The other night my brother-in-law said something that got me thinking (this doesn't happen a lot, so mark it down hehe). He said, "I wish we'd had football in high school..."
And I started thinking about how strange of an idea that was. For me, football was a staple in high school. It wove in and out of everything. It was a huge part of our school. Our community. Our lives. To take football out of high school, for me, would be to take a huge chunk out of my life.
I wasn't a cheer-leader. I didn't date the quarterback. I was your run-of-the-mill average Jane doing her best to make it through the teen years. But football wasn't just for jocks or pretty girls. It was for everyone.
In junior high it was a time to socialize. We couldn't drive, and we all found ourselves at the game on Friday night. It's where we whispered to our friends, ran around the track, followed the boys we liked, giggled, ate popcorn, and had fun.
When we got to high school, though, everything changed. Suddenly those boys we liked were on the field, looking tough and handsome in their pads and uniforms. Even the dweebiest guy on the team looked, well, like a football player.
Games became a time of excitement. Watching the guys from our class take hits, score points, and tackle the other team. Hearing the huge crowd cheer for those guys who sat with us in math, who took us out on dates, who danced with us at school dances. They were heroes.
The season started with hot summer nights, kicking off when the sun was still up. But by the second home game it was "football weather." We wore our school hoodies. It was just before dark when the boys kicked off. The air was crisp, and the lights were bright. By the end of the season it was dark before the game even started. We huddled close together under blankets, clutching hand-warmers and sipping hot chocolate. Cold to the bone by the end of the game, but always jumping up to cheer when one of our boys crossed into the end-zone.
Fridays at school were like holidays during football season. There was that thrill in the air. That feeling that something exciting was brewing. The boys all wore their jerseys to school. We talked about who we would play, what time we would arrive, and who was starting. Teachers rarely gave weekend assignments (though there were the few sticklers), and we talked all day about what we were going to do after the game. It was usually Sonic runs and sleep-overs.
There were pep rallies in the afternoon before a big game, and for homecoming. We spent the whole week before homecoming completely engrossed in everything football. We decorated the halls, the doors, our cars. We had bonfires and chili suppers. We made up skits and dances and cheers. We dressed funny every day. Painted our faces. It was one of the biggest events of the year.
By the time football season was over, it was time for Thanksgiving and holidays. Basketball started, and it was a whole new dynamic. While it was 'just a sport' to some, for most of us, football defined fall. And I can't imagine a fall without it as a student.
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Monday, October 3, 2011
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
"You will always be my baby..."
It was a Thursday afternoon in 2006 when I started to notice tight knots in my belly. I had been out of school for two full weeks, and it was a good thing. I was huge. I couldn't even hoist myself up off the couch. It was hot. I was miserable. I was beyond ready for my baby to enter the world. I had been walking (more than I needed to be) trying to spur her. And finally those first little contractions started.
Being a little over an hour from the hospital, my doctor had told me to come in at the first signs of labor. She promised she wouldn't send me home, and gave me the indication she might induce if I was close enough. I'd been dilated for over a week, and at my appointment the day before I was already at a 2.
I made my way to the hospital, and by then I was contracting more. I wasn't in agony by any means, but I was in the first stages of labor. The nurse was afraid my water would break at any time. She said it was "tight as a drum," and I was 3cm. They called my doctor to see if she'd break my water.
It was her anniversary, so she said she'd do it first thing in the morning. They gave me a sedative so I could get some good sleep, and monitored me all night.
The next morning my doctor was in bright and early. She broke my water at 8am and started pitocin. I was 4cm by that time, so she was sure it wouldn't be long.
She was right.
I had to wait for the anesthesiologist to get out of surgery, and even though I had some iv meds that made me super loopy for a while, the pain was overriding the meds by noon. Finally he got me my epidural, and I turned on Days of Our Lives. Before I knew it, it was go time!
At 1:58 pm Chloe Mae was born. She was a whopper, weighing 8lbs 9oz and 21" long.
There were complications.
I held her only for a moment, then was wisked away to the OR. Losing consciuosness [and large amounts of blood] quickly, I directed the nurses not to let anyone hold her until I got back. I'd waited so long for her, and I was already protective and jealous. I couldn't stand the thought of anyone else touching her when I couldn't.
I made it back finally, and I didn't care about anything but getting a hold of that baby girl. Her skin was softer than anything I'd ever felt, and she smelled so sweet and good. Her eyes were big and bright, and she was the most alert newborn I've ever seen.
I let go of her to let my mom and brother hold her, but not for long. I couldn't put her down. She was my everything.
Her dad left that evening to go home and rest (because he had SUCH a hard day?) and it was extremely quiet. I felt sad when everyone left, and then I looked into her little crib and realized I wasn't alone. The love of my life was with me.
I put her in bed with me and did what I'd been dying to do all day. I unwrapped her, stripped her to her diaper, and examined every part of her. Her tiny toes. Her every wrinkle. I studied her. I photographed her. I held her. I fed her.
I realized as I was watching Roseanne on Nick at Night that I hadn't eaten all day. I buzzed the nurse, and she brought me some pop tarts and juice. We cuddled in to get some sleep and I looked her in the eye. "It's just you and me, baby girl," I said to her.
For the past five years, that has never changed. We've always had family and friends, don't get me wrong, but I've always felt like it was the two of us taking on the world together. We're more than a mom and her daughter. We're tied at our souls. I only hope it stays this way and our bond continues to grow and deepen.
I can't believe my little girl is five today. She's no longer a baby. Not a toddler. Not even a pre-schooler. She is a full-blown KID.
And what a beautiful, amazing girl she is growing into.
Here's a look at all *six* of her birthdays...
 |
| She's just moments old in this one. On June 2nd, 2006 at 1:58 pm my life changed forever...for the better! |
 |
| When she turned one I stuck out my lip and told everyone she wasn't a baby anymore. Looking back, she was still SUCH a little baby! |
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| I think two was my favorite age. It was far from terrible. Her voice was so cute, she was super chatty, but said so many funny little variations of words. |
 |
| When she turned three she was all about the Disney Princesses, and nothing has changed there! |
 |
| Her fourth birthday was her first one with the Mister. Another Ariel cake ;) This is when I really noticed she didn't have a baby face anymore. |
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| Five years old now, but she'll always be my baby! |
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Time Stood Still
Even though it was once home to me, my mom's house is just that these days: her house. It's changed over the years as we grew up and grew out of it. It's been re-carpeted a time or two, and the kitchen and bathroom have been redecorated.
Slowly our toys were put away (some of which I wish so badly I'd kept now), our out-grown clothes were boxed up and put in garage sales. Our bedrooms turned from childish play rooms to smelly teen rooms with constant science experiments growing in forgotten wrappers and glasses.
Eventually all the things we held dear were either taken along on our journies, or boxed and stored away. All that remains are boxes of "stuff," old clothes, and some of our furniture. There's nothing left of our childhood, because we grew out of it, gradually changing as we went.
That, however, is not the case at my grandma's house. My granny has the same velveteen flowered couch she bought brand-new when she moved into the house she now occupies. Her living room furniture has never changed. Her bedroom has the same beautiful lavender carpet and dark wood furniture. Little things have changed here and there, but for the most part, her house is always the same.
So maybe I shouldn't have been surprised by the events I'm about to describe, but I was shocked.
Chloe and I were visiting recently, and Chloe was wanting some toys to play with. My grandma thought for a minute, then asked me where my Barbies were.
"Oh Lordy I don't know," I said. "If they're still here I guess they'd be upstairs, but it's probably been twenty years since I played with them," I told her. I knew how things worked. As we grew up, the adults moved out our toys and took back their space.
"Oh, no I wouldn't get rid of the Barbie dolls," my Mimi said. "Where did you used to play with them?"
"Well, I had them in the bottom drawer of your wardrobe," I told her. She suggested we go look, and as I opened the bottom drawer, there they were.
Memories flooded the room, nearly drowning me. It was as if in that tiny little corner of the universe, time had stood still. The Barbies were untouched. Suddenly, seeing them that way, I felt like a child again. Like I had played with them JUST yesterday. They were just as I had left them.
It made me sad, in a way, to know I grew out of them without meaning to. I'm sure I put them away neatly when I was finished playing that last time, probably in the middle of some big story, and probably in a specific order so I could remember where to pick it up next time. I'd say my mom came to get me, and I shut the drawer with every intention of coming back to it.
But I never did.
I didn't KNOW that would be the last time I played with those dolls. I didn't intend to grow up. I didn't see it coming. I sure had no idea the next time I opened that drawer I would be thirty years old and looking for a toy for my four year-old daughter.
Time kind of stood still, but I didn't. I kept going. If I'd known that would be my last time with my Barbies maybe I'd have dressed them in their best dresses, fixed their hair, and tucked them neatly away somewhere safe. Maybe I'd have wrapped them up to preserve them.
Maybe I'm kinda glad I didn't know...because sometimes life is easier when you move on without meaning to.
Slowly our toys were put away (some of which I wish so badly I'd kept now), our out-grown clothes were boxed up and put in garage sales. Our bedrooms turned from childish play rooms to smelly teen rooms with constant science experiments growing in forgotten wrappers and glasses.
Eventually all the things we held dear were either taken along on our journies, or boxed and stored away. All that remains are boxes of "stuff," old clothes, and some of our furniture. There's nothing left of our childhood, because we grew out of it, gradually changing as we went.
That, however, is not the case at my grandma's house. My granny has the same velveteen flowered couch she bought brand-new when she moved into the house she now occupies. Her living room furniture has never changed. Her bedroom has the same beautiful lavender carpet and dark wood furniture. Little things have changed here and there, but for the most part, her house is always the same.
So maybe I shouldn't have been surprised by the events I'm about to describe, but I was shocked.
Chloe and I were visiting recently, and Chloe was wanting some toys to play with. My grandma thought for a minute, then asked me where my Barbies were.
"Oh Lordy I don't know," I said. "If they're still here I guess they'd be upstairs, but it's probably been twenty years since I played with them," I told her. I knew how things worked. As we grew up, the adults moved out our toys and took back their space.
"Oh, no I wouldn't get rid of the Barbie dolls," my Mimi said. "Where did you used to play with them?"
"Well, I had them in the bottom drawer of your wardrobe," I told her. She suggested we go look, and as I opened the bottom drawer, there they were.
Memories flooded the room, nearly drowning me. It was as if in that tiny little corner of the universe, time had stood still. The Barbies were untouched. Suddenly, seeing them that way, I felt like a child again. Like I had played with them JUST yesterday. They were just as I had left them.
It made me sad, in a way, to know I grew out of them without meaning to. I'm sure I put them away neatly when I was finished playing that last time, probably in the middle of some big story, and probably in a specific order so I could remember where to pick it up next time. I'd say my mom came to get me, and I shut the drawer with every intention of coming back to it.
But I never did.
I didn't KNOW that would be the last time I played with those dolls. I didn't intend to grow up. I didn't see it coming. I sure had no idea the next time I opened that drawer I would be thirty years old and looking for a toy for my four year-old daughter.
Time kind of stood still, but I didn't. I kept going. If I'd known that would be my last time with my Barbies maybe I'd have dressed them in their best dresses, fixed their hair, and tucked them neatly away somewhere safe. Maybe I'd have wrapped them up to preserve them.
Maybe I'm kinda glad I didn't know...because sometimes life is easier when you move on without meaning to.
Friday, February 25, 2011
A Tale of Two Prom Dates
Note: Names and locations have been changed to protect the innocent. That would be: ME (name the song?) But for real. For his protection. And to save my embarrassment somewhat.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. I was a junior in high school, and prom was quickly approaching. Since I was kinda tall, and kinda quiet, and kinda awkward, I'd never been invited to prom before, and I would die before I would go alone.
All of us junior girls were kind of worrying. Many were already working on their underclassmen guy friends. A lot of the guys our age or older already had dates or were in relationships, which was the case with the boy I adored. His name was, er, ah, Neil? Ok. Neil. I don't think I ever knew any Neils in person, and if I did and you are one and you're reading this, my apologies.
So I was crazy about Neil. He was our new preacher's son (sorry Neil, gave ya away there to the Warsaw people, didn't I?) and if you've ever lived in a small-town, you know that new people are usually well-liked. Fresh meat. New blood. A different face than the same ones you've looked at for the past ten years. I kind of made up my mind to like him before I even saw him, if that tells you anything. I heard he was tall (a plus for a girl pushing 5'10") and played basketball, and he was a "good boy," something I was in need of after the catastrophe that was Charlie.
BUT. Neil was dating Michelle. He even told me all about how he was going to ask her to go to prom with him blah blah blah like I cared. "Aww that's awesome! How sweet!" I cooed without rolling my eyes even once.
So he was out, although going to prom with him would have been my DREAM date.
We had a semi-formal dance the month before prom (dumb?) and I went to that with my BFF Louise? Oh hell it was Lindsey. Ok anyway, toward the end, this upper-classman asked me to dance. His name was Wally. Darn I'm just not so great at this name-changing thing, am I?
SO WALLY danced with me and we had this kind of connection. Translation: I'm all like ooooh potential prom date! And he was *most likely* all like oooooooh a girl. We danced a little more, making eyes and all that hullabaloo. Then he asked me if I wanted to go out with him after the dance! UH YEAH I DID!
My girlfriends were all like "Ooooooh maybe he'll ask you to prom! Prom date! Prom date!" I think they may have even mentioned that to him.
So he took me out. Translation: McDonald's and driving around. That is where he attempted to make a movie moment and teach me to drive his truck (a standard). I didn't learn, we exchanged numbers, and then he asked me if I'd like to go to prom with him. I said YES, and that was kind of that. In all honesty, I have NO IDEA if he kissed me, tried to kiss me, or did not kiss me, but I think it was the latter, because I got a very chivalrous impression of him.
Ohhhhhhhhh how I was wrong!
A few days later he called me and wanted to know if I would like to go on a date so we could get to know each other better before we went to prom. That was a saving grace for me, but a bad idea for him.
We decided to meet at the theater on Thursday night. This was approximately two weeks before prom. When we arrived, we were dismayed to see that they weren't showing any movies. It was closed. Why? Beats me. But they were. He suggested we drive around...IN MY CAR which I thought kind of sucked because I've always been a truck-loving kinda girl.
He guided me to the boat docks, where we sat awkwardly in my Escort with the windows down and radio on for a while, when he leaned over and kissed me OUT OF NOWHERE. I was startled, and I probably would've kissed him back if he hadn't Hoovered half my face off in the process. Ohhh it was awkward and I realized at that moment I had NO romantic feelings for this boy. I just wanted a prom date, not a boyfriend.
After the kiss I raised my eyebrows and turned up one side of my mouth (if you know me in person, this is my AWKWARD face) at which point he smiled his CHEESIEST smile, you know eyes half closed looking like a high baby? Anyway he says, "Soooooooo. I'm thinkin' I wanna go all the way."
I HONEST TO GOD didn't understand or comprehend what he'd said. Maybe I heard it and didn't process it, or maybe he stumbled over the RIDICULOUS words he'd just uttered, but either way, I was left looking at him like, "HUH?" I then said, "HUH?"
"I think I wanna go all the way," he said again, probably feeling a little stupid having to say it twice.
"Uhhh," was all I could think to say. I pressed my lips together SO hard trying not to laugh. Maybe he was "in a moment" and found it serious, but all I could think of in my head was how he tried SO suavely to say that...TWICE!
"Soo...whaddaya think?" he asked, pressing the issue.
"I. Uh. (stifled giggle) I gotta get home actually."
"Oh. Ok," he said, disappointedly.
I remember NOTHING after that, except my fits of hysterical laughter allllllll the way home. I was laughing at the situation, at the fact that I basically had a douche for a prom date or no one, and at the way he said those words. I can still hear it today, and it STILL makes me laugh.
Somehow the story got to Neil...probably through Lindsey. She was always good at watching out for me boy-wise ;) Somehow my mom found out he told his mom he couldn't stand the thought of me going to prom with that jerk. And somehow his girlfriend broke up with him. I got all this information second-hand, but I considered his mama a pretty reliable source.
I was desperate to get rid of Wally, and to think I had a second chance...a chance to go on my DREAM date?!?! I found Neil at school after classes one day, and I said these words, or something very close to them, "So, I was thinking since you and Michelle broke up, and since Neil turned out to be a real jerk, and neither of us has a prom date, maybe we could, uh, like, I don't know, go.......kinda......together?"
"Sure." He said, and smiled at me. And that was that. Nothing changed in our friendship. I still stalked him and he still had no idea ;) (this was pre-Facebook and pre-texting y'all young'uns...we had to get creative). We coordinated our colors, and he bragged about picking me up in his dad's Lincoln (which I still say was an old lady car, but whatev).
I hadn't exactly broken the prom date with "suck-face guy" as my lovely former freshmen called him. Oh yes, I've used this as my example personal essay every year that I've taught :) So once I knew that Neil and I were golden, I broke the news to Wally.
"I'm not going to prom with you," I said coldly after school one day, feeling SO powerful.
"What? Why? I already got my tux!" he yelled as I was walking down the hallway.
"Sorry," I hollered back, getting the attention of several track students and a coach.
"Wait! This doesn't have to do with our date, does it?" he pleaded from down the hall.
"YEAH it KINDA does!" I yelled.
"Let's go out again. I'm sorry, let me make it up to you."
"You've done enough. I have to go," I said breezily over my shoulder. And that was the end of Mr. Toad.
On prom night Neil picked me up (in the Lincoln). He stood taller than me even in my heels. He wore a purple vest. He brought me a beautiful corsage...one of the biggest ones ;) He made small talk. He danced with me. Closely, but not uncomfortably..."All My Life" by Kci and Jojo will always remind me of that night. He went to my best friend's house with me afterward, and stayed the whole time. He didn't kiss me, nor did he even try. He was chivalrous. He was a decent date. For that night, I felt like Cinderella.
As I gained years and perspective (and a way cool senior prom date) I found the night to be rather boring, and not nearly as magical as I once thought, but he gave me my night on the town. I wrote a poem about it. Someday I'll post it. It's cute and teeny-bopper. He helped me see I COULD squash a toad and end up with a prince...at least for one night.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. I was a junior in high school, and prom was quickly approaching. Since I was kinda tall, and kinda quiet, and kinda awkward, I'd never been invited to prom before, and I would die before I would go alone.
All of us junior girls were kind of worrying. Many were already working on their underclassmen guy friends. A lot of the guys our age or older already had dates or were in relationships, which was the case with the boy I adored. His name was, er, ah, Neil? Ok. Neil. I don't think I ever knew any Neils in person, and if I did and you are one and you're reading this, my apologies.
So I was crazy about Neil. He was our new preacher's son (sorry Neil, gave ya away there to the Warsaw people, didn't I?) and if you've ever lived in a small-town, you know that new people are usually well-liked. Fresh meat. New blood. A different face than the same ones you've looked at for the past ten years. I kind of made up my mind to like him before I even saw him, if that tells you anything. I heard he was tall (a plus for a girl pushing 5'10") and played basketball, and he was a "good boy," something I was in need of after the catastrophe that was Charlie.
BUT. Neil was dating Michelle. He even told me all about how he was going to ask her to go to prom with him blah blah blah like I cared. "Aww that's awesome! How sweet!" I cooed without rolling my eyes even once.
So he was out, although going to prom with him would have been my DREAM date.
We had a semi-formal dance the month before prom (dumb?) and I went to that with my BFF Louise? Oh hell it was Lindsey. Ok anyway, toward the end, this upper-classman asked me to dance. His name was Wally. Darn I'm just not so great at this name-changing thing, am I?
SO WALLY danced with me and we had this kind of connection. Translation: I'm all like ooooh potential prom date! And he was *most likely* all like oooooooh a girl. We danced a little more, making eyes and all that hullabaloo. Then he asked me if I wanted to go out with him after the dance! UH YEAH I DID!
My girlfriends were all like "Ooooooh maybe he'll ask you to prom! Prom date! Prom date!" I think they may have even mentioned that to him.
So he took me out. Translation: McDonald's and driving around. That is where he attempted to make a movie moment and teach me to drive his truck (a standard). I didn't learn, we exchanged numbers, and then he asked me if I'd like to go to prom with him. I said YES, and that was kind of that. In all honesty, I have NO IDEA if he kissed me, tried to kiss me, or did not kiss me, but I think it was the latter, because I got a very chivalrous impression of him.
Ohhhhhhhhh how I was wrong!
A few days later he called me and wanted to know if I would like to go on a date so we could get to know each other better before we went to prom. That was a saving grace for me, but a bad idea for him.
We decided to meet at the theater on Thursday night. This was approximately two weeks before prom. When we arrived, we were dismayed to see that they weren't showing any movies. It was closed. Why? Beats me. But they were. He suggested we drive around...IN MY CAR which I thought kind of sucked because I've always been a truck-loving kinda girl.
He guided me to the boat docks, where we sat awkwardly in my Escort with the windows down and radio on for a while, when he leaned over and kissed me OUT OF NOWHERE. I was startled, and I probably would've kissed him back if he hadn't Hoovered half my face off in the process. Ohhh it was awkward and I realized at that moment I had NO romantic feelings for this boy. I just wanted a prom date, not a boyfriend.
After the kiss I raised my eyebrows and turned up one side of my mouth (if you know me in person, this is my AWKWARD face) at which point he smiled his CHEESIEST smile, you know eyes half closed looking like a high baby? Anyway he says, "Soooooooo. I'm thinkin' I wanna go all the way."
I HONEST TO GOD didn't understand or comprehend what he'd said. Maybe I heard it and didn't process it, or maybe he stumbled over the RIDICULOUS words he'd just uttered, but either way, I was left looking at him like, "HUH?" I then said, "HUH?"
"I think I wanna go all the way," he said again, probably feeling a little stupid having to say it twice.
"Uhhh," was all I could think to say. I pressed my lips together SO hard trying not to laugh. Maybe he was "in a moment" and found it serious, but all I could think of in my head was how he tried SO suavely to say that...TWICE!
"Soo...whaddaya think?" he asked, pressing the issue.
"I. Uh. (stifled giggle) I gotta get home actually."
"Oh. Ok," he said, disappointedly.
I remember NOTHING after that, except my fits of hysterical laughter allllllll the way home. I was laughing at the situation, at the fact that I basically had a douche for a prom date or no one, and at the way he said those words. I can still hear it today, and it STILL makes me laugh.
Somehow the story got to Neil...probably through Lindsey. She was always good at watching out for me boy-wise ;) Somehow my mom found out he told his mom he couldn't stand the thought of me going to prom with that jerk. And somehow his girlfriend broke up with him. I got all this information second-hand, but I considered his mama a pretty reliable source.
I was desperate to get rid of Wally, and to think I had a second chance...a chance to go on my DREAM date?!?! I found Neil at school after classes one day, and I said these words, or something very close to them, "So, I was thinking since you and Michelle broke up, and since Neil turned out to be a real jerk, and neither of us has a prom date, maybe we could, uh, like, I don't know, go.......kinda......together?"
"Sure." He said, and smiled at me. And that was that. Nothing changed in our friendship. I still stalked him and he still had no idea ;) (this was pre-Facebook and pre-texting y'all young'uns...we had to get creative). We coordinated our colors, and he bragged about picking me up in his dad's Lincoln (which I still say was an old lady car, but whatev).
I hadn't exactly broken the prom date with "suck-face guy" as my lovely former freshmen called him. Oh yes, I've used this as my example personal essay every year that I've taught :) So once I knew that Neil and I were golden, I broke the news to Wally.
"I'm not going to prom with you," I said coldly after school one day, feeling SO powerful.
"What? Why? I already got my tux!" he yelled as I was walking down the hallway.
"Sorry," I hollered back, getting the attention of several track students and a coach.
"Wait! This doesn't have to do with our date, does it?" he pleaded from down the hall.
"YEAH it KINDA does!" I yelled.
"Let's go out again. I'm sorry, let me make it up to you."
"You've done enough. I have to go," I said breezily over my shoulder. And that was the end of Mr. Toad.
On prom night Neil picked me up (in the Lincoln). He stood taller than me even in my heels. He wore a purple vest. He brought me a beautiful corsage...one of the biggest ones ;) He made small talk. He danced with me. Closely, but not uncomfortably..."All My Life" by Kci and Jojo will always remind me of that night. He went to my best friend's house with me afterward, and stayed the whole time. He didn't kiss me, nor did he even try. He was chivalrous. He was a decent date. For that night, I felt like Cinderella.
As I gained years and perspective (and a way cool senior prom date) I found the night to be rather boring, and not nearly as magical as I once thought, but he gave me my night on the town. I wrote a poem about it. Someday I'll post it. It's cute and teeny-bopper. He helped me see I COULD squash a toad and end up with a prince...at least for one night.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
The Snowpocalypse 2011
Everyone seems to be tired of the snow already, and it's understandable considering some of the drifts amount to as much as four feet. I'm taking this time, though, to make lasting memories. I'm not sure I've ever seen this much snow, and since it's been called the storm of the century, chances are I won't live to see another like it.
I'll probably give the Mister a hard time about how he just "had" to go meet his brother to play football and ended up getting stuck, and how I never ONCE said, "I told you so!" Maybe we'll roll our eyes at the Mister's dad's inability to take just ONE day off work. I'll probably remind him how he couldn't sit still, and went and played tractor under the guise of "clearing the driveway."
We'll laugh when someone remembers Jessie the Cow Dog jumping right into a snow drift and having to jump out backwards. Then I'll pull out the picture of Sadie standing right on the road up to her shoulders in snow.
We'll look over the pictures in awe, seeing my car nearly covered in snow, and drifts wasit-high right in our front yard!
We'll talk about how we played Cootie and Hi-Ho Cherry-o, how we danced our booties off on the Wii, and made chocolate chip cookies...then were bored the rest of the week because we did everything we could think of on the first day ;)
This is one of those times I'll probably tell my grand-kids about time and time again as my memory fails. They'll tell Chloe, "Geez, Mom, Grandma was telling us about the big 2011 blizzard again!" She'll smile, and hopefully she'll remember it just enough to say, "Well, it WAS pretty extraordinary."
Enjoy the snow, and stay warm!
I've been thinking about the last few days and what we will take from it as we go on with life. Will we be watching the weather ten years down the road and say, "Remember when we had that blizzard in 2011?" Maybe we'll talk about how much snow we had, or how cold and windy it was, but I've been trying to make the most of it, and I hope we talk about more exciting things.
Maybe we'll remember how we went to Wal-Mart the day before the big storm to get milk and stock up on snacks. I hope we'll remember going up to Roweton's store on the square and buying Chloe's first sled. We'll talk about how we went out the first morning in six inches of snow and thought it was "so deep!" We have sledding pictures, but will we remember Chloe taking her first nose-dive into the snow?
I'll probably give the Mister a hard time about how he just "had" to go meet his brother to play football and ended up getting stuck, and how I never ONCE said, "I told you so!" Maybe we'll roll our eyes at the Mister's dad's inability to take just ONE day off work. I'll probably remind him how he couldn't sit still, and went and played tractor under the guise of "clearing the driveway."
We'll laugh when someone remembers Jessie the Cow Dog jumping right into a snow drift and having to jump out backwards. Then I'll pull out the picture of Sadie standing right on the road up to her shoulders in snow.
We'll look over the pictures in awe, seeing my car nearly covered in snow, and drifts wasit-high right in our front yard!
This is one of those times I'll probably tell my grand-kids about time and time again as my memory fails. They'll tell Chloe, "Geez, Mom, Grandma was telling us about the big 2011 blizzard again!" She'll smile, and hopefully she'll remember it just enough to say, "Well, it WAS pretty extraordinary."
Enjoy the snow, and stay warm!
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Pandora's Music Box
I've talked a lot about how music moves me. I love music. It can alter my mood and heal my soul. It can take me back instantly to a place and time, to a feeling, to a person. It transcends space and time. With just a few notes from "Long December" I am suddenly sixteen (and skinny!), sitting in the driver's seat of my mom's Nova, at the 4-way stop with Lindsey, giggling and sipping Sonic chocolate Coke.
Paula Abdul's "Straight Up" sends me back to the bathroom at my mama's house. I'm standing in front of the sink, she's wrapping my hair in hot rollers. I can smell the limey steam coming from the set. I can feel my heart beat for little Isaac Gripka. I'm no more than twelve years old, if that.
"All My Life" once took me back to junior year prom, but after hearing it a thousand times on our Wyoming trip, and saying loudly, "Ohhhhh this reminds me of prom," so many times the other youth members could finish my sentence, it now reminds me of the church bus. Laying across the back seat with Jonna, trying to keep our sanity among the insane. Kevin's eyes in the rearview mirror, fuzzy gray carpet beneath our hands dangling off the seat.
There arehundreds thousands more songs that are associated with a distinct memory. Sometimes I think without music I'd have no memories.
Then there's "Seven Spanish Angels." (instert creepy/dramatic soap-opera music here)
If you'd ask me about the song, I'd just tell you I hate it. Why, you might ask? I don't know. All I know is how it makes me feel.
Now don't get me wrong. There are songs that make me sad ("Always on My Mind"), songs that make me cry ("Christmas Shoes"), songs that creep me out ("Riders on the Storm" anyone? Seriously creepy. And ICP). There are songs that evoke painful memories ("Who's that Man"). Then there's this song.
I can't even explain the feeling I have when I hear it. It makes me uneasy. It makes me feel anxious/sick to my stomach even. It makes me feel sad. I've come to the conclusion there is some repressed memory that is connected to this song, but I haven't found the memory. It's like my emotions know how to react, but my brain can't tell me why. I'm most confident it's an early childhood memory, because it vaguely reminds me of my grandma's old house, and I've hated it for as long as I can remember.
The human mind is an interesting thing. It's a Pandora's Box. Curiosity wants me to open it, but caution tells me not to. For now, I continue to avoid the song and wonder if one day I'll have the bravery to search the depths of my soul for the source of my emotion.
Paula Abdul's "Straight Up" sends me back to the bathroom at my mama's house. I'm standing in front of the sink, she's wrapping my hair in hot rollers. I can smell the limey steam coming from the set. I can feel my heart beat for little Isaac Gripka. I'm no more than twelve years old, if that.
"All My Life" once took me back to junior year prom, but after hearing it a thousand times on our Wyoming trip, and saying loudly, "Ohhhhh this reminds me of prom," so many times the other youth members could finish my sentence, it now reminds me of the church bus. Laying across the back seat with Jonna, trying to keep our sanity among the insane. Kevin's eyes in the rearview mirror, fuzzy gray carpet beneath our hands dangling off the seat.
There are
Then there's "Seven Spanish Angels." (instert creepy/dramatic soap-opera music here)
If you'd ask me about the song, I'd just tell you I hate it. Why, you might ask? I don't know. All I know is how it makes me feel.
Now don't get me wrong. There are songs that make me sad ("Always on My Mind"), songs that make me cry ("Christmas Shoes"), songs that creep me out ("Riders on the Storm" anyone? Seriously creepy. And ICP). There are songs that evoke painful memories ("Who's that Man"). Then there's this song.
I can't even explain the feeling I have when I hear it. It makes me uneasy. It makes me feel anxious/sick to my stomach even. It makes me feel sad. I've come to the conclusion there is some repressed memory that is connected to this song, but I haven't found the memory. It's like my emotions know how to react, but my brain can't tell me why. I'm most confident it's an early childhood memory, because it vaguely reminds me of my grandma's old house, and I've hated it for as long as I can remember.
The human mind is an interesting thing. It's a Pandora's Box. Curiosity wants me to open it, but caution tells me not to. For now, I continue to avoid the song and wonder if one day I'll have the bravery to search the depths of my soul for the source of my emotion.
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