White. American. Cheese: Sliced Thin, But Not Too Thin

My daughter told me that her friends always offered cookies or chips for a snack when she was at their house. I said I offered cheese when I was living at home.

She thought that was funny, and probably thought it typical.

Not that my friends were in the house, because they weren’t. My parents both commuted to work every day so were gone from about 6:30 a.m. to 6 p.m. and we were not allowed to have friends in the house when no parents were home.

That didn’t stop me from being hungry, even when we were outside. And my friends in the neighborhood all wanted some when I offered, so I’d go inside and get the cheese (always white American cheese) and peel off slices and hand them out. D2 thinks it hilarious that I

(1) would offer cheese; and

(2) that my friends would want some.

What she doesn’t know is that we could be completely on the other side of the neighborhood or up at The Big Tree (really on the other side) and if I wanted cheese, we would all go to my house and hang out in the driveway, eating cheese.

My mother actually was thankful that I only asked for more cheese when she went grocery shopping, having known in my soul that cookies, cakes, soda, sugary snackage of any kind, just wouldn’t ever make it onto the list.

I used to sneak sugar in my water sometimes, just to drink something that wasn’t plain water. Guess we didn’t have Kool-Aid either, because when I got married, I always had Kool-Aid and potato chips and dip in the house, until we learned about the horrors of too much sugar and FD&C Red No. 3.

Then there’s the other cheese story. I’m amused that I have at least two cheese stories.

Don’t ask how this started because I don’t remember, but as a young teen I used to like to have a cup of hot tea, with milk and sugar, and then rip off pieces from a couple of slices of (white American) cheese and hold them in the hot tea, just until they melted enough but didn’t rip off and fall into the cup. I liked melty cheese. I’ve done this as long as I can remember.

So my other daughter, D1, told me she had some friends over one time—this was at D1’s place—and they were drinking tea and she got out some cheese and started dunking it and her friends started freaking out. D1 had no idea that the whole world didn’t do this! It was one of those “aha!” moments. I think she was a little embarrassed—I don’t really remember—I do remember she called me about it!

That Hotel Was Haunted

Earlier this year I was happily earning free Southwest Airline coupons by deferring my flight home. I wanted to do that for more than a decade, and finally had the opportunity and made a new friend as well (another story, another day.)

The airline put us in a lovely airport hotel for the night, separate rooms, of course, having diverted us there to get us home the next day. I like nice hotels and usually feel like I'm on vacation when I'm in one. This one was lovely, two king beds, and the bathroom had a freestanding sink on a beautiful piece of furniture with a granite top. Quite lovely, with a bay of mirrors, and I could see all sides of my face while washing up.

There was also a door that had a full-length mirror on the outside. The door opened into the bathroom and when opened, the mirror was opposite the three lovely mirrors behind the sink.

I didn't know it was a trap.

Next morning I got up and headed straight to the shower, which had one of those newer bowed rods so the curtain didn't blow back in. I left the door open so the bathroom wouldn't get fogged up. After my shower I was toweling off in front of the sink, when I saw my bum in the mirror behind me, FULL ON, FOR THE FIRST TIME IN ABOUT 20 YEARS. I tried to scream. My mouth was open and my jaw was moving, but no sound came out. I tried to breathe, but no air was getting in.

That bum of mine was whiter than white, flat, wide, doughy, dimply and about two feet lower than the last time I saw it.

It was horrible! (And still is ...)

There was no getting around it, gravity caught me unaware.

After a moment, shock turned to laughter and bouts of hysteria overtook me off and on during the next several days. I promised myself never to scare me like that again.

I recommend, if you're the least bit squeamish, never put yourself in that position. You might not be able to look back on anything ever again.