Life is a stage or in this case...a picnic table

The other night we sat around planning the blogs for the days leading up to April third. Of course the T.O.P's Tuesday blogs were written over Christmas break and saved in my draft file, so they are done. The one thing we knew for sure, it was time to share some pictures and stories of Heidi and I from our youth. This has become a tradition here at the blog in the days leading up to Easter and the April third anniversary date. This year shouldn't be any different.

Today's fabulous blast from the past photo album highlights myself, my cousin Shawnacy, and then Heidi. It was taken at my Gram and Aunt Nancy's home. For those asking, "Are they standing on the picnic table?" Why yes, we are! And the adults knew it. I don't remember the day but knowing we are on stage (yes, the picnic table became a stage once covered with beach towels) and probably preparing or ending a show.

One thing we were known for, was putting on shows. If there was a family gathering then you could count on this crazy group of girls organizing, choreographing, and practicing a routine of some sort to perform when the entire family was there. As I look back, we were very blessed. Not only did we spend a lot of time (out of the adults hair while they visited) preparing but the adults always, and I mean always, stopped what they were doing to watch our performances.

Can we say the same of our time together today? At family gatherings, do you let the kids put their creative talents together in a constructive way? When the kids tug at your shirts and ask you to come watch, do you? I pray you do. I am guilty of not stopping myself. God used this blog to remind me too.

Another favorite thing we liked to do was sing into our curling irons. I would climb on top of my dressing table, lift the attic door a little, and Heidi handed me the end of our curling iron plugs. I placed the plugs above the door, set the door gently down, and jumped to the floor.

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"What are you girls doing up there?"
is heard through the floor from the dining room below us.

"Nothing Mom, just dancing..." giggles echo down
the stairs for the inquiring Mom to hear.

"Lisa, you better not be climbing on your furniture again."
Mom walks to the bottom of the stairs.

"Don't worry Mom, we're just playing."

Once the Mom radar returned to her tasks at hand, the fun really started. Heidi and I would turn on the radio or put a record on (yes, we had records, lol) and assumed the position. We grabbed our curling iron microphones and sang our hearts out.

A performance only fit for the dog or our stuffed animals. No adults were invited because we would get in trouble for opening the attic door and climbing. We were bold, not stupid. I tried to find the photographic evidence of this but not sure which album it's in but I know there is one. So I improvised.

I brought my curling iron into Mag's room and asked, "Can you take my picture?" After multiple failed attempts to toss my curling iron plug into the attic door, I settled for the linen closet door above her bed. She said, "Why didn't you just use your hair brush? Is this how you did it in the old days?" Ouch, that hurt. Isn't she cute?

So whether you sang into your curling, sing into a hair brush, or with your I-pod...I hope you are making memories and singing. Life is too short. Have a great day!!

"Raising the Roof" for the Hope and Healing I have...
What are you celebrating today?