Quit Touching Me!

Have ya’ seen that commercial? -- The one where the older brother is (almost) touching the sister’s arm, and she keeps saying, “Quit touching me.”? How did SunnyDelight find out about my older brother?!?! His given name was Jeff. Currently, he is known as Pastor Jeff. But back then….well, I thought of him as SATAN(and the echo goes, “satan,satan,sata--)
“Oh surely, you jest,” you protest.
No, I do not jest….and don’t call me Shirley.
Oh, you want proof? Ha! Where to begin? Where to begin?

Exhibit A
Perhaps we should start with something where you see the power and superiority of Jeff's brain. What a chess player: start at checkmate and work backwards...and remember all the moves necessary! Here's a play-by-play, ala Memento style:

Step G: Jayne protests that, "I hit him because he was picking on me! I told him to stop!"
Step F: Jeff proclaims it was self defense, because, "Jayne hit me first!"
Step E: Mom calls Jeff into the kitchen to get his side of the story.
Step D: Jayne runs crying to Mom, "Mom! Jeff hit me!"
Step C: Jeff hits Jayne in the arm.
Step B: Jayne slaps Jeffs hand away, and gripes, "Cut it out! Leave me alone! Quit picking on me!"
Step A: Jeff pokes/picks at air around sister Jayne, while repeatedly uttering, "Pick, pick, pick, pick--"

Step H: Jeff announces with much innocence, "I never touched her."
Which was true! How many hours did that take to work out!?!?!? Sheer genius! But used for evil purposes....

Exhibit B
It was a dark, cold night. Mom and Dad had gone out – one of those rare occasions – and left Sata—Jeff in charge. (Why they left him in charge, when John was older, we could never figure out.) JoJo and I were awake in bed and whispering to each other. I glanced around, making the bogeyman visual safety check of the room, and realized that the closet door was slightly open. This would never do! Who knows what could be hiding in the closet? There could be a monst--
“JoJo! The closet door is open! Go close it.”
Being the obedient little sister, she leapt from bed, pushed the door shut, and flew back to bed. Mission accomplished. The whispered conversation continued, but when I made the next bogeyman visual safety check—
“Jo! You didn’t close the door good! It’s open again! Go close it!””No way! You close it this time!”
So, taking a deep breath, I jumped from bed, pushed the door closed (hard), and leapt back into bed. Again, mission accomplished – but I was wary. I kept glancing back to the door during our conversation. Waiting for the slightest movement, or hint of move—
“JoJo!” I whispered/warned, “The door is open, again.”
“Jaynie” she whimpered, “I’m scared.”
“Jo, don’t cry. Keep talking, pretend like you don’t notice. Maybe I can sneak—“
--and the door continued to open – steady, not fast, but fast enough that you could see it. And fast enough that I knew there was no way I could get to the door fast enough.
“Jaynie, I’m scared! What are we gonna do?”
I started to answer, but then the monster came out of the closet. It was so tall, it had to bend it’s head to get under the door. It had a hat on, so we couldn’t see it’s face, and a long coat. It was moaning, coming towards us, with its’ arms reaching towards us –
JoJo and I scampered to the farthest corner of the bed, and still it came forward. We screamed…we prayed….to no avail. The monster was at the foot of the bed. It had something in it’s hand… was reaching towards it’s head…. Sheer terror took over, and Jo and I clutched each other screaming for someone to save us—And the monster snatched it’s hat off, and turned on the flashlight in it’s hand
“Boo!” screamed Jeff.
The beam of light revealed that Jeff was riding on John’s shoulders, a long coat draped over the two of them.

Yes, I know, funny, eh? ...UNLESS IT’S YOU COWERING IN THE CORNER!!!

Exhibit C
I had just finished reading the book, The Exorcist. As I was only in 8th grade, I had to “sneak” read it, because my Mom thought it was too scary for me to read. (Note to Mom: you were right – the book still scares the shi** out of me!). My friend Emily C was spending the night (side note: it is a wonder that any of my friends ever spent a second night at my house..). We were discussing the book when suddenly the sofa bed…well it kinda jumped up in the air a bit.
“Emily! Stop it!”
“Jayne, I didn’t do anything”
“Oh…well, maybe we put too much weight on part of the bed or something.”
So, we went back to our conversation, and as it drifted towards the Devil (the real one, not Jeff!), the bed jumped again – but higher!
“Jayne! That’s not funny! You’re scaring me!”
“Emily! I swear I didn’t do a thi—“
And at this point the bed began to….well to pitch and bounce, for lack of a better description.
And so yes, I found myself, once again screaming….and praying in bed, clinging frantically to my friend as the sofa bed went satanically insane.
And then we heard laughter – but human laughter.
And out from under the sofa bed came….yes you guessed it – Sata—I mean, Brother Jeff.

Oh, I could go on and on – about the time he wanted to see how long I could hold my breath, so he held my head under water….or the time he closed the bedroom door to make JoJo and me cry because we were afraid of the dark……or the time –

But that’s not the point, is it? It’s that commercial – that crazy commercial makes me remember my brother Jeff….and I smile. I smile because as cruel and mean as his jokes were, in hindsight they are hysterical. I think it’s even more hysterical that he has an entire congregation that is impressed with his piety…his goodness…..his sincerity.
Perhaps one day, I may get brave enough to don that bear skin rug….and make an entrance into his church…..possibly during a midnight mass.

Hmmm….what kind of bears do they have in New Orleans?

Entitled: HOW YOU GET A NICKNAME....or -- BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU SAY, IT MAY COME BACK TO BITE YA!

WARNING: Nicknames have a way of just...happening. As you know, I love nicknames, and usually try to find one for everyone. Sometimes the name comes quickly, sometimes they come slowly....but....they always come. Ewww, you nasty dirty mind. Out of the gutter! Geez, Jade was right! To the story!

So there I was, bright red and sure that I’d not heard what I thought I’d just heard.
And the Viking Princess, or VP, (aka Kajsa) is screaming, “What did he just say?!?!?”
And Superman Steve….well, Steve’s jaw has dropped, he is blushing (and hey, I’ve known the guy for ten years, and never seen him blush), and he’s frantically reaching for the answering machine—
“Did your little brother just say what I think he said?”
“Steve,” ordered Kajsa, “Rewind that tape! Oh my go—“
So, as the tape rewinds, let me fill you in:
I had just arrived in SF for one of Steve’s shows. Steve and I were catching up on all the latest Party Element and Rogue gossip, when the VP (who doesn’t gossip nearly as much as Steve and I, but we love her anyway) interrupts--
“Oh, Steve! Your brother Dave called while I was on the phone. I let it go to voice mail.”
Now, my friends, - let me interject some back story here (again), as that voice mail tape is rewinding: Dave is Steve’s little brother. Like Steve, Dave was also bitten by the comedy bug: he is a standup comedian in Philadelphia. Very quick, very witty. I met him once – five years ago when Steve did his very first standup show. Funny guy….nice guy--or so I thought, until
that tape started playing.
“Hiya Steve! Hiya Kajsa! Dave here. Yea, went to see Joe Jackson last night. Good show! I’m on my way – gonna do a show at ______________. Hey tell Airplane Jayne I said, “Hi –“

Steve is beaming. You can almost hear his thoughts, “What a good kid brother. He remembered APj was coming up this weekend. He’s saying, ‘Hi’ to my friend”

“How sweet,” I thought, “What a nice kid brother—“

And the tape continued “Heh-heh , yea – tell Airplane Jayne ‘Hi!’ – I wouldn’t mind – ya know – a ten cent ride—“

This is where we came in on this story – Me blushing (which takes a lot, mind you), Kajsa squealing, and Superman Steve gob-smacked……
Multiple playings of the tape had the three of us rolling on the floor and me laughing so hard I was in tears.

Jayne: But Steve, what exactly is a “Ten cent ride?”
Steve: I don’t know. But I say, let’s call him and find out. (dialing phone on speaker.)
Ring-ring! Ring-ring!
Dave: Hey big bro!
Steve: Hey Dave. Whatcha doing?
Dave: I’m going on in 20 minutes! Whazzup?
Steve: Well, we’re kind of confused. Just exactly what is a “ten-cent-ride?”
Dave: (wicked/nasty laugh) Heh-heh, well –
Jayne: (not wanting to hear, especially after “heh-heh) Yes, Dave dahling, just exactly what are you expecting to get for ten cents?
Dave: (stammering) Ohh! Airplane Jayne! Ohh! Ahhh, probably ahh, not much of anything now, huh?

Needless to say, we called Dave at least ten (ha-ha) times over the weekend – harassing him relentlessly. Poor child….but I don’t feel sorry for him – not at all! After all, he brought it upon himself.

But on the bright side, Dave did get what he truly has been wanting for five long years…..no, not that, you dirty minded Rogues! He finally got a nickname! He is no longer known as “Dave,” Steve’s kid brother…..He is now known, affectionately, as:

Ten-Cent.

I really CAN fly!

Okay, okay, I know that YOU know that I know that I really can fly...but now I have proof! Verification! And, keeping in line with NCLB and the current beliefs and practices of our education institutions, my proof and verification is in the form of a test, no less:

You scored as Peter Pan.
Your alter ego is Peter Pan. You are a child at heart. Anything you believe is possible, and you never want to grow up.
Peter Pan 94%
Ariel 75%
Donald Duck 75%
Goofy 75%
Sleeping Beauty 69%
Cinderella 69%
Cruella De Ville 63%
The Beast 63%
Pinocchio 44%
Snow White 38%

So, which Disney character is your alter ego? Am I hanging out with a bunch of Goofy's, or Beasts? Take the quiz, and post your ego (ha, ha, now that is something you all have) as a comment.

That's Amazing!

Gosh, I do remember some dumb TV show that used that as a catch phrase: "That's Amazing!" Usually, it wasn't anything so amazing....it usually was something that was just kinda stupid. But yesterday, I participated it something that was really amazing. No, really, it was amazing. I auditioned for "The Amazing Race."
Go on, giggle, laught, snort, whatever. Get it out of your system. It's okay, I don't mind! I admit it: I loved that show. Say what you will about all the reality TV drivel, but that show sucked me in. I found myself tuning in weekly to cheer on Meredith and his wife, and to boo at Rob and Amber. Cheryl, one of the teachers I work, and I would sit and strategize what WE would do in their places: "That would be so fun....what if......"
So of course, when we saw the ad on TV that there would be open auditions....we bit. Filled out the 10 page application (ugh), submitted pictures (double ugh), and stood in line for an hour.
The audition consisted of a 3 minute video (egads, those are worse than pictures: triple ugh?) of why we thought we should be on the show.
So, all my bloggy friends, on this side of the pond and t'other: be prepared! If we're chosen, I'll expect a list of your family/friends from around the globe that I can call for help when we are trekking thru their/your part of the world.
"Hello?"
"Hi. You don't know me, but my name is Airplane Jayne, I'm a friend of --"
"Oh yes! APj! ____________(insert appropriate name) told me you might call"
"Oh good. Well, you see, we've lost all our money, because we were too slow, and got to the checkpoint last. Could you loan me some--Hello? Hello? Is anybody there?"

best damn or dumb joke ya' got

okay - I'm feeling a bit silly, so sue me. But I'm feeling like this is a pretty funny bunch, so I want ya' to post your favorite dumb, silly, stupid, whatever joke as a comment. This has been my favorite joke for over 30 years......swear:
Bob, the accountant, decides to give it all up, move to the country, and become a farmer. He decides that to be a farmer, ya' need three things: a chicken, a rooster, and a donkey. So Bob sells all his worldly possessions, buys a farm, and heads to the livestock yard one fine Saturday morning. He approaches a woman in front of a stall full of chickens.
"Pardon me," he inquires politely, " but I would like to purchase a chicken"
"Yessir. You's from town, right?"
"Yes, ma'am. Is that a problem?"
"No's, but round these here parts, we's don't calls em chickens. We's calls em pullits. You's wanna buy a pullit, right?"
"Yes, ma'am, I'd like to purch--err, that is, I'd like to buy a pullit."
So the woman sells him a pullit, and directs him towards a stall across the way, full of roosters.
"Goodday, sir. I'd like to buy a rooster."
"Howdy son. You's from town, right?"
"Yes, sir, is that a problem?"
"No, son. But round these here parts, we's don' calls em roosters...we's calls em cocks."
"Oh, thank you sir. Yes, sir, I'd like to buy me a cock then."
And so the old man sells him a fine cock, and sends him to the stall next door, containing one donkey.
"Sir, is that donkey for sale?"
"Sonny, this here is an ass! We's don't calls em donkeys, we's calls em asses. And this here ass is the last ass left in da whole market. Ya wan him?"
"Oh, yes sir! Thank you sir!"
And so Bob now had all the animals he needed. The old man helped Bob up onto the ass, and exclaimed, "Oh! Ah almost fergot ta tell ya: Sometimes dis here ass can be kinda stubborn. If he stops, just give him a slap on his rear. He'll start moving. Have a good day!" And with a parting slap, Bob was on his way.
Bob was doing fine for a few miles, when suddenly his mount stopped. He gave him a nudge with his heel, to no avail. He tried to give him a slap on the rear, but his hands were full. He was about to slide off the asses back, when he spied a young woman approaching.
"Ma'am? Ma'am? I was wondering if you could help me? Would you mind....
could you hold my cock...
and pullit...
while I slap my ass?"

Salud or Salute?

"Major" Airplanejayne. Okay, Lecram has started putting pics on these blogs, so here's one. Actually, if ya' close one eye and back up, it ain't too bad!

Waters don't part..

A recent conversation with my friend contained an exchange in which I was encouraging him to trust the journey he was on, and his response that he did, and that he also believed that things worked out how they were supposed to work out.
Most of you have read about my fall from the sky, and how it affected my life, faith and relationships. I think many times things happen in our lives that only truly in hindsight are we allowed to see The Hand involved.
I had always wanted to teach. My skydiving accident came during College, Part One. As it became impossible to work and go to school fulltime, I changed directions, and began working with computers and accounting. After working 18 years as an accountant/controller (yes, I know, totally does not fit wit my personality), I decided to go back to school (“College, Part Two”), finish my degree and get my teaching credential. “The waters don’t part until your foot gets wet. Keep walking, and the waters will keep parting,” was the advice from my spiritual advisor.
Two months into the beginning of the journey, the company I had worked at for 18 years started to “belly up.” The owners asked me if I would stay through the end, which would probably be 6 months. Somehow that six months expanded to the year that it took for me to finish my bachelor’s degree. Waters still parting….
So, I had my bachelor’s degree, but no teaching credential, and no job. Again, no problem. Two small construction companies asked me to come in monthly to prepare their financial statements and check their books. A friend who owned an appliance repair business asked me to computerize her accounting system. After taking a test required by the State of California, I was now qualified to work as a substitute teacher. It wasn’t as much money as I was used to making, but it was somehow enough. Waters still parting….
I would be starting my final student teaching, which basically meant that I would be working as a teacher for three months, fulltime, FOR FREE! As if that weren’t enough pressure, my partner and husband of 20 years chose this moment to leave our marriage. His parting advice was, “Just go back to accounting. You’re a great accountant. You don’t have to be a teacher!”
So, there Erynn and I were: no job, no money/no financial support, no husband/father. Looking ahead, all I saw was a huge wave of water, towering over me. “Perhaps I should just turn around and go back,” I announced to the wall of water I suddenly realized was towering over me.
“Keep walking, and the waters will part,” came the response, as quiet as a whisper (yes, Kien, as quiet as an angel’s whisper.)
And so walk, I did. My baby sister financed my divorce and my parents supplemented my income. “Income” was earned by working afternoons, evenings and weekends doing accounting work for anyone I could find. Waters kept parting……
So I kept walking. Finished my teaching credential, picked up two additional credentials, got my dream job teaching, kept the house, putting daughter through college, and getting on with my life.
Only now as I reflect over my recent journey do I see how daunting the task, and how high that wall of water, was. All the time I was walking, my focus was in front of me and I merely had to concentrate on moving forward; not stopping, not looking back. I had faith that I would be able to take another step BECAUSE I had been able to take a step.
And so, just let me pass on the words from my spiritual advisor -- and that were whispered to me as encouragement -- and that have become part of me:
“The waters don’t part until your feet get wet. Keep walking, and the waters will keep parting.”

Day and Tsou Family in China. APj in green coat :) After seeing Lelly's current pics that went with a previous post....I thought "What the hell! I might as well put some pics on too -- now that
I know how...sort of.

another holiday story!

It never ceases to amaze me how, in hindsight, I can find humor in the strangest places. Dead hamsters in freezers, bones jutting out of legs, parents who make you cry, allergic reactions to drug combina—oh? What’s that you say? I haven’t told you that one? Oh, well—
Easter was quickly advancing. It was the “family holiday” that was held at my house, since I had the vastness of space required for egg hunts. (Now ex)-husband’s family was of the Immaculate-Housekeeping religion, so I spent weeks tidying up the ranchette. And, as luck would have it, I got sick a week before D-day – oops, I mean Easter. Finally, I dragged my hacking body to the outpatient clinic on Good Friday, which turned out to be one of those oxymorons. The wise doctor (also oxymoron) gave me a prescription for Seldane (antihistamine/decongestant) and Erythromycin…..
Saturday morning broke with a frenzy – only 24 hours before the horde – oops guests – arrived. Frantically I scoured the bathroom floor. As I stood, I realized that my ankles were stiff, and so were my hands. “Hmm,” I thought, “Interesting….Ve-rrrrry Interesting.” But time was a-wasting! Carry on McDuff! To the other Loo!
It was while scrubbing the toilet that I realized I was having difficulty swallowing. As I stood and looked in the mirror, I noticed that my eyes were puffy….I tried to take a step closer….and realized that the soles of my feet felt like they were on fire.
“Honey? Something’s wrong. Can you bring me the phone?”
“Aw, can’t ya’ get it yourself? I’m on the computer.”
(yes, ex-husband was charmingly sweet)
I realized that I was having an allergic reaction, so I called the clinic.
“I think I’m having an allergic reaction. My hands and feet are tingly and swollen. My eyes are puffy and my throat feels like it’s closing shut.”
“Are you having trouble breathing?”
“Duh! I have bronchitis! Of course I’m having trouble! What should I do?”
“Well, ahhh, the doctors have left. Take some Benedryl and if you’re still having difficulty breathing you should go to the Emergency Room.”
As I hate hospitals…..I chugged Benedryl. Body effects seemed to halt their growth, but weren’t reversing. So, in an effort to help hasten my recovery, I went to sleep on the couch…..”
“Mommy”
“Yes Sweetie-darling”
“Mommy”
As I groggily open my eyes, I am greeted by the anxious sad face of Erynn (approx 4-5yrs), with tears brimming in her eyes.
“Yes baby, what is it?””Oh Mommy, the Easter Bunny didn’t come….I guess I was bad, huh?”
A big fat tear plinked out of her eye and rolled down her cheek. “Bad Mommy, Bad Mommy,” I scolded internally. “Think fast, think fast—“
“Oh baby – I’m sure the Easter Bunny was here. Maybe he hid your basket. Why don’t you go check up on the road by the mailbox?”
Her eyes brightened, and she lit out the door. “Gotta hurry! Bad Mommy! What were you thinking—“ I berated myself.
Leaping off the couch, I found the soles of my feet still felt like they had daggers in them. But it didn’t matter – my baby needed her basket. With a combination of hobbling, screaming and crying, I made my way to the kitchen, threw her basket together (all items were ready to go, just had not had time to assemble), and frantically tried to think where I could hide said basket. Looking out the front window, I saw that Erynn had scoured the road, and, finding no basket, had begun her journey back to the house.
Eureka! I thought of the perfect place in the backyard, and again, with the combination of hobbling, screaming and crying made my way to it, hid the basket and hurried back in.
Just in the nick of time! Erynn came through the door with a dejected, “No, Mommy…it wasn’t there.”
“Baby, remember that family of rabbits we saw hopping around last week? Maybe the Easter Bunny came to visit them. Where did you and your Dad see them go?”
“The wood pile!” she screeched and rushed out the back door.
Yes, there in the woodpile, next to the Rabbit famly den, was the basket, left by the Easter Bunny.
For the next 4 years, the Easter Bunny got up early on Easter morning to hide Erynn’s basket….next to the Rabbit family den…..in the wood pile.

just another Christmas story...

I hate surprises. Well, I love the idea of surprises: people jumping out and yelling, unexpected packages, etc. Getting to say such lines as, “Oh, my! You shouldn’t have!” and “Wow! I never expected this!” But the reality of it all…Nope, nada, not for me. If I think there’s gonna be a party, I’ll try to find out beforehand. If there’s a package, I’ve gotta at least shake it. Erynn thought it was normal to open “a present a day” for a week before Christmas. Even now, I’ve got to open at least one present a few days before Christmas! It got so bad for my folks while I was growing up, that my Mom and Dad had to become very sneaky and clever with wrapping my presents. Like the Christmas of my junior year.
The first week of December arrived, and because my Mom shopped all year, I knew all the presents were bought. And wrapped. And in the closet. I could almost hear them calling me.
“Jayne”
“Shut up. I want to be surprised this year.”
“No you don’t. You really want to see us now. You’re an actress! You can ACT surprised! Come on”
“Shut up! Really! This year—
“Oh you shut up! Now, you can come now or later. Come now or later, noworlater, noworlater, now, now -- "
“Oh fine. I’ll just shake ya. I don’t have to open any more—“
“That’s right. Come on up and shakeshakeshake…..”
And so up the stairs I went, and into the closet. The packages were all there, wrapped and stacked: it looked to be three presents for each of us six kids. Mom and Dad always tried to make it even – in numbers and dollars!
Hmmm…so I shook the first one. “Oh, this is easy!” I informed the other presents, “It’s a skirt. Hmm….probably a homemade one, so it can’t be the biggie!” So I grabbed the next package. That’s when I realized it was the only other package for me. “Only two?” I asked the packages.
“Well,” a rectangular present for sister JoJo answered, “ maybe there’s something else in it.”
“Good thinking! Thanks boxy!” So I shook….and could hear something inside…something chainy sounding. “Piece of cake!”
“Ohh, I don’t think even your Mom would wrap cake—“
“Oh Boxy, I didn’t mean it literally—oh for Pete’s sake, what am I doing talking to a box?! But it’s obvious: It’s a jewelry box. And it must have an expensive piece of jewelry inside….”
I showed an amazing amount of restraint by not opening the box right there. Actually, it wasn’t that amazing, because my Mom had started using that cheap tape – the kind that tore the paper. The kinda tape that made it almost impossible for me to unwrap my presents. I could wait….after all, it was only 22 days….
22 days! Almost a lifetime. At least twice that first week I found myself answering Boxy’s call to come and shake it. Each week the call grew stronger and stronger, but amazingly, I remained strong -- and so did the tape. By the 20th of December I was shaking the box on a daily basis. (Yes, I know….I had it bad.)
Finally, Christmas morning arrived. I could hardly stand it as we went in a circle, each opening our first package. I, of course, started with the skirt – and yes it was a skirt – and yes, it was homemade. (Yes, you’re right: I am that good.)
The anticipation was almost too much to bear. By this time, I was convinced that the Hope Diamond, or its equivalent, was in that box. As the paper came off, yes, I was right again! Jewelry box! Score! Come to me Hope Diamond! Lifting the lid ever so slowly, savoring each moment, slowly, slowly, until the necklace was revealed. A very nice……but plain…….inexpensive……necklace.
“There must be something else,” I thought, panickedly looking in the jewelry box for something I missed, when I heard a square sounding giggle. Looking up, I saw JoJo opening “Boxy,” which turned out to be a very nice, EXPENSIVE stereo. “Got to be—nothing!” the thoughts flew through my brain. “Calm down, don’t cry,” I silently comforted myself, “after all, Christmas is for the little ones. Maybe there wasn’t enough money…”
“What’s wrong, Jay-ne? Why aren’t you opening a present?” Mom asked.
“Looks like I’m done.”
“Oh….I’m sure there’s a present left. Did you look on the backside of the tree?”
“Oh, it’s okay, Mom. I love the skirt. And the necklace is sweet….and thanks for the jewelry box.” But silently I pleaded, “don’t tear up, don’t cry – it’s okay…”
“Oh, Missy…I’m sure there’s another package. Why don’t you look again,” reassured my Dad.
“Really, Daddy, it’s okay! There’s nothing else under the tree….but I love my presents, really I do,” blink, blink, keep the tears from showing.
‘Oh, maybe I left it upstairs” answered Mom, quickly getting up, as if she suddenly realized how grossly unfair the number and dollar value was
(--helLO! JoJo’s stereo, Jason’s bike, need I say more? And all I’ve got is a stupid--).
“Let me go upstairs—“
And the dam burst.
“Oh Mom! Stop it! You know there’s nothing else up there! You know I’ve been up there for weeks! You don’t—“
But she ignored my cries, and up the stairs she disappeared. I knew she’d probably come back down with some trinket….some dumb gift put aside for those forgotten birthdays and events, some stupid—
But wait! Everybody was grinning….I mean everybody: all 3 brothers, 2 sisters and my Dad. What did they all know that I didn’t know? And Mom was coming around the corner, dragging something big…something she was still trying to hide. –something that couldn’t possibly fit in the trinket box--
“Jay-ne, we knew you’d know what this was as soon as you saw the box. And we know that you can’t stay away from the presents. Sooooo, we hid this package over at the neighbors house. It’s been there all month. Hope you like this….”
And as soon as I saw the box – as tall as my waist, and kinda slanty/square in shape…yes I knew. The tears welled up in my eyes…..and as my entire family cracked up, because they all knew that I knew that they knew that I had been shaking packages for weeks. So they all laughed…..I cried….
Yes…it was another "Christmas because Jayne cried"

because my mystery present was...
a new guitar.