Memories from the Bus

When I was a Freshman and living in the high Sierra Nevada mountains with my family, it took us approximately 90 mins to get to school.  Since it was a very small community, our “school bus” was a Chevy suburban and my dad was our “bus” driver.  (After my sophomore year our Suburban-bus was exchanged for a mini school bus... the Suburban was much less embarrassing) Myself, my older brother David, and 3 other neighbor kids were the extent of the “bus” riders.  One of the neighbor kids was named Greg.  Greg was a good guy and we all really liked him but, he was always a little... ummm... stoned.  (If you could see the scent of marijuana Greg would have looked like Pigpen from the Peanuts)

He would get into the suburban, greet everybody with some goofy, yet friendly way then he would usually fall fast asleep for the duration of the ride to school.  The rest of us would visit, finish up homework, snooze, and listen to the radio.  

The drive was beautiful.  Coming down the mountain into the foothills was magnificent.   There were many points along the trip where we had sweeping vistas of the entire valley.  When low clouds settled in the valley, our view looked like a fluffy white ocean.

Anyways...

Sometimes the drive was very monotonous, every day seemed like a perfect replica of the previous.  Most days, during the first hour of the trip we wouldn’t see or pass any other cars.   

On one particular day, due to unavoidable icy conditions, the Suburban began to slide down the road on the ice.  There was no way to completely control it.  The car drifted from one side of the road to the other.  There were tall snowbanks on each sides but, my dad/bus-driver was able to keep us from hitting them, and the car continued to float along like an inflatable mattress set free down a river.  My dad did the best he could to regain control, but there truly wasn’t much that he could do, he just focused on keeping us from crashing.  

At some point Greg woke up from his pot coma to witness the fun.  

We were all a little nervous but, Greg was excited.  He started cheering, yelling and chanting.  Then without warning, another car came into view and we were headed right towards it.  Greg kept cheering “Go Roger!, Go Roger!”  (My dad/bus-driver's name is Roger) We all joined in on the chanting.  My dad, who is one of the best drivers around, was able to avoid the other car by half a millimeter.  Greg broke out in the loudest yell.  The rest of us laughed out our nervous tension and commended my dad for his excellent maneuvering.    It was some of the greatest driving.  My dad... the worlds best bus-driver! 

Within a few minutes Greg was back to sleep.   

Blue door, sulfur and broken glasses (Memories of our family cars)

I had to sell my 91’ Honda Accord last year.  (I had owned it since 1999)    The purchase of that car was my first real “adult” endeavor.  I loved that car. 

Now... that car wasn’t perfect.  The AC never really worked, the window regulators all broke within a 6 month period, the paint was all oxidized and (the weirdest problem of all) water would collect in the taillights then drain into the trunk compartment, causing mold and mildew to form.  BUT, that car faithfully got me to school and work for many many years. I drove it all over California.   To me that car was alive, we had a connection and that is why it was so hard to sell it. Unfortunately there was no other choice.  We were moving overseas and we could only ship one car, so I had to say goodbye.  I still miss that car.  For me automobiles become part of your life and members of your family....

We had a lot of weird automotive members of our family throughout my childhood.   Let me introduce you to a few of them.

The 1980's Buick Skylark - Blue Door

My dad would drive it to work, and when he had construction jobs out of town,  he would be gone all week.  At one point when my parents were short on cash my dad even slept in that car.  One day, while my dad worked, someone sideswiped the Buick.  Of course, there was no note with apologies or insurance information so when my dad got home that weekend he started beating out the dents and went shopping for a new door.  (And by “New Door”  I mean used, very used)  Pick-A-Part was one of my dad’s favorite places in town.  He ended up there about once a month.  He’d roam thru the rows of junked cars, with a bunch of tools and hunt for the right part.  This trip had him searching for a replacement door.  He found what he was looking for however, the door was blue. Hence, the name Blue Door.  

(Part of the reason he loved going to Pick-a-part was because he got to drive by an In N’ Out burger and he would always stop on his way back home.)  

Later, it was the car my oldest brother drove to high school.  It became sort of famous.  My brother always had a car full of fellow classmates and friends while he drove to and from school.  Everyone referred to the car as blue door.  

My favorite memory with that car, was when there was some sort of electrical short that caused the horn to honk any time you turned the steering-wheel.  As you can imagine, driving that car thru intersection cause a major ruckus, especially if you were in a line of cars making left turns.  All thru the intersection the car blazed a long, loud annoying noise.  People were always flipping us off.  

My parent sold that car when I was in 6th grade.  They put an add in the local paper asking $600.  We were all there when the young family came to buy the car.  They were from Mexico and they had a small baby.  They handed my dad the cash, then he handed them the keys... then, and gave them $200 back.  The young mom began to cry, so my mom started to cry.  The young man shook my dad’s hand, gave a very heartfelt thank you and they drove away.  Us kids all ran down the driveway to wave goodbye.   

My dad had a 1972 Chevy Silverado pickup:

In 1986 our family moved.  During the packing and moving a bulky woodburning stove was placed in the back of that pickup truck.  When we arrived at our new house (Which was actually a very very old farm house) there wasn't anyone to help my dad remove the woodburning stove from the bed of the truck so it stayed there for a very long time.  By the time it was removed the suspension was weakened or perhaps broken and the truck rode very lopsided from then on.  

An old Capris Classic:

The felt lining on the roof hung down so low in the back seat that it was always resting on top of our heads.  When the windows where down, the roof lining would wave like a flag in a mighty wind storm.  Although, that was a seriously comfortable car.  It was later turned into a race car by our high school's auto shop.

An older Crown Victoria:

We used to call it the Crown Vicky (My mom didn't like us to call it that)  That car had the craziest suspension.  It felt like you were floating in water.  I hated to ride in that car cause I'd get carsick going down a perfectly straight road.  This car also had strange creak in the suspension (it was very similar to the sound of the Klopeck's car from the movie, The Burbs)

The Suburban:

This car had the infamous broken drivers seat.  My mom blamed my dad for breaking it, and my dad blamed my mom for breaking it.  To those of us who rode in the back seats and were witnesses to the destruction of the seat. We all knew that it was equally destroyed by both our mom and dad.  We took many family trips in that car.  One particular trip, the car battery began leaking battery fluid, this gave off a putrid sulfur smell.  When we'd stop for gas or food, we would watch all the surrounding people scatter to avoid the smell.  As a teenager I was not embarrassed at all! (Sarcasm)

There are many funny memories in this car but my favorite is my from my sister Julie.  Not so much the car itself but, it being driven by my mom.  This car was always a mess.  And for some reason my mom always (to this day) takes a glass of ice water or chocolate milk or a protein shake with her when ever she drives.  Its a necessity.  

"Got my keys... got my purse, I'm headed to the store... OH MY GOODNESS, I almost forgot my glass of milk!!"

(It would have been a Hindenburg type of disaster to drive WITHOUT a glass of milk with ice... yes she put ice in her milk)  

At least once a week, my mom would place the glass on the dash, put the car in drive and head out, the glass would tip over slid across the dash and crash onto the floorboard.  For this reason, my mom's car has always had a faint milk smell.   

Anyway... My sisters where both working at the local water park.  Neither had their license so my mom would drive them.  Julie tell the story this way...

Mom pulled up in front of the water park where crowds of teenagers were waiting in line to enter.  Mom pulls the large suburban around which ends up jumping up onto the curb, the crowd turns to stare.  (Mom is not phased at all)  Julie then opens the car door hoping to escape unnoticed into the office building only to dislodge one of the glasses crusted with old, dried protein shake onto the sidewalk where it shatters.  Anyone who wasn't staring before has now turned toward the noise of the shattering glass.  Julie's attempt to sneak out without detection had failed.  

We never had a nice car growing up.  They were always old clunkers being held together by prayers.  I thought that it was totally normal to have your car overheat 14 times while driving to the campground for your family vacation.  Whats weird, is that I have great memories of all us kids playing around on the side of the road while dad hosed down the radiator.  

So next time you think about how your kids NEED a dvd player or video game console in the car... think about what their memories will be from family road trips. 

"Remember that time when we watched that movie...  awesome"   

Not nearly as cool as the car that smelled like rotten eggs.  So go ahead, embarrass your kids.  You are giving them memories that they will laugh about in a a few years.

The Christmas Helicopter

My family (well... mostly just my Mom) was/is known for keeping the Christmas decorations up much longer than they should.  Every year they seemed to stay up later and later.   

My mom loves the way her home looks with ice-cycle lights.  She didn’t/doesn’t think they should be considered seasonal but remain up year round.  So... for over a year (Yes, OVER a year) my mom turned on her Christmas lights every night.  As the months passed, a section would go out here and there.  By the time Christmas came around again... New ice-cycle lights were hung and the year started over again. To combat this, my sister Julie and I bought some decorative garden/porch lights for mothers day to replace the ice-cycle lights that had, once again, mostly all burned out.  She was happy with the exchange, as I am sure the neighbors were too.

Years before that, (I believe it was 1991) Christmas came and went and we were well into February and it was still very festive at our house!  Us kids were home alone on a Sunday.  Our parents were at church and I am not entirely sure why we were not with them.  We were playing with our favorite holiday decoration.  It was a wooden german nativity pyramid (Die Weihnachtspyramide, when you light the candles around the base the rising heat caused the wooden blades at the top to spin.  Great fun.)  

This looks similar to the one we had.

We lit the small candles and the blades started to whirl. We adding extra candles and it spun even faster.  At this point most of my siblings had lost interest in the spinning entertainment, so it was just Julie and I.  We needed more heat... we wanted to really make it spin.

Julie had the idea to place it on the wall mounted heater, so we did... and we cranked it up as high as it would go.  It worked.  The blades whipped around so fast it was a miracle it didn’t start to hover like a tiny christmas helicopter.  

Then... one of the many candles, (slightly melted) dislodged and fell through the grate.  A split second later flames shot out of the heater.  (Julie recalls that they were 12 feet high, I believe she was right)  There was no time to think, only to react.  

So we ran.  We all ran from the house yelling.  

Note: I use the term "house" very loosely... we were living in a camping trailer with the an Okie addition built on.  Originally the trailer had a small living area, kitchenette, TINY bathroom with accordion folding doors and a small sleeping area.  My parents slept in the living area, my sisters and I in the bedroom and my brothers in a tent outside.  After a few months of those arrangements my dad started construction on the addition.  My dad added 2 small bedrooms and a living room.

We ran to our neighbors, who also happened to be our aunt and uncle.  Our uncle Paul grabbed a fire extinguisher and ran back with us.  The fire hadn’t really spread it was just toasting the wall and ceiling like marshmallows.  Uncle Paul easily extinguished the flames and everything was fine.  

Needless to say, that Christmas pyramid didn’t make it.

We stood back and stared at the wall, ceiling and puddles of red and green candle wax on the floor.  It looked terrible.   Julie wouldn’t come back inside.  The rest of us calmed down pretty quickly, we opened the doors & windows to air out the room then we sat down to watch a movie.  Julie sat in the doorway, still outside while still being able to see the television in the living room.

I honestly do not remember my parents reactions when they returned home from church. I am sure my mom was just happy that no one was hurt while my dad was mentally calculating the amount of drywall he’d need to make the repairs, along with a candlewax free wall heater. 

A few year later we all saw a Simpsons episode where Homer stays home from church and the house catches on fire.  We all thought it was very funny.

Corn Dogs and Homemade Hang Gliders!

The first time my parents left us home alone was in 1988.  My oldest brother was 12 and he was left in charge.

Now... before you start to judge....

We were living in a rented a house on a large 20 acre parcel of land.  Our neighbors/landlord lived in the only other house on the fenced and gated property.  We were very safe.

My dad had been working out of town and my mom had decided to drive our big green 1970’s Dodge van to visit him.  She was planning to be gone for 2 nights.  So Friday evening she left.

My mom had bought us a giant box of frozen corn dogs and the fridge was filled with capri-suns!  (I know that  there was other food in the house but, those items are the most memorable)  

We were all pretty good kids, and we listened to my brother. 

If he told us to clean, we cleaned.  

If he told us to feed the animals, we fed the animals. 

If he told us to go to bed, we went to bed. 

If he told us that we needed to build a hang-glider out of left over pvc pipe, duct tape and garbage bags, thats what we’d do, AND that is what we did.

The project started early Saturday morning, after finishing our breakfast corn dogs.  My brother Johnny drew up a diagram and made estimated dimensions for the contraption. My brothers (Johnny and David) were in charge of the handsaw and I got to help by ripping off pieces of duct tape. My two younger sisters (Robyn and Julie) were in charge of Dane our baby brother.  Watching Dane was like trying to chase a cheetah.  He had endless amounts of energy and you had to watch him constantly because he was regularly getting hurt.  

Unbeknownst to us, mom had some car trouble on the way to visit our dad.  She noticed the thermostat was very high, so she pulled over into a service station.  She parked the van just as smoke and flames began to emerge from under the hood.  Luckily she got the hood open and a good Samaritan helped her put out the fire.  

Somehow, my mom got ahold of my dad. 

I imagine it went something like this... she used a pay-phone to call the job site trailer, then the superintendent had to venture out onto the job site to find my dad, who was probably operating a crane or some other heavy equipment.  After a few attempts at yelling at each other over all the noise of a construction site, he would finally get the information.  He would have walked back to the job site trailer and tried calling back to the pay phone where my mom was waiting. (she, asking other people not to use the pay phone while she waited for the phone, to hopefully, ring soon). With emotion in her voice she would have explained what happened, then tried to describe which of the MANY service stations she was at.  My dad would inevitably know the exact station she was referring to and would immediately be in his truck and off to save my mom with tow-straps in hand.  (My dad has something of a photographic memory when it come to highways, maps and where the cheap gas is)

They stayed somewhere that evening, then set about transporting the van  Saturday morning.  Dad used a tow-strap to pull the van home with his old Chevy pickup truck.  My mom had to ride in the van the entire way back to steer and to keep the van from rear-ending the pickup.  So she rode for hours in the hot, partially scorched van as they slowly made their way back to our house where mischief was at play.

Meanwhile, back home after finishing our lunch corn dogs and caprisuns, it was time to test the glider!  Robyn, Julie, Dane and I watched the test flights. They started by running across the back yard and actually getting a bit of lift off.  We all cheered.  Then they decided it was time to move things to the roof.  It was entertaining to watch them hoist it up there.

With a yell of “CONDOR MAN” Johnny jumped from the roof.  It actually worked... not great, but he did fly.  The landing was messy and they needed to repair the contraption.  Lots more duct tape and trash bags were used to reinforce the hang glider.  Now it was Davids turn.  He too soared off the roof and onto the back lawn.  The glider, once again needing repairs, they set about fixing it up.  Towing it up to the roof once again Johnny heard the unmistakable sound of our dads old pickup truck.  He crept up and looked over the ridge line of the roof, just in time to see the truck and van coming thru the gate.  Johnny jumped from the roof, it was the best jump so far, although he landed a bit harder than before and I think he hurt his ankle a bit.

Through lots of nervous giggles we stashed the hang glider on the side of the house, quickly gathered up the scraps and trash, put the ladder back into the garage and ran out to meet the truck and van as it rolled up the long driveway.  

.................................

I am not exactly sure how long it took for my parents to find out about the hang glider, but eventually they did.  I believe my dad found it on the side of the house.  I think he was actually impressed.  When my mom found out, she sat us down and told us all the things that could have happened... broken bones, angry landlords etc... but I think she too was secretly impressed.  

The moral of this story...

Don’t buy your kids expensive electronics let them build something from the leftover irrigation supplies.  Then let them eat corn dogs and jump off the roof.   They wont have great childhood memories like this if they’re inside watching TV or playing video games and... they probably wont get hurt.   But, I think childhood is more fun with a cast on your arm anyway.

Attention 15yr old girls! Wan't to impress a boy? Let me tell you how.

After I finished 6th grade my family moved to a small mountain community high in the Sierra Nevada Mountains.  (Population < 50)  My mom had been hired to teach at a one-room school house. (Cool, huh?)

The community was tiny but we had a little bit of everything.  There was a great playground, bike trails and a gym with arcade games.  There was silly neighbor feuds and we even had a town drunk. The community had the best halloween trick or treating EVER and our BBQ’s and Christmas parties were the best on the planet.  

Those years living in the high Sierra Nevada Mountains are some of my favorite.  

One summer in particular, was truly memorable... 

I had just got my first job.  I was working at a camping resort near our small community.  (I was 15)  My brothers were working away from home, and my mom was taking classes in the nearest city, about a 2 hr drive away.  She had taken my younger siblings with her, and had put them in summer camps at the college where she was attending classes.  This left me and my dad at home.  We would both head off to work early, then after work we'd fish at the nearby lake.  It was a great Summer.

During that time, one of our neighbors had a cousin from San Jose come to visit.  He was 17 and I had a silly crush on him.  His name was... I can’t remember. There wasn’t anything great about him... nothing at all.  He had shaggy hair that came down to his earlobes and he wore a lot of tank tops. The only reason I liked him was because he was new and he was there.  The only other boys in our community were his constanty stoned cousin, the awkward home-schooled boy who lived next door, and my brothers.

I had no idea how to get his attention.  

I had just chopped my hair off after the “Skunkhead” debacle.  (See the Blog entry From January 4, 2013) My hair looked a lot like his, chin length and kinda scraggly. There was part of me that strangely thought he would like me because we had similar hair... totally nutty on my part.

After spending the day working, I would come home and devise plans to get his attention.  My first attempt was playing the radio loud.  I figured that he would walk by, hear my awesome tunes and automatically fall for me.  This didn’t work, obviously. 

I would ride my bicycle around the neighborhood with my headphones on.  Plugged into the walkman that never worked, ‘cause we never seemed to have batteries at home. This is what I thought would happen... he would see me, in my cut off jean shorts and oversized t-shirt, rocking out to my make-believe music and say “Who is that girl, her hair looks like mine! I must meet her, we will marry some day”

It is funny how the teenage brain works.  We are stupid when we’re young.

The best and final attempt was to display my bravery.  

My siblings and I had spent many afternoons jumping off the 2nd story balcony onto our trampoline (Only when my mom was away from home, of course)  So, I pulled the trampoline over to the side of the house, then took my place on the railing of the balcony.  Hoping that he was looking out the window, I jumped off...  

I had done this dozens of times, it was great fun.  We had perfected the art of “balcony drops”.  My brother David was the best.  

...this jump didn’t go as planned.  I hit the mat and for some reason shot off at a weird angle like a projectile...  

If you have ever seen the The Office episode entitled “Safety Training” (season 3 episode 19), you can get an idea of what happened.  Watch the scene where they drop the watermelon onto the trampoline, it shoots off and hit a car.  That is pretty much what happened to me, minus the car.

...I flew, for what seemed like 30 mins but, I am sure it was more like 2.5 seconds.  I almost completed a full 360 degree flip when I landed on an inflated snow-tube.  I have no idea why there was an inflated snow-tube in our backyard during the summer, but I was glad there was.  I laid there for a while, trying to decide if I was alive... I was, and completely unharmed. Suddenly, I was terrified that my plan had worked, that he had seen me flying across our backyard like a giant ping pong ball with a poorly chosen hair cut.  Thankfully, I was wrong.  Nobody saw, and nobody knew.  I got up, quickly pulled the trampoline back into the usual place and went inside, glad that the snow-tube had saved me from my stupidity.  I pretended that nothing had happened and waited for my dad to get home so we could go fishing.  

That was the last time I ever jumped off the balcony.

I found out later that the boy whom I wanted to notice me, had already gone home to San Jose.  He had been gone for most, if not all, of my attempts at getting his attention.  I think it worked out for the best. 

We all evolve. Thank you Mr. Darwin

Charles Darwin once said, “It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change”.

Change! Change can be terrifying or wonderful.  OR... change can be weird, awkward and hard to look at.

Trying to evolve.  Trying, failing and trying again.

I write of those terrible ugly years we all have to go through, "paying our dues".  (Although, we all know someone who miraculously seemed to avoid them, yes I am talking about you Missy D.) 

I have gone thru many phases of evolution throughout my life but, the best/worst were between the ages of 13 & 18.  The phases are as follows; The Cut-offs, The Grunge Year, The HipHop 70's era, the Retro attempt, and The Best of the Worst.

I didn’t feel the need to change myself until 8th grade, at the rotten age of 13. I had no control over my hair,  clothes that never fit right and  I was constantly stubbing my toes and getting my fingers pinched in doors.  What was wrong with me.

The Cut-Offs

1994/1995 8th Grade

I set out to try and establish myself as an individual.  So, 8th grade was the year of the cut-offs.  I wore a lot of jean shorts, that were at one point, long pants.  I like the hem to be frayed.  There was never a nice hem, just a ragged pair of short-pants cut about 2 inches above the knee.  Many of my shorts had one leg that was slightly longer than the other.  My pants came from 2 places: Walmart or one of the MANY garbage bags filled with hand-me-down clothes from family friends or from the unclaimed lost&found at our local high school.  I truly LOVED when the giant bags of hand-me-downs arrived.  It was so fun.  My sisters and I would empty the bags onto the living room floor and sift!  Since the pants were never in the current style, my solution was to make shorts!  Cut-off of jeans, khakis and even corduroy! 

This was also the year, where I did a lot of pen art on my shoes.  All of my shoes were name brand look-a-likes from Payless.  I really wanted a pair of Converse, but the poorly constructed, multicolored,  Payless imitation  was my only option.

I secretly liked the Backstreet Boys and Ace of Base... but, openly felt that it was much cooler to like serious rock music.  (even though I didn’t really care for it)

Between 8th grade and my first year of highschool I set out to be a much tougher character.  This was to be the year of grunge rock.  My Oldest brother John was a grunge rock fan and I felt that this was the right move for my next evolution.  

The Grunge Year

You can't tell... but, in this picture I am wearing a sleeveless flannel shirt over a baggy t-shirt.  (Yes, a sleeveless  flannel shirt.)   I had cut the sleeves off after  watching "The Sandlot" movie.  The character Bennie wore a sleeveless flannel shirt, I figured that it was a wise style move.

The cut off jeans stayed.  Added to them were t-shirts that were way to big, saggy backpack, hemp neclaces and flannel, so much flannel.  The kind of flannel that Kurt Cobain would wear.  Layers of grungy clothes and ugly lifeless hair.  This was probably the low point of my youth.  

I started to take on a grungy personality.  I was great at acting out the part.  For a 14 year old it was easy! Nobody understands me.  Nobody appreciates me.  Nobody cares.  

(I still secretly liked the Backstreet Boys and Ace of Base... And, I had a secret notebook filled with sketches of princess ball gowns.)  

The HipHop 70's Era

Sophmore year started out wild.  This was when I really started to feel "cool".  I went to my first concert.  I attended it with my brother and some of his friends.  It was the Smokin Grooves Tour. This concert included Busta Rhymes, The Fugees, Cypress Hill and Ziggy Marley.  This was my first really “eye opening” experience.  

Attention Mom : Do not read the following!!

This was the first time I ever saw people openly smoking pot.  At one point, I nervously smiled at a very large adult man whom I was standing next to, he responded by blowing (a funny smelling) smoke into my face.   Also, one of the bands brought a 6ft bong on stage. Everybody cheered,  I wasn’t sure why... but I cheered too.  ((I had no idea what a bong was)) 

I tried bangs that year.  Like the rest of my hair, I had very little control over them.  They mostly ended up being parted down the middle and shooting off in opposite directions.  I wore a lot of polyester.  The jean shorts were no longer being worn.  I had more of a 70’s attire.  I also wore my dad’s military jacket to school regularly.  I am not sure why.  My brother David brought me to the world of HipHop and Rap!  

(Secretly listening to Britney Spears, Ace of Base and the Backstreet Boys.  Still making sketches of big fluffy dresses and spending a lot of time in front of the mirror working on my smile for when I won the Miss America pageant)

The Retro Attempt

No braces!  

Before my Junior year,  I became good friends with Vivian.  She introduced me to the art of thrift store shopping.    Vivian and I established a massive shared closet of unique pieces of attire.  This was the retro year.  Lots of 60’s  & 70's attire.    

I started to take control of my hair.  I used lots of bobby pins, hairspray, clips and rubber bands.  

This was the year of Ska music.  Oh, how I loved it.  It was the first new genre of music that I really liked, openly.  Vivian and I would dress up and attend ska shows all over town.  We would dance, really dance.  So fun.  When I think back on my youth, this is the time that I actually miss.  I would love to relive it.  

The Best of the Worst

For my Senior year, I took all of the good parts of the previous years and combined them into my last highschool evolution.  For the first time in my life I felt kind-of confident.   I didn't hide the fact that I liked the Backstreet Boys anymore and I took on a girly tomboy look.  I would wear a polo shirts and khaki pants with a flowery headband. I was happy.  I felt like myself and not a character in a play.



So, in conclusion:
If you are a parent, don't freak out when your daughter dresses like a boy her freshman year.  Don't overreact when she tries to express herself by wearing a fishing hat, a skirt she made from an old pillow case, and thrift store t-shirt from a stranger's softball team.  Don't worry if she wears your old military jacket that is 4 sizes to big, focus on the fact that she won't be cold today.  Don't be concerned when she acts mentally unstable for a few days each month. You might ask if it is her "time of the month" and she will angrily mutter NO!  Just know that she is lying.  IT IS!  

We all have to go through this time.  It is terrible but, we all come out better in the end.  I was lucky to have parents who didn't freak out.  I think they knew that I evolving, and like a butterfly emerging from her polyester cocoon, I couldn't be helped.  They let me dye my hair, wear my plaid pants, and skateboard.  I was lucky.

I can only remember one time that my mom intervened before I left the house.  She said, "Lisa, you looked odd enough without the hat"  She was right.   

This is not where my evolutions ended, but it is where this blog post is going to end.  

Braces and Creepy Teeth

When I was in 3rd grade, my friend Carroll and I used to bend paperclips to make ourselves fake tooth retainers to wear around.  We loved pretending to need them.  We were so cool.

___________________________________________________________________

When I was 3 years old, I got sick.  I had a high fever, and the left side of my face became very swollen. I felt awful.  The doctor found that the problem was being caused by my teeth.  My parents got me to the dentist, who sent me to an oral surgeon.  After a plethora of poking, lancing and shots, 4 teeth were extracted.  All of my upper left chompers were gone.  I had to (and still do)  chew everything on the right side of my mouth.  

It didn’t seem odd to me, and still doesn’t.  

I had/have: Regional odontodysplasia  (aka Ghost teeth)

You don’t need to read all of this...

Regional odontodysplasia or odontogenesis imperfecta is an uncommon developmental abnormality (Sof teeth, usually localized to a certain area of the mouth. The condition is nonhereditary. There is no predilection for race, but females are more likely to get regional odontodysplasia. The enamel, dentin, and pulp of teeth are affected, to the extent that the affected teeth do not develop properly. These teeth are very brittle. On radiographs the teeth appear more radiolucent than normal, so they are often described as "ghost teeth".[1] Most cases are considered idiopathic, but some cases are associated with syndromes, growth abnormalities, neural disorders, and vascular malformations. Permanent teeth usually show effects of regional odontodysplasia if the deciduous tooth was affected. Many of these teeth do not erupt with an increased risk for caries and periapical inflammation.

It is extremely rare.

As I grew up, so did my mouth and with nothing to hold my teeth in place they began to float in the wrong direction.  I guess that is normal tooth behavior.  By the time I was in 7th grade my smile looked like a chess board.  Tooth, space, tooth, space, tooth, space etc.  My teeth separated themselves from each other.  On the bright side, it was VERY easy to floss. 

The changes also caused me to have slightly lopsided grin.  The left side of my mouth would always creeps up higher than the right, which causes my left eye close up a bit.  I still have to focus when taking a picture to minimize the off-kilter nature of my smile.  

Anyhooo,

In 7th grade I got braces!  My sister Robyn and I got them the same day.   I was stupidly excited about it.  They were so cool!  Until the pain set in, and my lips kept getting stuck to the wires.  It was a long process for me.  The orthodontist was like cowboy using his wire lasso to pull my teeth back into place.  Ooooh, so much discomfort.  I had to wear rubber bands in an attempt to fix my bite. (FYI- my bite cannot be fixed, it is impossible.  It is, to this day totally messed up.  My dentist has to do all kinds of crazy things to get accurate x-rays and molds of my mouth.) My gums were swollen the entire time.  I wore them for over 3 years.  During that time I built a lot of character.  (My mom would say that everything builds character, especially those things that are difficult)  

Strangely enough... during my “character building” years, I had a tooth appear in the upper left area of my mouth.  It was a mystery tooth and everybody was surprised by it’s magical reveal.  I could tell that it was a monster tooth and that would not be staying very long BUT, my dentist thought it would be best to try and save it.  SAVE IT?  FOR WHAT? It was an evil hitchhiker in my mouth and I wanted it kicked out.  

The dentist sent my to a endodontist, who proceeded to "save" the demon tooth.  He spent hours working and when he “finished” he made me a follow-up appointment to come back for more tooth salvage.  

BUT, within 10 hours I was rushed to the oral surgeon to have the loathsome fiend extracted.  My roof of my mouth  had begun to swell up and was close to cutting off my ability to breath.  The tooth was gone and I was back to "normal".

Below: This is not my monster tooth, but it looked similar.  Although, mine had 5 creepy roots exploding from the tooth.  How would you like that in your mouth ?

(Someone else's Demon tooth)

As my sophomore year ended, my time had come.  The orthodontist had done all that he could.  The braces came off.   This was not the end of my dental problem, but it was a great chapter of life to close up.  

3 years later Robyn and I both had our wisdom teeth removed on the same day, YAY!