Touchin’ Up My Roots

Lord A’ Mighty, it’s been a while and that’s mostly because I’ve been sicker than a dawg for the last week. I’ve had a hunk-a-hunk-a-somethin’-er-other and it’s been such a humdinger that I’m regressing into my hillbilly roots. I sound nasal and rough-necked.

Pretty.

Last Sunday I had such a fever…I found myself listening to the cat telling me that there were Ninja warriors available to hand me the most delectable piece of apple puff-pastry if I would only open my eyes and let them blow their Ninja-dust into them. All would be cured…

Damned cat doesn’t know what in the hell he’s talkin’ about! Ninja dumplings! Actually, he was kneading on my neck and sniffing my mouth as I struggled to breathe and has since become a Sail Cat. That’ll learn ‘em, durn ‘em!

On top of all of that, we’ve had football fever (Not so much “we” as “them” and, well, long ago, out of sheer necessity, I assimilated. Either that or I’ve died and gone to hell. Or both) because “our” beloved San Diego Chargers have been in the playoffs. I slept through most of yesterday’s playoff games but today I was able to lie on the couch and watch football with the boys. I stayed home with the boys while S went out and hung out with adults. I was jealous but glad she could get a break and, besides, I stayed in my jammies all day. And listened to the boys engage in their own brand of fever. God, they talk a bunch of junk and sometimes I just wanna throw couch pillows at their wee heads. And it’s all of them; even youngest, albeit he says the same things, over and over again.

I love that about him because it’s not so much what he says (although it has become the bane of his brother’s existence that we taught him a particular saying) but the gusto in which he says it. Earlier in the season, middle child suddenly decided he was a Broncos fan. It came out of the blue, one day, (The Broncos probably won a game.) and he’s been a die-hard fan, ever since. Well, the rest of us are Chargers fans. I will also cheer for the Bears, and I absolutely love Brett Favre and the Packers. I think he’s a cutie and just love to watch him play. It’s really cool that the Chargers have come so far and, well, I gave oldest a LaDainian Tomlinson football jersey for Christmas and the kid hasn’t taken it off since. Yowzer it’s crusty!

Middle child, however, is a fair-weathered fan and will change his affiliations, mid-field, mid-game, mid-sentence, if given the chance to talk smack with his older brother. So… We taught youngest to say, “Broncos are GOIN’ DOWN!” and he says it with such panache’ and such punch and such a funny little laugh that we all, well, except middle child, crack-up. And this is what I heard, all day today, while watching the Colts (aka “Broncos” for youngest) play the Chargers. God help me! I never thought I’d be watching football with so much interest and cheer just so I can deal with the cracks from the kids. Middle child proudly wears his Broncos shirt (despite the fact that they have already GONE DOWN) and youngest loves, loves, loves his Chargers shirt. I was lovin’ bein’ in my pajamas.

Tomorrow both of the older boys will be signing up for the National Youth Sports Foundation football. Oldest will play tackle football while middle child will play flag football. Youngest, who asked if he could play “fooball” with his brothers, will be signed into Special Olympics once he turns 8 this year. *sigh* This is a real tough thing to try to explain to him but, so far, he’s happy to simply yell out, “TOUCH DOWN!” and “BRONCO’S ARE GOIN’ DOWN!” while watching the games. Getting out onto a practice field with his brothers is going to be something altogether different. We’re going to have to figure something special out for him, in the meantime.

I’m hoping this hillbilly, hunk-a-hunk-a-burnin’-lungs will soon pass and I’ll be back on my civilized, Doc Martin’d feet. My brain feels addled and my hair hurts. Yeah; it’s that bad. It’s a dang-burned-hanger-onner.

One of the other reasons I’ve been reaching into my hillbilly roots is because my mom gave me some photo albums, typed transcripts, and actual cassette tapes made by my grandfather (who recently passed) that are the telling of his time in the Pacific during World War II. When she gave them to me, I brought them home, opened a few of the (many!) file folders, and then found a really thick one and began reading it aloud to S. It’s a fascinating story and I had no idea of some of the things he did or the things that happened to him.

He was on the USS Portland (CA-33) which, evidently, was involved in some pretty important battles. I’m now hooked on researching the information and checking his facts and his story. It’s incredibly interesting and, while I’m reticent to listen to 30 year old cassette tapes, it is even more fascinating to hear him tell it in his old, nasally, Kentucky-hillbilly accent.

S tells me that, as I read deeper into the story, and I read to her for almost 7 hours, I affected a kind of accent and made the story come alive. I had a great time reading it out loud (I used to love doing story time when I worked at B&N, too.) and soon the story was coming alive for me, too. I want to read it out loud to my mom so she can hear it from a different perspective. She’s a wonderful writer and I think it would be really cool if she found a voice in this process and maybe, I don’t know, wrote something that incorporates this bit of family history into it. I’m just excited to have something to sink my researching teeth into and I would love to work with her on it. Who knows? Gotta get my hunk-a-hunk-a-burnin’-lungs clear first.

So, here I’s sits, hackin’ up a lung, spewing out little football barbs (“Oh, give me a break! Oldest, that was not holding that’s called, BLOCKING!”), smiling at youngest, hissing at the cat, snuggling with the dogs, and eating wings and pizza.

Tomorrow it’s back to the daily coffee grind…