Cold feet, warm heart

That's what my mama used to say... "if you've got cold feet, then you've got a warm heart."

It still makes no sense to me.

Other things my Mom used to say to me that, looking back on it, I'm sure she made up just to keep me happy/quiet/confused:

"Beauty is as beauty does."

"A clean plate is a happy plate."

"Freckles are made by angel's kisses."

"You look so NICE with your hair pulled off your face."

That first one? Makes no sense. The pretty girls were the meanest damn things in school.

The second one I blame for my anthropomorphization of all the dishes in my kitchen. Happy plates, indeed. A ridiculous notion. Everyone KNOWS that plates are capable of only feeling satifaction or disgruntlement. It's the CUPS that do "happy." Sheesh!

The thing about freckles? Yeah, um, RIIIIIGHT. You tell that to a kid who's being called "Freckle-Faced Strawberry" by her peers at Glenwood Elementary school and see how much of that line of bull she's going to follow. (For all y'all too young to remember, "Freckle Faced Strawberry" was a Kool-Aid FLAVOR, and was used with great relish and to much cackling by the cruel children that tortured my on the playground as a child.) Angels kisses my eye, lady - those spots were the Devils work and my constant torment!

The last one, about the hair - a big fat LIE, for I am the posesseor of a five-head, a wide plain of cranial covering that, perhaps, in former times would have been called "noble," but in these hypercritical ages is what is called "a 'look' liability." Add to this fact that I have one wicked mutha cowlick that cantilevers a giant chunk of fivehead hair off to one side, and I can't even do BANGS correctly. Sigh. Ponytail most assuredly does not equal A.Good.Look.

My mother, the liar.

She meant well, I'm sure, but to me, the child whose middle name OUGHT to be "Literal," all the aphorisms did was to confuse me and make me question what the heck that woman was TALKING about!

Oh, she also used to say "love one another, sister and brother," which would engender nothing but tongue-sticking-outing and sneering-at-one-anothering-behind-Mom's-back-ing. What's a brother FOR if not to fight with and pick at and tickle until he pukes? I learned pretty early that brothers are not for drowning, so that was out, and physical violence was kinda frowned upon at my house, so the sibling warfare was generally of the psychological variety. Still, the demand to love them was not easy to take, and generally not obeyed.

These days' now that I am the Mom, I try to watch what comes out of my mouth,

Mostly.

Sometimes.

On Tuesdays.

And also Sunday mornings as I drive to the Walmart past all those full churches.

I have to be very careful, because I don't want to fill the Things' heads with visions of pissed-off dishware or smooching cherubim, do I? Where would THAT get them?

It's far more important to discuss giant spotted monkeys and which Pokemon has the coolest attack and which Superhero power we would have if we could only pick one. (For the record? I'd fly. Totally) There's hardly TIME for platitudinal life lessons amongst all THAT nattering, now is there?

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Two questions:

1) What inane/confusing/justplainWRONG sayings did your folks like to use on you when you were a kid?

and

2) Which superhero power would YOU have if you could only have one? (ex: there's flying OR super-stretchiness OR really fast running OR man-of-steelyness OR invisibility OR telepathy, OR, OR, OR, a host of other really cool abilities. You can have 1)

Plop your answers in the comments, please.

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Have a marvey weekend y'all - I'll be back Monday. Oh, and check out the last installment of the guest posting week at Spiffytown - Rick's got some fine notions for BIG FUN!