Christmas Eve was always my favorite day of the year. The anticipation of the season had climaxed to a point of unbearable containment. In the morning I’d wake up early. Probably earlier than on Christmas day itself. I never learned that this was not a wise move. The earlier I woke, the more waiting I had to do. It felt like the longest day of the year.
Sweet Memories
A chilling tale
Here’s my best effort at a spooky story. Every time my mom told it to me I received no small amount of chills. But I do live in Wyoming so it is possible a cold breeze happened to blow every single time she recounted it.
I doubt it. Continue reading
A Santa Tale
How about a Christmas tale? This Saturday would be my mom’s 72nd birthday. That is poorly worded. It still is her birthday and a time to reflect on our memories of her, right? And here is one such memory I thought of last night.
My afghan of many colors…
Perhaps you have read the story in the bible about Joseph’s coat of many colors? True, it’s no Moses and the Red Sea parting but it’s still kind of famous. There’s a Broadway play that borrowed it. After including some songs, of course. At least, I assume playwriters added the songs. I can’t imagine anyone broke into song and dance in real life but I won’t guarantee it. I wasn’t there.
Ghost Story
Living by a cemetery can be adventurous. Even if some of the adventures exist only inside my head.
Walking around the cemetery is just under 1.5 miles. It’s a nice walk and gives me time to think. Sometimes overthink.
South Pass, Wyoming
A visit to South Pass in 2013 prompted this post of an even earlier reflection writing. The site is now little more than an old ghost town near Lander, Wyoming but it is a special spot for me. Years ago, while still in college, I took a week long history class that visited different sites every day. The following semester, I took a writing class and was given the assignment to write about “My special place.” I chose to write about South Pass. This is my paper I wrote approximately 18 years ago.
1995
I recently discovered my journal I wrote in 1995. After flipping through its pages I said a prayer of gratitude. I am so very, very thankful Facebook – or any form of social media – was not around in 1995. Whew! I’m sure instead of venting in a private journal I would have shared – overshared – because that’s what geniuses do. See, in 1995 I labored under the mistaken notion that I was some kind of undiscovered and untapped smarty pants. Now eighteen years later I can assure you that was not the case. I also discovered my claim of being a “much better speller before spell check” is completely unfounded.
Kid’s Mag
As I mentioned yesterday, an old friend of mine died last week. Shane and I met in 6th grade when his family moved in up the street. Since we lived on a boundary street we could choose the school we attended. Technically, we were rivals. At least our schools were. He rode the bus to the newer junior high. I attended the school on this side of town. The funny thing is, we were closer when we attended different schools. When it came time for us to attend the only high school in town, we drifted apart with different circles of friends.
The birth of a catchphrase
I’m not superstitious…much
She looked at me with wide eyes and an air of expectancy. Normally, I would have agreed with her. In fact, I had waited for over 20 years for an opportunity such as this. But I couldn’t do it. I could not side with my sister-in-law.
“RH,” my sister-in-law, CC, reiterated in case I didn’t hear her the first time, “will not flip a calendar early.”
Yeah, so?
She wanted me to join forces with her in an effort to mock my brother. Of course she thought I would be an ally in her cause since I have led many efforts to mock my older brother ever since…well, forever. It’s a little sister’s prerogative and responsibility and I always take my job seriously. At least, this one. Otherwise an older brother’s ego gets too huge and becomes too unbearable to even associate with. It’s all in the Little Sister’s Handbook for Survival. I can send you a copy if you’d like.
ck's days 