Milk In The Face

Moody

Yes of course I was, my dear mother made it quite clear I was the most difficult child of the five she brought into this world.

I suspect I was strong-willed right from the start, ready to run, ready to say no, all of which is ‘normal” I think.

When I was about two years old I chose to have it out with my mother and challenge her, big mistake. She always kept her word, knowing this at the time would have saved me some grief, and tears.

I grew up on a farm and loved playing outside, I suspect the “incident” had something to do with her wanting me to come inside the house…and me putting my foot down and giving her a very loud, “NO”.

As a kid in the 60’s everyone drank cow’s milk, I loved it, it was my life blood, nothing kept me from it, until the fateful day of the “Great Challenge”.

Standing in the doorway, a small truck in my hand; my mother opposite me, glass of milk in her hand.

As I raised the toy above my head she said, “If you throw that, I will throw the milk in your face”

I threw the truck.

swift justice

 

 

 

 

Prairie Christmas Past

This isn’t a fashion blog or an advertisement for home and garden, if it were I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t make the short list.

Christmas on the prairies was warm, fuzzy and completely chaotic, (in a good way).

My sister and I would go to bed early to lessen the wait, and of course wake up before dawn so we could be the first ones under the tree. I remember something about having to wait for the rest of the family, so more than likely we made enough noise for this to happen.

I have memories,  surreal and silly; like the time my oldest sister thought it was a good idea to sample every chocolate in the box by poking her  finger nail in the bottom, then turning it over so no one noticed.

Candy canes on the tree, angel hair ( I thought the name was stupid) and the old fashioned lights that got hot enough to burn the tree down.

 

One Christmas my mom thought it would be cute if all three of us girls got matching sweaters.  It was probably ok at the time, I remember taking the end of one of the tassels and sticking it up my nose; even back then I had loads of class.

Matchy-Matchy Sisters

Growing up on the prairies many of our gifts were ordered from the Eaton’s catalogue; we loved looking through the colorful pages, pretending to pick anything we wanted.

One Christmas I picked out a small Charlie Brown doll. He was my main man, I loved him, cartoons hung on my bedroom wall I had drawn.

The order office did not have Charlie in stock, so thought it would be ok to substitute Lucy. NOT!

I remember being so devastated I pulled off her arms and legs and colored her face with crayons.

How could they think it would be ok?

There are certain icons you just don’t mess with.

Even as a kid I knew how mean and nasty she was and wanted nothing to do with her.

 

Cardboard and masking tape were my friend, I was always making something. Our house didn’t have a fireplace, so I made my own by covering a cardboard form with crepe paper that looked like brick.

I remember being so proud of the job I had done, despite the size being no bigger than about  two and a half feet tall.

Dreaming was always a way of creating.

 

 

 

When we turned ten we got a watch for Christmas.

I still have it

Then there was the year my sister and I got radios…matching radios. I still remember that morning, tired and bleary-eyed, wow.

   

Whatever your memories, pick a good one.

P.S

I sewed the ugly purple/white stripped house coat