I was over at my parents house one day and my mom had gotten
some delicious milk from a company that was selling sample products door to door.
But more importantly this milk came in the
most fantastic jar I had ever seen. I begged her to let me have it.
Problem is I didn't know what I was going to do with it.
My mom has been pretty great and this whole me taking pictures of everthing all of a sudden.
Anytime I need props or crafty things she allows me to
"shop" at her house. :) Aren't moms the best?
Once upon a time while I was a wee lass living in a suburb right outside Chicago, I would often
spend my summer afternoons at my best friend Tristan's house.
Her house was located outside of town and in the more country-ish part of our area of Illinois.
Anyway, in her yard were some of the most fantastic willow trees I had ever seen.
One of our favorite activities was to swing on the branches. Along with playing pongs, watching Mrs. Doubtfire six times in a row, playing barbies and fighting over who got to be the banker when we played bank....she usually won. I don't know what the heck we played bank for. Basically
we would use an old type writer and set up her desk right in front
of the door and use monopoly money and calculators. Generally
I was trying to get a home loan and she would deny it just so we could use the big stamp
on my "paperwork" that her dad let us borrow.
Anywho back to the story. So one day we were swinging away in sheer blissdom when
her dad came home early from work and came over to say
hi to us. He immediately asked that we not
swing in the branches because he was afraid that they were gonna break and get all over the lawn.
We did the typical aww but dad routine, I mean heck we only weighed about 70 pounds each but
he insisted we stop. After he went inside, Tristan and I looked at each other and decided we
would have one last swing. So we each caught hold of a branch,
and swung. And wouldn't you know it the branches broke. We looked at each other with
a look of half laughter half horror on our faces. Suddenly we heard the front door open.
We immediately picked up our branches and began
running away dragging them behind us. We hid the evidence of our crime in a
fort we had built in the huge bushes by her driveway, and Tristan's dad, to this day,
is none the wiser....well unless he reads my blog...which I doubt.