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A Calorie and Family Filled Stroll Down Memory Lane

For the past few days I've been out of town visiting the parents for a late Christmas.  I'm sure you've enjoyed your break from my musings. You were all, whew, she's not posting every day.  Glad to get a break from her. She was slightly annoying. And now you're all, damn it all, she's back.  And I'm all thinking, oh my poor readers!  They've missed me so!  Better get blogging!  For the people, not me.  This narcissistic blogging behavior totally doesn't apply to me.  I blog for mankind.  And the orphans.

This out of town trip entailed an almost six hour drive to what I'll lovingly refer to as Podunk, a small town with a population of roughly 900. As is typical of all Podunk towns, there's limited options for kids' activities and grocery shopping, zero options for 24 hour pharmacies and gas stations, but options galore for sitting at a bar and snowmobiling down mainstreet.
I grew up in this town and know many wonderful people who still live here.  Podunk will always have a special place in my heart.  But I'm glad I don't live there today. I'm too used to convenience and theaters and traffic and restaurants and population.  However, I must say what the city lacks (my grandparents and parents and extended family and childhood playmates, and people who knew me when I was in diapers and as a pigtailed, skinny kneed tomboy... the true me at the start of my life) Podunk is filled with.  So Podunk kicks City's ass in that respect.

While there, we ate too much, laughed a lot, and spoiled each other with presents.  My children must think they live in a Toys R Us at this point.
We also played the adult version of Loaded Questions.  I'd like to advise that you don't play that game with family. It's everything you didn't want to know about own your sisters' carnal activities.
I also may or may not have bitch slapped my brother-in-law in the forehead.  But if I did, allegedly, he likely deserved it. (I'd like to take the time now to thank him personally for the meteorology lesson in jet streams.....)

Also while there, my older sister pulled out Mom's bins of old photographs to go through and help organize.
It was fun browsing through old, yellowing pictures of my childhood.  It's strange how an image of your childhood home can bring back detailed memories of furniture you jumped on, toys you played with, Grandma's kitchen and sunroom, games played with cousins, and the swing set you loved to swing hard on until it started to pull up on one end, jolting your brain and teeth every time the metal legs smacked back down to the ground.  The home I was born in and lived in until I was 9 years old burned down some time ago, which makes me sad.  I wish i could simply drive by it still and remember. I'm pretty sure the lead paint chips I snacked on back then made me who I am today.

Many things struck me in the photographs......
The 1980s weren't a good time for clothing and glasses and hair styles and furniture and wallpaper.  Fo sho.  Holy ugly. 
Also, it was quite common for your aunts and uncles to snuggle and hold you in their laps while they had a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other.  Or, if you have a certain uncle like mine, he just had your 2 year old self hold his beer for him.
Also, seat belts? Those were clearly optional back in the day.  Hell, I'd sit on Dad's lap and steer for him.

And particular to my family photos, a common theme stood out in all of them.  Like 99.8% of them.

I was effing pissed off in almost every. single. one.

Therefore, my pathetic, adolescent semi-rebellion is evidenced.

I was a total pseudo bad ass.  With a capital Bad.  And an all caps, all bold PSEUDO.

I was a rebel without a cause.  Or an actual rebellion.

I got straight As.
I studied at the library.
I didn't drink or party or sneak out of the house or skip school. Hand to God.
I was in band and SADD and student council (for one year)
I hung out with wholesome, nonsmoking and nondrugging friends. Weird friends, but overall wholesome.
I held down a part time job through high school to buy my own clothes and pay for gas when I borrowed the folks' car.

But turn a camera on me and force me to sit with my family for a picture?  I'd glare and snarl and roll my eyes and swear in my mind and say to myself, I'll cut a bitch if I have to pose one minute longer and kick a puppy to prove my point and be all sorts of  nasty teenaged bitchy rebel in an instant.

God was I a tough kid to live with. Or at least, be photographed with.

Sorry I didn't smile more in those pictures, family of mine. 

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