…to my friend Kelli. I think she reads this blog occasionally. God dropped Kellianne into my life about 2 days after I moved into my college dorm. She had been a last minute student coming to PCC, and didn’t have a dorm assignment yet. My two original roommates and I had been excited that we only had three people in a four-person room, and so we reluctantly agreed to let this new shorty move in. Little did I know she would be one of the best things about my freshman year and college experience. We roomed together for four years, through thick and thin, and she is on a short list of people who can make me laugh until I almost pee my pants. Throughout the years, Kelli and I made up dozens of games to entertain ourselves. During classes, we would draw these elaborate stick-figure comics for each other of things that had happened in the dorms or of other people at school. We also would leave messages for each other on our white board, partially in English and partially in a foreign/non-exsitent language made up of imaginary letters. We also ended up with quite a wig collection, which led to a full dress-up closet, and a reputation for putting on some great sketches in our room late at night. My favorites were “Ollie, ” “Coach Ed: Harriest Swim Coach Alive” and “Mute Bartender.” Ember was a frequent guest star as well. And also, the title of this post is from a game we would play at night in our bunks, where we would pretend to call up a radio station and talk in outrageous accents and make dedications to our ethnic loved ones. Wow, for those of you who did NOT know me in college, you now think I’m a total freak.
ANYWAY, I was reminded of you, Kelli, this last week when Carson started–unwittingly–playing another game that Kelli particularly enjoyed. This game was a little one-sided. She would take things out of the trash, things that I had thrown away, and pin them to our bulletin board outside the room, with a note that said “Jen–you accidentally threw this [holey sock, banana peel, candy wrapper, etc.] away. Good thing I saved it!” So, this last week I threw some old CD’s away, and Carson (after tipping over the entire trash can) came into the other room saying “Uh-oh, Mama! Uh-oh!” and handing me the CD’s. Try explaining to him that some of those are precious and he is not to touch them and others are worthless 25 cent Office Depot cheapos that have outlived their usefulness. Then–this leads to another confession–he found a stuffed tiger in the trash. You see, throughout high school, college and into my young adulthood and even after I was married for a while, I slept with a stuffed tiger. It had nothing to do with sentimentality. I like having something under my arm when I sleep, and a regular pillow was too big. This particular ratty tiger was the perfect size. However, I gave it up several years ago, found it again this week and decided to say goodbye. Too yucky even for goodwill, so I put it in the trash. Carson could not accept this, and kept getting Tiga (his name, pronounced Tie-guh) out of the trash and saying “Mama! Uh-oh! Uh-oh!” Eye roll. I felt like Kellianne would be proud of Carson reliving one of her favorite games. I can’t wait until he’s old enough to dip into the dress up box!