Project 365 Day 181

Project 365 Day 179 through 180

Project 365 Day 175 through 178

Project 365 Day 170 through 174

Project 365 Day 169

Project 365 Day 168

Project 365 Day 167

Project 365 Day 165 and 166

Project 365 Day 161 through 164

Porch Plans

So, there we sat on my front porch. My friend and I drinking coffee (or wine coolers...) lamenting the state of our legs and the fact that we wished we didn’t have to shave the darn things. And she says, “Models don’t.” To which I replied, “Whuut?” Let’s talk waxing. And I said, “Let’s JUST DO IT!” Okay...so that all sounds pretty cool at the time, until we call to make an appointment and discover you can’t do this with freshly shaved legs (which were what we had). You have to wait until those pesky little hairs are long enough to be grabbed by hot wax and ripped out by the roots with little strips of linen. So we wait. Did I mention it was summertime? So we wait in sweatpants. For those pesky little hairs to grow. And they don’t grow as fast as you think they do. Fast forward. We can’t go in together, so we make almost back-to-back appointments. I went first. Not too bad! Okay...I measure all pain against natural, unmedicated childbirth (which is what I had). So, on that chart, it’s not too bad. And my legs were smooooooth. Worth all of the time I spent in the heat with sweatpants on. And I wouldn’t have to shave them for SIX WEEKS! So then all I had to do was wait for my friend. I waited, and waited, and waited. And waited. She finally pulled up in front of my house, came around her car and I saw her legs...COVERED IN BANDAGES! As it turns out, her Norwegian hairs were not as fine as my WASPy ones. She described them more as tree trunks. And apparently tree trunks hurt more as they are ripped out by their roots attached to cooling wax and linen. And it was a joke. Her legs really didn’t need bandages. But she hasn’t had them waxed since. I have. But not recently. That was 20 years ago, and the amount of leg I show now in the summertime takes me under 2 minutes to shave. And I don’t have to worry about the backs of my knees. It makes me think, though, that I haven’t been on that kind of new adventure in quite some time. I think we can get so comfortable sometimes in what we do that we become old shoes. I don’t like that idea much. I have old shoes in my closet (some from the 1900’s) and I’m thinking I need to get my friend over here for a wine cooler. Time to make some plans.

Project 365 Day 160

Cage Girl

Not to be confused with basketball in any way. That would be way too athletic. Did you know that they used to call basketball players “cagers” because they actually played in a cage on the court...the cage was to keep the action away from the fans as well as keep the ball in-bounds for faster play. But, to be a cage girl when I was a sophmore in high school was to get out of PE. I hated PE. Hated may not be a strong enough word, but I can’t think of a stronger one right now. I had never been a fan of PE - gym class - call it what you want. They were all horrible. At this school, as a freshman, in PE we had to jog/walk several blocks to a baseball field in the spring. I was in a morning class - like second period. We would jog/walk - okay, walk - to this field on some streets that weren’t paved, they were more like compacted dirt. And the city would oil them. Let me tell you, the smell of that oil defied any description here. And then you would invariably smell someone cooking bacon - it was the morning! I am surprised I can even still eat bacon. Okay. Maybe not so surprised I still love bacon, what with all that fat and crispy deliciousness. I keep waiting to be watching TV some time and an ad will come on with some double attorney names (you know, like Smith and Smith, or Taylor and Taylor...etc.) and they’ll ask if you were ever exposed to oiled streets on the way to early morning baseball fields AND if the smell of bacon was added in you may now be suffering from...something decidedly horrible. But, when I was a cage girl all I had to do was remember half of the girls’ numbered baskets in the PE class. My friend and I would be in the cage, the PE Students would get their gym clothes from us (in their basket) and we would then keep their clothes/purses in their basket during gym class. I could remember all those numbers back then. And then during their gym class it would be my study hall. Except for the time that I had a really bad sunburn, and I sat there and popped all the little blisters through my pants, so when I left for my next class the thighs of my jeans were a little damp. Or the time I spent crawling around on the speckled white (and brown) tile floor because I had dropped my new contact lens (brown, of course). Now they are using those baskets in antique stores. And it’s got me thinking about..bacon.

Project 365 Day 155 through 159

Project 365 Day 149 through 154

Project 365 Day 148

Already Toddled

I can remember remembering things that happened when I was a toddler. I can no longer find the actual memory, just the memory of the memory. I do remember three nightmares I had when I was four (one in black and white and two in color). I don’t remember selling my new brother to a guy at a bowling alley in England for a quarter when I was four, but my parents remember it. And remind me of it. I find that most of my memories, actual memories, go back to about when I was fourish. Iwish they went back just a little farther. I wish I could remember speaking a language that no one could understand. Did I even understand at the time what I was saying? Our twins spoke their own language before they spoke English. They would converse with each other in long conversations, either making plans for covert operations, or sharing a new learned talent...like how to open a door. The only word we ever figured out was dobber. And we still use the word whenever we need...a hammer. I remember sitting with my husband and our life insurance agent when the twins were that age, and one at a time they kept bringing something out and handing it to their daddy and then running off. The insurance agent finally asked what they were bringing out and he was told it was their bedroom window screen, they were dismantling it one piece at a time. He informed us that I was grossly underinsured. I wish I could remember the excitement of...running. Does a toddler have the memory of struggling with crawling? And then the multiple adrenline rushes as they were trying to learn to walk? I think they must. And that is why a child who is almost, but not quite, two can whisper with not only excitement but anticipation the word “run”. Is it a command? Is it a request? Or is it just sheer delight knowing that this is something Big that they can now do. It would be a good memory to have.

Project 365 Day 141 through 147

Memorial Day

At the rising of the sun and at its going down, we remember them.

At the blowing of the wind and in the chill of Winter, we remember them.

At the opening of buds and in the rebirth of Spring, we remember them.

At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of Summer, we remember them.

At the rustling of leaves and the beauty of Autumn, we remember them.

As long as we live, they too will live; for they are now a part of us, as we remember them.

Author Unknown

Dennis and Steve...we miss you

Project 365 Day 134 through 140

Technology

I embrace it...pretty much. I still can’t figure out why I need to have an atm/credit card with me to use a parking meter. Seems silly when there is always change at the bottom of my purse screaming to be used. I was driving to Portland once (to use my atm/credit card for a parking meter) listening to my XM Radio (I love radio without commercials) and happened to be listening to their 70’s channel. I “came of age” so to speak in the 70’s. Well, and late 60’s. But with the 60’s it was like I was too young to really be a part of them, so I remember more of them than alot of people. But the 70’s, musically speaking almost every song can pitch a memory to me that I can either hit out of the park, or let go for another time. And it cracks me up that I can’t remember what I ate yesterday, but I can name most songs after 3 notes (sometimes less) and belt out most, if not all, of the lyrics. So....on comes this song and I LOVED it...knew ALL the words and when I got home I downloaded it on iTunes (ahhh...technology). And as I’m listening it is sounding more and more familiar...not like the lost cheesy song it was portrayed to be. HA! I dug out my old...old...old case to hold...you guessed it...45’s. The little vinyl records with the fat hole in the middle. And there it was. “Ma Belle Amie” by The Tee Set. Now, I no longer have a turntable to play it on, but I had lovingly numbered it and logged it in on the index sheet that came with the case. I am quite sure, that if I could actually listen to it the way I initially did, it just wouldn’t be the same. There is no doubt in my mind that at least once I forgot to reset the arm from 33-1/3 to 45 rpm, which meant the needle hit rubber and got duller and the subtle nuances of the song were lost. Yes...I believe that even Bubble Gum music had subtle nuances. Like when Peter Tetteroo sounded JUST LIKE PAUL MCCARTNEY in his background vocals (swoon...) and the way some of the words picked up a delicate accent, which turned out to be Dutch. I know that because I Googled it. And then I got to watch their video because I found it on You Tube. So...I get to listen to it better than I ever heard it before and see them in bell bottoms with that 70’s long hair. I feel young again. Sing along with me... “Ma belle amie, you were a child of the sun and the sky and the deep blue sea...”

Project 365 Day 128 through 133