Memories...again.
I remembered something last night from my past. When I was a little girl we lived in Arizona in base housing. Base housing, for all you non-military people, are military ghettos. Not as bad as real ghettos, but you get the idea. A family of girls used to babysit us all the time.
This family had a thing for D's. The girls were named Dode, Deslee, Dee-dee, Denny, Dory, and Diana. Deslee is the one who babysat us the most. She was probably 17 or 18 at the time, but I thought she was a goddess from the heavens above. She had long light brown hair and was always dressed really nice. One day she told us that she had a date that night.
Being 6 or 7 at the time, I thought that going on a date was the equivilant of Cinderella going to the ball. I thought she'd want to dress up. Part of dressing up was smelling good, right? I went into my secret beauty stash and pulled out my best, most prettiest tube of rub on perfume (they were really popular in the 70's. Think chapstick of smell). I asked her if I could comb her hair for her date. She said yes. So I rubbed my perfume-stick on the comb and combed her hair. I did this again, and again, and again, and again.
Until she said, "What's that smell?"
Deslee then did something almost forbidden, down right taboo - she took a shower in our bathroom! She wasn't mad, but I was heart broken. My bestest tube of perfume wasted. She didn't even tell us how the date went the next time she came over.
Road to hell, folks, road to hell.
This family had a thing for D's. The girls were named Dode, Deslee, Dee-dee, Denny, Dory, and Diana. Deslee is the one who babysat us the most. She was probably 17 or 18 at the time, but I thought she was a goddess from the heavens above. She had long light brown hair and was always dressed really nice. One day she told us that she had a date that night.
Being 6 or 7 at the time, I thought that going on a date was the equivilant of Cinderella going to the ball. I thought she'd want to dress up. Part of dressing up was smelling good, right? I went into my secret beauty stash and pulled out my best, most prettiest tube of rub on perfume (they were really popular in the 70's. Think chapstick of smell). I asked her if I could comb her hair for her date. She said yes. So I rubbed my perfume-stick on the comb and combed her hair. I did this again, and again, and again, and again.
Until she said, "What's that smell?"
Deslee then did something almost forbidden, down right taboo - she took a shower in our bathroom! She wasn't mad, but I was heart broken. My bestest tube of perfume wasted. She didn't even tell us how the date went the next time she came over.
Road to hell, folks, road to hell.
posted by Barbarian02003 | Monday, August 07, 2006
2 Comments:
I wish I could have babysat for you!
I think the best memory I had about babysitting for my brother was during the dead of winter, I had some friends over and we all played strip poker. Of course baby brother wanted to be part of the action so we let him; all 7 years old of him. Of course he lost, we threw his underwear up on the moving ceiling fan and pushed his naked bod out the front door.
Hmmmmmmmmmm. Wonder why we don't get along?
HA! The old naked, freezing, and shrinking brother trick. Knowing your brother I'd say it was the best thing that could have happened to him.
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