Get ready. I'm being sentimental.
Today as me and my coworkers were unpacking yet another this-tree-makes-Charlie-Brown's-tree-look-like-the-entire-Redwood-National-Forrest tree and putting it together, fluffing the sad little branches out as far as possible to make it look as full as possible, an extreme wave of memories of grandmother, Mary Francis Powell, flooded me. This will be my fourth Christmas without her. And without her very own this-tree-makes-Charlie-Brown's-tree-look-like-the-entire-Redwood-National-Forrest tree.
That tree was saddest tree you can imagine. And she had these sparkly peacock birds that went all over it.
And she wore shorts with stockings.
Weird, both peacocks and short with stockings have come back to life in our fashion world. Way to go, Francis. I always knew you were posh! (I have such a classic picture of my grandmother driving a go-cart, yes at age 75ish, wearing shorts with stockings. Classic. Must find that picture and post it.)
If I had a point to this story, it would be, I guess, that it's always the weirdest, but endearing things that conjure up memories of your loved ones. (Like that episode of Full House where DJ and Steve had just broken up and DJ sees Steve's head on a head of lettuce at the grocery store. Yeah, like that.)
Anyway, if Francis were still alive, she'd wish you a Merry Christmas and remind you to not eat too much bread. :)
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