In less than a month I will be going to Mexico with my father. What am I looking forward to on this trip? The sand, the sea, the obnoxious quantities of margaritas I will surely have to consume? No, sadly it is the stories of his second wife that he loves to tell when he consumes even a smidgen of alcohol. You see she wasn't just your normal stepmother. She was grade A crazy! My father plucked her from Podunk, Louisiana after her parents begged him to marry her. The day she left they must have thrown a coon roast for the whole county!
The trouble started when my father began traveling for his job. He would leave for weeks at a time which apparently left her to dream up ways she could destroy their marriage and cause herself some bodily harm at the same time. Now, I am pretty close to my father and if I ever need his attention I simply yell "Dad". Glenda had a better way. When she needed his attention she would run full force into the wall leaving a perfectly round head hole in the sheet rock. My current stepmother, bless her heart, hung an antique bed warmer over the hole and hid her jewelry in the wall. A homemade safe of sorts. Glenda was also insanely jealous of my relationship with my father. I can see why since we only got to see each other every other weekend and select holidays as dictated by the divorce decree. For my part I wasn't too fond of her and immediately after the wedding set about making my every other weekend at their house a living hell. For her not me. When their new house was nearing completion my father in an attempt to include me in the process said I could pick out the patio furniture. Seriously this was supposed to make me feel better for the stepwitch painting my room peach. I hate peach! She hated lime green. Boy did that lime green furniture look good on the patio though. So, Glenda if you are out there and have moved past your third grade education so are able to read this- thanks for the memories. I'll be sure to raise a margarita in your honor.