Ramblings of an Emotional Idiot has given me the Shiny Turkey Award.
Cool, huh? Thank you so much! Everyone needs to go over and check out her blog. She cracks me up!
Of course, there are rules to this award. I have to write about an experience that has to do with food, intoxication, cooking/baking or the holidays. Then, pass it on to a few blogs of my choice.
So first, here are the blogs I've chosen.
A Bitch Called Mom
The Loaded Handbag
I cannot wait to hear their stories. I absolutely love these blogs.
I really had to think about what story I would tell because I wanted it to be about the holidays but I have so many holiday memories I wasn't sure which to choose.
But finally I chose to tell ya'll about a Christmas at my grandpa's house.
On my dad's side of the family, we have lost too many loved ones. My grandmother passed away when I was sixteen and three of four of my uncles have passed away. We've had Christmas in that house every year since I've been alive. It's different now, because so many people are missing.
But the last year that we were all together, was one of the best I can remember. My grandpa's house isn't big by any means. And my grandma had eight kids of her own, and then those kids had children. I have like 22 first cousins. Its ridiculous. We all crammed into that tiny house every Christmas and it was AWESOME.
That year, my dad had bought my youngest cousin and ball pit. You know, like the ones at McDonald's? But the actual pit looked like a swimming pool and you actually had to blow it up and then pour the balls into it.
Well, they decided to go ahead and put it up right then and there. It took up the entire living room. Then my dad decided that he would get inside the ball pit with my little cousin.
Then, a war broke out.
It started with my little cousin throwing a ball at her dad. Then my dad threw a ball at my uncle. Then those little plastic multicolored terrors were flying through the house everywhere. My grandma was yelling at us, but no one was listening.
Balls were zooming passed by head and I could think of nothing better than to get out my video camera and document the whole thing. As soon as I started recording, a ball hit me right in the eye. The video shows me dropping the camera and cursing up a storm.
Then I picked the camera back up and watched. I was just an innocent bystander by I bet you I got hit about 100 times. The younger kids all started to join in (yes, it was only the adults at first) and the uncles started using the children as shields.
Then someone, and to this day no one will admit it, broke my grandma's lamp. She came into the living room and started collecting the balls from us and scolded each and every one of us. That video is very precious to me. And I wish I still had it. Someone stole my camera along with all of my tapes from my old apartment. At least I still have the memory.