Dirty Little Secrets

Tomorrow (well, today actually... I have insomnia these days) our proud town has its yearly celebration of Chubbuck Days! (cue the handful of confetti and tell the toilet papered trucks to head down the road to start the parade. Local cheerleaders? check.  Classic Car Club? check. City Council in the back of a hay truck? check. Pooper Scoopers? check. Salt Water taffy to throw to the adoring crowd? check. What's this? Bit o Honey? Get out of the parade!)

Every time Chubbuck Days rolls around, I can't help but feel the tinglings of guilt for a sin committed long ago.  And now, I confess to the universe.  To my wide (ahem) array of readers who so anxiously sit on the edge of their seats wondering, "What will that comic and philosophical genius come up with next?"

Ok... Maybe not.

Anyway, I always feel a little guilty.  I had a partner in crime (don't worry Wendy, your secret's safe with me still. I'll take it to the grave). 

For the life of me I can not remember what lead up to these events, or how two twelve year old girls were left in charge of such an important part of the cities celebration, but a friend (see Wendy, wink wink. It's all good) and I were put in charge of the raffle.  If I recall correctly, we were at the main celebration for a good part of the day.  Every hour or so we would draw a name out of the bucket to award some donated prize to the lucky winner.  We tried really hard to ration it out so the prizes would last all day. Apparently we were too good at that because by the end of the day there were still several prizes remaining.  We gathered them up and took them to my friend's house (you know, the one I'm not mentioning) and were told to just draw names and put them with the prizes and the winners would receive them later.

Our names were in the bucket several times... or maybe just once each. I can't remember.  But there were some prizes that we both hoped we'd be lucky enough to win.  it was a miracle when my name was drawn for the little glass and brass shadowbox house (which yes, I still have) that I wanted so badly.  I can't remember what Wen... I mean, my friend won.  But then there was a little denim purse that we both wanted.  It's a shame we both couldn't win it... but wasn't it odd that the ticket we pulled out had BOTH our names on it? Wow.  We decided to share the denim purse... but I think I ended up with it. I wouldn't be surprised if it too was still in the depths of my childhood boxes.  But can you imagine the LUCK? that we were able to win exactly the prizes that we had our eyes on?

Ummm... ok, It was actually harder for me to admit that than I thought it would be.  I'm not sure if it was therapeutic or not.  Maybe I should keep going and come totally clean... but... I think the story of the Rose Park, Utah 4th of July celebration and the stuffed unicorn dolls can wait for another blog.