I promised my friend, Jettie,
(who never forgets ANYTHING apparently)
that I would tell the
"Rest of the story", as Paul Harvey was fond of saying.
The picture below is me myself!
A happy-go-lucky little Miss.
My Father thought everything I did was funny.
My Mother thought nothing I did was funny.
It made for some uneasy family meals.
Below you will see me standing next to my Aunt Erma.
One of my Father's sisters.
She is holding one of her pride & joy grandchildren.
She is happy.
That's her happy face.
Notice how she is ignoring me?
See how happy I am?
As a reference guide
Compare it to the picture above.
See what I mean?
I was NOT Aunt Erma's favorite niece.
As a matter of fact, I think I was on the bottom of her list.
Why? Why you ask?
Well, it started with a can of paint
(kinda like this one)
I think I was about 7 (or maybe 8)
I believe my age was
(Accompanied by a red face to match her red hair).
Anyway, the best I remember it..
I took her white house paint..
and I just stirred a wee bit of BLACK paint
into all the cans.
There were lots of cans.
There were enough cans to paint her whole house
and she had a BIG house.
My father asked me if I did it.
He asked WHY?
I said..Because I did.
My Auntie said that was
NOT! A! GOOD !ANSWER!!!
My Father suggested she paint the house grey.
She did NOT think that was funny.
She did NOT think I was cute.
My Father bought her new paint.
She got to keep the old paint too!
Now I ask you...
Was that fair?