Super excited today. Going to see Jana for a new tattoo and to view the basic sketch of Ash’s book cover.
Days with Jana are always full of laughter.
The tattoo is for one of my recent movie moments. A moment of clear understanding between myself and another person. A rarity for me. This particular one is sort of a kicking off point. A line in the sand that I refuse to cross again. I’ve hit that particular cross road, oh, only about a hundred times. It was the when and how it was said that just put the icing on my cake.
Stories… I had this post all set and half-written in my head that I was going to continue answering the questions about why I write and what I do at night after work. Well, I decided not to write that one, but this one instead.
MASH and Hogan’s Hero’s will always be two of my favorite shows. They are my go-tos.
One of the aspects of my mother that I will absolutely love is her gift of laughter. I did watch it slowly die over the years and, this morning, I think I have a better understanding of why.
I do remember a lot of good-natured teasing when I was young. Ice cube wars between her and my sister. Changing the salt and sugar around in the kitchen. Dying the milk green. Mom and her stuffing everyone’s shoes with leaves on a Girl Scout outing. Or painting everyone’s faces with ketchup in the middle of the night. Goodness, there were a lot of screams resounding in the woods the next morning.
I remember once that I took my rubber bat and hung it on a piece of fishing line. Placed the bat on the door to the bathroom so it would drop down when the door moved.
I giggle at that one a lot.
She pulled back pretty hard when I turned twelve. Into herself. She was very tired. Out of respect for her, I let it go most of the time, but, now, as I am feeling what I am, maybe I should have reached out more. Not that there wasn’t affection, or teasing. Mom used to crack me up at times. It just fell out of our daily routine.
It also fell out because my ex and I had vastly different senses of humor. He did not care for practical jokes. While I don’t care for most surprises, and I don’t like mean jokes like scaring the crap out of someone, I do enjoy a good one. I love stupid jokes and I very much enjoyed shrink wrapping my sister’s car with multicolored tablecloths. My friends, when I was young, had a massive practical joke war that lasted well over two years.
I do build amusement and humor into my day. Mostly with the cats. And over the past three years, I’ve tried like anything to put that sense of mischief back into my life. I’ve lost some of the spark and skill at it. But mostly? I don’t have that person to “bounce off of” anymore.
That’s okay. I’ll get that back. And that is part of why I write.
Back to MASH. There are two episodes that I absolutely love.
One is the episode when Colonel Potter joins the unit. At the end, Potter, Hawkeye, and BJ are getting drunk in the Swamp and they begin to sing. There is a moment, right at the end, when the voices harmonize. Love that moment.
The other episode is “Dear Sigmund.” I just love Sidney Freeman as a character. His willingness to participate in jokes. To incorporate that into his therapy and observations. That he plays (another episode) imaginary basketball with Hawkeye one night and he just goes with the flow with Klinger’s outfits.
Freud said there is a link between anger and wit. Anger turned inward is depression. Anger turned sideways is Hawkeye.
“Margaret’s an interesting woman. On the outside all discipline and strength, and on the inside six kinds of passion looking for an exit. Some people will not accept pain. They just refuse delivery.
I guess what draws me to these people is that faced with aggression in its most brutal form, they have regressed to a state of antic of not lunatic pleasure. There has been a rash of practical jokes lately. Who ever the perpetrator is, he or she is becoming a folk hero. Rank makes no difference. No one is safe from the mad joker. … If there is a way to preserve your sanity in wartime they have found it. The slide their patched up patients into the evac ambulance like loaves into a bread truck, and yet they never forget those packages are people.
I love the practical jokes in this episode. They may be simple. They may be complex. But watching this takes me back to those happy memories with my mom and sister or to others with my friends. Mom made rules as they were needed in the house. Mostly out of things that she instigated and not expecting the creative force of two daughters coming at her, becoming overwhelmed. “No pea fights” is a good example. Over the years, that slowly evolved into no food fights in the house and no food inside balloons.
That is some of the glue that holds Jordan, Oak, Stew, and Gabe together. What keeps Ashley going.
I don’t know where some of the things in my books come from. They have become jokes between my sister and I and she will text me one of our catch phrases, like “Pickle” or “Twinkle Toes,” that come from scenes in my books. I love watching her amusement come out when she reads one of the passages. She says I absolutely love to torture my characters and yes, this is part of the fun of being a writer. Poor Duncan. All I have to say. Poor, poor Duncan.
One of the things I have learned is that I can’t necessarily plan those things out. If I do, I wind up trying too hard. Not as funny that way. Or it falls flat. There are people I have met, since my breakup, that … oh, shit, it’s a bad idea to put us in the same room. A very bad idea. The world becomes a lot less safe and I expect that some sort of something-stuffed balloon would be involved at some point.
I hope someone gives you the gift of laughter this holiday season. I know I have been enjoying the cats inspecting our tree, which is bolted to the wall. I have deliberately laced the floor with kitty caltrops (their toys) to help encourage the chaos…