Wish List

I wish...


I could have cat's whiskers to gage if I could fit into tight spaces instead of gynourmus hips that just bang into things and knock them over.

That Cathy Watsen had beat right back in the fourth grade when she said women get their period once for a month. (That chicks dad was in the service, she traveled and knew stuff.)

I had a cops red bubble light that I could carry in my jeep and throw on top of my hood when ever needed to pull over idiots and club them as needed.

The desert had zero calories and veggies were packed with them buggers.

That my Hubby would have been in our pole barn unloading material out of the back of his truck in his tighty whities years ago when the Jahova's first decided to stop and witness.

That I had the guts just to shave my head bald and not worry about stubble or scalp shine.

That my brother in law, the professional painter, had finished staining my house before he fell and dripped the wrong color all over my porch roof. Would of saved me saying, "Hmm, was it too hard to bring back our own equiptment for this job? How the hell did you expect me too carry you down the latter with a broken ankle?" Ok I only spoke it in my head to him but I shouldn't of even had to do that.

My mom could have seen my transplant succeed. She always told me there would be a cure. Mine just took 30 years.

That I had answered K1 correctly when he asked me when he was little, if it was me he heard down stairs, instead of jokingly answering, "NO I'M A BIG HAIRY MONSTER!", in a big hairy monster voice, which warped him somewhat, causing him to follow me from room to room for the next four years.

I had a secret room that was a four sided enclosed trampoline so I could bounce around like crazy to my hearts content.

One time I just rode my bike fast enough that my feet fluttered in the breeze behind me as I hung on for dear life.

Eatting chocolate made you smarter.

That I could develop unburnable hands as a super power illiminating my need for pot holders or ointment.

Everyone just understood the greater good is keeping me happy.

That my Hubby still wrote me romantic love letters instead of the ones he writes now..."I love to have the precious time with you, watching you sleep, as I go through your purse..."

I could read people's minds but only the good stuff.

I could tell my boss what I really think of him. And then have a three minuet running start.

That I was really really good at one thing.

My brain was organized to cross reference all memories for better recall.

On my walk on in "Grid Iron" with my Rock, I had not been dresses in so much football gear that no one reconized me.