You are going to love, love, love my new skill. Maybe.I just figured out (all on my own, I might add. I am so very, very bright.) to scan old pictures and put them on my blog.
For months I've been working on this and could only get half way, i.e. I could get the photo scanned but then I could never find it again.
Tonight, thought, tonight the stars aligned and the angels sang with gladness. SHHHHHH, you can hear them if you listen......
This little darling is me. I was 4. I was a ballerina. I was a graceful as a gazelle. On steroids.
A couple of comments about this picture should be made and I'm just the one to make them.
What's up with that horrible wallpaper? It's bad enough on it's own but the curtains had to match? It's a wonder any of us could keep our food down when eating in a dining room with this color scheme.
If you look closely, and I'm sure you are, you will see that I have a halo which matches the glitter on my leotard. Me, at 4, an angel. Oh, that all fits.
What you don't know about this outfit is that I wore it without underpants and was MORTIFIED. In 1961, a lovely little girl such as myself never went without underpants. In fact, my underpants were often what I wanted to show to visitors. But, there was something about my underpants being longer than my leotard and compromising my ballerina look.
My mom made the tutu and I loved it. Loved. It.
Then I discovered baseball gloves, basketballs, and rope swings.
My dad was relieved. The one dance recital he attended about did him in.
