Who am I to Talk?

It sounds as though I was criticizing the nuclear (pun, pun) family in yesterday’s fallout shelter post. which is pretty funny considering MY family was never exactly the Family of the Year as you can see from this photo.

By the looks of things the five-year-old was slated to become a natural born killer but no. He’ grew up onto a productive citizen, like most people.

The girl held at gunpoint used to cut holes in the fronts of her pre-school trousers so her knees could see where they were going as she explained to us; she’s fine today too and is the only person I know who held down a demanding fulltime job in the field of project management while doing fulltime work toward a Master’s Degree at Harvard.

The oldest boy was our former ABC host son and though he was always teasing the 13-year old beside him, threatening to shave off her eyebrows as she slept, he went on to become a whiz in his field: he manages (and if you don’t think THAT job is where the runner meets the road well you’re just not paying very close attention to the way the world works these days.)

The 13-year-old used to sneak out onto the front porch roof and shinny down the posts to be with her friends. Then she got to high school and took a load of Latin, majored in Econ and Africana studies in college and now works for the father beside her in the wonderful world of foam.

That’s me with the black hair God gave me and the fake-gold earring glittering brightly at the dead center of the shot. Not sure how I turned out though I do know that I’m still carrying my water bottle around in my bag with the cap screwed on wrong and then being surprised when it spills all over the interior.

God knows how I’ll turn out.

The hamster took off two seconds after the picture was taken, never to be seen again, and the cat – well, the cat we had to give back to the non-destroy shelter, because she formed the habit of climbing the lace curtains in the living room and peeing down on us all from there,

Just a moment in time, as lived by the far-from-perfect Marottas. with whom I’d be happy to live in a fallout shelter with anytime.

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