Wednesday, December 5, 2012

July 1, 1965


            June said the dumbest thing today. We were sitting at the dinner table—mom, dad, June and me—the whole happy family, and she said, “You’ll never believe what a crazy thing happened to me today!” I knew right away she was about to say something dreadfully boring, but poor mother really got her hopes up. “What was it, dear?” mommy dearest asked in her sweet voice she uses just for June. “Why, a ladybug came and landed right square on my mirror while I was fixing up my hair in hot rollers for my trip to the grocery store!” Mom and June cackled with laughter. Kill. Me. Now.
            At least I get to go to the “movies” tonight with Betty. Her dad is slightly better than mine. I think mine actually glanced up from his sports pages at June’s epic tale of the ladybug. Betty’s dad is nice and quiet. I can tell he’s intimidated by me. Lots of men are. That’s the trouble with being young and pretty—something June and my mom don’t have to worry about. Betty even gets along with her dad. I might get along with my dad too if he ever bothered to talk to me. Oh well, knowing mom, his disinterest might not be such a bad thing.

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