Tag Archives: childhood

Can I get an awww?

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Our farming neighbors across the street are awesome people. Honest, hard working, nature loving, alternative lifestyle vegetarians who raise their kids the old fashioned way… no tv, no cell phones, just plenty of love and imagination. As witnessed by this letter and treasure map they mailed to the two little boys who live down the road.

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Now how fun is that?

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Pandemic humor.

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Because I’m still here and still trying to find the humor in it.

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I remember climbing over seats into the back of our station wagon and sticking my feet out the rear window while my parents barreled down the Jersey Turnpike to the shore. How the hell did any of us survive to adulthood?

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This is why we’re not traveling. People be morons.

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Now if someone could just tell me how I can apply Dizzy Izzy…. my life will be complete.

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Good grief, I hope not. That will seriously impede my martini consumption.

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A Merry Christmas to all.

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Wherever you are and however you choose to celebrate, I hope it brings you joy. There’s been a decided lack of that this year… and I doubt I’m alone when I say I’m ready to kiss 2020 goodbye.

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Our holiday will be small and quiet, and in true 2020 fashion the only thing Santa saw fit to bring me this year was a torrential rain storm with 65 mph winds that will melt the snow, cause a power outage, and make our ceiling spout water like the Bellagio’s fountain. Good times!

But my husband and I have our health… and each other. I can’t ask for more.

So instead of boring you with some sappy Christmas post, I’ll leave you with two pictures.

1. Is it any wonder this was one of the Christmas cards I sent out this year?

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I think not.

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2. A little blast from the past…. yours truly on Santa’s lap.

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It’s the only such photo I have, as my mother told me I ditched St. Nick at a very early age and refused visits after this one. To those who know me well, this shouldn’t come as any surprise.

Ho! Ho! Hmm….

Pass the eggnog.

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Oddly enough….

 

When I think of lawn ornaments?

Mr. Potato Head is not the first thing that comes to mind.

 

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And while I love a good spud with my steak as much as the next person…

 

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I can’t say I’d want this bigger than life fellow greeting me at my door every night.

 

 

 

Maybe so.

But I’m old enough to remember this creepy vintage playground Potato Head.

 

 

And stand by my statement.

No thank you!