Here's lookin at me kid

Campfire Songs

I give you ten songs that remind me of Fall and the bonfires that come with the crunchy golden leaves. What are your favorite Fall songs?

Thursdays in Kent

We laid in the streets which were covered in leaves and never shut our eyes until 6 am.

Guilty Pleasure of the Weekend

We have soup, pizelles, and rosettes.  And those are really the only recipes that made the trip across the Atlantic to be passed down to me from my French great-grandparents. My dad is the rosette making king, and so we let him make them, and I sugar them. Someday I will learn how to make rosettes on my own, but for now, I will just enjoy the light and tasty crunch and the bonding experience with Pops. Oh, and the pleasant choking sensation that occurs when attempting laughing whilst eating the powdered sugar covered deliciousness.

It's your turn, Dad!

My dad said something the other day.... that people had better be careful with their stuff, or I might find it and scrapbook about it.

"Or blog about it!" I was quick to add. And then I informed him that someday his scrapbook was going to make its way here....

And today is that day.

My dad and I have a history, I suppose. (That might be an obvious statement, but it goes deeper.) When I was growing up, my dad had a tumor growing in his brain that none of us knew about until I was in 8th Grade. It made him sick all of the time, and though he tried his best, but it was hard to be super involved as sick as he was. My mother thinks that I developed an attachment to him as an effort to make up for lost years. Whatever the reason, it's true that I idolize my father. And I look for ways that we are alike.

I was the nerdy Middle Schooler who listened to old Carpenter's records. And I'm pretty sure I can blame that on my dad's love for the Carpenter's.

He has slides and slides of Carpenter's photos that he took when he was in college. Once he told me that he was going to have one blown up into a poster for me. I really hope he does, because I would treasure it (even though I'm not that into them any more, it would be the connection between us that would make it special).

Some things I'm recently learning about my dad... before he got sick, he was really into photography.

He took pictures of lots of silly things that really have no purpose (like I do, I suppose!). But I love looking at them and seeing what his friends from college were like.
Another surprising Dad fact that I found... he had lots of dates. He even went on a date with Miss Universe! I saw this one lady in particular, and couldn't help but wonder about her.... But I think it would be more lovely to wonder about her than to know the actual history.

I guess some people think it's silly to scrapbook about "selfish" things, like my favorite food or favorite t.v. show, because who will really care about those things when I'm gone? Well, I think it's silly to think that such a thing is silly! My dad did it, and I think it is fascinating to see them!

I've loved looking through my dad's things that I found, and I think I'm going to ask my mom if she has some hidden memories somewhere for me to find... It's a blast. I highly recommend it.

Covert Scrapbooking.

I have discovered that my family has mastered the art of it. Scrapping in secret. Hiding the albums. It's so strange to me. I'm always so shy andtimid about showing my scrapbook to anyone... unless they're a scrapbooker too. Here, it turns out my family is full of them, and I never knew!

After my grandmother passed away, I spend hours looking through all the things she had kept. But one particular item captured my fancy to be sure. My grandmother, queen of generic photo albums and standard midwest granny decor, had made a scrapbook for her ideal future home.

She did lots of hand written fonts, which I find quite amusing considering how long I would laboriously sit over her letters trying to decipher her chicken scratch. But the most shocking part of all was how much I loved the interiors she had chosen.

It makes me wonder... did she give up her dreams for her ideal home? Or did her idea of an ideal home simply make the shift from furnishings to family? I'm a firm believer that the two can peacefully coexist. But this puzzles me, how different the grandma I knew was from this highschool girl who was shockingly similar to myself. You can be sure that I will begin investigating Grandma's home decor from the pre-grandchildren days. Maybe there was a super chic lady in her that I totally never noticed.

I also loved looking at her friends' photos and the notes they had written to her. (her picture is on the bottom right of this page) She was a swell friend. And, not to be overlooked, a highschooler who, just like me, practiced writing the name of her beaux and future hubby all over her books. :)

My dad also had a scrapbook around the same age. Shocker! I'll have to share it with you soon.

Happy Birthday to Me!

23 years... and everyone keeps telling me how young I am. And i have to wonder... do I act older than my age? Or is it just the fact that I'm married that throws them off and makes them think I'm older than I really am. I actually was not carded buying alcohol. And I'm not sure how I feel about that.

So yeah. It's my birthday today. At first I was going to try to find some old photos that show how you how much I look the same after all these years. But then, I found some old birthday party photos. So here you go! Mandi, at 5, and Mandi at 6.

Yes, I had a birthday party at McDonalds. And I should probably have shown you the photo of the lady who worked there and brought us our food. With her pretty striped outfit and little hat. Well, not exactly gorgeous, but much nicer than McDonalds uniforms these days! :) Did you ever have a birthday party at McDonalds? I only had this one. I think it's kind of a silly thing to do now, but in the 80s, kids did it all the time. The rest of my childhood parties were at bowling allies or my home. Oh those were the days.

think outside the mirror.

Washing dishes and scrubbing the floor.
I was dying to do it.
My first job ever. I worked at Chick-fil-A.
And after weeks of smiling behind the register
and saying cheerfuly, "Hi!" "How are you?"
"How may I serve you?!" "What can I get for you today?"
Smiles, smiles, and more smiles and hi how are yous.
I couldn't wait until I was assigned kitchen duties.
Five whole hours by myself.
Doing my own thing.
Listening to my own music.
That was when I realized
I'm not the people person I thought I was.
I used to look at people who ate alone at restaurants
and pity them.
Now I relish a moment alone at a cafe
with coffee and a muffin (and a book).
Before I know it,
I'm spending more time alone with myself
than is good for me.
And when I'm with people,
I'm becoming increasingly annoyed with them.
And now my annoyance is beginning to annoy me.
So I'm stepping back from myself.
I've been looking through old pics.
Reminiscing.
I feel like reminiscing always puts things into perspective.

And looking back at my former self,
I know that in high school I was the kind of girl
that I now find bearable at best.
And so I just take a deep breath.
And I continue.
I just feel like I'm a bit parched.
Spiritually.
And I know that what Donald Miller says about being alone
is oh so true.
When you live on your own for a long time, however, your personality changes because you go so much into yourself you lose the ability to be social, to understand what is and isn't normal behavior. There is an entire world inside yourself, and if you let yourself, you can get so deep inside it you will forget the way to the surface. Other people keep our souls alive, just like food and water does with our body.
And so this weekend...
I'm surrounding myself.
Not with my T-square, my computer, my prisma colors,
or even Law and Order. ;)
We're gonna do a bonfire.
One of my favorite things in this world.

This song's for you.

It was one year ago today
that my dearest Grandmother passed away.
It has been one year since she left.
And sometimes I still have to take time out
just to remember and cry.
I've spent the last year saying,
"This is the first time we've done ______ without her."
"______ is so strange without grandma here."
First summer without her.
A summer without watching her play softball
on one of the three teams she belonged to.
The first Thanksgiving.
Her spot was missing
And so was the delicious homemade applesauce
with too much butter and sugar.
The first Christmas.
No more "which gift's your favorite?
Hold it up and smile for the camera!"
My first birthday.
She was in Florida. But she would always call,
and she would always send a card
with pictures of all of us during the holidays.
First easter.
Would you believe this was the first Easter
that I didn't get any candy?
Ridiculous, but it made me extremely sad.
She had fourteen grandchildren,
and she still knew what candy I liked and didn't like.

We spent July the fifth at grandma and grandpa's house,
knowing that the end was near.
She was lying in her bed,
slipping in and out of consciousness.
And we couldn't help but cry.
My brother spent the entire night,
holding onto her frail hands.
Talking to her about memories and how much we love her.
Then the next morning I went to nanny.
We had to bake cookies all day long for a bake sale.
And then I got the phone call.
I couldn't believe it had happened.
Just like that.
Three days.
Yet, two long years of cancer.
We spent the next two days as a family,
all seventeen of us sitting around crying, laughing...
looking through literally thousands of pictures.
She had a whole bookshelf full of albums.
Pictures of us... pictures of her...
pictures of the things she loved.
It was hard getting ready for the memorial service.
But yet it was so easy.
She left sooo much behind, so many pictures and videos,
but most importantly, so much love and so many friends.
There was literally standing room only at the service.
I couldn't believe how many people were there
whom I didn't even know.
Stories people told, that I had never heard before.
About how fun she was. How giving she was.
How there was no such thing as a stranger to her.
I left not feeling any better about her being gone.
In fact, the void seemed even bigger than before.
There was so much to miss about her.
People would say, "I know how you feel,"
but inside I would deny their compassion.
How could they know how I feel?
They never had this kind of relationship
with their grandma.
How could they?

After I got past the initial pain,
I realized that I felt like grandma
had left such a legacy,
and after twenty-one years, what could I leave?
What had I done?
I had spent my whole life in school.
I lived for good grades.
I lived the safe life of a "good girl."
I never stepped outside my comfort zone.
And most importantly of all,
I felt that a year after I died,
most people would forget me.
My loved ones would begin to forget my face.
Or the way I laughed
I don't know why I thought these things,
because I sit here right now
and remember my grandma's laugh
and that smile that took up her whole face,
swallowing up her eyes.
But still, there was this fear
that people will just forget me when I die.
I do not want to be forgotten.

My grandpa went to Florida last summer.
While he was gone, I took the opportunity
to go through all of grandma's memories by myself.
She had pictures from everything.
She even had a braid of her hair
from when she got her hair bobbed in high school.
I had nothing like this.
And I never would.
Unless I started then.
I realized that I had no pictures from that 4th of July.
Cause grandma was sick.
She was always the one with the camera.
The one who showed up at dinner with doubles for everyone.

It was last summer that I picked up scrapbooking again.
Somehow it felt that I was doing something permanent.
I was leaving pieces of myself.
I started with my wedding pictures.
I remember scrapping those photos and just weeping.
There she was. There she was.
In the front row of the church
in her wheelchair with a knit cap on her head.
And she was smiling.
And she was proud.

nuthin but the sweet life. Period.

Haven't much of any interest to share with you today.
Cherries were on sale- so that was good.
Cherries are my favorite.
And I got some good BBC period movies from the library.
By period movies, I don't mean movies to watch
when it's that time of the month....
Although it IS, so it is a rather convenient name, no?
19th century regency style stories from the likes of
George Elliot and Jane Austen.
Yeaaaahhh... I guess they're period movies
in more ways than one.

I also got a novel from the library to READ.
I know- what a concept, right?
I haven't been reading as much as I used to.
The title of this ones makes it a little difficult
to explain to the kids
when I'm being the nanny that I am.
It's called Sex Wars.
It's about the turbulent post Civil War period
in the United States when women were claiming
more power and exploring their sexuality.
Anyways, it's a good read for facts
concerning prostitution in NYC
during the turn of the century.
(it has to do with the book I'm writing)
My story is based off the life of my great grandmother
who actually had to support her family
selling her... well, you know, her goods.

I'm a third generation french American,
in case you wondered.  haha
We've got QUITE the family history....
and my aunt in France actually published
a book about it already.
Mine's going to be fiction and a bit happier fo sho.

But meanwhile back in this century,
the hubs and I have been moving!

Our place looks so empty.  It's good to go though.
Although it's much worse this time
since now it's post wedding
and we've got so much more to move!

We have nothing to do cause everything's gone,
so last night we were looking through some old pics
from my family stash.
I thought I'd share a couple funny photos!
(I apologize for super crappy scans)

I was a bit theatrical as a child.
In the first one I was dressing up
like one of the guys from Chips.
The second- Ginger from Gilligan's Island.
And tomorrow I will be dressing up again....
Cause I got 220 bucks and I'm going to Crocker Park.

hellO dolly!

What is treasure and what is just junk?
Who defines the value of an object?

Recently I've been hunting through the boxes in my grandpa's basement , and he just doesn't know what to do with all the "junk" (as he says) that my grandma had been keeping down there.

He said take what I want, and the rest he'll get rid of.  He's a stronger person than me, because I don't know how I could get rid of all those collections of my grandma's! She was an avon lady, and has just boxes upon boxes of vintage 50s avon soaps, perfume, and collectable perfume dolls.

Well, I don't know how much they're worth, but I just don't know if I should get rid of all of them, but if I don't, then what?  I took pictures because I'm pretty sure I want to scrap about them, but just like all of my grandma's old photos from the 40's, I'm at a loss as to how to use them. I think I'm going to just think about it for a while and do a lot of sketches. I just really want to do her treasures justice.

I also found my grandma's braid that she kept from her teenage tomboy years- she finally decided to get her hair bobbed and had kept the braid ever since. I found letters that my grandpa had sent her when he was away in the army. But my favorite find of all was the scrapbook that my grandma made when she was in highschool.

I know I found a lot of treasures.... but now- what to do with them?
hmmmm.....