The Very First

Just in case you’re keeping a chronological list:

The very first blog post I wrote for this blog was this one: http://smalleradventure.blogspot.com/search/label/Bienvenue
That was back when I was adorable. Look how cute I was!
I wrote a blog before this one about a trip I took with McAdams to Montana.That was the birth of the magic. My very first favorite picture from that blog was this one, entitled “Holy Shit House, Batman!”
I was modest back then, and put asterisks between the ‘S’ and the ‘T’ of ‘shit’. How cute is that?!
My first kiss was in a closet at a party, with a guy from my seventh grade class. “So,” he said, “do you wanna?” I said ok – I was trying to be cool about the whole thing, not over eager or desperate, you know, but then I blew it and admitted, “I don’t really know how.” He said nothing, but I felt him move in the dark and his lips found mine, and then our mouths opened, and we kissed – French kissed! – very tentatively and experimentally, and then people banged on the door and said clever, sophisticated seventh grade things, like “OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH! Y’all Frenched!”, and then it was over. I still know that guy, though I haven’t seen him in a long time. I think he’s gay, but probably I have nothing to do with that. I should call him and tell him that the first kiss was weird, but real nice, and thank him for not telling everyone that I didn’t know how to go to first base.My very first favorite song, I think, was “Spinning Wheel” by Blood, Sweat and Tears; at least that’s what I’ve been told. I heard it on my dad’s record, back when he was a hippie, and oh, how I danced! The first song I remember really liking all on my own was either:
I still love it! Historically accurate rock rules!
Or maybe it was this one:

Oh, just listen to my love sound! By the way, The DeFrancos were Canadian. That’s just another little fun fact I offer you here, on this blog, free of charge. Anyway, this just proves that I have always had impeccable taste in music, and you should think that I am wise, discerning and urbane. Think that now, please.
Thank you.
I had my very first ladies only February 14th dinner party this year! I called it the Vagintines Buffet, and it was a great success! Eat your heart out, people who have dates!
My first favorite poem was this one:
I eat my peas with honey
I’ve done it all my life
It makes the peas taste funny
But it keeps them on my knife.
Oddly, the author is unknown; you can bet if I’d written that baby, my name would be all over it!
The very first time I understood the meaning of the word “sexy” was at an Aerosmith concert. I was twelve or thirteen, and I was smitten with Steven Tyler, even though he was so wasted he literally fell over under the weight of a ridiculous fur coat he was wearing, and the concert was unanimously voted “Worst of the Year” by our local music critics. What can I say? The heart wants what the heart wants. I wanted his huge, leering fish-mouth, gold floor-length scarf, and bored-looking, chain-smoking guitar player. Grrrr. I’ve had a weakness for musicians with addictions that look at me with abject boredom through squinty eyes ever since. Whether or not a man can actually remain upright is overrated when it comes to matters of the coochie-coochie, n’est pas?
Speaking of coochie coochie* …
The first time I ever understood the meaning of the word ‘sex” goes a little something like this…

Mama came home from school and shrugged the heavy book bag from her sagging shoulder. Then came the slow process of shedding the armor she wore against the cold: the peeling off of the gloves, finger by finger; the wool hat releasing the damp hair beneath; the unwinding of the scarf, over the head and around, over and around, enough to make you dizzy; thick coat, button down sweater, pullover, and finally the elegant figure of mama emerged, like a delicate bird that had landed uncertainly in the living room. Only her belly looked incongruous, as if she had swallowed a beach ball. Where had she found a beach ball, here in the middle of a Wisconsin winter?

“You asked me where your sister came from, and how she got in my stomach. Those are good questions. I got you a special book from the library today. Shall we make some hot chocolate and read it?”

The book was filled with pictures made from figures cut out of brightly colored construction paper. It was called Where Did I Come From? We spread the pages across our laps, warm and filled with the taste of sweet, curled in on each other like the leaves of a cabbage. I smiled. I was happy and ready to begin. “Your Mommy and Daddy love each other very much,” she began, as I fingered the picture of a smiling, dark haired man, holding the hand of a pretty blonde lady…

I think I am about to embark on some firsts coming up in the near future. Normally, change scares the heck outta me, and I resist it like kitties resist the shower. Try it. They resist real hard. But many of my firsts have been great, and if it weren’t for them, there would never have been seconds. Bring it on, life! I ain’t afraid of you!

*Charo pronounces it “cuchi – cuchi”. Two free fun facts in one posts! Damn, this blog is good!

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