10.24

I remember when we bought these damn fireplaces. I don’t quite remember if my parents bought them as gifts for their parents, or if they just convinced said parents to waste their money. I mean, they definitely keep a house warm. A small house, which is perfect. But you can buy a space heater with the same power for 10% of the price.

I think it was right around the same time that we were remodeling the living room. This was probably the third time my mother wanted to change everything in there, and wanted to add a gas fireplace. She then went to all our family and friends and would not shut up about how warm it kept the house. She never thought to pass along our energy bill though.

I honestly thought (and still think) that these just showed a bit of overcompensation. We had a real fireplace… that my mom rarely used because she would chip a nail. And we had a perfect, brand new heating system. Two separate systems, actually. One for each floor of the house. But that didn’t matter. She liked expensive things, and convinced two people to waste their social security checks on these.

7.14

I remember when the slide was still here. I’m not sure why it’s gone, but it looks like it was deliberately and permanently removed. I never heard of any kids getting injured on it. But then again, it was probably as old as myself and therefore falling to pieces. It looks like someone tried to cover up the gaping hole in the wall. Apparently it wasn’t a very whole hearted attempt, because someone managed to pull off some of the wooden railings. I feel like that might be more dangerous than a simple slide. That would be quite a fall.

I never actually went down the slide. Climbing up it was the cool thing to do when I was a child. And by those parameters, I was pretty damn awesome. Not many of the kids could get all the way up, but I had a secret. The Keds that my Grandma always bought me were extremely grippy. I wouldn’t slide through butter. So, I’d get to the top, and instead of just sliding back down, I’d run all the way through the maze and back to the mulch-y ground. Actually, it was probably safer this way, because all the other kids would try climbing up right behind me.

4.1

I remember spending hours braiding his hair. It had to be perfect, each side had to be even, and all the braids needed to look the same. But it never worked out that way. Sometimes the yarn strands were different lengths, or some had fallen out so I’d end up with one or two extra strings. Sometimes a braid might be tighter than the others. Then I’d have to redo the whole thing. I could occupy myself for hours with that horse. I don’t remember ever actually sitting on him for entertainment; I just took care of him. And yes, he is mine. He was a gift. And I recently rescued him from the clutches of my mom’s basement. Now he’s safely living next to my couch.

His hair is still braided in spots. I haven’t done that lately because I’m afraid that old yarn might break apart. Most of the tail is still done, mainly because I can’t get the knots undone. And the handle is missing, but that’s been missing for as long as I can remember. Now there’s just a hole in his head. I’m surprised he’s in such great condition, though. I’ve never had to repair his legs or head, which is surprising with how much I still climb all over him.

I have noticed that I never named him. Or maybe I did when I was a cute little toddler. Perhaps it didn’t stick. It needs to be a situation similar to the naming of Bianca. One where the universe had the whole thing planned. Anyone have a name for a wooden rocking horse?