12.29

I remember when this was always the official start to Christmas. And by start, I mean, as children, we knocked down our stockings before worrying about any wrapped gifts. These were always full of candy and small goodies, or gag gifts as we got older. And considering the tearing apart of presents happened before breakfast happened, the sweets didn’t last long.

Our stockings never actually hung in front of a real fire. Perhaps when my youngest sister was still a baby at one of the houses, but my mom never wanted our tree in the family room at our final house. It was to far from the center of the household, so she made my dad buy a huge gas fireplace for the living room. That’s where the tree stood, and that’s where the stockings hung.

They all also had our names on them. Very cheaply, with sparkly puffy paint. But I think I’ve gotten used to that. It’s more of a tradition now. Or so I tell myself, as it’s simply easier to keep track of whose stocking is whose this way. Makes my holiday season easier. My memory is fading in my old age..

12.11

I remember when this was my doll. And no one else was allowed to touch her. At least when I was around. I grew up with her, and she was the first toy I went for when I got to Nana and Gramps’ house. Her and the plastic doctor set. Not really sure what happened to that. But I made sure to grab this doll out of the toy box before my little cousins got their grubby hands on her. They sort of destroy everything they touch.

I don’t really remember anything special about her. Just that I really liked to be stingy with her. I do recall always trying to fix her hair. But after years of living in a toy box on my Nana’s porch, that seemed to be a lost cause. And all I really wanted to do was put her damn headband on correctly. I couldn’t do that with patches of hair missing. Not that I can get some hair plugs, but I’m pretty sure I tried doing a comb over at one point.

I obviously don’t play with her any longer. She just went into my keepsake chest. I only see her, and remember that I still have her, when I open said chest to find family pictures from way back when. She needs to go. Its certainly not a doll I would pass on. But at least she’s not one of those super creepy ones.

12.2

I remember making this with my brother as a kid. He was the only boy, so he got all the cool toys. And my mom would get all huffy puffy when I’d play with his Hot Wheels and Lego’s, with his permission, instead of my dolls. I wanted to keep him company anyway. We weren’t allowed to have friends over very often.

This set was probably our favorite. Not because it was fast and easy to build (that was rather boring), but because we could actually play a game of soccer. Not that outside bullshit. Its scary out there! We were safe, cozy, and at room temperature throughout the whole process. I probably cheated a little bit.. What kid doesn’t?

Neither of us know what actually happened to most of his Lego sets. We came home from school and suddenly half of our belongings were missing. My mom gave us some bs story of a poor little kid coming to the door and asking for toys. She just felt so bad. I found most of it in the trash can out in the garage later that night.

11.20

I remember making these with my Great Nana. This was back when I loved making cute little crafts. Wait, no. I still do. It’s the time to do so that I lack. Anyway, I had seen these in some book I had gotten as a gift and picked up on it really quick. Which is probably why I quit making them so quickly. But I also tried teaching my Great Nana how to do it. She was sick by this time, and had moved into a trailer just off the Island. I saw her at least twice a week, and always had something to show her.

When I brought this craft with me, I happened to have run out of the string I was supposed to be using. But I had done other crafts and owned quite the supply of friendship bracelet string. Halfway through making that last poor lizard, I realized we should have waited. He’s all floppy and mangled. My Great Nana seemed quite pleased with herself when we finished it, so I never had the heart to tell her we should take it apart and try again. Instead, I found some pipe cleaner and tried cutting little pieces to stick inside the beads. That way he could actually look like a lizard. Still didn’t work, but I definitely didn’t get rid of him. I can’t bring myself to part with that keychain; it’s one of the last few memories I have of my Great Nana.

11.10

I remember saving up my money to buy this set. It wasn’t close enough to my birthday or anything else for any person in my family to buy me a little gift. But I had to have it. I was big into the whole beanie baby thing, I really didn’t have much else to play with. My mom never wanted to dish out more money than she had to for her children. It would have cut into her shopping fund. She even tried to claim we were low income to the schools to get us free lunches. Seriously? But that’s for another day.

I tried to keep this little guy in pristine condition. And he still is! Mainly because he stayed in a box for almost 15 years. I feel guilty that none of these beanie babies were played with to their full potential. And by full potential, I mean where the stuffing is literally sticking out. I’d love for some kid to inherit my collection and get some joy out of it. But throwing it in a bag for a donation or charity seems so impersonal. I want to physically pass on my old items to someone I know will enjoy it. I don’t want Clubby to be a display item. I want to see him give someone a smile. But parents nowadays have let technology replace toys like these..

8.30

I remember always snuggling with this little dude when I stayed over at my grandparents’ house. I was young, obviously. And there were plenty of other toys and stuffed animals, as I was the first grandchild and the spoiling just escalated after that. But out of that entire room of awesomeness, this is the one I chose to fall asleep with. And no one else was allowed to touch him.

As I got older, I stopped staying over at their house. Actually, I stopped once my Papa passed away. Then my Grandma found a smaller place and I reached the age where all I wanted to do was hang out with friends. It was my senior year of high school when my Grandma decided it was her time to go. She left me a few things, and I had completely forgotten about this dude. I never named him either. It was my dad that returned him to me. He remembered; so I kept him.

6.18

I remember when this was not a place we wanted to sit and relax or play with toys. Sure it has the cool stone exterior, but on the inside, it really was an old porch. It was full of spiders and ants and centipedes. And I’m very squeamish around little creepy crawly things. Once I was old enough to notice those damn things, I stopped spending as much time on this porch.

It was over a decade ago that my Nana made the decision to have the inside remodeled. She got all new windows and floors and had the walls plastered and painted. There’s carpet now and a full set of furniture. And her cats absolutely love it when she leaves the windows open. I even see my cousins spending most of their time messing with the toys out here.

I do have some really fond memories on this porch, which can be saved for a later time. It’s not like those memories have been altered or destroyed by the remodel. In fact, I feel privileged as the first grand-baby to have had experiences with my family out here. But this is so much easier to clean. I’m not freaking out when something lightly brushes my skin. I definitely do not miss the bugs.

5.2

I remember hating this place. I guess it didn’t matter when I was really young, but I had some pretty traumatic experiences here. Needles, cold hands, and long waits. Apparently children are basically pets and need a series of vaccinations. It’s wonderful knowing viruses, diseases, and potentially life-threatening liquids were being injected directly into my body. I’m pretty sure we spent at least one day a week in this place. My mom somehow became a hypochondriac after having kids, which she then blanketed over all of us. The sniffles meant we were going to die, ad bruises were obviously broken bones that couldn’t be healed. So, I probably finished much of my homework in the waiting room of this office.

I hated that I didn’t have a regular doctor. She had to pick a pediatrician. Which really sucked monkey balls when I was 17. Once I was in high school, I avoided going to the doctor for any sort of health problem. Unfortunately, I ended up with something I just couldn’t kick on my own. But after scheduling an appointment at this wretched place, waiting for almost an hour, and sitting in an exam room for another 15, turns out my journey was fruitless. I had a virus, and the doctor told me I just had to wait it out. What the fuck. On top of that, I still had to pay the $30 co-pay. And people wonder why I hate going to the doctor’s.

3.29

I remember buying my first beanie baby from this place. I must have been about 5 or 6 years old. My Grandma had just started as a bus driver around that time, and I remember her telling me about that new craze as I was walking out to my own bus. I’m pretty sure she gave me the money to buy my first one. I was her oldest Grandbaby so I don’t think she minded treating me every so often. I ended up getting Teddy, a brown bear. I actually still have him – AND in one piece, thankyouverymuch. But he started my childhood obsession. By the time I was ten years old, I had over 250 beanie babies. I obviously don’t have all those any longer. I definitely ran out of space. I figured they’d do better with another child, rather than sitting in boxes. I mean, I hope some little kid is enjoying them as much as I did.

This is a locally owned business, and I’m surprised its still there. It went through a rough patch some years back. Luckily, the locals still give it enough business, which is weird because I hardly ever see cars in the parking lot. I haven’t been inside for years, but I’d imagine that most of their merchandise is handmade by Island residents. We have a few stores that reserve space for that sort of product. I don’t know how well they do, but it has to be enough to keep making their stuff. Maybe I should try that..

Anyway, my mom used to love this store. Obviously, I’d have to tag along when she went shopping for things she didn’t need. She wouldn’t let me look around with her. She’d make sure I didn’t touch anything. She’d make sure I didn’t move. I’d sit in a corner until she was ready to leave. Not that anyone would have taken me, but that memory is incredibly boring.