Where do I begin????

I love this lovely, lovely blog! Just got back from a quick vacay and it's been great reading everyone's posts. So here's my little addition: I remember the Leach's grandpa mowing the back forty like he always did, a couple times a year, and being attacked by Dad's bees. Actually, I don't really remember that part although there was a lot of yelling and someone calling 911. The part I remember was looking up from my book, Mr. Popper's Penguins, I think it was, and asking Mom why there were sirens. She unloaded on me for not knowing what the heck was going on because my nose was stuck in a book. And I'm afraid there's many a memory I do not share with all of ya'll for that reason. Much of my childhood was spent reading.

BUT, oh yes, I remember sweet Brian's sibling pleasing ways. The naked run was beyond awesome although I lived in mortal fear for a long time afterward that Dad would find out. Brian was the only one who'd play Barbies and horse stables with me. He would also offer to carry my backpack home from the bus stop (Where did that come from?). I usually spurned his kind overtures. Sorry Bri-baby. Nothing against you, I was just crotchety.

I remember our treks to Shadow Valley--pulling baby Adam in the wagon across cotton fields. That can't have been easy. I remember, pre-kindergarten, eating fresh bread and watching Price is Right with Mom.

I remember all of us yelling in unison at Mom for sewing and messing up the TV reception. I remember being in high school and coming home and watching cartoons in a dark, cool living room. Power Rangers, Animaniacs, Batman, they rocked.

I remember crying when Mom and Dad said they were having another baby (Cherish). Where would we put her? I loved her after she was born though. Everyone thought I was a teen mother when they saw me carrying her around the library, Wal-mart, the stake center. Strangers would ask me how old my baby was. I loved that and would never correct their naughty assumptions.

I remember the many missionaries in our childhood lives and their colorful personalities. One I nicknamed, Fat Albert, poor guy.

I remember bringing out every one of our pets when a visitor or the home teachers would stop by.

I remember galloping around the backyard, by myself, whinnying, pretending I was a horse. Or I'd ride my bike, aka the white steed, Spirit.

I remember Andy transfering the spirit of his old sneakers into his new ones. I also remember his Panther club, it was lame, all you did was fight with sticks.

I remember making Craig mad by telling him he had a spider on his back.

I remember the kitten weddings Brian and I would conduct in the mailbox. Not sure why but they had to get married in there.

I remember telling the twins about how I went to the other side of the rainbow and saw the treasure and leprechauns there--they totally believed me and always asked me about it.

I remember us all sneaking out of bed at night, crawling down the hallway, hiding behind the couch and spying on Mom and Dad while they watched TV.

I remember taking the weekly Saturday night bath then getting my fingernails trimmed and hair combed by Dad while we all watched Star Trek. I remember Brian stumbling all slippery wet out of the tub and landing in the kitty litter.

I remember holding slug races. We named them things like Speedy. Then the slugs started invading our house and I'd sucker Adam in to removing them from my room with a spoon.

To this day I am terrified of roaches. For a long time, after leaving home, when something moved out of the corner of my eye I'd jump thinking it was a roach. I remember occasionally "bombing" the house for roaches. We'd leave for the day then come home to lots of dead roaches and an smoky insecticide filled trailer.

I remember telling elephant jokes and making mom sing "Mother's Hands" when she tucked me in at night.

I remember my hair getting caught in the station wagon fans time and again. It was hell on earth back there, no A/C, facing backwards--car-sick, dust from the road filling your lungs and yes, the hair caught in the fan thing.

I remember baby Adam's nicknames, Sweetness and Jabba the Hut. He really was the sweetest little kid.

I remember Dad's way of punishing the twins--he'd hold them beneath the arm pits while he sat in his arm chair and read his book set off to the side. They'd scream forever and Dad was unfazed.

I remember "standing in the corner" and finding pictures in the faux wood pattern.

And I'm going to leave it at that for now. Love you all.