So today is St. Patricks Day and since I have a specific memory of St. Patty's Day, I will start my journey through writing my random memories. Let us venture back to 1989 with a few facts:

#1 - This was me in 1989. I was 11-years-old (to see the full class photo, see below).

#2 - I was in Miss Gayla Gould's 5th grade class (she married someone named Rick Schroeder the next year and moved) at Park Intermediate School in Weiser, Idaho.

#3 - I was the tetherball champ in 5th grade along with my double's partner Robert Preston. He tried to ask me out and kind of wrecked our tetherball skills.

#4 - Monica Goto was my friend.

#5 - Eva McHenry was my friend. At least they were until I found out about the Travis incident.

#6 - Travis Thomason and I had just broken up for the last time (to be written about later).

#7 - Sometime during the year I developed a crush on Robby Morrow (who was actually a step-2nd cousin, unbeknownst to me at the time).

#8 - Chris Chipman had a crush on me.
There's no reason at all that anyone should have had a crush on me in 5th grade. Actually, 5th grade through about my first year of college, really. It wasn't a pretty time of my life.
Chris was a trouble-maker in the class. He was hyper and just got in trouble all the time. He went to the special classes. He was also the stinky boy in class and also related to Gary Chipman, which made it worse. I DID NOT want him to like me.
I believe Chris's crush lasted a very short while and he was probably talked into it by Eva McHenry and Monica Goto (they were my messengers during the break-up with Travis, but I think they secretly sabotaged the whole thing because Monica liked Travis . . . who didn't like Travis?). Chris made it pretty well known in the class that he liked me and he was going to kiss me on St. Patrick's Day.
Do you know the rules of St. Patrick's Day? If you wear green, you won't get pinched, but if you happen to wear red at all, you are in danger of getting kissed. At least these were the rules in 1989 in Weiser, Idaho. I made sure I wore all green and had no trace of red, just to be safe from all contact with Chris.
During the afternoon recess I was standing in the tetherball line, patiently waiting my turn to beat everyone else in line when I heard a small commotion behind me. Suddenly, I got a slap on the back and as I turned my head, Chris's ugly face jumped up and kissed me on my forehead (the slap on the back was a RED heart with tape on it . . . so suddenly I was wearing red . . . it would have been illegal to kiss me if I hadn't been wearing red).
ANGRY. I was so angry. And you will know how angry I was when I tell you that I stepped out of the tetherball line to go tell on Chris. No one stepped out of the tetherball line! I didn't even bother trying to find the on duty recess teacher. I walked right through the doors of the school (a big NO NO) and marched all the way to the principal's office (also a big NO NO) to tell on Chris Chipman. I was FUMING! I even swore.

Mrs. Cynda Campbell, principal, had a perpetual smile on her face (even when I got in big trouble the next year, she disciplined with a smile). So when I told her what Chris had done and how angry I was and how I wasn't even wearing red, she smiled and said that we would go have a talk with Chris.
We found Chris easily on the huge playground and Mrs. Campbell led us to the flagpole for a private thrashing I was sure he'd get. Chris was forced to apologize to me. I was still so angry. Mrs. Campbell, still smiling, actually gave me permission to "clobber" him if he tried it again. I wasn't a violent person, but I wanted to punch him right there. Seriously, that was all the discipline he got!
After the forced apology, I took a place at the end of the tetherball line, angry, surveying the surrounding areas for stinky boy kissers and got even more angry when the bell rang right before my turn. Chris Chipman was dead to me. He quickly got over his crush moments later, but I still have a tiny bump that formed on my head right where Chris Chipman kissed me. I told you he was a stinky boy. And this is the first thing I think of when St. Patrick's Day comes around.

(March 17, 1989 also happened to be the day of my sister Marci's bridal shower. It was a busy day, what with being kissed an all.)