Not a Pretty Preference

I went to a party last week where I met a vapid woman. She talked only about herself and when asked by someone "I like your pants, where did you get them?" she replied not only "J Crew" but added the pretentious color name, something like Hamptons Sunset Pink. She mentioned that she is a vegetarian and I asked if it was for ethical or health reasons (I take an interest in people) and she replied she became a vegetarian to rebel against her parents as a teenager and just get going with it (she's about 30.)

Yesterday at the flea market I talked with an obese vendor who was dressed very poorly but with whom, within the span of five minutes, I learned something and found her to be an interesting conversationalist. We were discussing buying American made products, and she shared my opinion that by buying crap made overseas that "You're cutting your nose off to spite your face. I figure if God is good to me then I should be good to God."

I also talked with another vendor, an older fellow, about the demise of cereal prize quality (he was selling some.) Back when I grew up Cracker Jacks and cereal had some great premiums in the box. My favorite was a mini plastic terrarium (I think it came in Honeycomb Sugar Crisps*) and the white trash tats in the paper packet.

*Yup! Found this: http://wafflewhiffer.blogspot.com/2009/01/happy-new-year-from-sugar-bear.html

Talky TV

My favorite part of the July 4th holiday is the Twilight Zone Marathon on the Sci-Fi Channel. It's a real pleasure and comfort to turn on the TV and see quality programming. Even when I wasn't watching it I loved knowing that it was there. Yes, I have one of the seasons on DVD and I know I can control what I watch that way. But this is different. I can pretend, just like my own episode, that I am back in time, and the horrific crap that's on TV today doesn't exist and would never see the light of day. People would be too smart to allow it. Advertisers would boycott stations. But like a frog that is slowly boiled so it doesn't jump out right away, we've all had our brains slowly friend by our TVs. Dramatic, yes. Yes it is. And it's true.

What I love about Twilight Zone is the serious and universal themes and fears Rod Serling touches upon. That show will be relevant in another hundred years. Alienation, fears of growing old, anxieties about technology taking over, the supernatural, people at war with one another- it's all real stuff of the human experience. The cinematography is brilliant along with the acting and big names.

The Rain

We've had non-stop rain, and it looks like it's going to keep on going. I am having trouble dealing with this. I need the sun and surf!!

How to get rid of pushy protesters and salespeople

In the past when I've been "approached" (verbally assaulted) by someone trying to sell me something, and they won't back off, I turn it around and start selling them my own widgets and ideas. That shuts 'em down.

I have a new tactic to use. I'm really tired of the man at the post office who every single day asks me to sign his petition. Also, the same thing on facebook. Do people really think they are making a difference by simply adding their name to a facebook group? How many of them actually go out and DO something about it?

I'm going to create a few petitions to carry in my purse so that when I'm next approached I'll ask HIM to sign MINE. Could be fun coming up with non-issues, too. Ideas?

Kindness arrived

My friend EK sent me the most wonderful care package full of vintage house warming gifts for my kitchen and made me a card. I treasure such kindness and thoughtfulness and of course, vintage goodies!

Plus Sized Rage

It's never a good idea for me to go to the mall, even when I have a valid reason. Today I needed a few new pairs of jeans and bras since I've outgrown them. The bras.

I went into every store that sells jeans, starting with The Gap. I do not fit the demographic in my area of short and wide. I wear a size 6 or 8 with a 34" inseam. How many size 16 petites does one mall need?? Looks like mail order for me. I almost lost my mind when I saw that there are now plus sized socks! That's right! Fat feet!

What's with the outgassing from Abercrombie & Fitch that reeks any time I walk by that place. It smells like a blend of credit card plastic (not from the kids using mom's credit cards but parents burning up their credit by charging clothes so they can dress like their kids ), denim dye and hair product. And I hate the term "hair product." Why aren't we calling jeans "body product" or shoes "foot product."

I got a bra fitting at Victoria's Secret; the last time I had one was when I was 12 and a got a training bra. It turns out that I do need a larger cup size. Well since then about three sizes larger. I guess DQ has an up side. I really wish that they had the option of discreet shopping bags instead of the two toned hot pink design so that I don't have teen boys and mall walkers giving me a look. I didn't opt for the battery operated numbers or the fake implant models. I made up the battery part but each one promises to make you, rather yours, if you are female, into something they are not. I just want mine held in place.

Why We Suck by Denis Leary

I finally had some time to read my Christmas gift from my guinea pigs. It was a lazy Sunday and I spent the day reading the entire book in bed. It's refreshingly wrong but right while making me laugh. My only complaint is that he worships Oprah, however his sermon about her is also a riot. I highly recommend Why We Suck.

It's OK to go back and linger

"It goes by so quickly" he said many times as well as "oh my aching back!" in response to his wife of almost 60 years after she would question something he said. For example, when we were walking in our yard my husband asked if he had built the shed. "Yes, I did!" His wife looked at him and said "You DID?" "Oh my aching back! Well, I assembled it." But he always said it smiling as he shook his head and rolled his eyes.

I had researched the records of our 1950's ranch and found the names and contact information of the people who lived here from the time it was built in 1952 until the mid 1990's and invited them over. The house felt like lots of happy days were spent here, and I was curious about the people who took such good care of it.

We walked around the yard and the Mr. told us about the neighbors they had, one was a "marvelous fellow" and the other "a real jerk!" Then we toured the inside including the basement. We just had a flu opening re-bricked and the round aluminum plate with a small painting on the front that had covered it was still laying on the cellar floor. I offered it to them as a souvenir and they readily took it.

They had showed up with about ten photo albums, each one numbered, and the Mrs. said "This is number ten, I'm up to forty at home!"

It was a wonderful as I thought it would be, going back. "People used to care" he said, "they weren't so selfish!" I saw pictures of their bridge games in my house, bowling team at the alley that still stands down the road, their parties, Christmas in my house, their kids, town businessmen and learned about some scandals and scuffles. My home office had been built as an addition and I now know that there was a "big argument" that took place between the Mr. and his father in law while it was being built. How cool is that? But everything else is all positive.

They said their TV was in the exact same place as ours and they confirmed that they indeed had watched Leave it to Beaver, I Love Lucy and my other favorite sit-coms. It sounds crazy but when we first moved in I closed my eyes in that spot and could just feel the laughs and joy of a happy family sitting around a TV.

Besides agreeing with me that the 50's were great times, I went into a small rant about McMansions and the concept of "starter homes" other than people starting out on their own move into them. I explained that I never understood the idea that one had to keep moving up into bigger and "better" houses. They had raised two well adjusted kids in our three bedroom, 1,200 square foot ranch. "This was our starter home for forty-two years!" the Mrs. said in support of me. Enough used to be enough.

A couple of weeks ago I had gone to an estate sale and bought a beautiful oval antique mahogany mirror and placed it near the front door. In their photographs they had almost the exact same mirror in the same exact spot! I wondered if maybe walls really can talk if you listen.

"I've had a very good, happy life, but I never made a lot of money. You don't need that to be rich," he said.

Glitz or Gem?

I like to collect vintage rhinestone jewelry. If something is as pretty as a precious stone to the untrained eye, is there value to being more informed provided you don't pay diamond prices? We live in a society where fake and false are common adornments, so why do people care if a rock is real? Isn't the value in your enjoyment of it?

Dime Store Trophies

I'm starting a separate blog about my childhood in conjunction with this one. Expect the same brash sentimentality I've been sharing here.

Sometimes I'm a ding dong

When we bought our new old house we had to replace the doorbell. I'm always agitated by those people who go into a store and pull the string on a doll (do they have those anymore?) or push the button to activate the singing fish over and over.

I was that guy at Home Depot in the doorbell section. You can sample each and I found one that was about $80 higher than the rest and it was totally a 70's sit com doorbell sound. I'm not kidding, it was the same as on The Jeffersons and The Carol Burnett show. I loved it, and to make even more of a scene I giggled each time I pressed it yet again, remembering a different episode. For example, I can totally see Carol Burnett hearing that ding dong and making one of her outrageous expressions saying "I wonder who THAt could be." Or Florence making a wisecrack at whoever is at the door.

I didn't buy it after all of that but I'm pretty sure someone nearby was thinking about buying it for me to shut me and it up.

Old men in capes

Many of you know I'm really an old man. I'm cranky, love early bird specials and don't mess around with doing my nails. Yesterday I took a walk around my new old school hood that is full of 50's capes, ranches and old men.

There are three fellows I want to meet. One looks to be in his 80's and wearing a pressed shirt and dress slacks mows his lawn himself with a push mower. The second man I saw yesterday waved his cane at the sky and yelled to me that we had a sunny week ahead of us. I hollered back that that was wonderful news. Next time I'm going to introduce myself. Number three lives next door and last week fell down the stairs of the back deck where he'd hang out in his bathrobe. An ambulance came and I found out from his daughter that he also has cancer and not long to live but that he is hanging in there. He had been sneaking out onto the deck since he was supposed to be staying inside. I can't say I blame him. I don't think I'd want to spend my final days safe.

I like anyone with fight in them 'til the end.