Watered Down Memories Light the Corners of My Mind?

Didn't use one of these.
Didn’t use one of these.

I do not suffer from motion sickness.  I can fly in a plane, be the extreme backseat passenger in a car, ride roller coasters, be in a boat in the high seas.  I’m one of the lucky ones.  Except once.  When I was about 7.  Coming back from Germany.

We were heading back to the States after an Army stint in Germany.  I remember 4 things about the plane ride home.  1) Puke; 2) coffee; 3) two floors; and 3) darkness.

I don’t know what made me feel sick,  but I remember begging my dad to take me to the bathroom.  Unfortunately, the bathroom was occupied.  If I recall correctly, I sat back down in my seat or was in the approximate area.  I vomited all over the woman sitting next to me (so much for barf bags, my only opportunity to actually use one). All over her and her floor length fur coat.  That was my first memory of that flight.

The stewardess (I’m not being politically incorrect, this was the ’70’s) cleaned it up with loads and loads of coffee grinds.  I don’t know what happened to good old Pine Sol.  Maybe they ran out.  I’m not sure if the coffee cleaned it, but it did cover up the smell.  Can’t get a good whiff of Maxwell House without thinking of throw-up.  That was memory #2.

I watched Sex and The City Part 2 recently.  The ladies were on a plane with 2 levels.  One level had a bar.  I was jealous.  Then I remembered my flight home from Germany had 2 levels.  Completely wasted on a 7 year old.  I want a do-over.  Memory #3.

I lived in a country for 2 years where it was dark a lot of the time.  And I was afraid of the dark.  When we landed in New York and it was dark, I was confused.  I never thought it was because it was something like 3 in the morning.  Yup, #4.

Isn’t it funny how your brain only remembers certain parts of an event?  And even then, we aren’t sure if those memories are correct.  My memory could be completely different from my brother’s memory of the same event.  I know, this is some deep thinking.  Don’t hurt yourself.  I think I did.

What a Bunch of Garbage


I was an Army Brat.  I use capitalization because I believe it’s a real title.  Army Brat.  I should put that on my resume.  One of the places I lived as an Army Brat was Germany.  Some of my greatest memories stem from that time.

There was a family that we were very close with.  Another Army family.  We did some pretty awesome things with this family.  One being garbage picking.  Or I should say “Junking.”  That’s the technical word for it.  But however you put it, what we did was pick through other people’s discarded crap.  What is that expression?  “One person’s trash is another person’s treasure?”  Yup.  That is totally true.

Now don’t go thinking it was real garbage, like empty milk cartons and dirty diapers.  No.  Once a month the town would pick up furniture, art, appliances.  Anything that didn’t fit in the trash can.  As long as it was out at the curb.

Why not donate to a thrift shop?  Because Germans have a lot of pride.  But apparently Americans don’t.  My mother acquired an entire set of china, a dresser, kitchen table and some very fine art while junking.  If I were a betting woman, I would wager a plate of nachos with some salt rimmed margarita’s that my mother still has that china.

The locals thought we had gone and lost our minds.  Hell, it was entertainment for us.  When my dad announced that it was Junking Day, I would jump up and down with glee.  We didn’t have much money so this was about as good as it got.

All I can say is DH is one lucky dude to have found me.  I am a cheap ass date.  But I just can’t seem to get him to take me Junking.  I don’t understand why.  I mean, come on.  It’s free.  FREE.  Need I say more?