SARCAS M, OR WICKED SENSE OF HUMOR?

Helberg meaning of the word:

SAR – short/twisted for “sarry, but you set yourself up for this.

CAS – short/twisted for “cas I have to slam you now – ya know that!

M:short/twisted for “Mm gonna be sorry I did it, but will do it again in a heartbeat!

My family, for decades, has thrived on it. If we don’t pick on you, we don’t like you. Just ask anyone that knows us. Even when we do something outstanding, a complement is always – ALWAYS – met with a quip.

My sister was doing her passion in the kitchen and came out with this prize:

DSC_0002

It’s called “An Apple Rose” and it is not only yummy but a real wow-er (yes, I’m pretty sure it’s a new word for the Webster people)! She, as always, hands one to me for taste testing (yes, the job is hard but someone has to do it-boo hoo). So, being the polite sister that I am, I accepted the challenge, downed the puppy and responded: “Oh ya, these can’t go to work with you, pretty sure they ALL have to stay here at home.”

She knows, of course, that this means they are fantastic and too good to share! She then replies, “So I should throw them all to the chickens?” I proceed to tell her that pretty sure they would be poison for our birds, and we need to force ourselves to suck it up and eat them.

It’s always been this way. If we really like or love something, gotta slam it. If we don’t really care about it – straight answer. My earliest memory of the origin of this was my sister and I volunteering (ya-sure, 8 and 10 years old volunteering to clean?) to clean up the kitchen after dinner. I don’t remember why or how we thought of it, but mashed potatoes were the instigator in our plan.

Now any parent knows when the kids are quiet, or worse giggling, there is something wrong. So, being the great father that he was, he sauntered into the kitchen to see what we were up to. “What’s going on in here?”, he growled. There we stood, ear-to-ear smiles on our faces, covered head-to-toe in soapy water from doing dishes, most of the table was cleared. “Nothing,” we both responded.

Dad was on to us. He stood in the door way, researching the room to spy the reason for our comradery. He did not see anything out of place, glared one more time at us, turned to leave the room, and just started to say Don’t take too long – WHEN IT HAPPENED! The mashed potatoes that we had flung to the ceiling had decided, at that exact moment, to release. Landed smack on top of dad’s head.

He placed a hand on his head to see what had attacked him. Slowly turned back to re-view the kitchen. He now spotted the numerous blotches of mashed potatoes and slick slimy rounds of bologna sandwich meat spattered all over the ceiling. My sister and I were proud of our ability to do this great work of art, but pretty sure dad was not going to appreciate it.

I always knew our father was special, particularly when it came to his kids, and to say that grown men are worse than little children is an understatement where he was concerned. But in this moment, it was perfectly matched. Instead of a scowl, he had a slight grin on his face. “Clean up this mess, get it all off the ceiling and clean that too.” He said. Turned and went back to the living room. We, in turn, stood giggling and watching as the other flung food began to lose its grasp of the ceiling and come crashing to the floor.

To this day, I don’t know if he ever told anyone about this, but I do know that we sisters have talked and laughed about it many times. So, in conclusion, my family raised me well with sarcasm and a wicked sense of humor. These both have proved to serve me well – no really! What would your parents have done with you and your mashed potatoes?

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helbergfarmstories

I love to write. It is one of the constants in my life that brings me joy. I also love to tell stories, read, knit, crochet, weave, plant gardens, raise our own food, play game with my grandson and throw out my wicked sense-of-humor every chance I get (parents fault – they raised us this way, and I am very glad of it!). I have hundreds of great stories from my life that I want to share. Most are very humorous, some maybe not so much. I hope that all are found interesting. Some of the things that have happened to me in life are: • Growing up on a farm in Wisconsin. • Raising and creating 4-H projects for the fair. • Growing food through natural methods (no chemicals here). • Learning (via trial-and-error methods) how to process all kinds of foods. • The death of several loved ones: Parents, fiancé, grandson. • Living through 2 house fires (2nd of which cost me the one grandson). • Having and raising a disabled daughter (20 surgeries in the first 20 years of her life). • Surviving a rape and abusive x-boyfriend and now being able to talk about it. • Giving up everything and moving to another state with $100 in my pocket. • Giving up a steady well-paying job to buy a farm. • Learning and sharing how to really enjoy farm life. • Writing through all of it. These are just samples of all the amazing things I have experienced. I had parents that were amazing! They encouraged all of us to try everything, at least once. Mom tried to get us to enjoy the riches of the world – fine dining (got some great stories on those episodes), how to sit up straight and walk straight to be noticed. She showed us how to walk into a room as if you owned the place. The best thing she taught us was the fine art of storytelling. She grew up with only the radio era folk, so the art of conversation was everything. One regret I have is that I did not keep the letters between her and our Aunt Elaine. They were filled with family happenings and priceless! Dad was a different egg. He and mom seemed like such opposites, but no two opposites were more meant for each other. He was a big, strong, tough man that had been through war times and then something much worse – surviving three daughters! EEEK! Now, looking back, I realize why they both grayed prematurely – we three gremlins. The thing that stands out most in my memory of my father is his compassionate humor. No matter how mad he got at something stupid one of us did, there was always the little twinkle in his eye that told us it was ok. My little sister had him wrapped around her finger – she could do no wrong in his eyes. To best describe him is to let you know that his knick-name for me was “Dumb Shit.” To understand it you may have to watch old Archie Bunker shows – that was my dad. My sisters and I all have some type of talent. The oldest is the wet-noodle. She falls for any stray that comes her way. Then has to feed it and the world (she's an excellent cook by-the-way!) immediately. The youngest is the Artist. She can draw, paint, and/or create so many different things and she too has the passion for cooking. The biggest difference in the two is the first can’t even draw stick people and cooks using shortcuts. The 2nd does everything from scratch – art and cooking. Me, I’m the middle kid. I love to tear things apart and put them back together. I create from scratch – yarn, paint, draw, paper crafts, clay, wood and a number of other things. Cooking is not my passion, I will do it if I have to or if I get an inclination, but it’s not where my heart if. The one big thing we all have in common is our humor. So, my wish here is that as you read my blog (stories), you will find enjoyment in them. What is life if we cannot have a little fun in it?

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