Skip to main content

The Skunk Got Squashed, And There you Are

Until I met and married my husband, I had never watched an episode of Murder, She Wrote, Matlock or Columbo (although, this could be because I hadn't yet developed the TV habits of a 70 year-old widow.)

The cultural exchange on my side included introducing Husband to a song that he swore my family made up. If you know the title, you know half the chorus: Dead Skunk in the Middle of the Road.

Caught in that tricky era between record players (ours was broken) and the Internet, we were unable to share the full reality of the song until my brother found a novelty song CD in a sale bin.

Before you know it, Husband, and later, our son, were cruising down the highway belting out: It's dead, it's in the middle and it's stinking to high-high heav-van.

I'm not sure why this song is such an integral part of my family life that I needed to be sure that my husband could hum along. I mean, our family loved the novelty songs. No one could change clothes without someone shouting out Don't look Ethel.

But Dead Skunk was our song. I guess it had more sing-ability than The Streak and more applicability to life racing down country roads in the back of Mom's lemon-yellow station wagon than, say Yellow Polka Dot Bikini.

Whatever the reason, I'm happy to look back on a great childhood and the wonderful memories we have. I can only hope as a Mother that my children will also think of me and all the cultural references I shared with them, whenever they see roadkill.

P.S. I refrained from photographing the actual dead skunk at the end of our lane last week. Please do yourself a favor and never type in "dead skunk" in Google Images.


Popular posts from this blog

Happily Ever After

Last weekend, in a brief moment of remote control ownership, I tuned into basic cable and saw a very disturbing show called "Rich Bride, Poor Bride." I watched two episodes and didn't see what I would call a "poor" bride--although actually, after they blew their budgets, both brides probably did end up poor. One couple spent about $75,000. They talked her out of having live peacocks at the reception. That makes me think about my own much simpler but very nice-for- Farmersville wedding over a decade ago. In many ways it was a disaster. We were engaged for a year and a half; we had plenty of time to plan but fates conspired against us. By the time we got to the week of the wedding, we had buried two people on the guest list and paid our respects to a distant uncle. One of the people we lost was my husband's grandfather who died Monday, we had visitation Wednesday, funeral Thursday, rehearsal dinner Friday, wedding Saturday. How his grandmother handled

I Know What you Did Last Summer

Good gravy (I have taken up saying this since Husband doesn't curse and I was the only one to blame for our household's junior potty mouths), it's Fall. And I still haven't shown you the before/during/after pictures of my kitchen update. Before : greenish "marble" laminate counters with a yellowed fluorescent light cover--only one bulb working. Carbon dating and a close examination of the many knife cuts evident on the laminate surface have led scientists to believe these counter tops date to the early Aquarius period or possibly late Happy Days epoch. To save money on the almost airline-like add-ons involved in having a big box home improvement chain do this project, we removed the counter tops ourselves. I use the term ourselves very loosely, of course, in that Husband did it. I thought we were well-prepared. Fortunately, they did not have a box on their billing slip for We Pulled out the Oven and OMGOMGOMG!! The workers even kindly looked away while I

Weekend Plans Cut Short

I haven't been at my current job long enough yet, apparently, because people still make the mistake of asking me what are you doing this weekend? I say that it is a mistake to ask me about my weekend plans because that question is supposed to be followed with an ordinary answer like going to see a movie or yardwork. But when you ask me about my weekend plans, you're likely to get an answer like this: well, we'll be pretty busy getting ready for our pig auction. Husband has to give haircuts to 100+ pigs. Yes, you read that right. Pigs get haircuts. Husband is grooming them for the pig auction (we call it a sale) that we are having on Saturday. In the market for a pig? Head over here . Pigs have short, coarse hair that in days of old was used to make brushes (and maybe still today). Husband and other pig farmers clip the hair of the pigs shorter to make them look more appealing to potential buyers, who in this case are 4-H kids and parents looking for a hog to take to th