Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Still Sick

This stupid cold. Needs to end NOW.

On a lighter note, I was inspired to write something as I read Diana's site and her post about planning a birthday party for her soon-to-be 6-year old son. In efforts to write a post about birthday parties, I went through a large box of pictures looking for a specific picture. I did not find it. So that post will be put on hold until I find the picture (that I think may be in a scrapbook at my mom's), but I did get some pictures to post. They're random and I thought a few were funny.


This is a picture of my parents. Anyone seeing a picture of just one of them says that I look like the respective parent. When a picture of both of them is present, people say that they look enough alike that they could be brother and sister, which accounts for why I look so much like both of them.


This is a picture of me when I was very young. I found it funny because there is a lit cigarette in the ashtray right next to me. The 70's were a very different time than today is.


Not only was it common for cigarettes to be right next to children, I guess it was okay to give a two-year old alcohol. I'm sure I had a toothache and it was probably a bit of brandy, but it is amusing.


Why do parents find the need to take pictures of a crying child? Doesn't that just make the child cry more?


I post this picture almost solely for Dana's enjoyment. My parents were wed in 1975 and yes, that is a blue leisure suit my dad is wearing. My grandpa picked it out. Not many will get this, but a guy that calls me every few months (the player) looked (when his hair was longer) like my dad does in this photo. Just another thing to add to my list for when I finally need therapy.


This is my mom at my aunt Cheryl's wedding. It was in the 80's (the groom wore a white tux!) and I was in the wedding. I love this picture of my mom.


As I said, I was in the wedding. The dress was a hoop skirt and I had a blast running around in the cemetery next to the church in it. The look of fear on my mom's face was priceless. This dress ended up being a costume for two or three Halloweens (easy - make me a princess. Nevermind that I never wanted to be a princess, but it was a quick and cheap costume). During the rehearsal, I was told to be careful when sitting that I didn't sit on the hoop. So during the wedding, I made sure to lift up the hoop and avoid having the entire skirt fly up in my face. In doing this, I managed to moon the entire congregation. Hey, I was 8.


Who do you think I was hiding from? And why did I think that the little pink bunny would be an adequate hiding place? Yeah, I was never that great at Hide 'N Seek.


This picture is shown just to point out the colic in my hair. It is quite prominent.


This is my dad's graduation picture. I like this picture.


Non-family related, but here is a picture of Dana. It is from the surprise birthday party that Adam threw for me the first year we lived together. Dana was not drunk; she had not had any alcohol that night. This is just who Dana is. Fun and carefree and silly.

The night of that party is a story I have held off posting for a long time. While I was surrounded by friends and did have a good time with certain people, there were others that made the night not so great. The person throwing the party is one of those people. I am also not feeling well enough to tackle that story. It would probably make me feel worse and I'm not sure if it is a wound that I want to re-open. For now I'll just say that Adam and I no longer talk and this night (the build up to it) was the first scar and first step towards the end.

Another reason I don't want to write that post is because it is depressing. I'd rather focus on happy things, like Dana and Gil flirting at karaoke. Or how fun work can be. Or posting pictures of friends and family (especially pets!).

A few weeks ago, I went to Perkin's with a notebook. I sat and drank Coke and talked with the server, Jen, and wrote down words and short phrases to try and remember anything I could from growing up. It was an exercise to increase the number of stories I could tell on this site. Some of the ideas are short, some longer, but there are many glimmers. Some are actually rather dull but I hoped they would jog my memory.

I think I'll leave this post with one of the shorter stories. It is the first memory I have.

Our family had a dog, 1/2 Collie, 1/2 random assortment, when I was little. His name was Frog. He was not green and don't go there. Frog received his name because my dad was a hockey player and I've been told that good hockey players from Canada are sometimes called frogs. It probably roots from some way to insult French people, but that's beside the point. Frog was a great dog. He was loving to our family and could outrun anyone. Except for when my dad put on the ice skates and did circles around Frog on the ice.

I remember I was in my room, the bright yellow one with a life sized Big Bird in the corner (which "got lost in a move"). We lived in a yellow house and everything was bright and cheery. Looking back, I see why my dad said his favorite color was yellow. In my room, I had a box full of Barbies. Being 10 years younger than all my female cousins, I inherited many of their old play toys and I had quite an extensive collection of these dolls.

As a child does, I played with the dolls. I was changing their clothes and brushing their hair. Frog came into the room, snatched up a Barbie shoe and ate it! I remember being sooooooooo mad at him! I chased after him, hardly keeping a close distance, and yelling in youngster language. I may or may not have called him, "Son of a bitch!" which was one of my mom's favorite phrases when she was upset. I said it once in front of relatives and my mom exclaimed, "Sandwich! Oh look, she wants a sandwich! Here Beth!" Then she gave me a sandwich. No surprise that I thought a sandwich was called, "Son of Bitch" for years.

The day that Frog ate one of my Barbie shoes is the day I became very particular about my things. My dad tells me that I was always careful with anything because I always wanted it to be in the same condition as when I first got it. I also never lost anything.

There's my story. It is simple and it is my first memory.

That wore me out. I'm going to go lay down and rest some more.