Dear Dear Diary
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
 
OT/OOC
Someone asked me elsewhere, what tradition of the holiday do you miss?

Christmas, when I was a kid, meant going cross country to visit the grandparents (both sets). We would sleep at Meme's and Burt's. We would count the exits on the Thruway there. 32 was Gram and Grandpa's exit, 31 was the other. And we kept being thrown off by 34A in our count...

Christmas Eve was spent in the back room of G & G's while the living room itself became choked with smoke (which I Do Not Miss), but I'd play with my cousins and sibs, and we'd try on wigs and play at Tea. We didn't want in the big room, because then our eyes would sting etc. I remember the year that everyone had stopped smoking except Gram, and then I was old enough to sit in the living room and Behave.

But the night- all three of us sibs got to share a room. We shared many a whispered secret, and giggled long after lights out, waiting for the sound of sleighbells (grandpa burt would sometimes go outside and ring them on the lawn). Too full of anticipation to get much sleep. Then we weren't allowed in the living room with the tree until everyone was awake, dressed, and breakfasted. Everyone. Oh the misery inflicted on anyone trying to sleep in! And the dramatic unveiling as Da pulled back the velvet curtains and took our picture.

Meme and Burt are long gone, so is their house with the velvet curtains. Gram is still around, but I go pick her up and take her to Mum's, oxygen tank and all. The rest of mom's family doesn't come any more for Christmas Eve. though I know my brother and his family will go, and my sister will be in town. But my sweetie and I will day trip up on the day itself, long after all the kids have unwrapped their stuff. My neice and nephew won't come up until the day after the holiday, and I will likely go up to see them. It's not the same family unity it used to be, and I have to miss the naivete we had. I miss the breathless, sleepless anticipation I used to have, the whispered joy in the dark with my sibs.

I wonder whatever happened to the sleighbells.
 
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This rather schizophrenic blog was started as a fictional blog, written by a character of a story. I've since taken it over for writing personal stuff I don't mind sharing with anyone who cares. I am also writing thoughts about writing and stories that move me.


Other places I go:
Georg's Research
Help local kitties
I have relatives. Be afraid
Blessed is the One True Tami
Tata the Bodacious
Obligatory Yarn Harlot
It is impossible not to love Sandi Wiseheart once you've met her
The Tsarina
Holiday Yarns
Habetrot
I like the name Twiggi
Who to blame for my sock addiction
Maybe the cleverest blog title
Romancing the Yarn
Why I read Romancing the Yarn
Get an ab work out with laughter
My Kitty Obsession
Kittehs
You meet the nicest people playing video games
I'm such a fanboi
Rabbitch
One of my stalker targets
The other stalkee
I just love Josh (the cat)
Josh the Cat and friends
Pet politics
Pet Care
If I were a sheep, I'd be Delores
I live here now
Not Your Mama's Crafters
Make a Lily Pad


Anything not marked might be just me, Georg, posting as myself.

It's just this blog, okay? Some of it is story. Some of it is animals. Some of it is knitting. It's a blog.

For story #1, I do recommend starting from the beginning of this blog if you haven't read this before. Please start at the beginning.

I did mean it to be for http://www.nanowrimo.org - but I never got quite got it done under the wire.

CAST:
Jeannie is the author/main character.
Frank is her husband. Poor man.
Tony is musician/singer.
Angie is a teenager, who was Jeannie's best friend. Now currently dead.
Honestly, there is no connection between Jeannie and me and Frank and my husband.

Story #2
Frank and Ether. This will be much weirder than Frank and Jeannie. I like the name Frank. No one expects a Frank to lie.

Story #3
A desert story. Anna is the main character. Currently there is only her little brother and an old servant, and a mysterious redhead.

Story #4
The necro story. A young necromancer heads off to the Hated Ones to find her trousseau.

Story X
Reserving this for one-offs, poems, etc.


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