Because I told Barbie I'd blog about it

So yesterday Barbie came and got me around 3pm and we went to the mall to purchase some things for our mother and shop around a little bit, hit the Coach store (too much Signature Line crap) and Nordstrom, where I managed to drop $82 on bronzer. Yep, you read that right.

On our way home we were in the general vicinity, so we decided to drive past our old 'hood. Bruce Lane, where it all began. I grew up in this house, until I was twenty and moved to California, and since we moved there in 1964, Barbie was about, what? ten? when we moved in (I can't do math right now, it's Sunday and I can't believe I am not on the sofa yet). My mom sold the house while I was in California in 1986. I drive by it often, actually, just to check it out. It looks so much smaller when you are older. And for some reason I dream about it. A LOT. Several times a week, in fact. I have given up wondering what THAT means.

Anyway so we are creeping past the house, and a lady is just coming out the front door and going to her car. We were mentioning to each other how great the yard looks, and no, those aren't new windows, when Barbie decides to tell the lady who we are (since she is kind of looking at us without looking at us, wondering if we are casing the joint or something). Barbie rolls down the window and says hello, and then we tell her we aren't burglars, we grew up there and were just marvelling at how good the place looks. Then she asked us if we wanted to come in and see it. This is why I love Beaverton. Of course, we said yes and practically bowled her over running up the steps.

It was a trip. She had done a lot to it in 22 years, but it was the same house. Same light fixture in the entry hall that would have been impossible to change a light bulb in, but in the 22 years WE lived there, I don't think it ever burned out. It did for her, though, she said, several times. Which sticks with me, that light bulb. Not sure why. The floors in my old bedroom were the same, she redid the horrific turquoise and pink bathroom upstairs, and carpeted the downstairs, but the floor in the utility room was the same still. Odd, the things you remember. We went room by room saying stuff like, here's the storeroom Tom turned into a studio, here's the little boys' room, the kitchen looks great, etc.

I don't know, it was weird. Weird going back through the house you grew up in, especially in OUR family. I was convinced I would dream about it last night, but I didn't. As a matter of fact, I doubt I will again. In my dreams it's always been kind of dark, but in reality it was pretty sunny and light. Decent vibes. I won't even attempt to figure out what all THAT means.

Because it's 2:15 and I'm headed for the sofa.