Lest you all think I'm just a glitter and rainbows kinda sort . . . Moon was adding to his supply list, "What are cap rolls, and do we have any?" Imagine his surprise, and mine, when I suddenly remembered that, yes, I did, and knew where they were.
I have no memory of when or where I got them. Probably I saw them somewhere and had a flash of memory and the fun we had as kids banging the caps with rocks on the sidewalk, trying to hit them just right to make those tiny cracks of explosion. It ranked right up there with popping the tar bubbles in the street and setting paper on fire with a magnifying glass on hot summer days.
Moon and I sat on the sidewalk, smashing the caps with rocks, me telling him all of this, and about standing on the edge of the concrete holding tanks Dad sometimes had on the back of the flatbed from work. We would grab tree branches and swing off Tarzan style, until Mom yelled for us to stop before someone broke an arm.
And then there was the "vacation" my family took every May. We would go to Eastern Oregon for a week of camping with a couple of other families. Once you were twelve you got to join the group that went out each day to the rancher's land and shoot rifles at the ground squirrels that would pop out of their holes. (The holes were a hazard for the cattle) After my first "kill" I cut the tail off of the poor creature, tied a string on it, and wore it for weeks until it rotted off, much to my 5th grade teacher's dismay.
After hearing my tales, Moon asked me if I ever did anything that wasn't dangerous as a kid? I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised about his latest interests after all.
(Yarn spun from a Hobbledehoy batt, the colorway is "Unicorn", in honor of the girl I wasn't!)
