Day 4: The Great Swami

*Apologies - a little technical difficulties posting this blog. I back posted.*

The Game: Three truths and one lie, blog-style.

The Instructions: For the next four days, I'll be posting four life stories. You get to pick out the fake on Day 5. Comments will be off until the official day of the reveal.

The Inspiration: CJane's original.

*****


One weekend during my sophomore year of high school, I had a little party at my house with a few girlfriends - and a lot of guy friends. This was one of my first, as the old people say, "mixed" get-togethers as a teen at my house. I was pumped to have so many cute, fun boys over.

We ordered pizza, played nightgames and did what high school kids do best -- hang out.

Now having friends over at the Nielson House was a full family event. Every guest met and hung out with my siblings and parents. My dad was not the stereotypical father who ignores his kid's friends. He took the time to meet and get-to-know every friend that came through our door. My little sister and I are so close in age, we were friends with each other's friends anyway. And my brothers -- particularly the youngest -- were the little siblings who loved tagging along.

And my mom...oh, my mom. She was a kind and gracious host, loved meeting new friends and made a point to talk with their parents. But she delighted in embarrassing us.

That night was no exception. After some sort of hide-and-go-seek along our street (with my little brothers joining in on the fun), we sunk into our living room couches to "hang out" -- my siblings and parents standing nearby.

"Hey guys, why don't Norm and I show you a great game!" my mom said, seizing an opportunity of inactivity in a crowd to organize a game. "It's called: 'The Great Swami.'"

My siblings and I groaned. It's my mom's calling in life to turn any seemingly normal discussion into charades, a board game or any awkward group activity. And if there are two words that will strike fear into our hearts, it's Great Swami. This is a trick involving nine cards laid out on the floor (or, in my parent's case, encyclopedias or magazines to appeal to a larger crowd). My mom acts as host, my dad the assistant. Mom leaves the room while dad leads the group in picking a single card for my mom to "mysteriously" guess correctly.

My mom, seeing a moment of prime embarrassment for her children, gets into full stereotypical all-knowing mystic character costume. She wraps a towel around her head to act as a turban, putting her hands in a meditative position and speaks like an Indian man.

It was often performed at our our birthday parties when we were young. And, clearly, it did not stop when we got older.

I am actually having bad flashbacks to that night just writing about this. My parents PERFORMED a magic trick in front of a bunch of boys I went to high school with, my mom DRESSING up in stereotypical garb (no offense Atul) and my dad egging her on.

OH, I was MORTIFIED. I must have blacked out when the actual trick happened because I just remember leaving the room, my friends dragging me out, me thinking "PLEASE, THIS IS NOT HAPPENING."

But it was. And that was not the last time. Anytime I had boys over of the opposite sex, including well into college, my parents threatened me with the Great Swami, laughing at my cringes.

And the worst part? My friends LOVED it.

From then on, despite my tag-along brothers, small house and crazy mom, they wanted to hang out at the Nielson's house.

"It will be fun. Her mom will probably embarrass her."