Holly

I recently came across something on etsy.

My heart instantly soared and I felt a little flutter... I may have actually gasped.  HOLLY HOBBIE!

When I was little, perhaps a wee six or seven years old, I went to some gathering with my mom's work.  There was a drawing to win various prizes.

My name was called... What did I win?  I won a Holly Hobbie doll!  Being insanely shy there was no way I was going to go up there to claim it.  My mom's friend went up to get it and when she handed me that doll I remember the feeling that it was all I ever needed in life.

I loved her rosy cheeks.  I loved her calico dress and bonnet.  I loved that her hair was brown like mine and that it was braided... not like mine.  I would look at her and hug her and trace her eyebrows, smile and each freckle with my little finger.  She was beautiful in my eyes.  I loved my Holly Hobbie doll.

Love boxed up for safe keeping.

A friend of mine recently said, "I feel like you go down Memory Lane everyday".

I really had a very happy childhood.  I have far more happy memories than sad.  Although my parents separated when I was six and divorced when I was seven, I didn't have one of those "I had to grow up fast" kind of childhoods.  I suppose I learned coping skills and took on a different kind of role than the role I would have taken had my parents stayed together. (They write books on this stuff!)  I was the one (and still very much am) that tries to make everyone happy, comfortable, content, less lonely... I work hard to avoid conflict and make everything better before it can get worse.  Sometimes it's exhausting and sometimes it's effortless.

What am I getting at?  I think my mom was sad and lonely a lot after her divorce.  I don't remember it specifically but I must have sensed something because I took on this "duty" to make sure she knew she was loved very, very much.  If by nobody else, at least she was loved by me.  I remember singing "You Are So Beautiful" to her when I was about nine and she felt embarrassed, maybe unworthy of the title.  I made me sad for her so I sang it loud and clear.

This brings me to my point.  I remember , when I was nine, ten, and older, leaving her notes to find when she came home (where was she??  Perhaps out with her boyfriend at the time.)  I would miss her so much.  I left notes simply stating "To Mom - I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!" in every way possible.  Decorated with stickers, markers, crayon, yarn.  On lined paper, plain paper, construction paper and a combination of all.  I even made messages from needlepoint.  You read that right.

embroidery and crayon

I know my mom loves me with every fiber of her being.

Saturday afternoon I was digging through a bin she had marked "kid stuff".  Inside were every report card, every tooth, every school project, every mother's day card, birthday card, Easter card my older brother and I made.  I choked up a little finding that she kept a small cardboard jewelry box that I had given her as a gift.  I had torn up paper into tiny little pieces and put it in the box.  My mom tells me when she opened it, I "patted my little finger in the confetti of paper and said in a soft voice, 'see?  It's soft so you can put things in it' ".

She still has all the proof of how much I (we) love her in a box.

embroidered garden

Spreading the love

Stepmom #1 is an unbelievable knitter and sewer (seamstress?).  I have spent the days since I was eight years old watching her knit numerous items.  Being such a shy child (painfully shy) I would slowly shake my head 'no' when she would ask me, "do you want to learn to knit?"  Inside I was saying, "yes, oh yes, yes, yes!  Just show me because I can't say it!".

Twenty-five years later I learned how to cast on my first project from a stranger during a lunch "class" at work.

I have since then expanded my knowledge of stitches and my inventory of knitting accessories with much help and thanks to my stepmom.

While I have found myself to be a mostly Fall through early Spring knitter, she knits year round.

She now has and Etsy shop I'd like to share; you know, spread the love.

T Crockett Crafts

Taylor aka Baby Boo aka Chunka

Big Brother: Age 40

My older brother's birthday was Sunday. He turned 40. To have a brother who is 40 is a bit surreal as it means I will be 37 shortly. It's also surreal as I still see my brother being 28. I also see myself as being 28. But, how can that be because we weren't born in the same year and neither of us has been 28 for quite some time... him longer than myself, I'd like to point out.

Christmas Day 2008

Although I adore my brother now, I haven't always gotten along with him. There were many times I got the wind knocked out of me from a blow to the stomach. I was also tortured with him pinning me down on my back, arms locked above my head with one of his hands and either being tickled to near death or having his chin or knuckles dig into my chest.


I been forced to smell his breath in the same position described above and there was that one time he came into my room at night and told me to smell his finger. This is the same brother who stood up for me because one of his friends put dirt in my dolly's hair. The same one who, without validation or hesitation, chased down the girl who I said stole my bike... just because she had the same bike as me.


I'll admit, I pushed his buttons and enjoyed it since he's the one that always got in trouble. I think our teen years were the worst. This involved more yelling, throwing glasses, throwing records, hitting back and tears - from both of us. Yet I cried when, at 18, he moved to California. I cried again three months later from happiness this time because he moved back.


We've grown up together. We share experiences that noone else in our family has. WE are the product of our divorced parents. We shared the ups and downs but maybe in seperate ways. After all, he was the older brother, first born, only son and I was the younger sister, baby, only daughter.


I consider myself extremely lucky to have an older brother. Even more lucky to have the older brother I have. He's funny, intellegent, talented and honest. Traits we share from being raised in the same household with the same values. Yet our way of life is so completely different. I am a planner. He lives day to day. In some ways I'm envious of that but I like to believe he's a bit envious of me too.

Ebony and ivory

Since I was eight or nine years old I wished I could play the piano. Many times in my life I’ve been asked from others if I play the piano “your fingers are so long”. I tried to teach myself with my grandma & grandpa’s old player piano using the piano books my mom learned from as a kid. My uncle taught himself, I thought I could too. My childhood friend could play. I made her play for me all the time. I made my uncle play for me. I loved to sit next to my grandma as she played.
I couldn’t grasp reading music. I couldn’t read music when I played the clarinet in band during seventh and eighth grade. I just knew that if the note was there on that line it meant my fingers went like this on my clarinet. I didn’t know how to count the time. I didn’t know how to determine a sharp from a flat or even what that meant. I still don’t. When trying to play the piano I’d get frustrated because I wanted to play the piano. I wanted to sit down and pound out a piece that would bring tears to my eyes because of the emotion. So, playing piano never happened. I have memorized the very, very beginning of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata and that’s as impressive as it gets.
At least once a year I go through a phase where I really wish I could play the piano. I figure with all the years of wishing, I could have been practicing and today I would be able to pound out that piece and triumph from my incredible talent.
Even though I’ve been saying it for almost 30 years, I will say it again: Someday I will learn to play the piano.

Radio star

I did some tracking and found my best friend from sixth grade! We went to different schools by 7th grade and she moved about 30? miles away in high school. We stayed in touch and I had visited her a few times at her house that was "out of town". She was so much fun and we had so much fun together. The last time I spoke to her was probably 15 years ago.

We used to tape record ourselves singing songs or just record our conversations. I wish I would have saved those tapes!!

I've thought about her so many times over the years. Anyway, I tracked her down. She works for radio station in Omaha, NE. She's a DJ in the afternoon during the week and I can listen online.

Just now I got a shout out! How cool is that? If I would have known I would have tape recorded it.

It kinda made my day.

Wonder Twin powers - ACTIVATE!

My big brother and I were superheros.

I can remember getting up early in the morning on Saturday's to watch cartoons. My brother and I had bedrooms on the upper level of our old, creaky house, our parents' room was downstairs. At the bottom of the stairs was a hallway, at the end of that short hallway was the door to their bedroom. In the mornings we'd get up, sit on the top step of the blue carpeted stairway and contemplate our next move. Slowly, and ever so quietly we would scoot on our butts, stair by stair. Once we were safely at the bottom we'd tiptoe to the door, knock and ask if we could turn on the TV.

So, maybe it defeated the purpose of being so quite but it made sense at the time and it took planning and courage. Something all superheros need.

Often we'd get up and my brother would help dress me like a superhero. I don't recall this particular day that this picture was taken but I'm so happy I have it. It embodies so much that was my childhood. I looked up to my big brother, we were quirky, we knew how to have a fun (we knew how to fight). I just look at this picture and smile and remember a much more innocent time. When do we stop dressing up and consider putting a bear rug on our heads to be perfectly acceptable attire?

80's flashbacks

20 years ago, in the summer of '85, when I was a wee 13 years old, I met my soon to be step dad and his three children. His oldest daughter is just 2 months younger then me so we got a long great and were interested in the same things. As 13 year olds, we listened to a lot of music and being that it was 1985, the music was the best!

I spent the night at my now step dad's condo the weekends he had his kids. There was a pool and hot tub that we always went to. We ate cereal in the mornings - usually sugar cereal that I couldn't have at home. I had some of the best memories from spending time at this condo.

Flash forward to August 2005, I am buying a condo. This particular condo is in the same complex as the condo I spent so much time in at ages 13-17!


So, it's kind of strange in a way to listen to the same music on the radio, having flashbacks of listening to it in that condo and here I am, 20 years later buying one of the same.