What do you want to be when you grow up?

As I was growing up I can remember being asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. I would answer honestly with, "I want to be a mommy!" The response I would usually get along with a pat on the head was "Yes dear, but what do you want to BE?" There was this amazing women who was my role model. She was my Grandma. Since my mom chose to work, my grandma took care of me 5 days a week from my birth until, well honestly, until she died. (I was already a mom by then myself)
Don't get me wrong, my Mom was pretty amazing too, she did all the great mom things a mom can do. Run me to dance class and swim practice and play dolls with me and be my Bluebird and Campfire Girls leader. But my grandma, she was the one who was there for me ALWAYS.
And I didn't just see her lavish attention on just me, no way! She did the same for all of her children and grandchildren. If anyone needed to be babysat, she watched them. It was never unusual for her to be at my Aunt's house in the morning folding laundry and then at my house in the afternoon as I got home from school, doing dishes for my mom and making my bed or cleaning my room. She did this because she loved us, not because she felt obligated or thought my mom couldn't keep her house spotless. She never complained. Her life was her husband, her family and her friends. This I thought was the most noble of things a person could do Love and show that love in many different ways. I wanted to be just like her.
She wasn't a saint by any means, but to me she was pretty much perfect. She could cuss up a storm! I can remember some of her famous sayings, now as an adult they crack me up, back then I would just do as she said, wondering how someone could "shit a brick", as in pick up this room before your grandpa comes home and sees it and shits a brick. She hated liars and sneaks, I remember one time her not liking someone who was just that and she called them a "snake in the grass." Grandma was honest as the day was long and she called em as she saw em.
When I was young I can remember her backing me up more than once, how good it felt to have someone you love stick up for you.
One time in particular I will never forget was when I was in kindergarten and I was playing in grandma's backyard with a neighbor girl who lived behind grandma. This little girl was fun to play with but I exercised extreme caution when going over to her house to play. She lived in this big old run down house and I never remember seeing her parents, but I do remember her brothers! She must of had 5 of them at least and each of them were meaner then the other. They scared me to death. Being an only child, I didn't have much experience in the sibling department, let alone living with 5 big monsters like she did. The only time I would climb the fence to play at her house was if I knew the brothers where gone and then it was a brief and rare occasion.
As we were playing one day we went behind this carport/shed my grandpa had built. We were looking for rocks and stones and I happened to come across a really cool, old looking bottle. It was a light shade of green and had an old cork in the opening. It was a bit dirty as it had been buried in the ground, only a small part of it was exposed when I found it. I picked it up and wiped it off with my hands. I was excited and showed it to my friend. For whatever reason, she decided at that moment that it was indeed cool and she had to have it. She grabbed it out of my hands and before I knew what had happened, she threw it over the fence and into her yard! Oh crap! She laughed, knowing it would be a cold day in hell before I ever climbed over that fence, especially on a day when a few of her juvenile offending brothers where out in their yard.
What happened next, still I think, was an out of body experience... From somewhere in my brain I used a word I had heard once... somewhere, a foul word to express how I felt about this girl and what she had done. I yelled at her, "Gaylene you fucker!" As soon as it escaped my mouth, that forbidden word that I knew not what it meant, but that you should never say it, I knew I was in deep trouble! The little girl immediately said' "I'm going to tell your grandmother what you just called me!" I felt woozy and thought I might pass out, my hands got all cold and clammy and all I could do was run behind her as she headed to grandma's front door. Up the 3 steps she went, bang-bang on the door, I was only thinking of how much trouble I was in for! Grandma opened the door and Gaylene said to her, pointing at me, "She just called me a fucker!" I was waiting for the shit to hit the fan. But then, wait, did I really hear what grandma was saying?? My grandma replied, "Maybe you deserved it Gaylene." Gaylene looked at me dumbstruck and I'm sure I looked just as surprised at grandma's response as she did. Then grandma said, "Gaylene you need to go home now, and to me "honey time to come inside now." Not another word was ever spoken of this incident again, but it has become one of my favorite memories of my grandma.

Time to talk without running out of room!

So, I have been a member of Facebook for a few months now and find that I usually run out of space to say what's really on my mind! I also love to read and write and dream, like a lot of us of writing a novel someday. Perhaps it will be about an unrequited love or a life story thing. Funny thing is we all have a life story.
This makes me think of those journalism type shows I've watched where the host will just randomly stop by a person's home or walk up to them in the park and start to talk to them. The interview takes an amazing turn when you realize this ordinary person has an extraordinary life story to tell. Just that person you see walking down the street, or glance at in the coffee shop. We all have a story to tell. I have a story to tell. Will it mean anything to anyone? Maybe, but most of all it does mean something to me and I get this chance here, to say whatever I want! Total freedom, total anonymity, to share, to reveal or not reveal to people who know me, that is the question....