted fear as I saw in my mind’s eye my mother coming at me with her wooden spoon because she’s mad I have no common sense. But then I came to my senses and realized she hadn’t seen a thing. I was one lucky son of a gun.

So that was my secret…’til now. Every year I’d watch A Christmas Story and silently nod in agreement when everyone yelled at Ralphie that he would shoot his eye out. But guess what Santa brought my daughter this year? You guessed it. An official Red Ryder, carbine action, two-hundred shot range model air rifle. And she loves it. She knocked a can over in the yard on her second shot.

Sharp Shooter

Of course I’ve learned a few things about gun safety, and other stuff, since I was her age. But I definitely still do dumb things. And I never want my mom to know about them. But now that I’m a mom I understand that unconditional love means that no matter what your child does, even it’s the dumbest shit you’ve ever seen, you’ll love her. And even though you might cringe hearing about all the ways your progeny ain’t no prodigy, you want to hear about it anyway. After all, you can’t cover it up if you don’t know about it.