Sunday, February 6, 2022
Grove Street Emergencies
Mom always said to "...only call her at work for emergencies." I was so mad at Jackie for using the yellow hair brush, as she relentlessly refused to yield this frayed hair entangled bristled piece of plastic - and she stood in the road with it in protest. I didn't call mom. (Obviously...it was not an emergency). One day Eugene tried to open the back porch door by pushing on the glass window with the palm of his hand - BAM! SHATTER! Shards of glass everywhere with Eugene bleeding profusely as Tracey loses her mind because he's bleeding on the carpet; "Dad will lose it if you get blood on the carpet Gene!" I didn't call mom. Exactly - not an emergency. One afternoon Tracey and Jackie rattled me from a nap on the couch "Lynne the garage is on fire! Wake up, the garage is on fire!" Why yes...yes, the garage is on fire. Flames...flames...oh my. I dialed '0' on the oddly looking mustard yellow rotary wall phone (that no one ever cleaned) to get a direct line to the fire department. I didn't call mom. In my defense, Geneva's first responders (fire department and police officers) arrived immediately on the scene and took care of it all, and us kids. So, again...nothing urgent here, not today, nope - it's all good. One afternoon, after a "grueling day" at middle school I wanted to make a cake. Crap. I had too much cake and not enough pan. Oh...my...God! "Mom!...Mom! I have too much cake and not enough pan." She paused, "Oh, Lynne...just use the amount of batter you need and leave the rest in the fridge, ok love?" Phew!
