#839: Seven Random And/Or Weird Things About Schmutzie

1. Back when I was a kid and my family would spend a couple of weeks at the lake every summer, I often took short side trips off into the woods by myself. One summer, when puberty started to warp what had previously been a perfectly passable brain, I was flirting with turning into a hippie, and I took my recorder out on a hike with me. I found a dry, soft spot under a tree, wet my lips, and played my best rendition of "Greensleeves".
   
   Yes, I really did. I even wished that I had a fringed vest to go with it. Oh, yes.


2. After a couple of rounds of the song, I opened my eyes, and there was a cute little cat sitting in front of me. She was grey and gentle and chatted softly when spoken to, and she would have been cute, too, if not for the lack of ears, a crooked tail, two missing toes, a foul stench when her fur met with friction, and a bleeding anus. I loved her immediately. She and I hung out every afternoon for the rest of the week with her napping at my side and me teaching myself "Octopus's Garden".


3. It was that same summer (I think) when I found out that peanutbutter was really good on hotdogs. Ever since, that is the only way I like them. Sometimes I will add in raw onions to sharpen the flavour.


4. The year before that summer is when we all took recorder in grade six music class. In the middle and at the end of every class, Mrs. G would have us make a whipping motion at the floor with our instruments to clear them out. If I did not think about it too much, I really liked the sound of thirty-one recorders' worth of spit splatting on the linoleum floor.


5. In that same year, my friend Laurie had taken the liberty of treating me with verbal condescension. It was the first time that I made a conscious plan to stick up for myself and then followed through with it. How did I do it? I was untying my shoes after recess when she said something belittling. I looked up at her and said, I don't want you to say that kind of shit to me anymore. I said a swear! Out loud! And no one gave me detention! I felt all crazy powerful and huge in my size four shoes.


6. The year before, in grade five, we learned how to play the ukulele. We had the option of buying one new or borrowing an old one from the school. My family did not have enough money to afford a new one, so I borrowed one from a cabinet at the back of the music room at the beginning of every class. I heard it for the first time and learned "Octopus's Garden" on ukulele. I have never been able to stand that song after having heard it played in unison by thirty-odd ten-year-olds a couple of times a week for several months. That also goes for "Delta Dawn" and "Country Roads".


7. I took to blowdrying my hair in grade five in an effort to feather the sides. My hair was fine and board straight, so it never worked, but I did manage to over-blow enough one day that all the skin on my left ear began to peel. Two days later while the ear was still healing, a girl ran by me in the hallway at school, and her scarf's fringe caught on my pierced earring. I had to run along after her as fast as I could just to keep from having my earlobe ripped through, and being unaware of my predicament, she thought I was chasing her and screamed for help. She kept screaming at her friend, She's crazy! Make her stop!. A teacher finally caught up with me and pushed me against a wall to stop me. What is wrong with you?! she snapped at me. I cried and cupped my palm around my blistered and now bleeding left ear.
   
   I became convinced that this was the first two of a series of three bad things that would befall that ear, because, as we all know, bad things come in threes. I spent a long time vigilantly guarding its safety afterward. My vigilance must have paid off, because I still have my left ear in basically one piece.

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