1 Oct

It’s been a roller coaster of a week and I’m feeling a string of blog posts a mile long up in here.  Let’s begin with DamnitBethie, shall we?  OMG.  I mean, really.  My family, y’all.  The hilarity is never ending.

Yesterday, my sister, myself, Aunt Laine, and Aunt Bethie drove to Medford to help Mom start packing the house for the big move.  Aunt Laine is my mom’s younger sister and the baby of the family.

Aunt Bethie is my mom’s older sister (18 years her senior) and the oldest of the family.  Sooooooooo, since my mom was born in 1955, how old does that make Aunt Bethie?  Old.  Plus she inherited my Grandma Bacon’s “weak knees”.  You can only imagine where this is going.


Any old hoo, we had packed and laughed and cried a little and eaten cheeseburgers and Laine and Bethie were about to head back to OKC.  We kissed and hugged like we always do.  Mom and Janna walked them out to the truck.  Dad and I were inside – no doubt either talking over each other and laughing about something or sneaking cokes and corn nuts. Honestly, I don’t remember.  All I know is that before they stepped outside, I said, “Aunt Bethie, don’t go down the porch steps.  Walk down the ramp.  The last thing we need is for you to fall and break your hip.”  Ha Ha Hee Hee.  Ok.  I won’t.  Bye.  Love you.


Me:  “Dad, ya think Bethie just fell down the stairs?”

Dad:  “Probly.”

I run outside.  Man down.  Except the man was Bethie.

Me:  “DAMNIT, BETHIE!!!!  I thought I told you to walk down the ramp!!!”

Mom, Janna, and Elaine staring at each other in horror.

Bethie sitting on her butt at the bottom of the porch steps:  “You did, damnit it.”

And scene.

Later, Mom, Janna and I were outside trying to rig up a white trash makeshift tarp over the 50 million boxes of Dad’s books that we had loaded into the back of the truck.  We used trash bags, blankets, and straps.  It was pathetic.

We were all getting frustrated and I said, “I really feel like cussing right now.”

“I think one cuss word for the day will be enough,” said Mom.

Janna staring in horror.

Me:  “I’m telling Dad.”

I go inside.

Me:  “Dad, Mom just got me in trouble.”

Dad:  “What did you do now?’

Me:  “I cussed.”

Dad laughing:  “What did you say?”

Me:  “When I ran outside and saw Aunt Bethie flat on her butt at the bottom of the porch stairs I said, ‘Damnit, Bethie.'”

Dad laughing:  “Your mother was raised differently.  She thinks every bad word is a cuss word.”

By this time, Mom and Janna are entering the house.

Mom: “What do you mean, I was raised differently?  We were raised the same way.  And since when is damnit not a cuss word?”

Dad helplessly looking at me:  “Damnit.”

And scene.

So much more to come.




2 Responses to “DamnitBethie”

  1. Julie October 1, 2012 at 3:01 am #

    Hilarious. I mean! Hahahaha. But not laughing that Aunt Bethie fell, of course.
    Cannot wait for more stories!

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