Two modern day Robin Hoods
It’s 11:15 pm on Wednesday night. I am not used to being up this late. The Phillies are on, though, and this should be the game that sends them to the World Series. There is no point in my going to bed, because whether they’re doing well or doing poorly, The Husband is going to be expressing himself.
And that’s okay. It’s kind of fun.
But I’m tired.
So I’m online and I’m chatting with a friend, and she tells me about a dollhouse she had when she was younger, and how her little girl is going to get it when she’s a little older. It’s a dollhouse that is no longer made and it’s worth a bazillion dollars now.
It made me think of the dollhouse I had when I was younger. It was handcrafted by a relative — it could’ve been my grandfather, or maybe a great-uncle. Either way, it was nice.
My dollhouse was not home to your typical Mommy, Daddy, Brother and Sister though. It was home to a family, though.
I was a 5-year-old girl who played with the Dukes of Hazzard in her dollhouse.
I actually had two General Lees. One opened at the top so you could fit the Duke boys in easily. I preferred the one that didn’t open up at the top, though. I would slide them across the hood and the boys would go in through the windows. It was a little more difficult to get them in the car, but it was absolutely worth for me to do things the right way.
I also carried a Dukes of Hazzard lunch box with me to school. In kindergarten.
Yes I did.
I didn’t watch the movie that was made a few years back, because I figured they would destroy my fond memories of Bo and Luke and the rest of the crew — especially Daisy. So I didn’t watch it. And I won’t. You can’t make me.
Now I want to watch the show. Or sing the theme song. (Click it. You know you want to.)
Since I can’t do either at the moment, I will sit here with my fond memories of two good ol’ boys making their way, the only way they knew how.