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Showing posts from October, 2015

Now I look like a mule

I remember this restaurant booth. When I was a kid, it passed through my family more than all of the Chevettes and Novas combined. I remember it in my Uncle Ronnie's house in Blanchester. I remember sitting in it when my sister and I split a jar or pickles for breakfast in the trailer. I remember my Aunt Pam getting me with a fly swatter because I would not sit still in it while she was cutting my hair. It is one of several tables that are in the background of my childhood memories.

There was the round table (oval with the leaf) Mamaw had by the kitchen window. I sat behind it when I said peep, the only time my Papaw ever spanked me. There was the big solid one in my Grandma Slusher's kitchen, with benches on each side to accommodate the whole family. And there was the dark wood table Mom and Mike had from the time they got married. So many times as we laughed until we cried as we told stories, ate hamburger helper and drank cherry kool aid. The kept it until Mom got her "…