Writing Prompt #2: A memory attached to a holiday

If there's one thing I am, without question, it's indecisive. I can't decide where I want to live (although as of late, it's less and less California), what to make for dinner, which pair of jeans to wear, or which memory I'd like to talk about. So with that in mind, I'll be telling you about a memory related to all the major holidays in my world.

New Year's Eve & Day: It's 2000. My friends and I braved a winter storm coming off of Lake Erie to drive up to Erie for a party our friend was hosting at his college apartment. Needless to say, we were there for the evening, which worked out well because by 11 p.m., the majority of us had drank our weight in alcohol. Some time after midnight, and after watching a guy I knew hit relentlessly on a girl I didn't know but felt sorry for because he was kind of a tool, I found myself to be ten feet tall and bulletproof, so to speak. I stood up, stumbled a little, marched up to him and punched him directly in the eye. I don't remember if he swung back or whatever, I was too drunk and after that, people pryed me off of him and shortly thereafter, he was told to leave. Sucker. I was told the next morning that everyone was happy I did that, they were looking for an excuse to kick him out all night.

Memorial Day: I honestly don't have any big memories tied to this day. I know my daughter was conceived sometime around Memorial Day, but that's all I've got! I can tell you that it's a holiday I strongly revere due to its significance.

Fourth of July: It's 2002. I'd been at work all day and was really excited about going to the fireworks that night. I had a new pair of jeans, a new shirt, my hair had survived eight hours in a hat and Rob was waiting outside with a Diet Coke, a fresh pack of smokes and the car running. We drove to the east side of Conneaut Lake and parked right where Route 18 splits off into 618. We saw all of about seven minutes of fireworks and about 10,000 mosquitoes. I spent my fifteen minutes there swatting at mosquitoes and not enjoying the seven minutes of crappy fireworks.

Halloween: Oh, the places we could go with this holiday! But we'll just go one place - Halloween of 2001. It was to be my last "I'm still a kid and I'll milk this trick-or-treating thing for all it's worth" Halloween since I was graduating from college that coming spring and was going to have to grow up. My plan was to go as a Goth Chick. The end result was a Goth Hooker. Only one of my roommates has documentation of this. I've emailed her asking for a copy. If I get one, I'll surely post it. It's hysterical.

Thanksgiving: To stay with my theme of indecisiveness, I can't pick one for Thanksgiving. It'd be any Thanksgiving my mom hosted, which were all when I was really young, probably 12 and younger. I remember dusting off the two leaves for the dining room table, getting out the good plates and silverware, all the old-school serving dishes, and the ceramic gravy boat. I remember all the smells wafting through the house: turkey, sweet potatoes, Waldorf Salad (instead of celery, mom used green seedless grapes), pumpkin & pecan & cherry & apple pies, deviled eggs, stuffing, and the list goes on.

Christmas: Hmmm. Our first Christmas together, 2001, Rob was still unemployed. No money. My mother-in-law's husband loaned Rob $20 and he bought me a MagLite because my car didn't have one. He's thoughtful like that.

I love memories. Thanks for the trip down Memory Lane, Mama Kat!