The times we've shared

Once upon a time, when I was a wee lass of somewhere between six and nine years old (the details are hazy), my sister Heather and I had the same music teacher in elementary school. Said music teacher asked us to call her Mrs. DoRae (or some variation of spelling thereof), as in Do Re Mi. Har, har, har! So punny. (In case you were wondering, her real name was Mrs. Doris.)

Now, Mrs. "DoRae" was an aspiring singer/songwriter. And while I can only remember snippets of the song "Strawberry Ice," Heather and I still fondly sing the classic hit "Pickles in the Snow." Allow me to share the lyrics with you, as we sing it.

Pickles in the snoooooow
But you don't want to eat 'em now.
Nooo, you don't know what they're doing in the snow,
What they're doing on the grooound. ("Ground" is sung in a gravelly, rather unattractive voice.)


Pickles in the snooooooow
But you don't want to eat 'em now.
Something something something something
'Cause they're not green, they're brooooowwn. ("Brown" is sung in an even throatier voice, if possible.)


While for some shocking reason, Mrs. DoRae's songwriting career never picked up off the ground, I'm sure she would be thrilled to know that "Pickles in the Snow" is sung, sometimes daily, not only by two of her former students, but by many of those students' former roommates and (current) husbands, as well.