Friday, May 20, 2011
The Promised Ramble About Napping and a Moose
This notion came to me the other day when I was doing the lunch dishes. I was standing at the sink, bubbles up to my elbows, staring out the little window and my mind wandered. It does that when I`m bored. Hell it does that when I`m not bored too, but this time I was bored. As I was running my wash cloth in and out of coffee mugs I thought-
‘Man I could use a nap.’
It hit me a minute or two afterwards, when I stopped yawning, that I can`t recall being so desirous of a nap when I was younger. I recall very clearly being knee-high to a grasshopper and snickering at one of my great aunt`s. Aunt Jo-Jo was a real corker let me tell you! This was the woman, who at well over age eighty, would stand on her sidewalk out in Clairton ( A small suburb of Pittsburgh) hike up her pant-leg and shake her bared ankle at passing tractor trailers. Oh she would laugh when the truckers would trundle past and toot their horns at her. My mother and I thought this was hysterical. My grandmother, who lived right next door to her sister, couldn`t seem to find the humor in it.
Any doodles, Aunt Jo-Jo was a firm believer in taking a beauty nap daily. She would patter out into the kitchen when we would be over visiting, her dachshund in her arms and announce to us ‘See you in an hour. I`m off for my beauty sleep’ and upstairs she would go to grab an hour. Now of course I was just a youngster and couldn`t imagine why anyone would want to lay down during the day and sleep! It seemed almost sacrilegious to my childish mind. They`d have to tie me down to my bed to make me nap when I was younger and filled with energy.
Of course I did see that napping must have been a genetic family trait when my mother began to enjoy her naps as well. When I was a teenager and my younger brother was maybe ten or twelve, we`d come inside bubbling over with that youthful glow and vibrancy to find my mom snoozing away in her favorite ladies rocker. Then we would get into mischief. I don`t know if y`all remember back in the day when fake feathered birds were all the rage? Maybe it was just my mother but she always had these small fake birds stuck everywhere. Some looked like miniature cardinals, some resembled yellow finches and some looked like indigo buntings. All were very bright and very fake. I used to ask my mother –
‘Why can`t we have a real bird?’
I mean the house was filled with little fake feathered birds so it seemed to me that she liked birds.
‘Real birds poop all over the place,’ was her standard reply.
And yeah, they do poop I had to give her that. I`ve yet to find a critter that doesn`t poop and trust me I have looked for one! I`m pretty sure now that I`m all classic and a mom and such that what she meant was-
‘Real birds poop all over and I`d be the one that would have to clean up after it.’
Where was I? Oh yeah, my mother and her naps. My mom, who was a lovely blond, had this hair-do back in the day that required weekly trips to the nearest beauty parlor for maintenance. Maybe some of you can remember those teased and lacquered types of do`s. It would take a good two hours to get it teased and sprayed and glued and stuck into place upon her head. You could stand my mother out in a hurricane and her hair wouldn`t move but Lord forbid you would open a car window too far!
‘Put that window up! You`ll blow my hair!’
We kids would shrug and roll the windows up and swelter but her hair didn`t get blowed by gosh! And don`t even think of splashing in the pool when Mom was in it! She didn`t swim she merely waded about, her arms out of the water and her hands on each side of her glorious bee-hive to ensure no moisture touched her tresses. Of course all that hairspray and lacquer seemed to attract the bees…well it WAS a bee-hive my grandfather would chuckle when she would dash from the pool, bees following in her wake in hot pursuit.
So, my mother would nod off and my brother and I would find things to stick into her bee-hive hair-do while she slept. A favorite item seemed to be all those fake feathered birds for some odd reason. Oh we would titter and tee-hee while we snuck each bunting and finch and cardinal gently into her mound of cemented curls.
Then we would wake her up and run like hell.
I guess we whippersnappers thought that if you`re old and take naps then you deserve to wake up with a forest of fake birds in your bee-hive. Now though….
(See I got you guys back to the original topic didn`t I? Sometimes I may drive us all the way to Saskatchewan and have to stop to ask a moose directions home but I do get us back to the point eventually.)
Now though I find myself thinking of napping more and more often. It seems that this nap attack hits about one o`clock in the afternoon. I`ve done my writing for the day, had my lunch and contemplated housework. I`ll juggle the housework VS nap for a few minutes then say to myself that I`ll just sit down to read. Apparently my brain thinks that reading should lead to sleeping. There I`ll sit and before I know it I`ve read the same line several times. Usually this occurs when it`s just me and the dogs during the week. Sometimes though my nap attack hits on the weekends when I`m not even reading! I`ve been known to be sitting back in Miss Yodeling`s room playing a video game with her and drop off, controller in hand.
‘Mom, would you wake up!’
I`ll start and jerk awake only to find we`ve been eaten by a dragon while I was napping. Oh the looks I get from my very vibrant and energy-filled teenager! So far, thankfully, she hasn`t decided to stick fake feathered birds in my hair but I bet she thinks real hard on it. Oh well, must be our minds just require an extra hour of midday sleep when we creep into our fifties. Or maybe it`s just that we have reached that stage in life that when we`re tired we don`t fight it and just go grab some beauty sleep. Speaking of napping, I think I`ll just mosey off and read for a spell. *Winks*
Someone take that moose back to Canada would you while I read? He`s pooping all over.