Greetings, friends! Thanks for taking a quick break from crocheting Granny Squares to pay a little visit to the tudor house this lovely evening. Today, I'd like for all of us to throw ourselves back to 1992, when time moved a little slower, when people were a little nicer, when things were a little simpler, and when my mom still had control over me and tried to force me to keep a diary.
"You'll look back on this one day and be so glad you did it, Allie," she said. "Blah blah blah." At least, that's how I remember it. You know my mom, so I'm sure you can imagine what she looked like while lecturing me.
To inspire the Anne Frank within me, she bought me The American Girls Diary: A Journal for Writing Your Secrets - An American Girls' Tradition. I believe I've mentioned that I was big into American Girl dolls at the time. I was pumped.
And from January 1, 1992 through May 18 of the same year, I kept that diary. Pretty much. What normally happened was that my mom hassled me every few days about the diary until a couple of weeks built up with no journal entries. Then she'd make me sit down in the kitchen with our family calendar and try to retrace what I'd been doing lately.
Which resulted in a number of posts like this:
February 21, 1992
But when I wasn't grumping about having to write in my diary, I had a pretty exciting life. And Mom, you were right - I am tickled pink to find this relic from my past. It's fun to see what I was up to as an 8-year-old, plus it's taught me so much about myself.
First, that I really stuck to things. In addition to being extremely devoted to keeping up with my diary, I also was really devoted to gymnastics and accomplishing my dream of doing a cartwheel in a mere 8 days:
And I was quite political:
January 20, 1992
Inauguration Day 1992
I was also hilarious. Such a jokester. (But still the super fan that I am today for my CATS).
Not only did I take an interest in current events, I took an interest in -- and enjoyed critiquing -- important literature.
February 8, 1992
I also had great decent self-esteem.
But life wasn't all afternoons at the theatre and evenings in front of the nightly news. Disaster struck sometimes.
And sometimes, nothing happened at all:
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