Good Times On Highway To Hell

My name is Miss Trouble

Miss Trouble age six years old.

My brother was my best friend and I have hundreds of great memories. I laugh thinking how we came up with some of our adventures. It is liberating to look at the worst years of my life and find happiness. These memories made my life feel normal. Some are a chuckle, others a belly roll and most just things kids do. I was often the mastermind, no time to waste. I hope it will brighten your day. Maybe spark some memories of your own.

We put sheets and blankets over our double long clothesline making tepees to hide in. We could get a good thirty minutes of fun before having to look for real fun/trouble. Our dog Sandy got in on the action by pulling the tepees down.

While preparing my stepfather’s house for sale. My mother had finished moping the floor. With no thought on our part, we put pop tarts in our soda and they blew all over the newly mopped kitchen.

My brother was checking out new Christmas BB Gun and shot me in leg.

We always fought over who got to lick the cake icing bowl.

My Favorite We didn’t know why but our grandma was babysitting that day. Beyond bored, we start walking down the alley. My brother finds a bag of rotting potatoes, perfect for trouble making. Our neighbors had a pool and were not home, we threw potatoes in the pool, dog bowl, on house and back door. Little did we know our grandma was looking out the kitchen widow watching us. We came in the house like nothing new. We had to wait until neighbors got home, apologize for what we’ve done and clean up the mess. It was nasty to clean but it was worth it.

Popping Bubble Wrap was a huge treat, we would fight over who got the bigger piece, We would lay in front yard watching the stars popping our bubbles.

I would take Turtle Wax from the garage and mix in a little dirt to see how fast it would eat through a pie pan. Dixie cups melted quickly but a pie pans took longer. It was difficult to explain the stains on picnic table.

I never wore shoes unless to forced. My grandfather came over and I was my usual jumping around self. Looking at the flowers of the weeds in our yard. I enjoyed the simple things. Then I let out a scream, I stepped on a Bubble Bee. My grandfather said “Pud” you’ll be okay. I wandered off to find the bee. It was so pretty and I’d never seen that kind of bee. My grandfather called me “Pud” all my life, my guess old people term of endearment.

At 4-5 years old, I was across the street playing and my mother starts yelling there’s a tornado coming. I didn’t hear her so went to middle of street to see what was so important. A tornado is coming get in the house now. OK. My dad was at work so we gathered around the television. It wasn’t long before I had to go to bathroom. I was so scared, I would not go because the tornado man might get me. An important note: my Easy Bake Oven went with the wind.

This was great, my brother came from store with gum with a small poster in it. He asked if he could put it on the wall, NO! He snuck into her bedroom found a bobby pin, plugged it in electrical socket and caught the carpet in his bedroom on fire.

I matured early…..getting mouth washed out with soap for saying fuck at 4 years old.

We’re on tetter totter at grandparents, I was in the air and spotted a snake. I was screaming like crazy. Gramps came back with a hole but I would not get off the swing. I still hate snakes.

When our teeth were loose we put a string around it then slammed the door. One time it took three tries to get one out. The tooth fairy didn’t leave any extra money.

Gramps and I would have watermelon seed spitting contest, who could get seed over the picnic table.

One of the methods of discipline my grandparents used was go outside and get a switch. If you brought a wimpy one, it was back outside for another.

My grandparents would take us to Ponchos, we raised the flag for more until we exploded.

We had pampas grass, long razor blades, on each side on our driveway. We made a bike ramp, the goal jump over both pampas grass, the driveway and not get cut to sheds.

Singing to the radio with my dad driving 90 mile an hour, smoking a cigar with windows rolled up and constantly pushing buttons on radio while changing lanes.We didn’t worry about his driving it was the cheap cigars we complained about.

I’m blessed to have good memories of childhood.



    • Hi friend
      There’s a highway and super highways. It sucks but it needs a server upgrade. Hopefully you have healed or moved closer to a clear head. Blogging can trigger what in our locked box.
      Have a great day.


  1. How wonderful to have all those detailed memories, M. I envy that. I have blocked so many months/years of my childhood, I never made waves…that was my older sister’s role, and I learned from her and aimed to be different. I was the child/teen that my parents claimed they “never worried about”. They should have…but that’s another story.
    Turtle wax…really ? So sorry you lost your Easy Bake Oven to tornado man. Sounds like your bro was a good partner in crime. Sweet. โ˜บ

    Liked by 1 person

    • I worked hard to put the horrible things from childhood under lock and key. My Therapist gets to hear, the people who abused are dead to me.
      I was born curious, Turtle Wax worked best. Some the other experiments scared my, like little bombs going off. It’s a shame my adventure/curiosity was not celebrated. Who knows what I might have done. Those are the things that seep in and I don’t like it. I was always told I was stupid by my mother, you believe at some point.
      In my career no amount of money got rid of feeling less because no college. On workers there are times when I feel the same.
      I have to remember a college degree doesn’t determine how much you contribute.
      So many people relate to the Easy Bake and Tornado Man, maybe I need to use imagination and write out of element.
      Hope you’re having a great weekend. It’s always the silent kid to worry about!

      Liked by 1 person

      • A college degree only seems to be important if you don’t have one…it was never really a measure of intelligence or achievement in life, just scholastic endurance. Your mom was wrong, M., time to believe it. โ˜บ

        Liked by 1 person

      • Hi Van
        My logical mind knows, the deep scars are triggered at times. I would not be alive if I wasn’t smart. I’m street smart, overcompensated by being the best in other areas and I can research like a professional. She told me my father raped her, I didn’t really buy it because she stayed with him and had my brother. Unfortunately the emotional scars go real deep. I didn’t think about my past much, blogging can throw the door open. I love learning, have taken many for credit and non credit courses. I can sell, when I quit work I was making 300K a year, that’s smart.
        Thanks for the encouragement.
        You’re a good friend.
        Have a great day.

        Liked by 1 person

      • You’re so right about blogging…it has triggered memories that I’d long suppressed. Those deep scars…I think, just makes us tougher ! Kudos on the sales income..I never came close, but I also found that I was pretty adept at selling. โ˜บ Interesting ?

        Liked by 1 person

      • Lyme can make you depressed, on top of my Bipolar struggle I’m sensitive and frustrated. My depression pick up a few days ago.
        Now every post is a possible land mind. I have to get more sleep and let my body rest. Sleep for a couple of days may help. Bottom line we know we have to get back up and move on. The facts are adding up, we may be sisters?

        Liked by 1 person

I appreciate your comments, what you have to say is important. Thank you.

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.