food, crochet, merriment
For years now–my sister’s Halloween party has always included the bobbing for apples thing. It’s a no kidding, not for the faint hearted, do or die event–let me tell you. The kids all want to do it. The guys all want to do it. And…even some of my daughters want to do it.
Y.I.K.E.S. is all I can think of to say.
Oh, I thought of one more thing–
I just don’t think I’ll ever want an apple this badly…
maybe if it was Cheetoes…
nahhh…..
…putteth his mother to shame.”
Isn’t that a bible verse or something? If it isn’t, it should be.
So, here’s the story—
We grown-ups were minding our own business, having a discussion of some sort in the office when we heard an unusual amount of giggling coming from the kitchen—always a dangerous sign with a three year old loose in the house. We came around the corner to find, to our surprise, that a 25lb. bag of flour can, indeed be ripped in half by a determined kid with a fork. Pretty sure he thought there was a prize inside.
He was wrong…
dang cute…
but wrong.
For my 11th birthday–a million years ago–my dad took all my birthday guests out into his bake shop, into the “sugar room” and made everyone a true, live cinnamon candy apple. Even though this was a long, long time ago, I remember this party very well. I had a pink party dress and got a Newborn Thumbelina Doll. When I opened it, the gal in the blue dress, Donna, gasped and said, “You got…a doll?” like someone had poked her in the eye or something.
I was quite confident in my right to love dolls even at such a mature age so I said, “Yeah, would you like to hold her?” She was caught completely off guard and said, “Ahhh…ok.” Everyone took turns pulling the string in the doll’s back and holding her while she moved like a “real, live baby,” and to their surprise, they loved it.
Believe it or not, I can still name every single soul in this shot. The funniest part about this picture? My mom, the cameraman, got everyone in it…but me…
the birthday girl.
That’s my arm, there on the far left.
Thanks mom.
heh, heh
I’d like to introduce you to our dearest and most beloved kitty from my childhood. Laurie and I brought her home in the wagon one day. A neighbor lady from down the block saw us playing with the kitten in her yard and came out and said, “You can’t have that kitty, but…” handing us a different kitten, “you can have THIS one,” you know, like we’d won the grand prize or something. We felt pretty dang lucky–winning the kitty lottery like that, so naturally we took her and ran all the way home.
Now Laurie was a little older than me and much smarter–at the time–so she briefed me on the plan. See, Daddy didn’t particularly like cats. He liked dogs…big dogs…that don’t really get along with cats. But mama–she liked cats, so it would be important to get to mama first, waaaay before daddy caught on. Because if we sold mama on something, then it would be so. She could talk daddy into anything. ANYthing. Trust me on this.
So, I stayed out on the side of the house while Laurie went in to see if the coast was clear. It was. No daddy in sight. We brought the kitty in and she purred right up to mama and that was that. We gave her some warm milk and fixed her a snuggley box bed with an old towel for a blanket. By the time daddy came home that little cat was curled up fast asleep in mama’s lap and we’d already named her Beasty.
Poor Daddy never stood a chance.
When I was a rolly, polly, rubber-doll of a baby, we had this parakeet named Percy. From what I’ve heard he was a friendly sort and let even the scariest of creatures hold him–as shone above. Apparently, we kids could just walk around with a stick or pencil for him to perch on and he’d just sit there like his life was in no way being threatened by the 100 ft. baby. Yikes. The story goes, that 1-1/2 seconds after this picture was snapped those sweet, dimply baby paws grabbed up that poor unsuspecting birdy and gave him the toddler version of a one handed bear hug. My mama had to pry him from my grasp before he became “The Parakeet Who Was.”
Fear not. He lived.
Didn’t particularly care for baby-face Nelson any more…but he lived.
I swear. I can prove it.
You see, he went on to star in several family Christmas cards before finally passing on to the big Animal Kingdom in the sky…of causes completely unrelated to the baby grip of death.
But he always liked my big brother the best.
No earthly idea why.
heh.
