Home for the Holidays #1

One of my goals for 2014 was to get better at taking photographs.

Yeah….well….

So, one of my goals for 2015 is to get better at taking photographs.

However, there might still be time to squeak out an attempt at working on that goal, at least.

How about a photo a day to close out the year?

DSC_0245

Election Day

votedWhen the kids were little and we were homeschooling, I took advantage of a November election to teach about government.  We studied the three branches, the political parties and the candidates running for office.  We visited the state capitol and met our representative.  We wrote letters to the President and the Governor, assuring them of our prayers and asking for their pictures.  We learned the Pledge of Allegiance and said it together every morning.

The night before the election, one of the candidates made a stop in a town nearby.  We bundled up the kids and stood outside for an hour before finally seeing the top of the hopeful politician’s head.  In the distance.  For a split second.

But the atmosphere was electric — that political rally rivaled any big sporting event.  There was music and a cheering crowd and people holding up signs.  We got swept up in the frenzy.

The next morning, as the kids were eating breakfast, Sam asked who won.  When I told him that our candidate was not elected, he put his little head down on the table and started to cry.  PB and I looked at each other with wide eyes.  I guess we overdid it.  I had to convince the broken-hearted boy that the world was not coming to an end.

Smack dab in the middle of the Bible — the very center of all the verses in God’s Word — is this:

“It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man.  It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in princes.”  Psalm 118:8-9

So I’ll vote today.

But my refuge is in the Lord.

I’ll watch the returns come in tonight.

But I won’t put my head down and cry if my candidate loses.

I’ll pray for those who are in positions of authority.

But the world will not come to an end until the Lord God Almighty says so.

Curly

DSC_0920

This is Charlie.

He has a beautiful head of curly hair.

I will not take him to Fantastic Sam’s for a haircut.

I repeat:

I will not take him anywhere for a haircut.

Ever.

Once upon a time, this Nonnie took it upon herself to take Charlie’s big brother to get a big boy haircut.

Alas, the baby curls were gone, never to return.

Not doing that again.  No siree.

So we are reveling in Charlie’s curls.

There are curls on this side:

DSC_0924

And this side:

DSC_0929

And all over the back side:

DSC_0930

I heard that Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s mother dressed him in dresses and didn’t cut his long curly hair until he was six years old.  I might cave in if Charlie has long curly hair when he’s six.  (That’s a warning five years in advance, parents.)

DSC_0931

Right now, I wouldn’t change a thing.

Second Grade

IMG_0563Second grade was awesome.  I loved my teacher.  She was young and pretty and married to the sixth grade teacher.  I found out her first name was Anita, so when we were assigned to write a story, the main character in my riveting tale was a mysterious character named Anita.  I wanted so badly to be the teacher’s pet, but she didn’t seem to pick any favorites.  Then, at the end of the year, Carla got to take home the class turtle, so I knew she loved Carla more than me.  I was crushed.  However, I did win the award for most book reports.

I felt very fancy on picture day.  My mom didn’t fuss with my hair very often, so the pin curls made me feel extra stylish and flouncy.  Too bad she didn’t cut those bangs a little straighter though.  I don’t know why I wore the same plaid dress in both my 1st and 2nd grade pictures.  Somebody wasn’t paying attention.

A few weeks into the fall quarter, Anita noticed I was having trouble seeing the blackboard from the back row.  She sent a note home and it wasn’t long before I was sporting cat-eye glasses.  By third grade, the lovely curls were chopped off in favor of the ever-popular pixie haircut.

Never again would I be as beautiful as I was in September of 1966.