Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Memory (blog version)

1. As a comment on my blog, leave one memory that you and I had together. It doesn't matter if you knew me a little or a lot, anything you remember!

2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. It's actually pretty funny to see the responses. If you leave a memory about me, I'll assume you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog and leave one about you. If you don't want to play on your blog, or if you don't have a blog, I'll leave my memory of you in my comments.

7 comments:

Karin said...

the first year of quilt camp-you forgot toothpaste. How is that for a memory- it was the first thing that popped into my head, so I decided to go with it!

Emma said...

I remember the weekend when we lived on Ascot Lane when you came in fresh from a four-hour drive to visit for the weekend and asked if there were supposed to be boys toilet papering our lawn. I think that incident ended with several police cruisers outside our house for an hour or so. Walking to the "mile tree" at the farm. You taking me to McDonald's for a special treat one year at Myrtle Beach. Lots of weekends where you drove up (not just to assist us in eliminating TP'ers). You taking Evelyn a good chunk of the day last New Year's Eve when I had food poisoning pretty much all day. I could go on and on and on . . .

Carol said...

Hi,
I was able to discover your blog. See you at QIS on Monday.

Laurel said...

I don't think your friend Carol gets the game here...

Anyway, well I'd say my youngest memories are of running away screaming from tickle monster. Then there was lots of sleeping on Aunt Cindi during church. You suffering with the rest of the crowd through graduation. Coming to visit you after EFY and again just this summer. Talking to you on the phone about crazy people we know. But I suppose the classic would be when you turned 40 and I was torturing you so mercilessly. You finally told me I'd better be careful because when I turned 40, you'd get me back. I confident in my youth retorted that you would be dead by then, only, upon further calculations, that you will actually only be 67. And then somehow we decided that instead of tormenting me, you'd just come live with me. So here's to us...future housemates.

Cassie said...

I can't ever remember you not being there for me. I remember swinging on the swing in the back yard in Emporia with you. I remember the pickup truck wreck and me being such a brat while you tried to walk tp the nearest house on a broken leg. I remember taking days to set up our Barbies and leaving them up for weeks to play. I remember Petticoat Junction and Gilligan's Island. I remember one Diet Pepsi a day in the summer. I remember two weeks together (without Mama and Daddy) every summer in Kansas with Grandpas and Grandmas and so much extened family I can't remember how I am related to all of them. I remember you always telling me HOW I was related to them. I remember you in tank tops and shorts on the tractor helping Daddy haul hay on those incredibly STEEP hills in Missouri. I remember you taking me to church when I was in high school and how that led to the greatest blessings in my life. I remember you being there for me in the Temple on my wedding day. I remember you watching Emma on my birthday when she was 5 months old. She cried for hours and Kent and I narrowly escaped disaster. I remember coming to stay with you when you had your surgery and forcing you to throw stuff away while you were so sick you didn't care about much of anything. You are the one who always goes to see all the aunts and uncles-even when they aren't too fun to be around. I don't think I could have raised such wonderful kids without the influence you had on them. You are the one I first think to go to when I am sad and I need someone to comfort me. I love you.

Careen said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Careen said...

Years of bunking together...beginning with our daybed/trundle adventures and more recently (but not necessarily culminating) with a tropical resort in Los Cabos, Mexico. And at the risk of getting us both in trouble, various good natured sessions of "bemoan about our high maintenance siblings that we love so much."