Stargazing, Meteor Showers, and Me

Today’s Monday Memories is brought to you by FIRSTS. First loves, first kisses, first free ride in a police car, first meteor shower…you know…whatever you want as long as it’s a first.

Monday Memories

In honor of the Lyrid Meteor Shower this weekend/last night/this morning/whatever, I’d like to take a moment to remember my very first (and I think only…) meteor shower.

I was in college. A sophomore. In a city. In the middle of Cornfield, IL. And there was going to be a meteor shower. Like every quasi-teen-girl in the history of ever, the idea of watching a crap load of shooting stars is ridiculously romanticized. Especially when the girl in question has a ridiculous crush on one of her dude friends. One of her dude friends who suggests an evening of meteor gazing.

OBVIOUSLY this was fate calling.

Except that we were a part of a fearsome threesome (Get that dirty image out of your minds, blog friends. Not THAT kind of threesome. Just FRIENDS. UGH. It’s like you don’t even know me.)

And so we made a plan. Robert, Cletus and I would venture out to the cornfields to watch the stars fly. I was so excited I thought I might pee myself. (Not really; that’s gross. It’s just an EXPRESSION, guys.)

Except that much like this weekend, it was FUCKING cold out.  (Don’t even get me started on the torrential flooding rains turned snowy icy death pellets two days later.) So we stayed up all night with a South Park marathon and left in the wee hours of the morning to watch the shower of meteors. After packing a comforter and some folding chairs, we were set.

We drove to the middle of nowhere, “parked” the car, and set up the chairs. In the middle of a dark two lane highway in the cornfields. And watched the stars. And it was GLORIOUS. For 5 whole minutes. Before both Cletus and Robert gave the fuck up. 5 minutes of stars and those whiny bitches were DONE?!? (I mean that with the utmost sincerity of love for my pals). I sat out there shivering for another 15 minutes before they made me pack up and get into the car.

I watched the stars out the window all the way back to Peoria in awe. This were some amazingly beautiful performance put on by the galaxy. And I wanted to soak it all in.

But the romanticized part about stargazing with one’s crush? Fucking ridiculous. That shit should be shared with EVERYONE. Except that now that I’m nearing 30, I’m old and cranky and can’t bear to think of waking up before 6:15 in the morning. Or going to bed after 11:30 at night. So no stars for me this week. But to all you stargazers out there, I’m with you in my mind.

Go visit Lily at It’s a Dome Life for more Monday Memories! If you’d like to join us next week, our topic is going to be: “Write about something you collected as a child.”

Ever seen a meteor shower, friends? How about a shooting star?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Monday Memories: How I Was Almost “Poisoned” by Cat Food

When I told you last week that the topic would be food for this week’s trip down memory lane…a lot of thoughts raced through my brain…Do I tell you a cheese story? Should I tell you about Orange Pop Night? All the things I’ve shot out my nose from laughter? Pool cheese? Yes, those are all stories in the making…but not today my good friends. Not today.

Today I’m going to tell you how I almost died (well…you know…sort of not really at all). I was maybe 7 years old, at best. I was wandering around the kitchen looking for a snack. Mom was on the phone and I saw some pieces of cereal lying on the counter. They looked kind of like Count Chocula (without the marshmallows), which was one of my favorite cereals. So I reached out for them.

I swear, they were begging to be eaten, those chocolatey pieces of goodness. I scooped up the few pieces that were there on the counter next to the stove top and popped them into my mouth. I chewed. I swallowed. I gagged. Those were DEFINITELY not Chocolatey cereal happiness. I looked around and I saw what I had previously missed…the spilled box of cat food. Right in front of my eyes.

I immediately envisioned my pending death. I’m only 7! I’m too young to die! Will it burn a hole in my stomach? Will I throw up? Is it going to grow a tree of mini cats in my tummy like gum does with gum trees? OHMIGODIMGOINGTODIE!

So I went over to my mom and panicked. She looked at me with that Mom-look, like “Hey, kid. I’m on the phone. Give me a break. You’re not dying.”

So I started crying. “I’m going to die!” As if it should surprise you, I’ve always had a flare for the dramatic. My mother put her pal on hold, and asked me what was wrong.

“I think I’m going to die because I ate cat food.”

And then my mom laughed at me. And she told me that I wasn’t going to die. Of course, at 7, I didn’t really think about the fact that the cat survived on cat food, shrimp cocktail, and cantaloupe-why couldn’t I? But my mom tried to explain this to me. And I just smiled and nodded, and planned my impending funeral. I had poisoned myself with cat food, and had succumbed to the fact that there was no way I could survive it.

And my mom laughed a little more. And told me to drink some water. To help the cat tree grow?

As it turns out, I did not actually die. And I survived the cat food incident with flying colors. As I got older (and my brother and cousin found themselves snacking on dog food and dog biscuits for fun), I realized that yes, in fact, cat food was safe to eat.

Do you have a crazy food story to share? Join up with us for Monday Memories!


Monday Memories

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Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!