Friday, February 15, 2008

I gotta go!

My dad is from Bulgaria. About 4 blocks from my parent's home is a traditional Bulgarian church--Bulgarian Orthodox (it's similar to Greek Orthodox and a little like Catholic). Tradition in this church is that a baby is baptized by his godfather.

My godfather was 14 years old when I was baptized. Each time (and I do mean every single time) I see him, he reminds me of a baptism that I was too young to remember.

When babies are baptized, the godfather holds the naked baby over a large, ornate bowl and the priest then scoops a handful of water to dribble over the baby's head. My story begins here. Apparently, I screamed while getting baptized. Nuno (that means godfather) was holding me and trying to calm me. But I didn't want any of that. In fact, I wanted to let him know what I was crying about. So I shared with him. He said that he realized something wasn't right when he felt something warm and wet down his front. My Nuna (godmother), his mother, relishes in telling how he kept whispering, "Mom! Mom! I think she peed!" Nuno tells me that I didn't just tinkle a little, I left a large puddle at his feet. I'm telling you, don't mess with a woman when she has to go!

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Share and share alike

What is it about families that can just royally embarrass you?

When I got my mission call, I was sent a letter with a list of items necessary for the mission. Included in this letter was a recommendation to bring 4 handkerchiefs. I'm still not sure why we were told to bring handkerchiefs. I used mine to dust. Like a dutiful missionary, one of my companions brought handkerchiefs with her.

While on my mission, I was able to visit with family. One of my family members was a very wealthy man who loved to drink and give away money. He would occasionally travel to the city where I served and take my companion and I out to dinner--at a bar. Not many missionaries can say they went to bars on their mission. When Ivan got drunk, he was very happy and very generous. On more than one occasion, he would give either myself or my companion a large bill. But, he didn't hand it to us. Nope, he would spit on it and slap it on our foreheads. We would have to wear it there until he either lost interest or it fell. We always prayed that he would lose interest.

When my dad came to visit, my companion and I traveled by train to spend a weekend with him and all my cousins. While there, my dad used his handkerchief for reasons one would need a handkerchief--to wipe your sweaty forehead (or saliva filled one) or to blow your nose. While packing to leave, dad brought out his handchief to wipe his nose when he noticed it wasn't his. I'm sure the little dainty flowers on it gave it away. After blowing his nose, he gave it to me to give to my companion since "it was hers and got mixed up with mine." Yeah, thanks dad.

When I told my companion about it (after assuring her I would wash the handkerchief well before giving it to her), she laughed and said, "Your cousin puts his spit on my head and your dad blows his nose with my handkerchief. What's a little bodily fluids among friends?"

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

I scream, you scream

Does anyone know that I don't like wearing clothes? Well, some clothes are ok. But, I'm just more comfortable in little to nothing. Here's a story which should inspire me to wear more....

When I was in college, I lived in an apartment with 3 other girls. This apartment had a huge window that was in our kitchen. Off the kitchen was a vanity area with 2 sinks. The bathroom, which only had a toilet and bathtub, was off the vanity. Then the 2 bedrooms was off the vanity. From the kitchen to the vanity was a door.

One day I was home alone. I had just taken a shower and had closed the door to the kitchen. I went into my bedroom to do some stuff and decided to go into the vanity area to get ready. I was near the door to the kitchen when suddenly it opened! I'm standing there in my underwear (thankfully) when my roommate opened the door. I didn't know she was home--she didn't know I was home. So we do what any rational college age girl does--we scream. I'm screaming while in my underwear about 6 inches from where she is standing screaming fully clothed. Then we begin laughing. Until we hear her boyfriend come running to see what's wrong. I quickly ran to my bedroom as she quickly exited to calm him down.

That's an image that is still funny to me. I'm chuckling just thinking about it.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Giant Bee

One summer when I was really young (4 or so?), I got stung several times. I remember specifically, a huge black ant bit my little toe. Dad cut the thing in half to get it to let go. I was playing in the yard and stepped on a bee. I was playing in the water and got stung by a bee. As a result, I am terrified of bees.

Towards the end of that summer, I was playing on our porch. Next to our porch was a flower bed with lots of colorful flowers. Suddenly, I heard that buzzing sound and when I looked up, I saw the biggest bee I'd ever encountered. I ran, screaming, "Mommy! A giant bee!" Mom came running out of the house, but didn't see anything. She told me that it was just a bee and it's gone now.

So, I began playing again. Then that noise came back. I saw the giant bee again! As I screamed, Mom again came running. This time she saw the giant bee! But instead of screaming in terror, or battling it for her baby, she began laughing. Uncontrollably. I'm crying and trying hide behind her and my mother is laughing! She then explained that I wasn't looking at a bee at all. It was something called a hummingbird.

Monday, February 4, 2008

Practical Joke #4

I was trying to remember when I first started practical jokes. Still don't know, but I remember one of my earlier ones.

In high school, we had a math teacher who was....a drunk. Literally. He shared stories of how his wife would get tired of him and make him sleep on the couch with his dog. He talked about his DUI arrest and that he had a probation officer to check with. He also didn't really pay attention in our class. He would stand at the chalkboard with his back to us and not really hear us whispering, giggling, and doing all the other things you do when teacher isn't looking.

I have to tell you about one of my classmates. He could draw really well. He drew a larger picture of Mr. B and made his mouth a moving part. Whenever Mr. B. was lecturing and not looking at him, J. would hold up the 5 inch replica of Mr. B. and move his mouth in tune to the actual lecture. Hilarious! I still giggle thinking about that. Or the flying bird. Again, J. made a bird (very similar to oragami) and rigged it up to a string hanging from the projection screen. The string then traveled from the projection screen across the ceiling to his seat next to the wall. He would then pull the string and make the bird "fly." Oh my word, many laughs in that class.

Or how about the day we decided to drop our books exactly at 10:55 am? Each of the 30 students in that class watched the clock and exactly at 10:55 am, we dropped out books on the floor. Or the day we had someone sharpening their pencil throughout the class period. When one student sat down, another would get up. We also had a day where we turned our seats around. When Mr. B. walked into the classroom, we were all facing the opposite direction.

Needless to say, we, high school students, had a grand time in his class. For anyone familiar with the TV show "Welcome Back, Kotter"--it was lived in my high school circa 1986.

Anyway, back to my original thought. Before there were personal computers with all the nifty stuff you can do, I had an electric typewriter. It had some grand features including various fonts and sizes. One day, my best friend and I decided to send a letter to Mr. B. This letter was to announce his winning a contest. I don't remember all the details but here's basically what we said. He had won first prize which was a one way ticket to Libya (some kind of conflict happened between US and Libya around that time) and lost the prizes of a new Spring wardrobe (he wore the same 2 suits all the time) and a new couch. He was to pick up his prize at his probation officer's appointment. He also had to know the password to pick up his prize. Password was "Le Petite Garcon"--which was the name of his dog.

The letter was mailed to his home address. Upon receiving it, he brought it to school to show the other teachers. We never found out if he laughed, rolled his eyes, or swore after reading it. I remember one of my teachers telling me about it. None of the teachers could figure out who did it, but they knew whoever it was had a computer. There were only a handful of people at that time that had computers so speculation on these people ran rampant. I was not one of them.