A Christmas Memory

Another memory:

I'm All Alone in the World: from Mr. Magoo's "Christmas Carol"

"....where are two shoes that click to my clack..."

All I can remember, Raggedy.

and a tiny funny: We tried to find the VCR of Rich Little's Christmas Carol at a local video store. The lady who was at the front desk replied to our query: " Sorry, honey. The onliest one we can find is the one by Charlie Dickens."

Raggedyaggie, thanks for the short story site--it's great; having spent a couple of hours there, I should know.

Sometimes, good memories are the best present of all.

Ah, Diane. Yes, some good--some bad memories. I guess we choose to build upon the immediate ones.

Big Hugs to you, princess Di.

A pleasant memory of Manatee sightings..

Diane: I'm glad you enjoyed the short story. It has been a long time since I've read Capote's story and it really brought back fond memories.

Ah, Letty: I loved Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol. But, all I can remember is Tiny Tim singing about razzle berry dressing and woofle jelly cake. Did you know that Jules Styne and Bob Merrill of Funny Lady fame wrote the music and lyrics? I'd love to see that one again.

And with all this talk about memories,I can't get this one out of my head. Probably be humming it all day.

Don't forget a small moonbeam
Fold in lightly with a dream
la la la la
Sweet, sweet memories are made of this.

Christmas day 1990. Squinney pregnant out to here on the sofa. Me in my big chair.

It had been a wonderful day but now it was over and it was a struggle to get the two cubs ready for bed without falling asleep myself. They had been walking around with Baby Ruths from their stockings and they were all over the place. Kylie had had her bath and I sent Stephen in to take one.

He comes out to the living room and announces that he's not taking one because Kylie has pooped in the tub. I do NOT want to hear this nonsense and inform Stephen that Kylie has merely dropped the 100th Baby Ruth of the day into the tub and to stop the nonsense and get ready.

Stephen walks out with the baby ruth in his hand, sticks it under squinneys nose and says "Oh yeah? Well what's this"? You guessed it, it was a real live turd.

We get to laughing so hard that squinneys' water breaks and our Christmas cub Seth is born later that night.

That's now a family story tradition as you can imagine.

razzleberry dressing. I was trying to remember that, Raggedy. I had no idea who wrote the music to Mr. Magoo, nor am I familiar with the la la's that you're humming.

Oh, my Gawd, bear. I never did like Baby Ruths, and now I know why.

I would love to hear the rest of that story.

My dad would always take my sister and me to a supply store where he bought his items for business. A neat treat was to order a soda and a candy bar from the little lunch counter. I got butterfingers, and she got baby ruths. I had to concentrate on my stuff, cause I couldn't stand to watch her eat that baby ruth. For the longest time, we thought everything we got was free; had no idea what an expense account was.

Sweet Letty, yes I do remember the manatees--I'll always remember that trip with fondness.

Raggedyaggie--Sweet memories indeed--thanks for reminding me!

Sweet, sweet memories you gave-a me
you can't beat the memeories you gave-a me

Take one fresh and tender kiss
Add one stolen night of bliss
One girl, one boy
Some grief, some joy
Memories are made of this

Don't forget a small moonbeam
Fold in lightly with a dream
Your lips and mine
Two sips of wine
Memories are made of this

Then add the wedding bells
One house where lovers dwell
Three little kids for flavor
Stir carefully through the days
See how the flavor stays
These are the dreams you will savor

With His blessings from above
Serve it generously with love
One man, one wife
One love through life
Memories are made of this
Memories are made of this


BPBear--what a story!! Ah yes, I do remember being very well aquainted with various bodily functions when my kids were little. Once I thought my son had dropped rainsins on the floor. Yes, they were little turds from a slightly constipated little boy.