Oh deer

For the oldest daughter last week was track camp, this week swimming. While I enjoy being supportive and encouraging of healthy activities, I have to admit that I could go a whole life without having to hear the phrase " and now for event 49" again. 49 events ?!?!

In the back of that church last weekend there was a old metal stand that brought back a long lost memory.

When I was a kid my grandmother had an fancy ashtray that sat on a metal stand. That was back in the days when smoking was still cool...

when my parents would shove the three of us in the back of a toyota corolla, my sister sitting on the hump, and they would chain smoke for the 60 minute drive to my grandparents house while the three of us would have our noses pressed to the little wedge of a back window gasping for air


...yeah, cool..the good old days. Anyway, when I was around 3 years old I took the ashtray out of the stand and put the stand on my head and ran around with it on my head pretending I was a deer or a bull and entertaining my grandmother. In my excitement and my desire to crack my grandmother up, I lowered my head and, doing my best El Toro immitation, I plowed into the wall.

When I did that, the circular ring that comprised the top of the stand..and the halo for my antlers, slid over my head, past my ears and down around my neck where it hung loosely.

Now this was no immediate threat to my safety. While the circle was slighly smaller than my head, it was much wider than my neck so that wasn't a concern. But the impact of hitting the wall and the pain of having the shape of my head temporarily turned into a cylinder as the circle slid down around my skull did scare the hell out of me. I started running around the house wailing at the top of my lungs.

When they finally cuaght me and settled me down they then were faced with the task of trying to get this thing off my head. The problem was that the fact that it went on my head was just about impossible, but was coaxed by the blunt force of me running into a wall. You just couldn't recreate those forces to take the thing off without tearing my head from my torso....but that didn't stop my mother and grandmother from trying. One of them held onto me and the other grabbed the stand. First they started of gently...pull and twisting...all the while squishing my face and sending me in to fits. Then, as if tearing off a band-aid quicly to limit the pain to a child, they started trying to tear the thing off in a herky-jerky motion. Unfortunately in this instance the 'band-aid' just wouldn't come off. As a side benefit, I may have gotten an inch taller that afternoon...all in the neck.

Then came the lubricants...

Now I understand that desperate times take desperate measures...and now, as a parent myself, I understand how having a crying freaked-out kid ( in this case with a giant metal stand on his head) can really freak you out. But at that time I was convinced that they were insane.

My grandmother gave me some ice cream. And while I sat there eating ice cream...eyes all puffy from crying...and antlers still on my head....she melted down 4 sticks of butter. After I was finished and the butter slightly cooled, she any my mother greased my head up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Then they pulled some more. That actually worked to a certain degree and they got the thing as high as my cheekbones before the butter started to dry and cake all over my face. Encouraged and undeterred...but out of butter...they went for the Crisco. Soon my head was lathered in half a tub of Crisco and they were at it again...pulling and yanking and encouraging each other on.

Sadly for all involved...especially me...it didn't work.

So they did what every housewife in the 60's did when they were faced with an untennable situation...the called the fire department. No shit. So if you're ever in Central Jersey and you run into an old weathered fireman who tells some story about the time he had to take bolt cutters to some house, to cut an ashtray stand off the head of of some boy, whose grandmother had lathered his head with butter and crisco...he's not full of shit. And do me a favor and buy him a beer on me. I'll pay you back.

GOOGLE IMAGES OF PEOPLE WITH THEIR HEADS STUCK IN STUFF