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 Holly Winter Living The Life Of Holly July 19, 2003 “I’m the purple stripe!” I yelled. “Oh. No. You’re not.” She said, throwing a sponge my way. “I’m the purple since I had to fix that purple non-line you painted. You’ve lost your purple privileges.” “Stop being contrary.” I argued, tossing a wet sponge that bounced off her arm. “I got dibs. I’m Purple.” Jamie started picking up the extra paintbrushes. “Can’t you both be the purple?” “No. The purple is ME.” I pouted, throwing a wet sponge Jamie’s way. It skidded across her forehead leaving a little wet mark. “SCORE.” We all laughed. “Maybe YOU should stop throwing stuff.” Amy joked, in her mean teacher voice. “Why? Are you running detention this afternoon?” Jamie asked as she threw the wet sponge Amy’s way. It got caught up in her wavy hair. She got to work untangling it as we let up a wild cheer of victory. “You know. I don’t really like the way you paint.” I said, pointing my tongue at Lela who tried to paint a bit of salmon colored glaze down the center. “I dare you. I double dare you.” I said, letting my tongue hang out as far as it would go. She laughed. The kids at the other tables gawked while their parents tried to refocus them to glaze their pottery. I know. I know. It isn’t often you get to see adults behaving so badly. We were at Color Me Mine, a shop where you go to buy plain pottery that you personalize with thick colorful glazes. I was hanging out with my former teaching buddies. Teachers know how to misbehave better than any other group of people you’ll ever meet. Hey. We can’t help it. We have thousands of student role models giving us glowing examples of abominable misconduct year after year. We have to socialize in parts of town where our students don’t live so that they can’t bust us for bad behavior. I know. Kids would never follow rules if they saw how much better teachers were at breaking rules. We were making a wedding gift for our friends, Sarah and Bradley, who were going to be wearing white in a small ceremony in Maine. No. Nobody from the middle school would be representing us by calling out during the ceremony, throwing spitballs during the vows or bra-strap snapping during the final kiss. We hated neglecting them and hoped that they had made new friends in the teaching field who could fulfill these duties since we were too far away to attend. We had decided that the best way to make up for our absence was to personalize a large, congratulatory square platter to commemorate their less-than-square middle school friends who missed them so much. We had thought that we could each paint a stripe, to represent our part. Um. No. It seems that Lela was the only gifted stripe painter amongst us. I was good at painting lines that looked like a mix between feathers and staircases. (Yeah. I know. Sarah and Bradley would have loved my lines that way. THEY understand me.) Lela needed a break. “Someone else paint.” “No way.” I said. “Too late. You don’t like my feathers.” “Can’t.” Jamie said. “I don’t want to compete with your work.” “Why should I?” Amy asked. “We should leave some white in the middle. After all, it is a WEDDING. You know. WHITE.” I know. But Amy was the only one in our group who was married. Which makes me wonder. Are married people smarter? (Sarah will be able to let us know this soon enough.) We left the center portion of the platter white. And. Though it stemmed from Lela tiring, we felt righteous for leaving a bit of breathing room. You know. This way they could see their food better. We flipped the pottery over. “Congratulations Love Holly” “Somebody Loves You Love Amy” “Best Wishes Lela” “Mazel Tov Love Jamie” We were ready for a photo. “Could you take our picture?” Amy asked the owner. “Certainly.” She answered, walking our way. We jumped up. “I’ll model it.” Lela insisted. “Because I made the stripes. “It was my idea to make the platter.” I insisted. “I miss them the most.” Jamie said. “I should hold it. “I wish I were shorter.” Amy said. We all turned to her. I secretly thought it was a ploy to steal the platter, so I kept one hand on it. “I’ve always wished I were a bit shorter when it came to group photos. I’m always the tallest one.” She said. “You should hold the platter.” I said, sympathetically. “No.” She said sadly. “The stripe painter can hold it.” The rest of us sighed. Lela took the platter and professionally positioned it squarely in front of her. She wasn’t taking her job of platter holder lightly. We all crowded next to her and let our biggest smiles leak out. We turned towards the camera. We looked so angelic, smiling, leaning in, no teasing going on. I’m sure that Sarah and Bradley wouldn’t have recognized us as the friends they had left behind. We stood that way, frozen in time for several moments waiting for the owner to say “cheese.” But. She didn’t say it. In fact. She didn’t say anything. In fact. The camera was still on the table. In fact. The owner was nowhere to be seen. We collapsed into fits of laughter. “Where is she?” “We were so ready!” “That would have been THE picture!” Jamie went on a giggling owner search. “We’re ready for that photo now.” The owner came forward. She picked up my camera and started fiddling. The angelic look was gone. We couldn’t stop laughing. We couldn’t breath. Lela could barely hold up the platter. Amy had decided to make her dream of being shorter in a photo come true. She was slouching. We giggled and laughed and screamed and tried to stand up straight. Finally the owner spoke. “Say cheese.” Was she kidding? Did we need loosening up? Cause it worked. We became uncontrollable. She snapped a fast photo of us as we lost all semblance of decorum and held each other so that we could stand as we let our red faced, choking laughter fill the room. She then dropped the camera and walked quickly away. Yeah. We made her take another photo where we were all in the frame, which gave Amy the chance to slouch even further and fulfill her dream of being not only shorter, but the shortest. So. Sarah and Bradley. I wanted you to know that this gift was made with a sheer unadulterated teachers-out-for-the-summer kind of fun. And as such we insist that you have fun in your marriage. Well. Try to, ok? And if you decide to take the platter out to remember your dear sweet friends in Colorado who miss you so much, just remember. That purple stripe? Well. It’s really Holly. ------------ About the author: Holly Winter is an adventurer who has become known for sprinkling humor through her extraordinary life that continues to entertain the many thousands of fans here at Useless-Knowledge.com. Whether she is giving advice to the new mayor of Denver, swimming with sting rays at the Cayman Islands, or dealing with the side effects of her epilepsy medication, you will find her positive take on the world to be the perfect accompaniment to each and every part of your week. Look for Holly’s columns every Saturday. Be sure to sign up for an e-mail reminder when her column has been posted at her Yahoo Group where a photo will be posted that goes along with the column. Send a blank e-mail to livingthelifeofholly-subscribe@yahoogroups.com You can contact Holly at her website Livingthelifeofholly.com or email: Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com Comment on this column in the forum. Tell a friend about this site! ------------ |
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