…and I’ll cry if I want to… . Actually, there’ll be no crying today (or will there?), as it’s Earth to Holly’s two year anniversary. We’ve nothing special planned…there’ll be no giveaways, no contests, not even a cake (or will there?). Nope, no hoopla, at least not in the sense of this photo taken at [...]]]>

…and I’ll cry if I want to… . Actually, there’ll be no crying today (or will there?), as it’s Earth to Holly’s two year anniversary. We’ve nothing special planned…there’ll be no giveaways, no contests, not even a cake (or will there?). Nope, no hoopla, at least not in the sense of this photo taken at my fourth birthday party, which was, I might add, a few years plus before Lesley Gore would sing that iconic tune. As for the attendees…that’s me, peeking through from the other side of the table, in the house I mentioned here and here. That’s my second cousin (on my dad’s side), R, standing beside me, who is now a successful indie film editor, as well as a musician with his own group. I’m glad that all those “productions” he put me and the neighborhood kids through, in my grandmother’s backyard, paid off. His interest in film, even at a very young age, carried on, and I’m so happy for him. Across the table from me, eying the camera, is my first cousin, M, whom we lost some years back and way too soon. Only two years my senior and the eldest daughter of my dad’s sister, she was the life of the family…crazy, quirky, funny…boy, how we all miss her. And that’s my mom in the background there, in a daze…a sugar stupor of sorts, but from kids. Thank you, and Daddy, for the party and for saving the four tiny pink candles from my cake, which I recently found in a box with my letters, to you, from college. Details on the correspondence, however mundane, are forthcoming.

Although it’s our party, it wouldn’t be if not for all of you who’ve faithfully visited here and left your heartfelt comments over the past year. Especially in mind is the passing of my father and the surrounding angst. Believe it or not, you all helped me handle that. One of you wrote that “…we are here for you and…we do not judge…” Thank you, L. I took all of your words to heart, and it’s better now, or at least my perception is that it’s better, and maybe that’s what’s important? So, thank you…I may not “know” y’all in the traditional sense, but I love ya anyway. Love ya…however, you haven’t seen me at your place in a while, right? I know, I know. I’m awful in that respect, but vow to do better. Often, for me, commenting is as intricate as crafting a post, and I get terribly lost. Not an excuse, just my modus operandi, but like I said, I’ll do better.

And, of course, thank you to Lucy and W. Without them, there probably wouldn’t be an Earth to Holly. While Lucy’s contributions are out there and in your face, W’s are more behind the scenes. His blogging skills were put to the test, though, while I was with my dad, and he excelled, which was no surprise. He’s the brains and voice of reason in these here parts.

So, again, thank you all so much for sharing the year with us, and here’s to another one, and…maybe another blog? Hmmm…

Originally posted December 14, 2009.

Can you stand another reference to my grandmother?

Here is a blossom from the silktree mimosa (Albizia julibrissin) which is more commonly called Chinese silk tree or just mimosa. My first encounter with one was—you guessed it—at my grandmother’s house. Again, I’m speaking of my dad’s mom, whom I most recently mentioned here. The tree is [...]]]>

Can you stand another reference to my grandmother?

Here is a blossom from the silktree mimosa (Albizia julibrissin) which is more commonly called Chinese silk tree or just mimosa. My first encounter with one was—you guessed it—at my grandmother’s house. Again, I’m speaking of my dad’s mom, whom I most recently mentioned here. The tree is quite memorable because of its unique blossoms and their mildly sweet fragrance. The blooms are very soft, like tiny powder puffs, and their scent is delicious. (For the sake of Lucy and all her brethren, though, I must point out that despite my glowing review, I found a toxicity warning that says there is “…a neurotoxin in seed pods that can cause seizures and even death upon ingestion. Pets especially susceptible.”) As much as I loved the tree, my grandmother hated it. I know because I remember her saying, “I hate that damn thing.” (No shrinking violet was she.) Apparently the tree can become infested with web worms, and she hated the mess they made of her yard. So, eventually the tree went, but not before both it and I were captured together in the first and only photograph in my modeling portfolio. *intense sarcasm*

This was taken in the summer of ’66. Although Tuesday’s child is full of grace, not so much that I wasn’t a candidate for Montgomery Ward’s Wendy Ward Charm School, which was popular in the 60s. I don’t recall how I came to end up there, but my guess is from too much Glamour magazine and/or Girl Scouts. Is there a Prissy Badge to be earned? Here I am standing in front of the “damn thing” sporting the same embarrassed grin as here. In a blue polyester outfit complete with cotton gloves and patent leathers, I think I’m a little reminiscent of Jackie O…except for the anklets…eh?

A shout out to my cousin, R, whose house is behind me there. Unlike the poor tree, it still stands. :o)