First, I must apologize for the crybaby post yesterday.
It's probably a good thing that Blogger self-edited my post to about one third the original size because the rest of it was just a big whiny rant. The kind I would have re-read today and thought "Oh, just shut up already."
So, anyway, I think my sister caught the not so subtle hint that I was dangling on the rocky cliffs of despair because she sent me a very nice email assuring me that the rescue chopper was on the way and here's a topic that shouldn't require a whole lot of effort.
See how she is all cool like that? That's what I'm talkin' about.
But, today is a newish day and I'm in a little bit of a better mental place, so I am going to attack this post with some gutso! And even gusto!
Question: What was the name of your favorite doll?
I didn't have a whole lot of dolls as a little girl but I do remember this one doll that one of my dad's friends gave to me at Christmas when I was about 6 or 7. She was about 10 inches or so and she had blonde hair in a kind of boy-ish cut. She actually looked like me. So I named her Anne. She had a white dress with little flowers on it and she really kind of looked out of her element in it. She always seemed like she would be more comfortable in corduroys and a sweat shirt. Like me.
I always felt a little bit bad for her because, here she was ... a doll ... and she wasn't at all like the other dolls, all frilly and pretty. She was very plain. And I think that's why I liked her so much.
I didn't carry her all around like some girls do with dolls. I took her some places with me but, for the most part, she was a pretty independent doll. We had an understanding, Anne and I. We were content to just let each other be.
I'm pretty sure she's still around somewhere.
Question: Is there a Christmas present, Hanukkah present, or a birthday present that sticks out in your mind? Who gave it to you? Was it a surprise, or something you'd been wanting and wanting?
As a child, one of the things that I wanted most of all, and persistently badgered Santa about, was a burro.
Yes, a burro.
Not a burrito.
Like one of these...
In the days leading up to Christmas I would sometimes visit Santa at the mall. I would sit upon his lap and gaze into his face with my suppliant eyes and make my plea: "I would like a burro."
Santa never quite knew what to say.
My poor parents.
How many years they were persecuted for their unfortunate decision to live in town! "You can't keep a burro in town!" And they would get it on the other side from my sister - "You can't keep a horse in town!" "We hate living in town!" The horror we poor children had to suffer! Living in toooooowwwwwnnn!
Again, my poor parents.
So, one Christmas Santa mangaged to find - and I still to this day can't imagine where he found it - a stuffed burro.
This burro - Grizzy - went to Christmas Mass that morning. And pretty much everywhere else I went. For years. In fact, Grizzy moved with me to my first house and, again to the house I live in now.
Although, I have outgrown the habit of carrying him around. I don't take him to work.
This post was brought to you by NaBloPoMo and Perrier.