Thursday, January 15, 2009
I think I'll pack my little suitcase and run away. Not far, and maybe for just a day or two. Just long enough to realize "There's no place like home."
I made this little suitcase for my youngest Sista, Sarah Ann. I got the idea from the first Haute Handbag magazine.
The scrabble pieces do spell out some family sentiment.
Most Sundays we would go for a family drive. First, my father would drive us out to the country to see Granny, then, after visiting her we would go for our drive. Before we even left the house my older sister would have fights with my parents because she wanted to wear blue jeans. They didn't want her to wear blue jeans when she visited Granny.
I often got car sick and had a deathly fear of getting lost. Most times we would get lost. My father would say, "We're lost," then I would start freaking out. I can't believe I really thought we were lost as in never going to find our way home lost. I guess he just meant that he didn't recognize the area. I'll have to ask him about that.
On one trip our baby sista was eating an orange in the back seat of the car. I think all four of us sista's were crammed in the backseat except maybe Janice. She liked to sit on the floor board. She never got car sick and once when we were kids she smoked an entire cigar and did not puke (but that is another story). Well, Sarah Ann started choking on that orange and we started laughing at her. We laughed so hard till we realized she was in distress! Luckily, she coughed up that orange. We still talk about that incident.
My husband and I love to go on Sunday drives but we don't do it much because the dog gets car sick and pukes plus the kids (ages 14 and 15) are whining and bitching constantly behind our heads. It takes some of the pleasure out of the drive.
I can understand now why my parents quit taking us on our Sunday Drives.