Rememories

Christmases never go over well with me and people are already posting how many days it is until the fat guy in the red suit tries to squeeze down my chimney. Sounds a bit disturbing, especially since I don't have a chimney at all. Don't get me wrong, I love the idea behind Christmas and the spirit of giving and I can even be entertained by the whole Jesus story. Except, the religious and loving aspects of Christmas seem to have taken a backseat. Now it's an time of excessive spending and the demands of spoiled children are brought to the forefront. It's supposed to bring out the good in everyone but each year I see more bad. 

I don't have kids. Not for lack of wanting them, simply because I haven't got to 'that' stage of my life quite yet. I am hoping to. When I think back on my own childhood, I remember Christmas being stressful. Now, Halloween, that was always the best part of the year. For a month, you celebrated. First, you bought decorations, then you worked on our costume, next you carved pumpkins, and all of it was prep for this one glorious night where you get to be something creepy or kooky and strangers give you candy. 

Talk about bliss. 

My most favourite Halloween costume was when I went as Elvira. I had boobs to my chin. Needless to say my grade five teacher wasn't stoked on the cleavage and no one knew who I was, but I strutted around, completely thrilled. That must say something about the child I was. My mother always made the costumes for us. There might have been some purchased accessories along the way, but I distinctly remember her toiling away at her sewing machine. I wish I inherited the seamstress in her.

My sewing machine is sitting in the spare bedroom. One day, I plan to figure her out. I took sewing in high school. It was part of the home economics course, where you took drafting, woodwork, sewing and cooking. To this day, I distinctly remember making an apron and baking apple pie, but I can't for the life of me drudge up anything I learned in woodwork or drafting, although I am ninety percent sure woodworking involved a clock or pencil holder of sorts. 

Grade eight was a long time ago. 

This year, I don't have a costume sorted out. Last, there was a circus theme at work, so I went as Pierrot. Here is Dixon with my hat on - can you handle the adorable? 

Musical Memories

Sometimes a song is played and it takes me to a time and place I haven't thought about in years.

Just one song and ...

... I am eighteen years old again. Living in my first apartment. Crushing on that guy from Save-On-Foods. Working at Canadian Tire. Having my tongue pierced at Next on Granville Street. Writing terrible poetry. Being afraid of ants. Laughing with my sister. Going to the Java Joint. Wearing the smallest jean jacket in the world. Buying animal rights buttons and a chain wallet from The Rock Shop. Getting my first tattoo at Liquid Sliver. And my second. Watching the Black Halos play at The Piccadilly Pub on Pender Street. Being taken to see Wendigo. Feeling lost and unsure, and wondering if that will ever go away. (It doesn't) Always being plugged into my discman. Learning the lyrics to a hundred different songs a week. Falling in love with being independent. Finding out the importance of an apology. Wondering when I'll fall in love with a boy. Buying Converse shoes. Setting my hair on fire in the bathtub. Tripping and falling, but getting back up again, and laughing about it. Buying guitars from Long & McQuade. Hanging out with Bella and Sam. Saving Etnie.

Listening to music I will always remember and making musical memories.



I am grateful for those memories and the music that makes me remember.