Do you think yesterday’s art, on my blog, was a little strange? Its because I’m my mother’s daughter. My mother flattened all four tires of our mid fifty’s Ford four door by running over about 25 tin cans. On purpose.Explanation tomorrow.
Most every time we walked to the store my mother embarrassed, my brother, Don and I by waving to TRUCK DRIVERS. We’d say, “Don’t do that!” but she just laughed and told us again her favorite cousin drove truck. “Was that him!” we’d ask. She’d laughed again. I wonder now if drivers, knowing each other, considered her waves a hello they were to pass on to her cousin.
I got her back. As a teen our family camped in the Painted Hills. Each pastel colored hill, was shaped like big fat rounded bump, all about equal in size and about three hundred feet tall. There were miles of them. Our family was the only in a tent. No trailer= no toilet!! We were used to hiking a ways, alone, and finding a bush but The Painted Hills grew no plants or bushes!
Mom and I hiked quit a ways up and down hills then as Mom stood guard, I’d go down to the bottom of four hills and pretend I had a bush, then we’d trade places. I stood guard for her but as soon as she unzipped I’d yell, “Motor cycle coming!” and she zippered up. “Just fooling!” I’d tell to her, and she’d zip down. But I did it again. Great fun for me! nancymauerman.com
