Wacky Wednesday and Beautiful Peruvian Baby Girls

Wacky's (and my) mom didn't like last week's post about Wacky's poor Brussel sprouts behavior. She thinks Wacky is going to need therapy now...but she's resilient...and she's the one that reminded me about the story. But there is another chapter in the saga.

I could not get the hang of riding a bicycle. I remember getting my first little red bike with training wheels when we lived in Ohio. I'm fairly certain this is the one. (I have some pics with me on it...but my scanner is broken.)  I remember the day my dad took off my training wheels and decided I would learn how to ride on 2 wheels.  It didn't go well.  I think there was a lot of cussing and yelling. He refused to put the training wheels back on and when we moved to Michigan it went into our storage unit in the basement of our apartment building. I kind of forgot it was there.

The summer (after the brussel sprouts incident) when I was 8, my nephew, Kirk, got a really cool bike...he was 6. It was a stingray with a banana seat and the high handle bars. And much too my embarrassment...he could ride it...without training wheels. I was really humiliated...after all, I was older, smarter, and prettier. I remember sitting on it in my sister, Pat's driveway. It was a little too big for me...but I felt like I could ride it...really ride it.  I couldn't wait to get home and see if I could now ride my own little bike. My mom picked me up from my sister's after she got off work. I remember begging her to help me get my bike...but she was tired...had to make dinner...etc. I think my insistent whining  pleading, finally worked on Jackie.  As soon as we were finished with dinner, she went into the basement with me, to dig out my little red bike.  It was filthy...covered with dust and cobwebs...but Jackie cleaned it up as good as new...and with her help (and no yelling/swearing), I was able to finally take off and ride...free as the wind.  Seriously...I remember that feeling...like I could do anything.  And as if that wasn't enough...she took me for ice cream afterwards...not just any ice cream...Baskin Robbins ice cream...yep...the kind with bubble gum.

I know this may sound corny...but it is true...Wacky gave me my wings...the confidence I needed...to do anything.  And she is still my biggest encourager and fan.  So, yes, there was one brussel sprout story, but there are millions of little red bike stories.

And one more (not so) quick story. My friend, MaryJane, had the best idea about my ugly yarn...and that was to over-dye it...I LOVE that idea...so I will do that soon. I love MaryJane...(even if I haven't seen her in 16-17 years.) She was with me during the most whimsical time of my life...living in Peru while adopting Caitlin. She was adopting twin baby girls, Luiza and Turza. The three beautiful Peruvian girls were about the same size and as we traveled through the streets of Lima, everyone thought they were triplets. MJ and I went through a lot together in Peru, more than most people do in a lifetime...a cholera epidemic, an earthquake, several terrorist bombings, terrifying cab rides, scary unexpected birthmother visits, sweet potato chips, pajama meetings with attorneys, and gelato.  We spent our last weekend in Peru at her attorney's beach house...which had flooded not too long before our arrival. There was sand everywhere...and I literally slept on two chairs put together...because I refused to sleep in a sand-filled bed.  Our best adventure, though, was several weeks before that. We were watching Three Men and a Little Lady...when there was a loud boom and our building shook. It took a few seconds for us to realize what had happened, but a bomb had gone off near us. Now...most people would be terrified...but not MaryJane. She got someone to watch our babies and grabbed me...and headed out the door...yep...to the bombing. As we got closer, glass was everywhere from where windows broke.  (Oh yeah...we were in slippers...she didn't want to take the time to put on shoes.)  And of course...she found a piece of the car that was used for the bombing.  Now most people would leave it there for evidence...but not MJ...she picked it up and brought it back as a souvenir. MaryJane...thank you, for also giving me wings to fly...you took me places that I never would have gone alone...XOXOXOX