The Mystery of My Sister’s Missing Teeth

Every dysfunctional family has a mystery to solve. Whether it be who broke Grandma’s favorite vase, to how did your beloved pet “just disappear for 7 months?” Yes, that has happened to our family before. 7 months we grieved our black lab dog, until one day as we were taking our evening drive (there was nothing else to do in that God forsaken small town I grew up in- remember that important detail for later in the story) when lo and behold, our dog was out roaming around (we did not have city ordinances for our dogs in this little town either) we called his name and boom- it was a happy fucking family reunion. But that isn’t what I wanted to write about- my ADD sometimes takes over and I when I get started on a certain topic well, you get the picture.

What I want to write about today is a family mystery that has had our family in curtails for many many years. About 33 years to be exact. The mystery of my sister’s two front missing teeth. I am not talking about how a child looses teeth as a normal childhood development- what I mean here is that my sister had her two front teeth missing since she was two years old. As far as we are concerned she did grow these teeth as an infant- and then one day they were gone. Of course it wasn’t that big of a deal, as we all know she would eventually grow her grown-up teeth and all will be right in the world. However, the mystery was always looming over us like a black cloud everywhere we went. How in the hell did she loose her two front teeth?

Drum roll please. Thank you.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have solved the mystery! Well, I have always known the little secret that haunted our family because I was right there when it happened. I saw it all. I am the witness of the crime and I hold the missing peaces that answers one of the biggest mysteries of my childhood upbringing. Of course I voiced this piece of news to my family, but what you have to understand is that for reasons that I still don’t understand, my voice is not heard with them. For reals. No shitting around. I told them exactly what I saw and how it happened, and they ignored me. Or maybe I didn’t tell them because I was told to keep it secret, and I dreamed about telling them because, well it’s hard to keep a secret- especially when the entire family is mystified with something that you have the answers to. So I have been waiting a long, long time to finally tell the truth of my sister’s two front missing teeth. It’s so fucked up- it’s funny.

So remember the part of the story I told you not to forget- the part about our evening drives around town because there was nothing else to do in our small little community? Good. My sister and I were driving around- well my dad and his buddy were doing the driving and my sister and I were along for the ride, after all were only two and four at the time so obviously we are not doing any of the driving, I mean even though this story is fucked up, it isn’t that fucked up.  It was a sunny day that day, and it was in the middle of the afternoon and my dad and his buddy wanted to go for a drive. No, my dad was not at his workplace providing for his wonderful family- he did not have a job. My dad had a bit of a drinking and drug habit- so working at the time was not really a priority for him. But it saved a lot on childcare costs- oh wait, my grandma and grandpa did that for my parents too- never mind, moving on.

So as I was saying, my sister and I were standing in the back seat of the car while my drunk dad and buddy were driving us down the main street of town. Again this was 33 years ago, so car seats and restraints were not yet established as law, so um, yeah. I distinctly remember how thirsty I was and I really wanted something to drink, after all they had just made a stop at the drive-up liquor store to pick up more booze and well, I wanted something too. So my very generous and kind father handed me his beer and said, “Here you go, take a small sip of that.”  IT. WAS. DISGUSTING!! (for what it’s worth it was a cheap Budweiser , but now I love me a good IPA. Mmmm IPA).

I know, this story isn’t about me and my first taste of beer. So back to my sister and the family mystery. Did I mention it was a sunny day and that the adults in the car were having too much fun drinking and that my sister and I were not buckled in the back seat? I did. Okay, just wanted to remind you of those important factors, because that is how my sister lost her two front teeth! Yup, somehow she managed to open the car door while it was in motion and she tumbled out and rolled onto the side of the road, thankfully not into oncoming traffic, like some badass in a Western Movie. She will be the first to admit that she is indeed a bad ass.

Of course my dad’s buddy and my dad pulled over and made sure she was alright. They wiped off the dirt from her frilly dress, and gave her a pat on the back, as if to say, “Atta girl! Way to be tough!” My dad looked me straight in the eye and put his finger over his lips and I knew exactly what that meant. We were to never speak of this ever again or I would get it. So when ever someone in the family would ask about my sisters two front missing teeth, I pleaded the fifth or said I was too drunk to remember anything- Hmmm come to think of it, maybe I really was and this was all just a drunken dream. 🙂

If you take note of the picture above- you can kinda see her two missing teeth, but I think she was embarrassed about them so she didn’t really smile.

Here’s a Stick a Story of First Kisses

One of the very first gifts I ever received from Dan was a stick. Yes. A stick. No joke. You see sometimes it doesn’t take a lot of money, or bling to swoon a girl’s heart, sometimes it takes wit and timing.

Have you ever heard of Birds of Paradise? Those birds are fucking awesome and if you haven’t heard of them Google them- they are the most colorful and most extravagant looking birds on the planet. But that isn’t why they fascinate me. Since these birds live in paradise with all the food and resources available to them, and since they don’t have to worry about being eaten by big scary animals, they have evolved mating rituals that make other species look like Neanderthals.  These birds spend most of their days practicing their mating dances and I have to say, they are bizarre and strangely fascinating. These guys put in a lot of effort to swoon a female. If the guy didn’t have a lot of pizzazz in the looks or dancing area, they made up for it in their engineering capabilities by building their future mates a nesting structure that compared to the Empire State Building. No exaggeration. Weeks of finding the perfect materials- sticks, leaves, mud, and weeks building these amazing structures. If the female was impressed with the his stick structure she mated with him- way to go male Bird of Paradise! If she wasn’t impressed, she flew off to find something more interesting- way not to settle female Bird of Paradise!

When Dan and I first met, there were sparks, laughter and lots of chemistry. Before he and I became an item,. one of my favorite past times was either walking or running in the Bosque (a beautiful forest next to the Rio Grande with lots of trails and breath taking views).  Since we had just met, I thought it would be nice to invite him for a walk on one of my favorite trails on the Bosque. As we were walking and talking I told him the above story of the Birds of Paradise. I think he could tell I was a bit passionate about these birds and their unusual mating rituals- because without skipping a beat, he picks up a stick, quickly examines it and hands it to me. 🙂

Let’s just say that there was something romantic about that moment. That little stick sent the message loud and clear. “I’m interested in being your mate.” “Let’s be crazy and adventurous like those birds.” Mostly, I appreciated that he listened to me. He just didn’t listen to the story about Birds, he listened to how I told it, to what I was also desiring in my heart- a mate that gets me, that understands my quirks and passions.

Let’s also just say that that little gesture did impress me- as we locked lips and enjoyed the beginning of many, many other kissing rituals.


Guacomole Fight

I have been married to my husband for a short two years- feels like a lifetime but I checked the Marriage Certificate just to be sure and sure enough- two years. Two years of marital bliss- a bliss of no fights, no farts and no fine art. (Note: That last one was the only word I could think of to keep my alliteration. It is not meant to offend anyone who enjoys fine art, I happen to enjoy fine art myself, however, sometimes fine art can cause marital problems, I mean it can cause brutal arguments between the sweetest and most intelligent couples-they tend to argue about what is defined as fine art and so I threw that in there so that we don’t become arrogant in thinking that fine art is not a cause of problems in this world. That’s all, but in the end it really was just a word to keep my awesome alliteration. Read on.)

Okay, now that we got that out of the way, let’s get back to my blissful fight free, fart free, fine art free marriage. 🙂  Okay, okay, you have probably have already figured out that I am lying- our marriage is not in fact fart free. In fact, we sometimes have fart contests- loudest, longest, smelliest and deadliest. Dan proudly wears his crown of victory in all categories because if you are not aware, I actually don’t fart. I fluff. I fluff so lady like it makes Queen Elizabeth proud. I am surprised she hasn’t called me yet to crown me with her lady fluff’s of glory- but a girl can dream.

So now that we know the truth about our marital fart and flufful (how do you even spell that word?) life, we can move on to the  point of the post- The secret to a happy, fulfilling, passionate marriage. The secret is to fight about guacamole. Yes. you read that right. Fight about guacamole. Just so that we completely understand the context of the situation I want you to know that I make a killer guacamole. I mean, it’s fuckin amazing. Not to brag or anything. So anyway, I taught my husband, who loves to cook, and is also a kick ass chef, (and what woman doesn’t want a man who can satisfy her with a hot meal), how to make my secret recipe.

Well, I love my husband very much, and he is a very intelligent and kind man, however, the guy has decided to make his own version of MY guacamole. Right? I mean who the fuck does that? I perfected the methods and calculated just how much salt, lime juice and when those luscious avocadoes should be smashed  and how. So since he has been taking over the cooking in our family, thanks to the demands of our new child Avery who wants to suck the life out of me, he changed the methods and calculations of my scrumptious guacamole. I found out about this sinful act when we were cooking together the other day, and I was flabbergasted with what I saw- the. guy. was. using. a. fork. A FORK to smash the avocadoes! Oh, but it doesn’t end there, oh no- the guy used pepper. Pepper.  I may be just a bit bitter about that. So as I was trying to express my disbelief and very kindly and patiently told him of his wrongs he assured me that I have been eating this guacamole and LOVING IT for quite some time!

So the lesson? Being married humbles you. Sometimes your way of making guacamole isn’t the only way.


First blog post

Welcome to my blog! I hope you enjoy the many possibilities of what you will read here. It is going to be a fun and exhilarating ride. Buckle up and please keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times- unless you are a free spirit (or rebel) then by all means, keep your hands up and scream your face off. I already like you!