And this is the true spirit of MoC .... my dear girl..... I'm so so happy a challenge I hosted (and brought some people to almost hate me ) stayed in your mind so much and you are using as a tool for another challenge!!!! It was, in fact, two years ago (last year was the Doll making) but I have had so many people turning from -"how on earth do you expect me to do this?" or not quiet "getting" the point of view- into coming to tell me that they had amazing experiences during the making of the page or that they used it in other pages because it was a revelation, something they ended up loving...... We were talking with Christa about the sensation of love and achievement when people use a challenge we hosted in other challenges or pages, and this is what I think, nope, wait...... better say I KNOW, Laura's aim with the MoC was, is and will always be: for all of us to get scrapping, loving the new experiences, starting to love something of our scrapping we never knew we could love..... and to keep it going through our year and beyond...... Thank you for tagging me -or else I don't think I would have spotted this, I was ill the past couple of days and, as some of you know, I don't always get to read the forum- so thank you, because this feeling is so so beautiful to have for the start of my day. As a matter of fact, I think I am going to take this and make it into another thread... this is such an amazing community and the awesomeness of the MoC keeps shinning through people and experiences like this. I will take some time to read through your page (as I always try do, of course) as I know there will be an awesome story In fact, can tell you already love the many photos and placement, so I know it will rock with the story.... Thanks for sharing this with everyone, I love how the spirit and goal of MoC (and The Lilypad Family as a whole) keeps shinning through people like you. @michelepixels
I thought and thought and came up with what I considered a great idea, and then something went wrong...sigh...lol. So finally, this afternoon, I thought of something else and this is the result "The forty-three year old frog".
I may or may not have squealed when I saw this challenge. I've been looking forward to it, wondering what to write about, but when I got behind (and then got behind again) I thought I should just do a gimme - a simple little piece about my favorite blue bottle. Easy pic, way easy to come up with 150 words. Except that's not what wanted to be written. The rocks are real. The scene is not. This is what happens when a writer hears make up a story. Credits and story at link.
Here's mine: Translation: My parents called me Peggy because at the time they really liked a figure skater named Peggy Flemming. A few years later the Muppet Show makes its appearance on TV and at school they call me (too) often Peggy the slut. Peggy, Piggy in French is a bit the same thing! One day for my birthday Françoise offers me a little carved pig, I am divided between the desire to take it very badly or the desire to laugh. Finally I choose to take the good side of things and instead of vexing me, I decide that this pig will be the first of my collection! 35 years later I own dozens, porcelain, glass, wood ... and my collection is quite substantial. I'm still looking for a place where to put them, a nice shelf, a showcase a little vintage ... I do not despair of finding the furniture that will suit me. In the meantime they are scattered all over the house!
Thank you for the challenge and the inspiration! journaling reads {and please excuse some grammar mistakes here and there and everywhere!} Our first home (aka the first home I remember) The first place I can call home was the cute little house we rented in xxxxxxxxxxxxxx. It was a beautiful single family house, already old by the time we got there, and it had definitely seen better days. Though I was 4 (or more?) when we moved in there, I can't recall any other house of ours - and with dad being in the army, we had already moved three times before that. To be honest, I can't actually recall anything before that house. I think any previous memories I have aren't direct memories, they are just things I've seen in photos. Anyway, I loved this house and I was happy there. I loved my school there, my friends. I remember climbing on the fence gate. I remember destroying my mom's flowers. I remember how aweful it was in winter, with the leaky roof in the mud room and the stove that heated only our two bedrooms and the bathroom. I remember the pink almond tree right outside my bedroom's window. I love this tree to this day! It was the house that the three of us had reunited as a family after my dad's accident. It was the house where we lived when my brother was born. Now I realize it was rather small, but back then it seemed thuge to me! My parents were hoping that the owner would sell the house to us. He never did. We stayed there for five years and then my parents decided it was time for us to move. We got an appartment in xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx and I had to go to a new school. I hated my new school... Anyway, I don't really know if we have any photos of this house; I mean photos that show that cute little house in its integrity. A few years after we moved, the owner died. He had no children, so his nieces inherited it and decided to demolish it and build an apartment complex. It's gone forever now and I feel sad about it, because this house was for me something more than just four walls. 351 words
This was a lot of fun. I've been wanting to tell this story for a while and the challenge inspired me. I'm at 249 words (not counting the recipe). Thanks so much!