Stepping Away from the Edge

Mamma Mia!

What better topic . . . following Mother's Day . . . than to remember our Ten Favorite TV Moms!

I have a bit of a beef with the whole TV Moms thing.  Because . . . I think TV Moms get short shrift, generally.  They always seem to be in the background.  Lurking.  Unsatisfied.  Herding their kids.  Or sorting things out for their kids.  Doing Mom-Things.  Occasionally showing their wisdom.  But, mostly . . . just being kind of . . . well . . . character-less.

And we KNOW that's not the case!

So.  With that in mind, here are my favorite, long-suffering TV Moms:

 

1. Edith Bunker.  Her ditz-i-ness was really just a ruse -- for the wisdom and common sense deep within her soul!  (All in the Family)
2. Shirley Partridge.  I always wished MY Mom would buy a school bus and outfit it for travelling about the country -- where my sister and I could sing and dance ourselves to super-stardom!  (The Partridge Family)
3. Carol Brady.  She was so . . . groovy. (The Brady Bunch)
4. Roseanne.  So REAL.  Such a breath of fresh air (at least for the first season).  (Roseanne)
5. Ann Romano.  Such a scandal -- a divorced mom!  Raising two cool daughters.  (One Day at a Time)
6. Kitty Forman.  She had to put up with a lot there . . . deep in the 70s.  (That 70s Show)
7. Claire Dunphy.  Such a modern mom.  And so like many real moms I know . . . right now!  (Modern Family)
8. Morticia Addams.  Oh, yeah.  Wouldn't she be QUITE the mom!  (The Addams Family)
9. Lois (did they HAVE a last name?).  Stubborn and feisty, she was a strong Mom in the midst of constant mayhem and a totally stupid husband!  (Malcom in the Middle)
10. Clare Huxtable.  She always kept her cool -- and looked great, too!  (The Cosby Show)

How about YOU?  Who is your favorite TV Mom?

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Must Be the Clouds in my Eyes

Hit it, Elton.

 

I got a text message from my sister yesterday. 

Not unusual.  We text each other nearly every day. 

But this one. . . well this one brought me some news.  That one of my old high school buddies had died.  Pancreatic cancer.  (Damn disease.)

So, I've had a melancholy kind of day.  Clouds in my eyes, y'know?

In the 36 years since high school (can it really be that long?), I've only seen Jon once.  At a reunion 7 years ago.  But he will always have a special place in my heart.

(Click for a bigger image.  It's such a challenge to scan an oversized yearbook.  Especially a double-spread photograph.)

The photo above is a portion of my high school marching band . . . in my sophomore year of high school.  (I am in the front row, the first person not cut off on the far left in the photo above.  Kind of blurry, but really - the best I could manage given my equipment.)

I hated marching band.  Hated.  Hated the marching.  Hated the uniforms.  Hated the practice.  Hated giving up my Friday night socializing performing at football games.  Hated the spats (not pictured above).  But, mostly, I hated the hats (also missing from the group photo).  Fuzzy, blue things that brought to mind Fred and Barney's Royal Order of the Water Buffaloes lodge hats.  (Really.  Only thing missing was the horns.)

But marching band was made tolerable when my best pal, Kristi, and I made friends with Jon - a trumpet player - and his friends.  (He's in the photo above, too -- last row of guys, 4th from the center fold on the right.)  Initially, I had a little crush on him, but it wasn't mutual and it didn't last.  Our friendship was purely platonic.  We had a band-gang:  Jon, Scott, Ron, Gina, Kristi, and me.  They were all juniors; Kristi and I were sophomores.  Marching band became tolerable for me (the rest of them loved it for reasons I never understood!), but it was more than that.  We had fun together . . . just being silly, high school friends.

Today, all those memories have surfaced.

Clouds in my eyes.

Introducing . . . Throwback Thursdays

One of my Ravelry/Facebook pals, Janet, does a really cool thing with her Facebook posts.  Every once in a while. . . on a Thursday . . . she features a photo that is a blast-from-her-past.  She calls it "Throwback Thursdays" and I love it! 

I love it so much, in fact, that I'm going to shamelessly copy Janet's really grand idea!

Welcome to . . . Throwback Thursday!

1966.

Second grade.

Maple School.

Mrs. Boline's class.

Can you find me?

What amazes me most about this photo. . . is that I can name every single kid in my class!  Every one.  Jeffrey and Karen and Scott.  Donna and Larry and Betsy.  Holly.  Joey.  Casey.  Freddy.  Victor and Brenda and Tony and Susie.  Tracy and Michael.  Sonia and Ronald.  LeAnn and Dennis and Vicki and Carl and Debra.  Greg and Geoff and Douglas.  Becky and Jeff and (well, that's me!  the chick with the uncomfortable up-do!) and Douglas.

My, we got awfully dressed up for school in 1966-67!

What else do I remember?

Well.  It was lucky the photos were early in the day.  Because my hair did NOT look like that after first recess!  The bobby pins holding it all together gave me a headache.  It was hard to jump rope on the playground with an up-do.  I was a tangled mess by lunch time.

My best pals in second grade were Vicki and Tracy and Betsy and Victor.  Dennis, too, I remember.

I thought Douglas was cute.

I loved Mrs. Boline.

I got an award for perfect attendance in second grade.  (It was the only time in my school career that I had perfect attendance.)

I can tell you who was good at jump rope; who was good at jacks.  I can also tell you who . . . wasn't.

I can remember each person who was in the "high" reading group.

I can tell you who was my biggest competition in the weekly spelling bee.

I can tell you who stuck a pair of scissor up their nose and had to be rushed to office with a pool of blood at his desk.

I know who threw up in his math book.

But I have no idea whatever happened to any of these kids!  Because I moved away in 6th grade and never heard from any of them again.

Throwback Thursday.  It's fun to remember.

Isn't it?

Driving Ms. Gloria

"Without leaps of imagination, or dreaming, we lose the excitement of possibilities.  Dreaming, after all, is a form of planning."

--- Gloria Steinem

It's March -- which makes it Women's History Month.  And today - March 8 - is International Women's Day.  An appropriate time to tell you a story.  About the day I was the driver. 

For Gloria Steinem.

It was 1992 when Gloria came to town.  I was 33 years old.  Living in Grand Rapids.  Working for a women's foundation.  Mommy to a toddler and a baby.  And a huge fan of Gloria Steinem since my teen years!

To further set the mood and tone, consider this.  Gloria Steinem was coming to town on the day after the 1992 Presidential election.  The election Bill Clinton won.  The timing couldn't have been better for the organizers of the Big Event!

So Gloria came to Grand Rapids, and she gave a rocking, rolling, inspriational talk for a standing-room-only crowd.  It was awesome.  The next day, she was going to speak at the Council of Michigan Foundations conference in Battle Creek -- just a little over an hour drive away -- and then on to the Kalamazoo airport.

I got the call.

Kym, how would you like to drive Gloria to Battle Creek?

In my mini-van?

Yes.

And so it was.  I was going to spend the day with one of my personal (s)heroes!  I was going to drive Gloria Steinem!  I scrambled to clean the kid-detritus out of my mini-van.  (Except for the car seats.  They had to stay.)  I stressed about what to wear.  (I wore black.)  I worried that I would say something stupid.  Or babble.  Or that my mouth would gape open.  Or that I would get a ticket.  Or get lost.

But, really.  It was all just fine.

I met her for breakfast.  She was . . . just like you'd expect Gloria Steinem to be!  Smart.  Astute.  Confident.  And completely engaging and easy to talk to.  Very down-to-earth.  Very . . . comfortable.

Since we had plenty of time, she asked if I'd show her around Grand Rapids.  So we hopped in my mini-van, and off we went.  As we passed the local offices of Planned Parenthood, she asked if we could stop in.  So we did.  She just walked through their offices and said hello.  And thanked them for their important work.  And then got back in my mini-van and we headed for Battle Creek.

Part way there, as we were hurtling down the highway south to Battle Creek, Gloria Steinem asked me if I'd mind if she took a bit of a nap.

Oh, no, I said.  Not at all, I said.  And I began explaining how to put the seat back.

But, no.

Gloria Steinem was climbing into my back seat!  Where the car seats were.  She unbuckled them and tossed them into the "way back" (as Erin called it).  Brushed the crumbs and cheerios and crumpled dinosaur stickers onto the floor.  And laid down on my mini-van seat for her nap!

(While I was driving down the highway.)

I was sort of mortified.  (Who knows what you'll find under car seats!)  But, like I said.  Gloria Steinem was completely down-to-earth.  Very easy and comfortable to be around.

And there she was.  Napping on the back seat of my mini-van.

The day went like clockwork.  We arrived in Battle Creek.  She gave a keynote presentation.  I took her to the airport.  She hugged me and thanked me when I dropped her off.

I'll never forget it!  My stint . . . Driving Ms. Gloria!

 

Return to Sender

Here we are, in the midst of the Month of Letters.  I thought it might be fun to reflect on . . .

return addresses.

I know that now, in the days of "de minimis gift" pre-printed return address labels from MANY a non-profit organization, it is hard to remember that, once-upon-a-time, we had to purchase our own lables.  Or, perish the thought, write your own return address in the corner of your envelope!

(Brian recently asked me "what's the point" of return addresses on envelopes.  I explained the whole "return to sender" thing.  He was rather stymied.  Oh, The Young.  And their dependence on e-everthing. . . )

Anyway.

In the early years of our relationship, Tom and I went to different colleges.  (He was then at Boise State and - that time - I was at the University of Wyoming).  We wrote letters to each other.  Lots of letters.  Often, several each week.

With that many letters coming and going, you tend to turn to amusement with the mundane task of  letter-addressing.  (And some people more than others.)  Most of Tom's return addresses looked like this. . .

(Yeah.  Dr. Gonzo.)

But sometimes, he got a little creative.

And a little silly.

Tom's letters were never dull.  (Inside or out. . .)

I remember the girls that I lived with in the Tri-Delt house used to love to sort out Tom's letters and display them on the very top of the day's mail pile.  His return addresses were pretty entertaining - for everyone!

Good thing he wrote my name and address so clearly on the front of the envelope . . . because . . . who knows WHERE these letters may have been delivered, had there been any delivery issues.

Return to sender?  Yeah.  Good luck with that!

 

Those Were the Days!

Ah.   Childhood.   The days that lasted forever.  Simple pleasures.  No worries.   Just . . . growing and playing!

Today, Carole asks us What We Miss From Our Childhood.  Here's what I miss:

1.    Recess.  Three times a day!

2.    Weekly library time.  And checking out books will the little cards tucked in front.

3.     Saturday morning cartoons.  Bonus points for those times my Mom let us eat our cereal in front of the TV!

4.    Building tents with blankets. We used to make awesome blanket tents over the clothesline in the backyard.  I loved having a secret hideaway. . . for Just Us Kids.

5.    Trick-or-treating.  I loved having my own stash of candy.  I used to try to stretch it til Thanksgiving, at least.

6.    Ballet class.  Loved my toe shoes best of all!

7.    Staying up late on Friday nights with my Mom.  We watched old movies while my Dad had model railroading nights (and my sister always conked out by 9:00).

8.     Jacks, hopscotch, and Double-Dutch.  My all-time favorite outdoor pastimes.

9.    Running for "Mr. Frosty."  I got rather frantic at the thought of a Bomb-Pop from the ice cream truck!

10.    Faith in the Cubs.  Yeah.  Right.

How about YOU?  What do you miss from your childhood?

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The 12 (Blog) Days of Christmas: On the Tenth Day

On the Tenth (blog) Day of Christmas  . . . I give you memories!

So many Christmases. . .

So many presents . . .

So many memories through the years.

On Christmas Eve, especially it seems, I remember all my Christmases past.

I remember the magic. . .

and the fun.

I think about how things change . . .

and how they don't. 

May happy memories of Christmases past surround YOU today!

 

Closing a Chapter

The summer before Erin started high school, we made a sudden and unexpected move (thanks to a large pharmaceutical company who will remain nameless. . . ) from our comfortable home in a Grand Rapids suburb . . . to (then unknown) Kalamazoo.

What do you do . . . for your 14-year-old kid who is looking forward to starting high school . . . with her friends. . . in a familiar place. . . with her friends . . . where she wants to be . . . with her friends?

Why, you tell her she can decorate her new room ANY WAY SHE WANTS!

And, then. . . you don't bat an eye when she chooses THIS:

Yeah.  It was pretty hideous.  Bright yellow walls, sponge painted with neon purple and bright teal (which, I seem to remember may have been called "Lagoon Blue").

But, heck.  We had fun together, sponge painting those bright splotches all over the wall.  We both have happy memories of creating this . . . masterpiece. . . together.  (Even though it looked like, well, clown-barf.)

And, as it turned out, our new life in Kalamazoo was pretty darn good.  Erin had a great high school experience.  She made new friends, did some pretty amazing things, and made it through her high school years in fine form.

One of Erin's senior picture proofs; the photographer, Jeff Mitchell, took several shots in her room. Great idea; great way to remember her space! Because. . . things change.

And the walls in her room didn't look so bad, either.  Erin's personal style (at that time) was to cover the walls with pictures and posters and mementoes and do-dads.  You could hardly even SEE the  loud walls for all the . . . stuff. . . she had tacked on top of them!

But, then. . . she was gone.

Those walls, once they were empty of the do-dads and photos and posters; once they were bare . . . just screamed!

UGLY!  We are UGLY!  (Hideous, some would say.) We look like CLOWN-BARF!!!!

And yet . . .

I couldn't quite bring myself to cover them.  It wasn't so much that I didn't want to tackle the project (although, well, there was that). . . but I just wasn't quite ready to let go of that last piece of . . . Erin!

And so, I used the room as a storage "place."  I closed the door.  And walked away.

Until this summer.  I got itchy  to create a space for me to do my work.  I was feeling a strong need to separate my "home office" from my "work office."  I knew I could be more efficient if I could keep my two computers* on different desks. 

It was time.  I needed to tackle the walls in Erin's old room.  (Because, really.  The clown-barf walls just don't work for me.)

It's been a long time coming.  There was the Thinking About It; there was the Finding Time For It; there was the Deciding On The Color; there was the Wall Preparation (and, trust me, it takes a long, long time to locate, and then fill, hundreds upon hundreds of nail and tack holes in clown-barf colored walls); and, finally, there was the Actually Doing It. 

But.

Now that it's done,

it's been totally worth it!  I'm pleased.

(Jenny is Not Pleased because I made her get off the bed for the photos.  She is quite thrilled with her new available sleeping options, and didn't like having to move.)

I even painted the closets (biggest pain in the ass ever).

And here's that bookcase. . .

I still have some finishing to do. . . pictures on the walls, a valance over the window blind, that kind of thing.  (The fun parts, actually.)  It feels good to have a pretty, functional, "new" space in my house.  And, it feels good to let the old walls go. 

Although I must admit that when I came to the last square foot of clown-barf wall, I paused for a few moments with my paint roller in hand.  I took a minute to remember sponge painting the walls with my 14-year-old daughter; how we giggled and gossiped together, how wonderful it was to share that experience.  Happy memories.

And then. . . I painted right over it!

The memories remain.  The clown-barf does not.

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* My personal computer is an iMac; my work computer is an HP Windows laptop.  It gets complicated.

 

 

Trick-or-Treat. . . Smell-my-Feet

This week, Carole has us thinking about the treats in our Trick-or-Treat bags.

As for me, I try to avoid Halloween candy.  It's so tempting this time of year. . . to grab a bag (or two!) of your favorite "Miniatures."  For the Trick-or-Treaters, you say.  Sure, I say.

I tend to buy my treats rather at the last moment.  (So I don't eat them first.)  And I tend to buy candies I don't really like.  (So I don't eat them at all.)

But. . . where's the fun in that?

So, today, I decided to take you on a little trip in the Way Back Machine.  Back to the 1960s.  Back to when I really DID have a Trick-or-Treat bag!

 

Me, a bunny, in 1961. . . bossing around my not-much-younger cousins!

 

Back in the 60s, "miniature" candy bars hadn't been invented yet.  I never got a Snickers or a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup in my Trick-or-Treat bag.  (If I had, I'd have thought I hit the jackpot!)  Yet, my bag was always full!

What DID I get in my Trick-or-Treat bag. . . back in the 1960s?

1. Atomic Fireballs (so hot!)
2. Banana Split Taffy Chews (one of my favorites!)
3. Bazooka Bubble Gum (WITH comic strips!  bonus!)
4. Turkish Taffy (these were bigger treats, so all the more coveted)
5. Candy Cigarettes (Ooooo!  Forbidden Fruit!)
6. Candy Buttons (pure Sugar "dots" . . . on long, narrow sheets of paper; great for sharing on the playground)
7. Chicklets (tiny little two-to-a-package gumlets!)
8. Mary Janes (chewy peanut butter and molasses!  mmmmm!)
9. Milk Duds (two-to-a-box!)
10. Tootsie Rolls (another of my favorites)
11. Malted Milk Balls (the best!)

How about YOU?  What's in YOUR Trick-or-Treat bag (either now . . . or then)?

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Laugh With the Sinners

Today, let's enjoy some vintage Billy Joel. . .

 

When I was a little girl, I loved pocketbooks.

I had a little white, vinyl pocketbook . . . and a little black, patent leather pocketbook.  I could only use them for special occasions.  Like going to church.  Or maybe for family events at my Grandparents' house.  I loved them. 

I have very fond memories of my little pocketbooks.

Which is why, when I saw this bag, I just had to make it!

Impractical.

Stupidly expensive.

Futzy beyond imagining.

But.  It's an adult version of my little, patent leather pocketbook.

And have it, I must.

Like all Noni bags, the knitting is easy; the construction a challenge.  The devil is always in the details with a Noni bag!  And the hardware (and face it, it's all about the hardware) is ridiculously expensive.

But still.  I love it.

I'm a total sucker when it comes to nostalgia.

(I still have that teddy bear, too.  His name is Billy.  He is threadbare beyond belief.  And, these days, he watches over my sewing machine.)

Ravelry details here.