Tag - christmas

Throwback Thursday: December 1973

Rabbit rabbit! I’m glad it’s October because September well and truly sucked. Yuck.

No date on the back of this one, but I’m positive it’s Christmas 1973. This is an actual Polaroid picture. For the younger readers, this is what Instagram is trying to emulate.

All those gifts are for meeeee!

All those gifts are for meeeee!

I’m 15 months old and barely standing. The story goes that I was held back from walking until the folks could get carpet installed. But I know me, so I’m going to chalk that up to laziness/clumsiness.

Items of note:

  • Bells tied to the baby shoes.
  • You can barely see the terrifying unpadded 1970s-era high chair in the background.
  • The dress is likely handmade. Not because of a twee pinterest-maker wannabe desire, but because it was the 70s and that’s what working class families did.
  • The favorite gift I gave this Christmas

    Wherever you are, I hope it’s warmer than here. It was 11 degrees when I woke up, and it’s not rising out of the 20s until tomorrow morning. But the wind chill drops the temperature down to the negatives. I can’t get warm.

    ***

    I read about CharityPups.com in the gift guide of one of the many magazines I collected around the holidays. The concept is simple: you pay some money, upload pics of your dog(s), and Aaron Kaufman will create a custom digital sketch of your pooch(es). I was looking for something to top off WM’s gift pile, so I decided to take a chance.

    LOOK AT THIS!

    charitypups

    Isn’t it amazing? He got every aspect of my wee wolves perfect, especially Max’s weird underbite and Ollie’s fuzzy head. This was the best gift idea I’ve had in ages, and if there is a dog lover in your life you should take the plunge and get them this. Best of all, 30% of the profit goes to charity — Aaron picks a different one each month!

    Thanks, Aaron!

    My ceramic Christmas tree

    I received a lot of fantastic gifts for Christmas (Alex and Ani! A terrarium! Cashmere hat & gloves!), but I want to spotlight one in particular.

    When I was young, every single house I knew had a ceramic Christmas tree. They were maybe 18″ tall (but varied), with glass or plastic bulbs stuck into them, and then lit with a light bulb on the inside. Some were handpainted, some were factory produced. My grandmother and my mom had them.

    Mom’s broke. MomMom’s was passed onto someone who cared more about the tree than I did.

    Last year I started seeing my friends post pictures of their trees, inherited from parents and grandparents. And then I wanted my own tree. It was an unreasonable desire, much like my urge to go on one of the NKOTB cruises. But this little tree symbolizes the innocence and wonder of my childhood Christmasses, when everyone in my family was still alive and the it was all magic and no stress.

    But what my sentimental heart didn’t realize was that along the way these trees became “vintage.” And my choices for getting a tree for this Christmas became 1) Pay out the nose for a new one, 2) Pay out the nose on eBay for an old one that could be great or could smell like cat pee, or 3) Steal the one that you just said aloud that your mother still has in her attic.

    I gave up and called off the search, deciding to trawl through yard sales this summer for some clueless schlub selling one for $5.

    And then on Christmas I opened the last box under Mom’s tree and …

    This is my ceramic Christmas tree. There are many like it, but this one is mine.

    This is my ceramic Christmas tree. There are many like it, but this one is mine.

    This little tree came from Fredericksburg, Virginia. John and Kristen stopped there on the way back from their road trip to Florida. Kristen came across it in an antique shop, and after multiple texts back and forth, brought it up to NJ.

    I can’t lie, I ugly cried on Christmas morning. I’m about to ugly cry right now. It’s a blessing to have family that cares so much about your irrational desires that they will bring home a ceramic Christmas tree from 200 miles away, just to make you smile.

    Thank you, family.

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