Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2002-10-13 08:21 am
azurelunatic) wrote2002-10-13 08:21 am
Childhood Rules
One of these days, I will get around to making my mother that bookmark that I've been wanting to make all these years.
Forever, ever since we started keeping African Violets when Nancy gave one to us (they are dastardly little critters, and will overrun the household if allowed), it had been kept on the chest of drawers in the kitchen. And, being as it was right there, it was the perfect spot to leave a book on top of, face-down, open over the violet.
A new rule was created: Don't use the African violet as a bookmark!
House Rules in my house when growing up were really almost unnecessary. There were a collection of rules for safety and sanity (no eating in bed [crumbs bring critters]; no jumping on Mama & FatherSir's bed; no allowing guests to be on Mama & FatherSir's bed [a jillion small children at a party and no upstairs partitions, and someone's going to break something or knock something over or some such thing]; don't touch the wood stove unless you know how to operate it; leave the upstairs window open when running the dryer [house was designed with warmth in mind, not ventilation, and running dryer when house is sealed draws air down through the smokestack and out the stove, which is BAD in wintertime]; don't leave the propane stove on-without-being-lit; take off your boots when you come in so you don't track in crumbs of snow which will lead to puddles of ice-water that someone will find with their sockfeet [FatherSir was the worst violator of that, until he stepped in a puddle of ice-water himself barefoot, and then he was very compliant with the standard]; and other rules), most of which hardly had to be articulated as rules at all, just ways that the universe worked in this house.
But then there were the rules that were not necessary to the safe and efficient running of the household, and those were mostly silly. No cats in family hugs! No flicking lettuce-water on your sister! The African violet rule was one of the silly ones. The silly ones were always broken, and caused only minor quibbling rather than actual household harm. Well, occasionally it stressed out family relations if someone got lettuce-water flicked on her, but it wasn't a destructive form of rule-breaking. And the African violet was always fine; here, the cat nibbles on the damn thing, and it's hairier and greener and bigger than ever.
I would leave my books upside-down over the African violet, and my mother would remind me of the rule, and I would pick up my book... and put it down there the next time I was in the kitchen and needed both hands.
One of these days, I will construct Mama a bookmark with a pressed African violet. She'll laugh.
Forever, ever since we started keeping African Violets when Nancy gave one to us (they are dastardly little critters, and will overrun the household if allowed), it had been kept on the chest of drawers in the kitchen. And, being as it was right there, it was the perfect spot to leave a book on top of, face-down, open over the violet.
A new rule was created: Don't use the African violet as a bookmark!
House Rules in my house when growing up were really almost unnecessary. There were a collection of rules for safety and sanity (no eating in bed [crumbs bring critters]; no jumping on Mama & FatherSir's bed; no allowing guests to be on Mama & FatherSir's bed [a jillion small children at a party and no upstairs partitions, and someone's going to break something or knock something over or some such thing]; don't touch the wood stove unless you know how to operate it; leave the upstairs window open when running the dryer [house was designed with warmth in mind, not ventilation, and running dryer when house is sealed draws air down through the smokestack and out the stove, which is BAD in wintertime]; don't leave the propane stove on-without-being-lit; take off your boots when you come in so you don't track in crumbs of snow which will lead to puddles of ice-water that someone will find with their sockfeet [FatherSir was the worst violator of that, until he stepped in a puddle of ice-water himself barefoot, and then he was very compliant with the standard]; and other rules), most of which hardly had to be articulated as rules at all, just ways that the universe worked in this house.
But then there were the rules that were not necessary to the safe and efficient running of the household, and those were mostly silly. No cats in family hugs! No flicking lettuce-water on your sister! The African violet rule was one of the silly ones. The silly ones were always broken, and caused only minor quibbling rather than actual household harm. Well, occasionally it stressed out family relations if someone got lettuce-water flicked on her, but it wasn't a destructive form of rule-breaking. And the African violet was always fine; here, the cat nibbles on the damn thing, and it's hairier and greener and bigger than ever.
I would leave my books upside-down over the African violet, and my mother would remind me of the rule, and I would pick up my book... and put it down there the next time I was in the kitchen and needed both hands.
One of these days, I will construct Mama a bookmark with a pressed African violet. She'll laugh.