We have a winner for the latest round of Lori’s Childhood Trivia. But before I get into that, I want to second Melissa‘s declaration of Fess Up Week, which “takes delurking one step further. ” As Mel says:
“So, since I tell you all sort of interesting tidbits from inside my head, it feels like a fair trade to ask you who you are. So let me know that you read this post and then you can go back to reading without commenting. And feel free to ask others on your own blog to fess up this week. Though I’ll admit this here–if you are on my blogroll, I read you. Either regularly or irregularly, I am on your blog. See, it’s not so hard to fess up.”
So, Michigan, Ontario, Eugene, New York, UK, Oklahoma, India, Illinois, Massachusetts, California, Libya and people from other places who read but haven’t commented, please delurk just long enough to let me know you read.
Confession is good for the soul, don’tcha know.
So now I have to figure out how to say “mojito” in French. Any guesses?
Niobe, currently in Paris, popped into an internet cafe on the River Seine (Rive Gauche or Rive Droite?) during her lunchtime and guessed correctly, Spirograph.
But I also associate spirographs with being sick. The year I was 5, I was in the hospital three times with pneumonia. I can still recall the devastation I felt each day when visiting hours were over and my parents had to leave. I was in an oxygen tent, which not only kept me isolated and wet (it was very humid in there, and the sheets were always cold and damp), but also I had to watch my mom walk away through the distortion of the clear and dewy plastic. As a grownup, I know now that my mom’s heart must have been breaking as well, but at that time it just felt, each night, like my world was ending.
People sent lots of gifts to me while I was in the hospital. Many of them were Spirographs.
Do you have a particular memory of a Spirograph?
Maybe this will help you search your memory.
And for more spiro-fun, click here.