The way we were

My cousin Ginger made a comment about me on Facebook where she called me a “wacky chick”. I read this as code for “please feel free to blog about me”. Her timing was perfect because I’d just spent the weekend scanning old photos of her and all my other “colorful” relatives.

Oh, THIS is Ginger.


She’s sitting pretty in her Fairest of the Fair dress.  Well, pretty if you don’t count the underwear.   It’s actually a photo of Ginger in front of ANOTHER photo of Ginger. Did I mention that she’s an only child?

I was born just a few short months after her and we were always together. There were no organized “play dates”, just cousin’s hanging out. This is from some family event –


and this one, a year or so later –


I have no problem with personal space. If Ginger would ever COME to Atlanta, I’m pretty sure we could get by with only one chair.

We had sleepovers, fought like crazy, drove a million miles up and down the strip looking for boys, and basically had a huge time. And IF I’m actually a wacky chick, she’s partly to blame.


She was there every step of the way.

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