Monday, January 10, 2011

You've just been Gibb slapped!

Knuckle popping. A habit I have had since the day I was born. My brothers and sister did it. I remember sitting in Sacrament popping my dad's just because it was fun. My mom doesn't do it, but she's never made a big deal about it. It feels great, it's like instant relief for the hands. I have never ever thought that somebody could be so disgusted by it. Never.

There's a first for everything.

I remember that first. Tracy had come over with her daughters for a brief moment to say hi to me. I remember that day - such a great day. It's the simple things, it really is. Anyways, it was semi-awkward 'cause well...I'm awkward. It's normal. One of the kids cracked their knuckles and all of sudden it's a big deal. "Please stop it! You know how much I hate that." Of course that led to every child doing it just to pinch a nerve in Mom. It was funny, and I sat there thinking to myself, 'Crap, I don't want her to yell at me.' (And when I say yell, I really mean using a stern voice candy coated will loads of love. We teenagers know how to over-exaggerate.) I made a comment about it too, and she flat out told me she would say something to me if I did it around her. I never expected to spend much time with her anyways, so I wasn't too worried, but the memory of the conversation is as fresh in my mind as when the words were spoken. It's all there.

Imagine that I end up spending the majority of my Thanksgiving break around her and her family. Then I was asked to stay at their house for the following week. As much as I thought they all did NOT want me there. I went. Throughout the week the original conversation replayed in my head, and I tried real heard to respect how she felt about cracking knuckles. But, I slacked off. GASP. Not a word was said to me though. I know that she had to have heard it a couple times and I'm sure it hit a nerve. But not a peep, not once. Well, not to me. For all I know she went into her room each night and stuck pins into a Chanae VooDoo doll.

One of the last days, I was sitting in the kitchen and all the kids were home and one of then cracked their knuckles. Bam! "Stop doing that! You know how much I HATE that!" The whole week flooded back to me and if I wasn't surrounded by a bunch of people and if I knew I wouldn't have made a scene I would have gladly banged my head against the wall. How could I be so thoughtless? Of course she's not going to get after me. What was I thinking?! I felt horrible about it, I was so mad at myself.

At the beginning of this year I said to myself, I need to stop. If it bugs someone that much, then okay, I'll at least try. I've been needing to anyways, just never had a reason. I have made it successfully 8 whole days without purposefully popping my knuckles. Hooray for me, right? No, not really. Somehow through this whole process I've formed this image that if I even THINK about doing it, I get Gibb slapped.

I can never win.

But, I guess there really is a first. For everything.