You Tell ME if it's Normal.

So as you may be able to tell, the Sandbo(e)s don't always do things the way other people do things. The Thanksgiving squirrel is just one example of me discovering this. Here's a short list of things, that up until recently, I thought was pretty normal:

1.) Pacifiers as Christmas Tree ornaments. What better way to remember simpler times than six pacies hung from the tree with care? It's also kind of fun to see the evolution of pacifiers. My sister Robyn's had some sort of thick gel inside, it was probably asbestos or scotch, you know, just something to sooth a fussy baby. Something in the chemical make up of Andrew's caused his to shrivel in such a way as to resemble a large black raisin. Unfortunately many binkies were burnt and melted in the fire of 1989. I mean we still hang them up, it's just harder to see pacie evolution. Luckily, every year we get a new ornament (typical thing to do?), and right around 1998 our mom got us all new pacifiers. That, I will admit, is a TINY bit odd. Hanging up pacifiers that have no sentimental value. But it certainly does add a little something.

Binkie of the 50s

2.) Hair dryer as sleep aid. Who among us hasn't reached for a hair dryer when experiencing a listless night? Well, turns out the answer is MOST people. But let me tell you, next time you feel really sick, and can't get to sleep, try putting a hairdryer on your bed-side table, with the warm air blowing directly in your face. The combination white noise, and warmth is sure to do the trick. But Kate, won't it catch on fire or blow a circuit? You ask. Maybe, but in my 26 years that has only happened, like, 15 times, so...
In the early 80s my mom tried to help the older kids kick their hair dryer habit, by recording the sound. But it was NOT the same, and after a quick coup thing went back to normal. Hair dryer and all. My sister-in-law recently informed us that there is a special on TLC about people with weird obsessions, and one gal HAS to sleep with a hair dryer going. We don't think of it as an obsession, it's just fun!

Note hair dryer on the upper left couch corner

3.) Pet Cemeteries. How many do you have in your backyard? If the answer is less than 2, then the Sandbos have got you beat. Yes, there are two different areas of our backyard where numerous dogs, cats, hamsters, guinea pigs, birds, gerbils and fish are buried. Complete with headstones and Virgin Mary and St. Francis statues. I have a hard time believing this is uncommon, but whatever.

A Kindergaten Lesson

There's a little poem about learning all of life's lessons in Kindergarten. The biggies being eat cookies, and flush the toilet. Here's what I learned in Kindergarten, if you step out of line you go to the "Remembering Chair", and you stay there until you remember how one should behave. The Remembering Chair was SO fear inducing for me. I spent many a sleepless night, wondering what would happen to me if my teacher didn't see me raise my hand, indicating I remembered the social norms of the classroom and was ready to be reintroduced to life outside the Remembering Chair. Would I have to stay there all night?!?!? I would constantly ask my mother. She usually told me no, I wouldn't, but it was still a scary thought. More importantly, I learned what to do during a fire! Here's the quick and dirty of it all.
1)Touch a closed door, with the back of your hand, to see there's a fire on the other side
2)Crawl to stay below the smoke like
3)Move quickly to your family's meeting spot, say for example the mailbox


All this played a part in saving my life one cold day in late 1989.


It was a few days after Christmas, and I was deep in a blissful sleep. The teddy bear that, it would appear, Santa got from my neighborhood grocery store, by my side, and I hadn't a care in the world. I vaguely remember semi-waking up to the ear-piercing buzz of a smoke detector, but what really got me were the ear-piercing cries of my oldest sister, Stephany. "FIRE!FIRE!FIRE!". NO, I thought to myself, it's obviously a test of the emergency systems. Wait, even at the tender age of 5 I knew that didn't make any sense. Which meant it was go time. Time to put into practice, what had been drilled into my head by Mrs. McDonald, God bless her.


I sprang from my bed. My bedroom was open. WHICH SIDE SHOULD I TOUCH TO SEE IF THERE'S A FIRE ON THE OTHER SIDE?!?!?! I touched both, and they were cool as cukes, so I knew I was safe for the next second or so. I must have been thrown off by the open door, because I straight out ran out the front door. As I reached the threshold, I remembered you were supposed to crawl below the smoke line. Should I go back and try again? No, I think I should just go to the family meeting spot. Which was... uh, my family had never talked about a meeting spot. I'm sure I had had MANY imaginary conversations on the subject, with everyone of family members, but now I couldn't remember if my real, non-imaginary mother had every told me where we should meet after/during a fire. Instincts must have taken over, because next thing I know I'm at the mailbox, shivering in my bare-feet and nightgown, sobbing because if my family wasn't at the meeting spot, clearly they were trapped inside the blaze! The rest of the Sandbos (or is it Sandboes?) must have been thinking the same thing, beacuse I heard my name being called from the direction of the driveway. I sprinted toward Steve's voice. Turns out the meeting spot was the heated Econoline van. I like to imagine everyone sitting in the van, watching as I sprint out of the yard onto the street. Hopefully they thought something ridiculous, like I was going to keep running until it was daylight, you know something like that.



Once in the van I discovered that the Christmas tree had caught on fire, probably because a plugged-in extension chord got stuck under the metal Christmas tree stand, and got so hot it set the tree ablaze. The fact that we got the tree the day after Thanksgiving probably played into it as well. Steve had put out the fire using a newly purchased fire extinguisher (Thank you Jesus!!). Suddenly, Robyn remembered something. C.J. Our beloved, feisty, flea ridden dog! He was still inside! My mom ran back into the smoke-filled house, and got the little mutt, just as I remembered something too. My Grocery store teddy! God Bless my mother, she rolled her eyes and ran back to get him.


The firetrucks came, and the neighbors all gathered around. It was decided that the three little girls would go sleep at a neighbor's house, and the three older kids would sleep at home, once the firefighters were done, I don't know, looking at where the fire had been. So, we go next door to the home our elderly neighbor shared with her crack, or meth, or something addicted, chain-smoking daughter. Times were different then, and crack addicts were nicer and more predictable, so my parents had no qualms having us spend the night! There were the three of us, snuggled into one bed, and Elna (that's the old gal's name, Elna) placed a pitcher of water with three glasses high atop a dresser. At some point in the night, the cigarette fumes got to me, and I was thirstier than I'd ever been, before or since! The dresser was roughly 8 feet high, so I lay there wondering how I would have to stack my sisters in order to reach it. The obvious answer would be for me to be on the bottom (being the oldest and largest), next Brittany (being the baby she wouldn't be able to pour the water), then Emily on top to get me a drink. But before I could wake up the other two, I had fallen back a sleep.


The next morning we went home, and took 5 or 6 showers to get the cig stank off of us. The older kids regaled us with stories of all the fun they'd had at home. They stayed up all night, watching T.V, eating leftover Christmas fudge, and just enjoying the company of one another. All we got was blood-shot eyes and coughs due to the aforementioned second hand smoke. Come to find out, years later, that was all a lie, and the older kids spent the night on the brink of hypothermia, due to all the windows and doors being opened to air out the house. Robyn even admitted that they all had to sleep in their boots!


So, I guess the lesson everyone should take away from this, is that if the bedroom door is open, you don't have to check its temperature.