I will share with you my favorite Christmas memory in a few days, for now I will share the second favorite memory.
I was 6 years old and in the first grade. We lived on Ft. Benning and my brother and I attended McBride School. Every year the students would but on a Christmas program for the parents. The first graders were to sing "Rockin' around the Christmas Tree." A very good song, one of my favorites still. In honor of the Christmas season, I had on a frilly red and white dress, white stockings with my good shoes, and a beautiful bow in my hair. I felt beautiful.
Now, as most people know, when you put a girl in a frilly dress she twirls. It simply cannot be helped. It is something girls are born knowing. Little boys make sound effects, little girls twirl. Now, this little girl was in a beautiful frilly dress, and catchy music was indeed playing.
Apparently the large group of 6 year old children were expected to stand still while we sang this unbelievably catchy song. I however did not hear the "stand still" command, and thought that the performance could benefit from some dress swishing (a swish is a half twirl). The music teacher didn't appreciate my contribution to the concert, because she kept whispering and gesturing to me to hold still. After a few looks/whispers/gestures from the music teacher my "real teacher" started trying to get me to hold still, even my own mother gestured for me to stop. I couldn't stop.
I had to swish.
After all, the song was about dancing.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
Rockin' Ol' St. Nick
When I was in the fourth grade, I was in chorus. Our Christmas program for that year was a "Rockin' Christmas." My big debut was as an elf for "Rockin' Ol' Saint Nicholas" like "Jolly old Saint Nicholas" you know the song..."Jolly old saint Nicholas, lean your ear this way..." Santa was a fifth grade boy and me and two of the other girls in my grade were his elves. We were Rockin' Elves. We wore black leotards, with red or green tights. We also word roller blades and sunglasses and were pulled onto the stage by Santa. We did the robot as our dance.
It was impressive.
It was impressive.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
5 Golden Rings
The elementary school I attended when we lived in FL had a chorus that the fourth and fifth graders were allowed to sing in. When I was in the third grade we were asked to be a part of the Christmas concert as toys for a song about Santa's shop. We came onto the stage each dressed up as a toy, and then we stayed on the stage for the last song or two. I was dressed as the Queen of Hearts, my arch nemesis was Raggedy Ann, but that's a different story entirely. The final song in the show was "12 days of Christmas" The fifth graders performed this song. There was a small boy in a tree dressed as a bird, a kick line of girls, not sure if they were the maids a milking or the ladies dancing (the later would make more since, and my personal favorite, a girl dressed in yellow from head to toe who held 5 yellow hula-hoops-bet you can guess what she was supposed to be. The girl with the hula-hoops stood right behind me, and it seemed that every time "Five Golden Rings" would be belted out by all of us, and she would extend her arms to show her hoops I would get hit in the head. I was quite annoying really, and as the Queen, I really didn't appreciate it.
Every time I hear that song now, I think of the boy in the tree who would flap his "wings" and the poor girls dressed entirely in yellow. And how, as the Queen of Hearts, I sat on the edge of the stage and everyone got to watch me.
Every time I hear that song now, I think of the boy in the tree who would flap his "wings" and the poor girls dressed entirely in yellow. And how, as the Queen of Hearts, I sat on the edge of the stage and everyone got to watch me.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Thank God for horses...
I’m bad at this!
I’ve decided that because I’m so far behind, I’ll just stop trying to catch up and start trying to remember to give my stories every day.
My last story left off with our trip up to Ohio. Once we got there, things were pretty exciting. The Christmas we spent up there was my first and only white Christmas! It was so magical. After we woke up and opened presents and ate breakfast, my Pawpaw, took up to a pasture, hooked a sled up to a tractor, and pulled us around that pasture until all that was left was muddy slush. It was so much fun! That day was the first of several in a row filled with snow. Along with the snow adventure, came many visits to relatives I’d never met, or even heard of. They would all exclaim as they opened the door “Skippy’s Home!” (Skippy was my Dad’s nick name growing up), this exclamation tended to be follow by “If I’d’ve known you were commin’ I’da put my teeth in.” The funny thing was, the entire time we were there, they never did go and put their teeth in, and sometimes, we were there a long time.
Over this vacation, I met a lot of cousins, aunts, uncles, and various other people that my Dad grew up with. I also met my namesake. See, my Dad had an Aunt Virginia. She was a character, let me tell you. Dyed her hair bright red until the day she died (no pun intended). I believe that it was also my Aunt Ginny who subjected my brother to a memory he would rather not have. We were over at her house, and Daddy had taken me outside to ride a horse. My brother was inside, playing video games with a cousin we had just met. Aunt Ginny was talking to someone (Mama I think) about her breast cancer and mastectomy. She then proceeded to lift her shirt and show whomever was present her lack of “bounty” while saying “look.” Justin, not having been paying attention to the conversation, looked.
Glad I was riding that horse.
I’ve decided that because I’m so far behind, I’ll just stop trying to catch up and start trying to remember to give my stories every day.
My last story left off with our trip up to Ohio. Once we got there, things were pretty exciting. The Christmas we spent up there was my first and only white Christmas! It was so magical. After we woke up and opened presents and ate breakfast, my Pawpaw, took up to a pasture, hooked a sled up to a tractor, and pulled us around that pasture until all that was left was muddy slush. It was so much fun! That day was the first of several in a row filled with snow. Along with the snow adventure, came many visits to relatives I’d never met, or even heard of. They would all exclaim as they opened the door “Skippy’s Home!” (Skippy was my Dad’s nick name growing up), this exclamation tended to be follow by “If I’d’ve known you were commin’ I’da put my teeth in.” The funny thing was, the entire time we were there, they never did go and put their teeth in, and sometimes, we were there a long time.
Over this vacation, I met a lot of cousins, aunts, uncles, and various other people that my Dad grew up with. I also met my namesake. See, my Dad had an Aunt Virginia. She was a character, let me tell you. Dyed her hair bright red until the day she died (no pun intended). I believe that it was also my Aunt Ginny who subjected my brother to a memory he would rather not have. We were over at her house, and Daddy had taken me outside to ride a horse. My brother was inside, playing video games with a cousin we had just met. Aunt Ginny was talking to someone (Mama I think) about her breast cancer and mastectomy. She then proceeded to lift her shirt and show whomever was present her lack of “bounty” while saying “look.” Justin, not having been paying attention to the conversation, looked.
Glad I was riding that horse.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Another two stories and I'll be all caught up!!! Here we go...
#1-Good ol' Hank
The Christmas that I was in the fifth grade we decided to travel up to Ohio to visit my Dad’s family. We hadn’t seen his family in a while, so it was quite an adventure for us. Before we left for the trip, Dad bought all of us water proof winter boots. They were the green rubber and leather ones like LL Bean sales. It should be noted that I thought that these were the coolest boots EVER. Mom and Dad also bought us all new winter coats, seeing how we would be spending a while in the Ohio winter, as opposed to south Florida. We traveled to Ohio in my Mom’s mini van, Justin was in the back and I was in the middle. It was a full two day drive.
*Side note: for those of you who have ever traveled with my father (excluding the past 3 years or so) you no what this must have entailed. For those who haven’t ever traveled with him, well, consider yourself blessed (no offense Dad). See, Daddy, bless his heart, is a bit, shall we say, high strung. When we travel, the level of high strung-ed-ness is raised to the 7th power. We must be out of the house by x time. Not 1 minute after x time. If we were one minute after x time his face would begin to tense. You could literally see his blood pressure rising. His neck would begin to turn red, and it would creep up until his entire face was red. He normally didn’t say much during these times, but you could cut the tension with a knife. No, imagine this for a two day drive. *
To help pass the time in the car, Daddy brought along a couple of books to read aloud. Now, I for one can’t read in the car. It makes me carsick. Daddy on the other hand, can apparently read for hours without one tiny bit of motion sickness, and am I glad for it. Daddy reading to us in the car wasn’t a new thing. Even now, he’ll read on long trips if he has a book. I love to listen to him read. He has such a powerful voice, you wouldn’t think he’d be one to do the voices for characters, but he does. His voice will melodiously change from gruff to stern to dumbfounded to soothing while reading. It’s amazing. The books that he brought along were the first few in a series known as “Hank the Cowdog.” This series features Hand, a cowdog, which is like a cowboy, only in dog form. Hank thinks that he’s just class A, number one on the ranch. Unfortunately, Hank’s not very bright, and this leads to many an adventure.
Daddy reading those books certainly did pass the time on the drive to Ohio.
#2-The Relatives Came (a teaser)
On the note of stories that Daddy used to read, there’s one book that I also really like. It’s called “How the Relatives Came.” It’s a book about a family who has moved away from Appalachia and how their relatives come to visit (shocking I know). Anyway, it’s a really good book. It talks about how the family from Appalachia all pile into a couple of cars, and they drive through the night, and they sleep on the floors in the house and are loud and crazy, and everyone has fun, and then when they leave in a few days, everyone breaths a sigh of relief, but then they miss them. This book reminds me of our visit to Appalachia that winter. I won’t expound too much on our Christmas in Ohio (I need stories for tomorrow), but suffice it to say that it was loud, and crazy, and no one ever seemed to have their teeth in.
#1-Good ol' Hank
The Christmas that I was in the fifth grade we decided to travel up to Ohio to visit my Dad’s family. We hadn’t seen his family in a while, so it was quite an adventure for us. Before we left for the trip, Dad bought all of us water proof winter boots. They were the green rubber and leather ones like LL Bean sales. It should be noted that I thought that these were the coolest boots EVER. Mom and Dad also bought us all new winter coats, seeing how we would be spending a while in the Ohio winter, as opposed to south Florida. We traveled to Ohio in my Mom’s mini van, Justin was in the back and I was in the middle. It was a full two day drive.
*Side note: for those of you who have ever traveled with my father (excluding the past 3 years or so) you no what this must have entailed. For those who haven’t ever traveled with him, well, consider yourself blessed (no offense Dad). See, Daddy, bless his heart, is a bit, shall we say, high strung. When we travel, the level of high strung-ed-ness is raised to the 7th power. We must be out of the house by x time. Not 1 minute after x time. If we were one minute after x time his face would begin to tense. You could literally see his blood pressure rising. His neck would begin to turn red, and it would creep up until his entire face was red. He normally didn’t say much during these times, but you could cut the tension with a knife. No, imagine this for a two day drive. *
To help pass the time in the car, Daddy brought along a couple of books to read aloud. Now, I for one can’t read in the car. It makes me carsick. Daddy on the other hand, can apparently read for hours without one tiny bit of motion sickness, and am I glad for it. Daddy reading to us in the car wasn’t a new thing. Even now, he’ll read on long trips if he has a book. I love to listen to him read. He has such a powerful voice, you wouldn’t think he’d be one to do the voices for characters, but he does. His voice will melodiously change from gruff to stern to dumbfounded to soothing while reading. It’s amazing. The books that he brought along were the first few in a series known as “Hank the Cowdog.” This series features Hand, a cowdog, which is like a cowboy, only in dog form. Hank thinks that he’s just class A, number one on the ranch. Unfortunately, Hank’s not very bright, and this leads to many an adventure.
Daddy reading those books certainly did pass the time on the drive to Ohio.
#2-The Relatives Came (a teaser)
On the note of stories that Daddy used to read, there’s one book that I also really like. It’s called “How the Relatives Came.” It’s a book about a family who has moved away from Appalachia and how their relatives come to visit (shocking I know). Anyway, it’s a really good book. It talks about how the family from Appalachia all pile into a couple of cars, and they drive through the night, and they sleep on the floors in the house and are loud and crazy, and everyone has fun, and then when they leave in a few days, everyone breaths a sigh of relief, but then they miss them. This book reminds me of our visit to Appalachia that winter. I won’t expound too much on our Christmas in Ohio (I need stories for tomorrow), but suffice it to say that it was loud, and crazy, and no one ever seemed to have their teeth in.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Because I'm bad at blogging everyday, and am now 2 days behind. I will give you 2 stories today, and 2 tomorrow...it's getting hard to think of these things!
Story #1:
Our very first Christmas in Florida I was in the third grade. Mom worked with the children’s ministry, and conducted the children’s choir. That Christmas the children’s program was the nativity story. We were wrapped in what felt like yards of cloth, that smelled like it had been stored in and attic for about 10 years; probably because they had been. Because of the lack of little girls at the church, and because my Mommy was the director, I got to be Mary. Hurt Head stared as the baby Jesus. My one line in the performance was “And they said that his name was Jesus” which came during a song that the shepherds were singing.
Story#2
At some point in our time in Florida, I’m not sure of which Christmas it was (I’m leaning towards the helmet hair one) Daddy decided that because we lived in Florida, and there weren’t “Christmas” trees that grew in our area, we should have a tree native to our area. We had a palm tree for Christmas. As odd as it sounds, it was actually quite pretty. We bought one from a nursery, so that we could plant it after Christmas. We wrapped it in white lights, and had to buy delicate gold ornaments to hang from the leaves, because all of our other ornaments were too heavy. Once decorated, it was beautiful. After Christmas (but before New Year, because it’s bad luck to go into the new year with your tree still up), we planted the palm in our front yard.
I was looking at our old house on Google the other day, and that palm is still there.
Story #1:
Our very first Christmas in Florida I was in the third grade. Mom worked with the children’s ministry, and conducted the children’s choir. That Christmas the children’s program was the nativity story. We were wrapped in what felt like yards of cloth, that smelled like it had been stored in and attic for about 10 years; probably because they had been. Because of the lack of little girls at the church, and because my Mommy was the director, I got to be Mary. Hurt Head stared as the baby Jesus. My one line in the performance was “And they said that his name was Jesus” which came during a song that the shepherds were singing.
Story#2
At some point in our time in Florida, I’m not sure of which Christmas it was (I’m leaning towards the helmet hair one) Daddy decided that because we lived in Florida, and there weren’t “Christmas” trees that grew in our area, we should have a tree native to our area. We had a palm tree for Christmas. As odd as it sounds, it was actually quite pretty. We bought one from a nursery, so that we could plant it after Christmas. We wrapped it in white lights, and had to buy delicate gold ornaments to hang from the leaves, because all of our other ornaments were too heavy. Once decorated, it was beautiful. After Christmas (but before New Year, because it’s bad luck to go into the new year with your tree still up), we planted the palm in our front yard.
I was looking at our old house on Google the other day, and that palm is still there.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Christmas 'do
When I was in the fourth grade, my family began attending First Christian Church in Sebring, FL. I was the youngest person in the church, followed by my brother, then my parents. It soon became tradition that I would sing some Christmas song that spelled Christmas out, explaining what each letter was for. C is for the Christ child, born upon this day, H for how the Herald angels sang. R is for Redeemer, I for Israel…I can’t remember the rest. Anyway, you get the picture. It’s a cute song and apparently, I looked pretty cute singing it. I wore this little red and green taffeta dress, with a strange square white collar. I also had “awesome” hair. I know it might sound strange to some of you, but my hair wasn’t always curly. I had this little chin length bob, and mom curled it all under, curled my bangs, and then applied so much hairspray that a nuclear bomb wouldn’t have disturbed the ‘do. It looked a lot like a helmet, or some sort of video game person. I was embarrassed by this hairdo, but the dress and the fact that every single old person in the church (the entire population) told me that I was beautiful, adorable, or amazing in some way or another seemed to make up for it. Apart from the hair and the weird collar, it was nice.
The first Christmas Eve night that I did this my Uncle and his family had come down to visit my Granddaddy. My Grandma also came down for Christmas, so the entire family was there to watch me sing! After church my Uncle and his family and my Grandma all came over to my house to open presents. Grandma made all the grand kids matching PJs. Well, the boys had boy PJs and the girls had nightgowns. I remember thinking as I was pulling that flannel nightgown over my helmet hair (which hurt by the way) that it was a little embarrassing. Not the nightgown. I loved it. I loved nightgowns. It wasn’t even embarrassing that my older cousin (of 4 years) and younger cousin (of 8 years) were wearing the same nightgown that I was wearing. It wasn’t embarrassing how we all had to sit on the overstuffed chair and have our pictures made together for no less than 5 pictures.
It was the hair. But luckily, I have plenty of pictures to remind me of it.
The first Christmas Eve night that I did this my Uncle and his family had come down to visit my Granddaddy. My Grandma also came down for Christmas, so the entire family was there to watch me sing! After church my Uncle and his family and my Grandma all came over to my house to open presents. Grandma made all the grand kids matching PJs. Well, the boys had boy PJs and the girls had nightgowns. I remember thinking as I was pulling that flannel nightgown over my helmet hair (which hurt by the way) that it was a little embarrassing. Not the nightgown. I loved it. I loved nightgowns. It wasn’t even embarrassing that my older cousin (of 4 years) and younger cousin (of 8 years) were wearing the same nightgown that I was wearing. It wasn’t embarrassing how we all had to sit on the overstuffed chair and have our pictures made together for no less than 5 pictures.
It was the hair. But luckily, I have plenty of pictures to remind me of it.
Friday, December 4, 2009
2 for the price of 1
Story #1
The Christmas we lived in Washington was the only Christmas that we had a live Christmas tree. We went as a family to a Christmas tree farm somewhere out in the country. The farm had all sorts of things to look at, even live reindeer! I was so excited! We were allowed to pet the reindeer and give them feed and hay to eat. It was so neat.
After feeding the reindeer we went to pick out and cut down our Christmas tree. It was Justin’s job to cut down the selected tree. Justin, being 9 years old, was sure that cutting down this tree wouldn’t be a problem. He was so macho. About 3 minutes into sawing the tree down he decided that he just couldn’t do it. He was too tired. I’m pretty sure that dad made him try for at least a few more minutes, and then ended up cutting down the tree himself. (It was only about 3 inches in diameter). Dad was also the one who ended up dragging/carrying the tree to the car. Once we got back to the car, we decided that we were hungry, and there just happened to be sausages for sell in the gift shop of the farm. Dad went and bought all of us a sausage dog. I was a very picky eater, so I was told that it was a hotdog. After eating our delicious lunch, we tied the tree to the top of the car and started on the drive home.
About half way home, Justin informed me that the “hotdog” I had eaten was really sausage. I told him that I didn’t care, because I liked it. He then told me that it was reindeer sausage, as in, MADE OUT OF REINDEER; just like the one I had petted earlier, probably on of Santa’s. At this I was really upset. I asked mom if it was true, and she confirmed it.
I had indeed eaten reindeer, but no, it was not one of Santa’s, because Santa’s live in the North Pole.
Story#2
After we got that Christmas tree home and in the house we began decorating it. Dad strung the lights (white and twinkling), then mom and I put red bows, red balls, and candy canes on the tree. It was so beautiful. It reminded me of the beautiful trees that you see in department stores. I was so moved by our trees beauty, I asked mom if we could all stand around it and sing Christmas carols while she played the piano.
Everyone laughed at me, and we did not sing.
The Christmas we lived in Washington was the only Christmas that we had a live Christmas tree. We went as a family to a Christmas tree farm somewhere out in the country. The farm had all sorts of things to look at, even live reindeer! I was so excited! We were allowed to pet the reindeer and give them feed and hay to eat. It was so neat.
After feeding the reindeer we went to pick out and cut down our Christmas tree. It was Justin’s job to cut down the selected tree. Justin, being 9 years old, was sure that cutting down this tree wouldn’t be a problem. He was so macho. About 3 minutes into sawing the tree down he decided that he just couldn’t do it. He was too tired. I’m pretty sure that dad made him try for at least a few more minutes, and then ended up cutting down the tree himself. (It was only about 3 inches in diameter). Dad was also the one who ended up dragging/carrying the tree to the car. Once we got back to the car, we decided that we were hungry, and there just happened to be sausages for sell in the gift shop of the farm. Dad went and bought all of us a sausage dog. I was a very picky eater, so I was told that it was a hotdog. After eating our delicious lunch, we tied the tree to the top of the car and started on the drive home.
About half way home, Justin informed me that the “hotdog” I had eaten was really sausage. I told him that I didn’t care, because I liked it. He then told me that it was reindeer sausage, as in, MADE OUT OF REINDEER; just like the one I had petted earlier, probably on of Santa’s. At this I was really upset. I asked mom if it was true, and she confirmed it.
I had indeed eaten reindeer, but no, it was not one of Santa’s, because Santa’s live in the North Pole.
Story#2
After we got that Christmas tree home and in the house we began decorating it. Dad strung the lights (white and twinkling), then mom and I put red bows, red balls, and candy canes on the tree. It was so beautiful. It reminded me of the beautiful trees that you see in department stores. I was so moved by our trees beauty, I asked mom if we could all stand around it and sing Christmas carols while she played the piano.
Everyone laughed at me, and we did not sing.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Southern Belles and red rings
Here it is, Christmas Story #2.
This story skips ahead a few years to when I was 7. Dad had been in Korea for a year and came home right before Christmas. Before he got home, we packed up all of our belongings (well, the Army people did) and Justin, Mom and I moved into Grandma’s for a few weeks so that once dad got home we could move to Washington. This was exciting and terrifying all at the same time. I was really excited to get to live with Grandma for a little bit, and moving was always neat, and we were going to get to see the Grand Canyon on the way to Washington, AND, Daddy was going to be home. All very exciting. The terrifying bit came into play because Justin told me that Washington was a Yankee state, and I was personally terrified of Yankees. All I knew about them was that they marched into Atlanta, burned it up and made Scarlet wear ugly dresses and eat dirt. I did not want anything to do with them, or the way they spoke too fast and loud, chewed their food with their mouths open, talked with their mouths full, ate with their elbows on the table, never said “excuse me” and were just generally rude. All of these “misconceptions” were Mom’s fault for two reasons: she let me watch WAY too much Gone With the Wind and she would tell me that Yankees did the opposite of whatever she wanted me to do (very helpful when teaching me manners).
So anyway, we’re staying at Grandma’s house in Cusseta GA and mom went and got Daddy from the airport and for Christmas/Homecoming present he gave me a pair of beautiful RED ROPERS. They were marvelous. I’m pretty sure I wanted to sleep in them, and when I couldn’t there were tears involved. Dad also made me a red belt to match my red ropers, and the belt had my name on the back, in silver! I thought I was something to look at. I was so excited.
This is also the Christmas that I acquired, via a rescue from my cousin, Hurt Head. Hurt Head is a baby doll that was in a box of hand-me-downs from my older cousin. She is named such because something in the box dug into her head and caused it to crack. Thus giving her a hurt head, thus the name Hurt Head. (Yes, that is what I call her, even now, because, that’s her name, and you do go changing people’s names!)
Back to the red ropers…a few days after Christmas it snowed! I went outside to join my brother in a snowball fight, only to find that my lovely red ropers left horrible red rings in the snow everywhere I walked. Daddy made me come inside and take off my beautiful boots so that all of the color wouldn’t fade off. He had to re-dye them and seal them before I was allowed to wear them again.
I wore those ropers the entire way to Washington, because, well, Yankee’s just don’t have shoes like those.
This story skips ahead a few years to when I was 7. Dad had been in Korea for a year and came home right before Christmas. Before he got home, we packed up all of our belongings (well, the Army people did) and Justin, Mom and I moved into Grandma’s for a few weeks so that once dad got home we could move to Washington. This was exciting and terrifying all at the same time. I was really excited to get to live with Grandma for a little bit, and moving was always neat, and we were going to get to see the Grand Canyon on the way to Washington, AND, Daddy was going to be home. All very exciting. The terrifying bit came into play because Justin told me that Washington was a Yankee state, and I was personally terrified of Yankees. All I knew about them was that they marched into Atlanta, burned it up and made Scarlet wear ugly dresses and eat dirt. I did not want anything to do with them, or the way they spoke too fast and loud, chewed their food with their mouths open, talked with their mouths full, ate with their elbows on the table, never said “excuse me” and were just generally rude. All of these “misconceptions” were Mom’s fault for two reasons: she let me watch WAY too much Gone With the Wind and she would tell me that Yankees did the opposite of whatever she wanted me to do (very helpful when teaching me manners).
So anyway, we’re staying at Grandma’s house in Cusseta GA and mom went and got Daddy from the airport and for Christmas/Homecoming present he gave me a pair of beautiful RED ROPERS. They were marvelous. I’m pretty sure I wanted to sleep in them, and when I couldn’t there were tears involved. Dad also made me a red belt to match my red ropers, and the belt had my name on the back, in silver! I thought I was something to look at. I was so excited.
This is also the Christmas that I acquired, via a rescue from my cousin, Hurt Head. Hurt Head is a baby doll that was in a box of hand-me-downs from my older cousin. She is named such because something in the box dug into her head and caused it to crack. Thus giving her a hurt head, thus the name Hurt Head. (Yes, that is what I call her, even now, because, that’s her name, and you do go changing people’s names!)
Back to the red ropers…a few days after Christmas it snowed! I went outside to join my brother in a snowball fight, only to find that my lovely red ropers left horrible red rings in the snow everywhere I walked. Daddy made me come inside and take off my beautiful boots so that all of the color wouldn’t fade off. He had to re-dye them and seal them before I was allowed to wear them again.
I wore those ropers the entire way to Washington, because, well, Yankee’s just don’t have shoes like those.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
This one isn’t so much a memory as it is a story unfolded to me in a series of snapshots.
We have these pictures from the Christmas that I was two. Mom and Dad and Justin were apparently really excited and woke up really early to open presents. I on the other hand didn’t appear to be as excited. The first picture shows 2 year old Ginnie in her nightgown, pacifier in mouth, bed head, sitting on the couch looking not so excited. (Justin looks ecstatic.) The second picture is of Justin ripping off wrapping paper. In the background Daddy is showing me the doll stroller with Marshmallow Baby. I have my hand on my head appearing to be upset. The third and final picture in the series shows Justin and I sitting next to each other. Justin looks quite happy with all of his presents. All of my presents are still wrapped and I’m crying (with my pacifier still in my mouth). Apparently I didn’t want to be up that early with pictures being taken of me.
Tragic.
I know.
We have these pictures from the Christmas that I was two. Mom and Dad and Justin were apparently really excited and woke up really early to open presents. I on the other hand didn’t appear to be as excited. The first picture shows 2 year old Ginnie in her nightgown, pacifier in mouth, bed head, sitting on the couch looking not so excited. (Justin looks ecstatic.) The second picture is of Justin ripping off wrapping paper. In the background Daddy is showing me the doll stroller with Marshmallow Baby. I have my hand on my head appearing to be upset. The third and final picture in the series shows Justin and I sitting next to each other. Justin looks quite happy with all of his presents. All of my presents are still wrapped and I’m crying (with my pacifier still in my mouth). Apparently I didn’t want to be up that early with pictures being taken of me.
Tragic.
I know.
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