Hooked on Bonnets

When I was in second grade - at least I think it was second grade - our teacher read us Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I was instantly hooked. I wanted to be Laura Ingalls.

My mom, who always nurtured my imagination, created for me two very authentic calico dresses with matching sunbonnets so that I could dress like Laura. My sister bought me 100-year old lace-up boots that had been re-soled. This was not just for dress-up time. This was my wardrobe. If Laura had just two dresses, I could be fine with that, too.

If you can imagine, I was an odd child. So I had no qualms trotting off to school dressed like a young girl from the prairie in the 1800s. For Christmas one year my amazingly gifted mother created a life-size Laura doll for me. Seriously - she was exactly my size. Here she is - a bit bedraggled today - but isn't she cool?

Look at her little booties with the vintage leather and buttons! Look at her little bloomers and heavy leggings (I'm sorry, Laura, had to hike up the dress a little to show your fans). The elastic is shot ... actually, poor Laura needs an overhaul. Sadly, I did not inherit my mother's sewing talent. Or her sticky tuna fishes or whatever Cathy said today. When I had to sew the patches on Lizz's Girl Scout sash the night before her fly-up ceremony? I used staples.

Poor Laura spent a few years in a plastic tote, but she's out now, stirring up memories. Laura was the little sister I wanted. My companion. My confidante. I even took her to school for a while and my teacher let her have a desk near me!

Oh - I have to find those photos from the Sesquicentennial when our whole family won Best Dressed Family or something like that. I found those not too long ago when cleaning out my dad's house. Now where did I put them ...?

Out from under the rock

Since this is the family story blog, I've been searching the archives for memories. Then I came across the About Me thing I did on Facebook ... thought that might be a good start. What I really need are all those good juicy stories about my mom and other family members out there ... hello, fambly: Are you listening?


Let's see ... how do all good stories begin?


Once upon a time, a small girl child was found under a rock in a city called Saginaw. Her first 5 years were filled with magic and wonder (and a few visits from firemen and trips to the E.R.). She had three imaginary friends to keep her company during the day, but they went away when she started school. 


The little girl's first glimpse of real life was at the age of almost 11 when her mother died. In the decades that followed, she was surrounded by the love of her family, made many friends and learned many good things - hitting a few rocky patches along the way. Went to college, studied life, changed her major about a dozen times, brought a beautiful baby girl into the world, held 27 jobs ranging from bartender to lab assistant to art studio manager and truck driver to copywriter. Finally went to Europe and bought a house (in the U.S., not Europe) at the age of 39. Also began the reverse aging process.


Story to be continued ...


P.S. My mom and dad always said they found me under a rock when I asked where I came from. Thought that was kind of gross --- under there with all the slugs and slimy things. But sort of cool at the same time. Where did your parents find YOU?

Going Crackers

I have no reason for inserting this photo except that I just found it. It's a little figure in my backyard - used to be the base of a birdbath - that I discovered the first spring in our house when I was tidying up our secluded, tangled Secret Garden-esque retreat. There's another little cherub that was tipped over with just its little hand poking out of the ivy. Kinda freaky.

Anyway, I pulled out my "raw material" notes from my sister's ramblings earlier this year. Here are her recollections of the Cuban Missile Crisis.

We were at the Buckingham Apartments in Arlington during the Cuban crisis. One day, mom came home quite agitated. It wasn’t a payday but she said we needed to go to the drugstore.

We bought a transistor radio and batteries.

Then, we had a treat - a grilled cheese and soda at the counter. That was the kind of treat we usually only got on payday.

Soon after, big military trucks came to our apartment building. Our building had been designated as one of the shelters. The trucks brought food and water for our complex - cases of crackers and barrels of water.

The storage area was fenced in with chicken wire and had a door and a lock. Mom was trying to explain that we were going to war. I always associated this with the turquoise transistor radio.

Well, those crackers stayed there forever and it eventually attracted mice and rats.

In 2000 when people were freaking out about Y2K I thought about those boxes of crackers from when I was a little girl. So what'd I do? I bought crackers every time I went to the store. I had at least 10 boxes at one point. Then they got stale so I fed them to the birds.