12-10-12 AMOOXP Day 16

As we hit double digits in December, we hit a new decade in A Month of Old Xmas Pictures.

AMOOXP Day 16 (1990 & 1991)

1990

This was the first year Bob and I were together, for just a couple of months , and then he shipped out to Fort Knox the first week of January.

Dressed up for the church Christmas party in Huntsville

My tree in my apartment, with Hobbes

Visiting Mom and Dad's Christmas Eve

Mom went for super squatty tree that year.

Christmas Day was spent at my future in-laws, with my future sister-in-law, Melissa, her husband Matt, their daughter Heather, who was two, and our new puppy, Navaho (leaning out of the shot in my lap)

Nell with Heather, Aunt Gertrude (Bob Sr.'s aunt), her husband Preston, and their son, Skip

Melissa, Pop, and Navaho, again, just getting out of the picture.

It was the year of green sweatsuits, but I didn't get the memo.

Heather, Uncle Bobby, and "Ho-Ho," as Heather decided to call Navaho

Navaho and Heather were evenly matched: 

endless energy, until they crashed without warning.

1991

Our first Christmas as a married couple, Bob had been gone the first five months of the year, then returned at the end of May and we were married in August. While he was away, I'd found a house to rent. We only spend two Christmases in it, so whenever I see it in pictures, it's entirely tied to being very young, very poor newlyweds.

Our tree and all the ornaments we owned.

Calvin and Hobbes Christmas present behind me.

Nell, Bob Sr. and Heather Rose, age 3

A remote controlled Batmobile, which fascinated the cats.

Alicia had come to live with us earlier that year, when Mammammy and Grandaddy had move out of their rental house and into an assisted living apartment community. Alicia would pass away the following August at the age of eighteen.

Bob's parents had procured his Rattler Jerseys he'd worn as a Christmas present. (The high school had just changed designs and bought all new ones.)

And new to us this year, and one of only two Christmases I would get with her was my first dog, Shelby. Navajo had outgrown our tiny yard, and as a cow dog was much happier back on the Hemphill ranch where we'd adopted her. I had gone over to the Huntsville Animal Shelter to volunteer and ended up spending the whole afternoon sitting outside on the warm concrete, brushing millions of sticker burrs out of her long, golden fur. She was already white across the face, clearly a senior dog. No one would adopt her, I was told. If I wanted to take her home, I could for free. She gave me the most unconditional love I'd ever known for those two years I was blessed with her presence. 

She was not however, keen on sharing her treats with Hobbes.

And she loved her treats.