Tag Archives: childhood

The Dressing Game

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In the plotting and planning and prepping for my trip (IN 11 DAYS!) I have had to start thinking about what to wear for the dreaded airplane ride. It’s a really early morning flight on a plane that is going to be small and squishy and I am going to be…. fretful. So I want to be comfortable, comfy is a big factor ( I am big with comfy!) but I don’t want to look like a hobo either.  There is most certainly a part of me that remembers when a trip on an airplane was sacrosanct. When I was a wee lass I flew several times with my Nanny, NO jeans or sneakers for this girl. I mean and these trips were FORMAL, Sunday best, pretty dress, pantyhose, black patent leather Mary Janes, posh stuff!  It was definitely a different world back then, people didn’t wear PJ’s to the grocery store and I brushed my hair before I went out in public.

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7 years old, total baller!

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So I am not a big fan of horror movies but I love it when my husband watches them and then relays them back to me because he does it in such away that they end up sounding like comedies. I am thinking about this because the other day I was talking to my brother Deedee about how when we talk about our childhood it ends up sounding like a comedy. People are often shocked at the jokes I make about how bad things were but for me it is a necessity because if you can’t laugh about it you’re gonna cry.  And I am thinking about THAT because… today I can’t laugh.

I am not sure exactly what happened. I think it started with talking with a friend last night whose daughter will be nine in a few weeks. Nine is a hard age for me, it got me thinking about Mom.  Then there was the headache, well the first headache, the one in my neck, then I was worrying about friend, then came the second headache, the one in my sinuses, yeah two separate headaches at the same time! And then before I knew it I was wallowing. I wanted to be alone, away from humans, but out of my house so I got in the care and drove… for 3 hours. I toured past some of the old hot spots of my youth and just felt BAD but it wasn’t until I was almost back home again that I figured out how this day got from just feeling lousy to a a full on revival of the greatest hurts. It was the picture!

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I dug this picture out to share for #throwbackthursday and while I was looking at it my brain got tricked. It’s a picture of a happy, pretty little girl, dreaming a big things. There is a canopy bed above me and though I cropped the picture for sharing, at me feet there is a veritable army of stuffed friends. I look happy and normal. It made me wistful for earlier times, for a mom and dad, and dance class and big brothers with alligators on their shirts. It made my heartache for lasagna dinner with candles in Perrier  bottles, the blue splotch on the rec-room wall I made with oil paints, Siamese cats and lopi sweaters. It made me feel sorry for myself which I HATE because I don’t feel sorry myself. I hate the horrible ache in my chest and the tears that are burning my eyes but what I miss is a lie. The picture is a lie. The picture is one moment sandwiched between god awful shit, anger and violence, hate fuel by alcohol and jealousy and cancer. That little girl was choking on fear because every time she turned around someone was ripping the world out from underneath her.

So there it is.  Tonight I don’t feel happy or goofy or comedic. I feel sad that that’s why. But I would rather share my genuine sadness then stew silently and tomorrow is another day!

 

Day 188 – Run With Us

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Sweetie and I were out for a walk tonight … okay we were playing Ingress but it was a walk nonetheless, when we came across this awesome mural in downtown Dartmouth. The piece was extremely well done and left us chatting about The Racoons, an awesome Canadian catroon from the 80’s. It was a staple in our home. I have been humming ‘Run With Us’ all evening.

Day 15 – Welcome to the middle class

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Dinner tonight is a nostalgic look back on the meals of my childhood. You know, the meals I sat at the table refusing to eat until my mother caved and made me PB&J.  Peas, carrots, mashed potatoes and meatloaf. Yup it doesn’t get much more Norman Rockwell than this. I was a silly child, this was damn good!!