For my G memory I am actually telling about a memory that I miss out on except through pictures. Every Christmas my daughter-in-law and my 2 grandkids always make a gingerbread house. Unfortunately, I live 4 1/2 hours away so I'm never there when the fun happens. It's not all bad though because they always send me pictures. Thank heavens for cameras!
When the kids come home at Christmas the grandkids and I always have our special baking time to do cookies or something special. It is my favorite time of year. But for now I'm going to share with you some of the pictures they have sent of the grandkids and gingerbread houses.
One of the few reasons we drove across the big bridge to Louisville when I was growing up was to go to the huge farmers market down on Market Street. Mom loved to go to the giant open air market where she could buy everything from flowers to fresh vegetables. Daddy would drive and we would all pile into the car for the trip.
When we got to New Albany we drove through town to the old railroad bridge. My sister and I called it the singing bridge because the tires on the metal surface made a loud humming noise. We loved that part of the trip! Once we reached the market we couldn't wait for daddy to find a parking place so we could shop.
After what seemed like hours, mom would make her final purchases and daddy would carry them to the car. All was going as planned until...
Daddy opened the trunk lid and dropped his keys in his pocket, freeing up his hands to place the purchases in the trunk. When every last package had been put in the car he reached up and slammed the trunk lid shut. At that instant a blood curdling scream pierced the air.
Six year old mini me who was always bouncing around with my nose into everything had been watching daddy put the items in the trunk from just a little too close. When he slammed the lid he caught my thumb inside. Of course the trunk lid locked. With me screaming and mom yelling, daddy frantically fumbled around in his pocket trying to get his keys out. The few seconds it took him seemed like an hour in slow motion.
Finally getting the trunk open, they put me in the car and rushed me to Jewish Hospital emergency room where we spent the rest of the afternoon. Nothing was broken, only bruised badly and very sore.
I'm sure we made more trips to market after that but I don't really remember them. This particular trip, though, is one I'll never forget!
My memory for E was a no brainer. Every Easter week I get very nostalgic because I really miss the annual Easter Egg hunts that I used to have for my grandkids, 2 of my sisters' grandkids and sometimes a few extra kids. We would have from 6 to 10 kids and did we have a good time!
Now this wasn't a hide a few eggs and send the kids out to play afternoon. This was a very organized, planned down to every detail type of afternoon with nothing left to chance. I had as much fun as the kids did!
First the kids enjoyed pizza, hot dogs or whatever meal I had fixed that year. Then came a special dessert like a bunny cake, cookies, ice cream or whatever I had made. Then each of the kids would get a goody bag full of Easter trinkets, toys and candy. I had as much fun finding this junk as the kids did playing with it!
While the kids were getting their bellies full, someone would carefully hide the eggs in the yard. Once this was finished and the kids were ready, they flew out the back door with baskets tightly in hand. Amidst squeals of delight and scurrying feet, all the plastic eggs filled with surprises managed to find their way into a child's basket. When everyone's basket was full and there were no more eggs to be found all the kids would head into the house where they could pour out their treasures and see just what they had found.
At this point the afternoons varied some years. Sometimes I would have crafts or games planned that the kids would play to try and win prizes or sometimes they would just go outside and play. Either way it was a fun time for all.
Now, all of our grandkids are older and think they have outgrown the Easter egg hunts. I, for one, really miss them. Holidays are never the same when the kids grow up.
Written for A - Z Blogging Challenge and GBE2 Week #46 prompt - Dance
In the small town I grew up in we had 1 school for 1st grade through 12th and still had less than 400 students. Needless to say, with a school that small we didn't have a lot of school dances. As a matter of fact, we had almost none. We didn't even have proms before graduation. We only had formal banquets.
Now what young girl doesn't dream of dancing in the arms of a dashing young man? It was the hot topic at many a slumber party as we giggled and practiced dancing around the floor. We all wanted to be great dancers and I was no exception...I loved dancing. I often dreamed of dancing on American Bandstand.
On the rare occasion that we did have a dance at school it was quite exciting. Of course back then (and now I'm really showing my age) we didn't call them dances. We had Sock Hops!
I've never been told why they were called Sock Hops, but I have a pretty good idea. Back then, schools only had one gymnasium that had to be used for everything. School officials were really strict about the care of those gym floors. It was nearly a federal crime if you put a scratch in that floor. Absolutely no one was allowed on the gym floor with shoes on. Subsequently, the only way to have a dance in the gym was for everyone to dance in their sock feet. Voila! Sock Hop!
I actually only remember having one during my school days. I remember dancing a lot...with the other girls. We all danced in a circle while the boys sat around in the bleachers. Some dream dance, huh?
So, my dream to dance with a dashing young man would have to wait a few years. I did eventually get my chance, though. My husband and I used to go out dancing with friends in the early days. And as for American Bandstand - never made it. Now I dream of dancing with Derek or Max on Dancing with the Stars. A girl can dream, can't she?
Summers meant camping to our family. There were several places we liked to go but our favorite was Smokey Mountain National Park in Tennessee. One particular trip especially stands out among favorite memories. Let me tell you why.
Me, Tina, Brenda & Dian
Mom always let me take one of my friends with me on our vacations. This trip I was taking my friend Dian. We were camping up in the mountains in one of the park campgrounds. Mom, Dad along with sisters Brenda and Tina would stay in the tent and Dian and I would sleep in the back of the station wagon.
Mom with Station Wagon
We had a beautiful campsite, right beside the babbling creek that flowed down the mountain. The Smokies were my favorite place in the whole world because I loved hiking the trails up to Clingmans Dome and other neat spots. Then for some real fun we could go down to Gatlinburg and shop in all the unique little shops. We always rode the sky lift that took us up for the best view of the scenery below us. There was never a dull moment.
Following a day full of fun and adventure, we all settled in for a good night's sleep. Of course, left on our own in the station wagon, Dian and I talked and laughed until very late. We were sleeping sound until around daybreak when we were both startled by noises outside. Raising up to see what was going on we both got suddenly silent as we looked at each other. We didn't know whether to stay quiet or scream, but quickly decided being quiet was the best option. You see, we were up-close and personal with a big black bear.
Yes, right out the back window of the car stood a bear. We froze as he slowly walked around the car. Luckily, he made no effort to get in. Making his way through the camp he searched trash cans and anywhere else he thought he might find food. Not finding any he moved on to the next camp.
Okay, so he looked much bigger standing next to the station wagon!
Now everyone knows when you go to the Smokey Mountains there is a chance you will see a bear. But we really didn't plan on getting that close to one. If we had rolled down the window we could have touched him.
Bear and all it was a great camping trip. Dian and I had a wonderful time together and I will always treasure that time with her. A few years ago Dian died of cancer. Rather than dwell on that, I prefer to remember the fun times we had as teenagers and tell of the time we survived our meeting with a black bear.
For my B memory I am remembering a summer trip with my family, probably around 1969 or 1970. We had traveled to Bowling Green, KY to spend the weekend camping at Beech Bend Park. My sister Brenda and I were both teenagers so we were excited about spending the weekend at an amusement park. After all, who doesn't love the thrill of the midway, the whirling lights, the daring rides and the smell of junk food wafting through the air?
Especially at night!
The first evening Brenda and I walked all through the park, checking out the rides. When we found one our favorite rides, the Scrambler, we struck up a conversation with the teenage boy that was running it. Before you knew it, we had made a new friend. He especially took a liking to Brenda. For the rest of the weekend we got to ride the Scrambler without having to buy tickets. He let us ride anytime we wanted for as long as we wanted. When we weren't in the pool or doing other things we could be found riding the Scrambler. It was a great time and one of the last few times I went camping with my family before graduating and leaving home.
Moral of this story...if you want to get free rides at the amusement park, take your cute little sister. If you want to get the cute boy running the ride, leave her at home!
Today is April 1, 2012 which means it is the start of this years A to Z Blogging Challenge. For those who are not familiar with it, welcome to the club. I had seen the badges on various people's blogs but never really knew what it was all about. As it drew close I heard more and more about it and realized it meant you had to blog everyday for a month and that sounded like too big an undertaking. Last night at the last minute I had a change of heart and decided to try it. At least I found out you do get Sundays off, after today. Each day the prompt is a different letter of the alphabet and it seemed to be the consensus that it is better to have a theme. So, without further ado...here goes. My theme is A to Z Memories.
For those who have wondered where the Kat came from that I use in my blog, it is my initials. My name is Karen Ann and when I married a Taylor, well, you get the picture. Early on when my initials became KAT, I always thought Kat would be a cool nickname, but it never caught on. Thus, when I started my blog that was my chance to become Kat. The rest of the title just came naturally since I'm a cat lover.
Names are a funny thing. Seems like when we are kids we are never satisfied with ours. It wasn't that I didn't like the name Karen, it was just that I liked Ann better. Or maybe it was really that I thought it sounded cool to be called by 2 names. I always wanted to be called Karen Ann. That never caught on either although all 3 of my sisters occasionally call me that. So, for the most part, I've gone through my entire life just called Karen.
There was one time in my teenage years when I did have fun with my name, though. A new song came out by the Hollies called Carrie Anne. I convinced one of my friends that they were saying Karen Ann so for a little while it was like I had my own song. Fun while it lasted.
Here, for your enjoyment is my first A to Z memory...
