hello, monday.

I don't want the weekend to end (hooray for long weekends!) but today's Monday so I figure I should say hello to a new week. I'm linking up with Lisa to do just that: 

Hello to a relaxing weekend with Nan.

Hello to two (yes, two) trips to Dari Delite. One for worms in dirt and another for a cherry-dipped chocolate cone. My excuse? I don't know when I'll be back.

Hello to watching Friday Night Lights with Nan. She proclaimed it a "pretty good show" and said, "It's not just about football. It's a love story and a family story, too." She's right about that.

Hello to seeing some family members and calling others.

Hello to feeling calm.

Hello to sunshine and dandelions.

Hello to sitting at a picnic table with Louis, enjoying popsicles and talking about life.

Hello to eating good (not the same as eating well).

Hello to a Sunday supper of ham, potatoes, and fiddleheads.

Hello to not giving in to the heavy feeling of a coming week filled with schoolwork. I'm going to smile, keep going, and think happy thoughts. It will all be done soon.

What are you saying hello to?

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Dari Delite is a favourite place from my childhood and the "worms in dirt" a favourite treat from the same time. I spent many moments on the swings in the back, chocolate ice cream dripping down my hand. Mom took my brother and I there on the way home in the summer, and sometimes friends too, and we'd get a cone or order from the kids' menu. Dad would take us for milkshakes; blueberry for him, coffee for my brother, and chocolate for me. When I was older and we had moved, my friends and I would walk there, wavering on the line of childhood and adulthood. Ice cream tastes better there.

merry christmas.

I was looking through old photos the other night and found some gems. This one was taken on Christmas Day, 1990. I was a year old; it was my 2nd Christmas. 

Have a very merry Christmas! (Hopefully you're enjoying yourselves more than I seem to be in this picture :)

Christmas, according to an elementary-aged me.

At Christmastime when I was growing up, the local newspaper published pieces of writing by elementary school students. This weekend, I found two pieces that I had written. I can't remember what grades I was in when I wrote them, but I know I was young. Really young. Which explains why my friends and I cracked up when we read them.

Here they are, exactly as they were printed (and they were printed exactly as I wrote them):

"Christmas is a time of joy. It's not the presents. It's not the tree. It's not the cookies. It's Jesus' birthday. Some people have turkey, potatoes, tomatoes, peas, cranberry sauce and pies. Other people have turkey, potatoes, tomatoes, peas, cranberry sauce and a birthday cake that says "Happy Birthday Jesus." Christmas is about giving not receiving. Jesus gave us our first Christmas." 

This one was titled "One Christmas Eve": 

"This story I'm about to tell you is about something we do almost every year on Christmas Eve. Well, anyway, this is what we do: (I'm going to put them in order) first we go out and look at the lights on other people's houses. Then we come back and get Santa's snack ready. After that we get ready for bed, of course, we have a bedtime snack. Then we watch one or two Christmas shows, but after that we have to go to bed, so Santa will come!

But WATCH OUT, I'm almost always up early!!" 

P.S. Here's another piece of writing from my elementary school days.

P.P.S. That's a photo that Alex took with his phone of our Christmas tree. It makes me smile.

o christmas tree!

This weekend was an exciting one. On Saturday morning, Melissa's dad, Stephen, came to Fredericton to help us pick out our Christmas tree and set it up. The three of us headed to the Superstore, where the Shriners have set up in the parking lot to sell trees. Who wouldn't want to have fun while helping kids? 

On our way there, I asked Stephen if Melissa had warned him about my levels of enthusiasm. I kept saying things like, "I'm so frickin' excited!" and "Yay!" He just laughed and said, "No, but I like enthusiasm." It's a good thing because I was pumped! (I yelled "I'm so pumped!" when we got out of the truck. The Shriner who was working laughed and said, "You're pumped are you? That's good!")

It didn't take us very long to pick out a tree and we were on our way. After dropping the tree off at the house, we headed to Canadian Tire to buy lights and ornaments. It turns out we didn't need either because my Mom dropped off a box of everything my family has used to decorate our tree for the past twenty-something years. One of my favourite parts of decorating the Christmas tree each year is pulling the ornaments out of the box. Each one evokes so many memories. 

This "bell" is an ornament I made in kindergarten! It's one of my favourites and I've been hanging it on the tree with pride for the past 17 years. 

This is the angel that's on top of our tree. Her dress is yellowed, her arms are broken, and her wings are bent but I placed her at the top with a full heart. She has been looking over my family every Christmas since before I was born. My mom bought a new angel a few years ago but it was my last Christmas at "home" so I begged Mom to use this one for "just one more year." She agreed but has used the new angel ever since. I had no idea she had kept this one so I was surprised to find her with all of the other ornaments! I almost cried!

Melissa and I are pretty proud of our tree. It's lit up right now and I keep glancing over at it and smiling. It blows my mind that this is our first time living in a house that isn't our families', but we've transformed it into a home. And our home is ready for the holidays! 

the old willow tree.

A little while ago, my Nan found some old newspaper clippings from when I was in elementary school. She gave them to me and we both had a good chuckle. It was also an "aww" moment to read my words from way back then.

One of the pieces from third grade is titled "The Old Willow Tree." I can't for the life of me remember why I decided to write about a tree, but it made me smile nonetheless:

"There was once an old willow tree and I can tell you that it was nothing like a pillow. It was gruff, it was tough. It was nothing like any other tree, it should have been at sea. It had fur but it really was a blur when the wind went whistling past. I loved that willow tree. I felt as if I were it and it were me. I would tell my Mom over and over, 'But I am the tree and it is me!' She would tell me over and over, 'You are my son, you are not that tree.' 'But I am the tree and it is me,' I would tell my Dad over and over. 'You can not chop that tree down in the summer. It is me and I am the tree, so let it be.' 'You are not the tree, you are my son,' said my Dad.

Finally my Mom and Dad realized that I was the tree and it was me!"

Oh, the mind of a third grader who fancies herself a writer.

(Image via Pinterest)

The Breakfast Club

The Breakfast Club is one of my favourite movies ever and last night I got to watch it on the big screen. It was the original 1985 print so the film was all crackly. I loved it.

If I was ranking my favourite times watching the movie, I'd say last night was my second favourite. My first favourite is the very first time I watched it. It's another memory from my childhood involving my dad...

I've mentioned before that my dad is a truck driver and I didn't get to see him very often. As a result, when he was home, I got to do things that normally didn't fly when it was just mom. I'd eat cereal for supper, eat junk food, get covered in grease at the garage, and stay up late to watch movies that were probably not appropriate for a kid my age.

On a rare weekend that Dad was home, TBS advertised that they'd be showing the iconic film. I heard Dad telling Mom that he'd be watching it and of course, I asked if I could, too. Their answer at first was no, because it was on too late. (I don't remember what time it played. It probably wasn't actually that late, but because I was in Grade 2 it seemed so; it was definitely way past my bedtime).

Dad eventually agreed, telling my mom I would end up falling asleep anyway. I was just as stubborn and competitive then as I am now, so I said, "I bet you I won't!" My dad, who is just as competitive, asked me what I wanted to bet. Well, I really wanted a Nano Baby, so in what I thought was a clever maneuver, I declared, "I bet you enough money to buy a Nano!" Dad had no idea what I was talking about. I explained it to him and still confused, he asked Mom how much "this baby" would cost. It wasn't long before we were shaking hands, agreeing to the terms of our bet. (Never mind that I'd have no way of coming up with any cash if I lost).

That night, Dad and I stretched out with blankets and pillows on the living room floor. Amid lots of yawns (and maybe a few winks of sleep), I was introduced to a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, and a criminal. Of course, I didn't understand much of what was going on (which is probably a good thing), but I loved every minute anyway.

And a few days later, I was the proud "mother" of a new "baby."

(Image via Wikipedia)

temporary tattoos.

Back in July, Joanna blogged about Tattly, a company that makes "designy temporary tattoos." I rediscovered the fun tattoos on Monday, when Gabrielle blogged about them, and a happy memory came to mind.

My parents split up when I was quite young and my dad is a transport truck driver so I didn't get to see him very often. Whenever I got a temporary tattoo, which were so cool back then, I absolutely had to wait until my dad was home so that he could help me put it on. I was convinced that he was better than my mom at applying them. (Maybe because he had real tattoos?) I remember standing on a stool at the sink, my dad holding a wet cloth against the tattoo on my skin. I can almost feel the pressure on my arm right now. I was always so excited when my new "ink" was revealed!

Isn't it wonderful when "forgotten" memories resurface out of the blue?

I love all of the quirky designs, but I think this one is my favourite: