Tilt-a-whirl: Just kids, I tell ya

webrings

Thirty seven (gasp!) years ago I married my high school boyfriend of three years. He was this skinny kid that carried my books and walked me home, then hoofed it back up the hill and on to his house. When he inherited his uncle's yellow and black Ford, he spent his hard earned money to paint it a beautiful sparkly blue, so that he would not be driving The Bumble Bee, AKA The Black and Yellow Yuck to and from his work and his girlfriend's house. I got chauffeured around in that beauty and marveled the day that he picked me up from art school with his new 8-track blaring The Band's Big Pink. He always told me that he wanted to marry me, way back when he was a kid of 18. Our parents were horrified and my grandmother said horrible things. We were so used to taking care of ourselves and big jobs for our parents that to start our lives together back then seemed easy and the right thing to do. It was the right thing. I grew up with my best friend and raised two great young people who are doing us and themselves proud.

Rod does not carry my books anymore but he carries my yarn and the groceries delivered to my shut-in mother. He skeins yarn and puts up with all that surrounds us in this little house/studio...fiber fiber fiber. This year, because of all of the commotion with the business, he has taken on the task of wrapping the gifts and putting up decorations, with no complaints and with love. Very special

We may have padded out kid frames with the softness of our ages but we still see those starry eyed kids that we were back in 1969.

Happy Anniversary!