This is a portion of one of my treasures. It is only about 1/3 of the picture. There is a clock at the top area and a cat at the bottom. Holly Hobby, which I am sure you recognised. Holly Hobby was so popular when I was an older teen. I loved all of her work so much. I had bought this for my mother one year for Christmas with money I earned from babysitting. I think I used to get 25cents an hour for babysitting. It doesn't sound like much now, but back then it was not too bad.
Anyways, I had bought this for my mother along with another one. One year she gifted them back to me, when she was moving out of her house into her apartment I think. To some this might just be a piece of presswood with a picture laminated onto it. To me, it represents a lifetime of love of and for my mother. I've always been incredibly sentimental, and I am sure all of you are too. Kindred spirits and all that.
I've also always been incredibly trusting and giving. Always believing the best in other people even after they proved me wrong. When I was really small and playing with other children, if they wanted my toys my mother made me give them to them. In later years, she told me she realised that was a mistake, and so she never make my brother and sister give up anything they didn't want to.
She told me once that one of her friends had complained to her that I had bitten her son. And shown her the bitemark to prove it. Of course I had protested that he had bitten me first. She made my father bite me back, really hard to make sure I didn't do it again. (People did those kinds of things in those days.) She said it was only later when she was getting me undressed and in my pajamas for bed that night that she saw the bite-mark oh my back from where he had bitten me first.
Your first born is always your guinea pig, your learning station. The first pancake.
This is a photograph of my father holding me not too long after was born. It was taken in Lawrencetown, Nova Scotia where my mother is from. I found this the other day when I was going through things. I had forgotten I had it, but it is in a safe place now. It is hard to believe that my father was ever so young and so handsome, but he was. I can see how he must have charmed my mother. His good looks, combined with his French accent must have been very compelling. (The problem was they were not just compelling to my mother, but that's a whole nother story!) My father was always very proud of me. He still calls me the "Apple of his Eye." I don't know if he calls my brother and sister the same thing or not, but it doesn't really matter. When he says it to me, I feel that its true.
When my Aunt Thelma passed away her daughter gave me a bunch of photographs that she had had which my mother had sent her through the years. My mother had written notes on the backs of many of them.
On the back of this one she had written "Alice, Cindy & David, Christmas PM. That's Tony's Christmas gift they are sitting in." My father's infamous lazy boy chair. We were always told to be very careful near it because it could snap our legs off. And to really prove the point I remember my mother's friend's son Johnny getting his legs caught in it one day and him screaming the roof off in pain. That was enough to keep me away from it!
My father still has a lazy boy chair. I think he spends most of his time in it these days. My mother also got one for herself eventually. She loved that chair. She spent a lot of time in hers also.
This was my mom all dressed to go out to a Christmas Party in late 1963. It may have even been New Years Eve. I remember that dress. It was powder blue and had crinolines under it so that the skirt was very full. It had ruffles on the bodice. It was sleeveless and very elegant. I love her crochet shawl. I am sure there is a story behind it, and I can see she is wearing her "Black Alaska Diamond" earrings and necklace set. I can almost smell her perfume. She always wore Ma Griffe. I remember finding her a bottle of it when we were in France and buying it for her a number of years back.
I can really see my sister in this photograph. My sister was always very pretty also.
I can also see my mother's housekeeping skills. Note the coffee table is shining and every leg is sitting on its own little coaster. The doily ruffles are perfectly starched, the matching ashtrays clean. Eveything just so. We had that same set of furniture right on up until well after I left home. And it still looked brand new. That was my mom.
I just have to share this one as well. My mom loved this dress and there is a story behind it. She had been admiring it in a shop in downtown Gimli for a while, but thought it was too expensive. The dress itself was a black silk sheath dress and the over jacket was blacksilk shot through with gold threads in a pattern. (Note the television also wearing it's slippers.) I can't be sure but I think she is wearing her black velvet wedding pumps. Anyways, mom had been admiring this dress for a while.
My father used to go out with his buddies every Friday night and get drunk. As the story goes this one of time he actually stayed out all night and she found him passed out, slumped behind the wheel of the car in our driveway the next morning. (Another thing people didn't think twice about in those days.) Anyways, she gave him a right telling off and he came after her in the house on all fours mewing at her like a cat, trying to be cute.
She had a bit of a temper my mom. She went at him and said "laugh at this", clapping her hands over both of his ears at the same time, which likely sobered him up a bit! He went and bought her this dress by way of apology, using some of the money he had earned from putting up television antennaes in the neigbourhood.
The ceramic dog has moved from the coffee table to the television by this point, probably to keep it away from prying hands.
My mother had very striking eyes I think. Beautiful, blue, sparkling.
Anyways, I have digressed into memory land here, and I had not meant to.
Le Temps de L'innocence
I am a very prideful person. I have always tried to do everything myself. Perhaps this is a lesson I need to learn. When you don't allow others to help you, you are depriving them of the blessing of being able to help others. Perhaps this is my turn to accept a little help. Its not easy for me, I want you to know. It is a very humbling experience. I would be grateful for anything anyone can do. All I have is Paypal. I don't want anything to go into our joint bank account because of the risk of losing it. My paypal is my e-mail address, mariealicejoan@aol.com I am truly grateful for anything and will pay every penny back when I can, in one way or another. I hate this. I really do.
My friend Tina stopped by yesterday. Todd had been drinking all day and was a bit obnoxious. He has nothing to lose now you see. He even had his bottle of Port sitting out on the table. He says he is being excommunicated anyways so it doesn't matter. He had been in the Port and the Whiskey. I was quite embarassed to be honest and more than a bit sad. She is coming by to take me to the Doctors for my blood tests this morning so I don't have to walk there in the rain and then she said we would go for a little drive after. Just to Costco. She knows I won't go in because of the Virus but she said she would bring me a slice of pizza out to the car after she gets her bits. She is so kind to me. I will never be able to repay her or Tony or anyone for their many kindnesses to me during this situation, but I hope that someday I can.
Anyways, thank you all so much for your support and your prayers and your recipe page views. They really do mean the world to me. You mean the world to me.
Have a beautiful day and don't forget!