The adorable, always humorous MBA Jane is my way of honoring our Sisterhood Merit Badge program, now with 6,760 dues-paying members who have earned an amazing number of merit badges so far—9,508 total! Take it away, MBA Jane!!! MaryJane 

For this week’s Merit Badge, I decided to tackle one with my nephew, Andrew. Being a boy, he’s pretty good at tackling, so we channeled all that noisy, dirty energy into something worthwhile: his Cleaning Up/Trash Talk Beginning Level Merit Badge. Little did I know what I was getting myself into …

Beginning our project took some time, for starters. Mostly because I had to give myself a pep talk and channel all my tea-sipping, porch-sitting energy into something more … more high energy. Andrew is a feisty guy, a real go-getter, a pistol, as my Gramma Barbie would say (right after she made him take a nap, probably). But I just knew if we could focus all that squirmy liveliness into a project, it would be a beautiful thing. And also, his mom would owe me a favor. (She makes killer pecan brownies. I prefer to call in my favors when my sweet tooth strikes.)

“Ok, Andy,” I began, in my best no-nonsense, teacher-type voice. “Today, we’re going to play with garbage!”

photo by CGP Grey via Wikimedia Commons

This was music to the little pig-pen’s ears. It was as if I had suggested we bounce on rainbows, ride a unicorn, or play video games until we burst into a firework display of Skittles. He was happy as a clam as we rode out to a couple of local places to learn about our city’s garbage. First up, the dump.

Or, as Andy liked to dreamily refer to it, Boy Heaven.

photo by Ropable via Wikimedia Commons

We spoke with the man in charge (whose job I believe Andy was already taking over in his curly little head), and asked him about recycling and what happens when people don’t bother. He was happy to talk with us, and Andy took notes in his superhero notebook like an intrepid little reporter.

Then we went to the recycling center where nothing goes to die, it just gets reborn. (That’s a good line, if I do say so myself. Write that down, Andy.)

photo by Bazoka via Wikimedia Commons

The recycling center was less stinky, and therefore, less romantical and wonderful for Andy, but he still had a pretty good time. Out came the superhero notebook again, and this time, he really fired some hard-nose questions at the workers.

Things like:

Have you found any treasures?

Can I have this?

What’s your name?

Why is your eye twitching?

Why do you have such a big tummy?

Where’s the potty?

It’s okay. I don’t have to go anymore.

Can I play on the equipment?

Stuff like that.

On the way out, we picked up his very own recycling container for his household and he was pleased as punch to be in charge of bossing around his family lovingly instructing his family on how to use it. He stapled the guideline pamphlet (with recycling dos and don’ts) to his notebook and decorated the rest of the pages with all the free stickers he got at the front counter. Then he tried to pocket the stapler, but I was onto the little guy.

Next up, dropping off Andy and getting me home to take a nap. He wore his recycling container on his head as he raced up his driveway and skidded to a halt next to a discarded soda can lying on the sidewalk. He promptly picked it up, disposed of it properly, and gave me a salute.

Right back atcha, dude.

Welcome New Sisters! (click for current roster)

Welcome New Sisters! (click for current roster)

The adorable, always humorous MBA Jane is my way of honoring our Sisterhood Merit Badge program, now with 6,760 dues-paying members who have earned an amazing number of merit badges so far—9,508 total! Take it away, MBA Jane!!! MJ 

For this week’s Each Other/Civic Heritage Expert Level Merit Badge, I was super-thrilled to try out my acting chops. You see, in order to earn my next badge, I had to participate in a local reenactment. It just so happens, chickadees, that my local downtown does a Wild West bank robbery reenactment for the tourists every year.

Annie Oakley via Wikimedia Commons

Boy howdy, this was gonna be good. I was ready for this—I was born for this. I had spent all my years perfecting drama and all the skills therein; never would the part of Third Tree to the Left be played with such convincing heart!

I jest, of course. A gal like me—born for the stage—was awarded the part of Millie-Ann, a very prominent and important tavern owner.

And by awarded I mean chosen. And by chosen I mean they let me sign up for whatever part I wanted.

But still, Millie-Ann was meant for me. She spoke to me: her flaxen curls, her bossy demeanor, her way with the gentlemen, her flair for pouring a good sarsaparilla … it was Me to a T.

Being a thespian of such high quality, I naturally am what they call a Method Actor. This means I was fully immersed in the character of Millie-Ann for a full week before we began shooting. Er, I mean, performing. Well, there would be shooting; it was a bank robbery, after all. But I’ve gotten off track.

I peppered my speech with lots of “y’alls,” and other such Wild West slang. I piled my hair high in a bouffant style that Miss Kitty would have envied, I tossed back root beer with reckless abandon, I sauntered and walked bow-legged, and I rode attempted to ride my neighbor’s filly to the watering hole. In short, I became Millie-Ann.

The day of the reenactment arrived and I was so nervous. In fact, I was so nervous, I kind of misplaced my script, and when the first bank robber arrived, peeling through downtown on a black stallion, my knees gave way and I nearly fainted. Millie-Ann would not be such a pansy, though, so I snapped out of it—pronto! Having no idea what the script called for (and assuming scripts were nearly as unimportant as owner’s manuals or directions—totally unnecessary and strictly for amateurs), I improvised. I tossed my sarsaparilla in his face, shrieked like a banshee, smacked the stallion on the rump (and nearly got nipped in the process—bad pony), and used my index finger like a proper Wild West shotgun. Bang, bang!

A True Girl of the West, George Bancroft Cornish via Wikimedia Commons

The other actors were not as skilled and proficient as I was in the whole improvising realm, though, so things got a little weird for a while. The audience seemed to enjoy my portrayal greatly though, and that was the important thing.

In case you, too, want to enjoy participating in a Wild West reenactment, here are a few slang terms you really must learn:

Angelica: a young, unmarried woman

Amputate your timber: go away!

Jimmying a bull: shooting an officer

Kansas sheep dip: whiskey

Luddy-Mussy!: Lord have mercy!

Dough wrangler: the camp cook

See the elephant: going to town

Settle one’s hash: to properly punish

Seven by nine: someone of inferior quality (comes from the most common window-pane sizing)

Sparking: courting

Well, that’s enough skittles (nonsense) for now. I gotta join these small fries (kiddos) for some slapjacks (pancakes) with a side of taters and skunk eggs (onions) made in a spider (three-legged, cast-iron skillet), all in apple-pie order (tip-top shape)!

Welcome New Sisters! (click for current roster)