Summer is for Spit

August 10, 2011

When I was a kid/teen, my summers were not very social.  We lived in a relatively rural town, and our house was particularly out of the way.  I spent most of my summers at home, at our pool in our yard.

I hung out with my sister.

My sister and I had a very hot & cold relationship growing up.  We were capable of kicking, scratching, slapping, but also squeezing together into a twin bed, singing along to the radio at the top of our lungs, and playing with each other’s hair while watching t.v.

We grew up in a raised ranch.  Our bedrooms were in the “downstairs” which was really a basement, but raised just enough so we had full windows.  Down there with us was the laundry room, and our bathroom.  Our parents’ bedroom was upstairs on the opposite end of the house.  So when they went to bed at 10 or whatever, they really had no clue what we were doing downstairs.

The summer that I’m thinking of now was the summer after my freshman year.  This makes sense, because neither myself nor my friends had driver’s licenses yet, so I hadn’t progressed to the summers of hanging out at friends’ pools at night, and doing other things that didn’t require a ride from my parents.  If I was going into my Sophomore year, sis must have been going into … [trying to do the math] … 7th grade. So she was close to Mouse’s age, and I was Lemon’s age.  Sis and I have a little more space between us than my girls do, but it was still close.

This is what we were doing while my parents were sleeping:  We were listening to my Cyndi Lauper (True Colors) tape -over and over and over.  We had a special affinity for Iko Iko.  And we were playing the card game spit.

Of course, I was winning pretty frequently (yeah, she’d dispute that).  There were lots of charges of cheating.  Many decks of cards were thrown.  Sometimes into the other sister’s face.  With force.  Sometimes we were able to move on and start a new game, sometimes the throwing of the cards resulted in both of our doors closed and a lonely rest of the night (since we were conditioned to going to sleep at 2 a.m., there were several hours to fill).

But it remained a favorite game for years.

Last night, Lemon and I played Spit.  After she cried uncle on endless episodes of Twin Peaks. (I like the show, mom, but I’m sick of sitting in the dark watching television!)  Before we turned to the old standby, she taught me a couple of other games she picked up on her trip to Canada.  They were fine, but I wasn’t winning.  When she offered spit as an option, I took her up on it.

I was a little fuzzy on the rules, but I caught on quick.  It’s like riding a bike.  There was one step that I wasn’t remembering and she told me:

This is how you originally taught us, and it’s the way you played with Auntie J, but when you were teaching us, we were young, and we couldn’t win, so you modified the rules so we could win.  Now let’s go back to the right way.

Aww, I said, I was a good mom!  And my crowning achievement of the summer is her response:

Well, duh.  Can we play now?  

And I won.  And she was frustrated (in a fun way), and made a big mess of the cards on the living room floor.  Neither of us would clean it up, because I claim (rightfully so) that loser has to clean up, and she (ridiculously) claimed that the winner had to clean up.  Pfft.


One comment

  1. […] I’ve mentioned here before, when I was their age, my sister and I were very close.  We spent a lot of time together and […]

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