[Kenna]

When I lived with my great gramma, I was her "bluebird" angel. I adored that woman. When I visited with "Ms. Weaver"...who became my son's gramma later, I was her angel too... as a child, I was never happier, loving or as content as when I was with "Lil Gma and Gramma Weaver".... they were my safe-haven and home away from home....

When I lived with mom, my perpetually drunk step-dad and my mean-as-a-rattlesnake step-brother and sister.... my evil twin came out....

I stole mom's car once when I was about 13/14....and nearly lost it off the side of a mountain.... that's all I'm gonna say about that story...

would never come home to mom's by her curfew (would rather take a beating)...and broke the window out of the porch door with a brick when my sister locked me out....

I tormented my kid sister because she did the same to me... I locked her in an outhouse once and then dropped a mouse down the vent hole; would destroy all her barbies; burned her favorite clothes a couple times; broke her jaw when I was 17 and she was 12 (she kicked my pregnant belly first); cut her pony tall off while she was sleeping (it was just a little "snip snip" right before the family reunion); fed her favorite shoes to the tree shredder (after she bleached all my clothes); locked her in the old root cellar by super gluing the padlock shut (this cellar was known for spiders, snakes and other creepy crawlies...they had to use bolt cutters to get her out); convinced her while she was picking wildflowers that "those pretty little green leaves of three over there would go nice bundled with your flowers, and over there is some pretty "baby's breath"....unknown to her, I sent her picking Poison Ivy.... In my defense, I never did anything to her that was not provoked... SHE was the Hellion and to this day is just as mean as her brother...

At 8 years old, I ran away several times to "go to gramma's"...walking barefoot on a 4 lane highway to get there... this drove my mom batty!!

At 9, my uncle "George" would torment us girls by nearly drowning us, loosing his temper and holding us under the water at bath time.... I found a way to torment him right back (I hid all his "water jugs" and f**ked up all his hunting guns with plaster of paris then set loose all his coon dogs - after I set loose the live coon he kept in the garage for "training"), to this day he hates me just as much as I loathe him.

At 11, dumped used engine oil, cow crap and rotten eggs all over the 1960-something Ford Truck that my step-dad had just got done restoring....blamed that one on my step-brother...

other than that, I think I was a typical rebellious teen....