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A Thread Of Good Memories

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Wow, what a beautiful memory Metis-Siren! The fact that you remember feeling normal is great too! I would love to travel to Ireland or anywhere really ;o) I've been to Victoria Canada. Far from where you are. I remember how beautiful the marina was as we came into harbor. The Victoria Hotel was stunning! And the Buschart gardens, wonderful to walk thru. We had brought our youngest son and my mother in-law with us. It was maybe 6 years ago. There was a seal in the harbor next to a restaurant. He would come up and let you feed him. He even gave me a kiss on the nose! Ahhh....I had completely forgotten about that! Thanks for bringing that memory back ;o)
 
The memory of feeling normal is from that day - I was diagnosed with PTSD at about 16, and can't remember a period of time where it was ever truly normal, so having that day feeling normal and having an extraordinary memory, it warms me. It never ceases to amaze me when I can remember a good day in significant detail, what I wore, ate, said, how the weather was. I have never been able to take that for granted. I've never been to Victoria, but I do hope to go one day - maybe even live in B.C. :)
 
Ah, Ireland, home of Guiness and wonderful music. I remember sitting in a pub, drinking Guiness (of course) and listening to the locals playing and singing. We attended a music festival in some small town. The town had more pubs than any city and there was music coming out of every one - musicians of all ages, little kids playing fiddles and tin whistles to elderly doing the same. Everyone smiling and laughing. I remember a ferry ride to one of the Islands, castle ruins, picnics on the trunk of the car as we looked over a bright blue lake surrounded by some of the greenest grass, kissing the Blarney Stone, a shop owner leaving his shop so he could show me the way back to the hotel (no locking), looking out over the ocean from some of the tallest, sheer cliffs I have ever seen (no protective fence). I love Ireland! Thanks metis-siren for reminding me of Ireland!!
 
Today was bitter sweet. It was the memorial service for one of my closest friends grandmother in-law. She lived at the same care facility in town that my mother in-law lived in. I woke up this morning crying thinking of my mother in-law....must have been dreaming about her because of the upcoming service. Elsie died at 88 years old on my 50th birthday. In the beginning Elsie and I fought like crazy. By the end she was a close friend and confidant. I was only 18 when I married her son 32 years ago. She taught me how to be a good wife and mother (since I didn't learn that from my mom.) Elsie always had a goodie bag for us to take home after a visit or brought one with her when she came to our house. It would be filled with food sundry items she'd found on special, mail samples and always homemade toll house cookies.

My husband love her toll house cookies. Hers were different than anybodies...they were crispy not chewy like most. I asked her what she did differently and she swore she followed the recipe on the bag. She went shopping one day with me and I was buying the makings to bake a batch. She was appalled that I was going to use butter, "It's too expensive to use in cookies!" (she grew up during the great depression). I said "What, that's what the recipe calls for"..."Oh no she said, you use Crisco!" HA...I found out her secret!!!!!! So the next time I made them for my hubby using crisco. Get this he was sooo disappointed. He told me he loves my chewy cookies and only claimed to like his mom's better to make her feel good LMAO! Oh did I feel great that day! Heehee!

I miss my mom in-law, I miss her care packages and the lessons she taught me. I miss how her role modeling always made me strive to be a better person. Well that last part isn't true, I still strive to be like her. How blessed I was to have a mother in-law like her.
 
I just came across this tonight and loved reading about other peoples good memories. I have tons of good ones like fishing for pigs, or early morning in the campsite with Dad or even my poor crippled dog falling into the lake and coming out completely dry.

But to tell the truth one memory repeats for several occasions for me. My Dad owned a 14 foot aluminum boat and a 10 horse johnson motor. The old green monster. But with a family of 5 we didn't all fit in Dad's boat. My grandpa used to own a cabin up north and one day while attempting to mow the grass close to the woods he found a little 9 ft fiberglass dingy hidden on his property from the last owner. He dug it out of the grass checked it over and plopped it into the water. It Floated!! So this became Mom's and my boat for camping trips as it fit neatly inside the 14ft boat of my Dad's.

My mom out fitted us with a tiny little electric trolling motor and 2 half gallon milk jugs filled with sand for anchors because I was too little to lift anything heavier. I sat in the bow cross legged with my little white fishing pole with real cork as a handle and my hand me down squeaky black zebbco reel. Hours and hours trip after trip mom and I out fished my brothers and my Dad in our little boat. The thing was so tippy Mom and I couldn't lean to the same side of the boat otherwise we would go over.

I can remember sitting there with the smell of the fresh water, the gentle rocking of the waves, sticking my nose into my too big for me yellow life jacket smelling the other times we fished. Mom and I sat in that little boat with Mom, wearing her barnum and bailey's clown hat for luck, watching my little orange bobber wiggle in the breeze. Oh how exciting it was to see that thing go underwater as the fish took it down. I'd pull up on the pole setting the hook with my little reel squeaking like mad as I cranked in another whale. I remember Mom using a black marker on my wrist to show me if the fish was as long as the tip of my fingers to that black line it was a keeper. I can't remember how many times we caught enough fish and put them in the basket that our little trolling motor had to fight the fish from pulling us away from shore. Man how I wish for those simpler days. Carefree and happy just spending time with my Mom. We always had to prove we could out fish my brothers lol
 
Oh what a great story Popeye! I can smell the water, the fish and even your life jacket, I can hear the water lapping on the boat. ;) Your mom had a great idea with the marker ;o)

Fishing with my family are among my best memories as well. And the competition.....it still reigns LOL!

Thanks for sharing :)
 
I woke up this morning the first time in forever in a good mood. I decided I would share another story real quick.

When I was little about 7 or 8 We used to go to my uncle John's farm in the summer time for a week at a time and again in the fall to help with the harvest. I loved that place everything there had a distinct smell. The house it self smelled of firewood because of the wood burning heater. I remember most of the rooms in the house were always closed off because John had inherited the farm from his parents. He never used the three bedrooms upstairs and they were like walking into a museum because everything was left exactly how it had been when John's parents were alive.

Th kitchen had the ugliest tile on the floor and extra short counter tops specifically made for John's mom because she was a whole 4 foot 5 inches tall. Even the ugly olive green electric stove was never used because John couldn't boil water. The sidewalks outside were made from field stones he and his father had plowed up and moved. There was the ugly mutt of a dog nick named "Bad News Brown", The old oliver tractor, even the barn yard cats that attacked your feet as you walked.

My favorite part of the whole farm was the baby pig pen. They looked so cute when they were little. I remember watching my Uncle take a bushel basket of field corn and dumping it in the pen and the pigs went nuts for it. Well one day while wandering the farm I came across some bailing twine. I was busy playing with my twine when I literally walked right into the side of the corn crib. After shaking that newest injury off I crawled into the corn crib with my twine. I found a piece of corn that all the kernels were missing in the center probably because of mice. I found that my cub scout training paid off because I made a grappling hook out of an ear of corn. After a while the grappling hook kind of lost it's fun and an Idea hit me.

Earlier that year I had learned that even the baby pigs liked corn so I decided to try something. Using my ear of corn on the end of some twine I tossed the corn into the pen and held onto my end of the twine. The pigs eagerly grabbed onto the corn and I began to pull. Those little pigs were strong but I was the stronger and as they came closer to the edge of the pen I was strong enough to lift them into the air using my pig fishing pole. As I got older and stronger I learned new techniques and found that an old shovel handle was the best type of rod to use to try fishing for pigs. There is somewhere in my mom's house pictures of me standing there bare foot with my giant coke bottle glasses fishing for pigs.
 
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