My husband hated piano lessons. Lessons fell at the same time that The Brady Bunch was on tv, and he would have done anything to avoid the dreaded scales and ditties he was forced to play each week. And at the end, the grande finale--the recital. What could have been better than to enjoy his moment in the limelight, encased again, in soft, striped velour.
Hey, if velour was good enough for his violin recital, why not piano? At least this time, there was cake.
The holidays were a special time for him, and this photo introduces my celebration of all things holiday. Christmas stockings and bell bottoms.
All that needs to be said about this one is that his mom seemed to enjoy the low-slung girl's pants, and hip belt.
Finally, everyone enjoys the frivolity of the Christmas sweater fest. You know--those parties where people scour the Goodwill to find the most hideous sweater they can, voting on who has the worst and laughing as they swig keg beer?
Unfortunately for Peggy, this was not one of those parties.
Here she is. Sad smile overshadowed by the enormous reindeer across her chest, and without the matching Christmas barrette Jeanine, next to her, got to wear because if you're going to do it, do it all the way. And why did Jeanine get the good sweater anyway? The one with the cute dalmation wearing the Santa hat?
Of course, my favorite in this photo is the kid on the dark turtleneck, the only one not festooned in plaid, snowflakes, velvet, or a slammin' Christmas sweater. I read his mind to say "how did I get here and when can I get out?"
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