Stop and Smell the Roses.

Photo by Anete Lusina on Pexels.com

So, I’m over all of my COVID symptoms except for 2: I’ve lost all taste and smell. I know this is very common and apparently it could last for a few more days or even a few months. You know, I never realized how much these senses affect our day to day lives until I lost them.

Danny Bonaduce from the Partridge Family

Have you ever played the “Would you rather?” game? For example, would you rather kiss a frog or a rat (I’ve kissed both…remember, I’ve been married 3 times 🙄)? One question that always pops up is “Would you rather lose your sight or your hearing?” Of course, this is a toughie and even contemplating losing these senses makes you realize how dependent you are on them. But I’ve never heard the same question asked about taste or smell…it’s almost like these are the red-headed stepchildren of senses. Right?

I didn’t realize these senses had left me until we were sitting down to ‘dinner’ (a wrap with chips and salsa…I’m a gourmet cook…😳) and I couldn’t taste ANYTHING at all. Nothing. I was chewing and swallowing but the experience was ’empty’…there was no sensation at all. Like I told Bill, “Hells bells…I might as well be eating ma’s meatlump right now.”

It was so strange because I could feel the heat of the salsa on the roof of my mouth, but there was no taste to it…no flavor to anything. Then, I started smelling various things to see if that was gone too…the biggest test was smelling Dottie (who, to use my son’s words, does have a bit of a stench) and I smelled nothing. Nada. Zip.

In order to further test all of this, I got out ketchup, mustard, ranch dressing, poppyseed dressing, and the ‘smooth’ part of salsa. I blindfolded Bill (he was excited at first and then realized what it was actually for 🙄) and put a taste of each of these on his tongue to see if he could figure out what he was tasting. He didn’t recognize any of them!

Never ever ever.

You know, until you are going without something you’ve had all your life, you don’t realize how much of an impact taste has. How much the flavor of our foods please us. Even flavors that aren’t fancy schmancy…like peanut butter…are missed. Instead of eating and having some enjoyment…you are just ‘eating’. And it tastes like you are eating nothing while your brain is saying: “I remember this…what the hell?” A couple of days ago after we were released from quarantine, I went to Wally-Farts and bought a ton of food. As I was self-scanning it and yacking to the employee who was watching, I told him I didn’t know why I was buying so much ‘good’ stuff since I couldn’t taste anything anyway. Why spend the money on purple grapes (I LOVE grapes), fresh veggies, deli roast beef, etc. ? I literally could have bought crappy substitutes and never would have tasted the difference. Right?

Well, not really. See, even though I theoretically could eat something I hate (prunes and brussels sprouts come to mind 😐), my brain…as fucked up as it is (sorry, ma 🙄)…would still know I didn’t like them and I don’t think I could eat them without barfing. The ‘memory’ of the taste is there…just not the taste.

And then there’s smell. How boring the world seems without this. Smells infiltrate our lives constantly and without them, everything around us is just bland. Just ick. And not being able to smell food is one thing that’s hard for me. After a fiasco of a dinner with ma, pop, and sis when I was younger that involved spoiled milk (ma doesn’t ‘believe’ in expiration dates 🙄), I refuse to eat just about anything without giving it a good sniff. Here’s how this went down:

  • Little Kristi: “Ma, this milk is spoiled…it tastes funny.” 🤢
  • Ma: “It does not! I would never serve you spoiled milk!”
  • Little Kristi: “Ma. The milk is clumpy. Like cottage cheese.”
  • Ma: “Kristi. For the last time the milk is not spoiled. Just drink it and eat your dinner!”
  • Pop: “Aaaaagggghhhhh! C, this damn milk is spoiled!”
  • Ma: “Oh no! I’m so sorry!”

In other words, ma didn’t trust me to know that when milk is clumpy and causing you to make the same face you make when eating a rotten lemon, it’s spoiled! Now when I eat at ma’s, I (and sis) smell EVERYTHING. And…it pisses ma off royally. However, she didn’t get a mouthful of the expired, sour milk so she has no room to complain. For fuck sakes…no wonder I’m dairy free now. 🙄

I miss so many other smells too: just the everyday smells in the house, smelling Eddie when he’s cuddling me, smelling Bill’s hair right after a shower, smelling that ‘fresh’ aroma of snow (yes, I can smell snow), smelling the towels to make sure they’re fresh, smelling the body wash I like to use, smelling Little Dot when I’m holding her, and the list goes on. It’s like the world is now ‘turned down a notch’ because of the lack of smells.

In fact, smells trigger the most powerful memories for me. T and I LOVE the smell of English Leather. It’s that VERY strong aftershave that older men used to use (I don’t even know if they still sell it 😳) and grampa would douse himself in it everyday. T and I loved to hug him and smell that and even now, if I get a whiff of aromatic cologne when I pass by an older gentleman, I get a tug in my heart.

This one is going to sound nuts (go figure 😐), but even cigarette smoke triggers good memories for me. Gramma always smoked a LOT and the house was full of second hand smoke (this was the 70’s and 80’s, grasshoppers…we didn’t know the hell we were doing). It would sometimes get overwhelming for me at holidays when a lot of the family would smoke, but when it was just gramma, it didn’t bother me (although my lungs suffered). Now when I smell a hint of smoke, I think of gramma sitting on the couch, rolling her hair in pin-curls, while a cigarette waits in the ashtray on the old coffee table they had. In a weird way, the smell comforts me.

And kids? After having a sweaty little boy for so many years, that smell is a huge one for me. Boys have a sort of musty, sweet smell to them and after O would play ball or mess around outside with his cousins, his sweaty head would smell so ambrosial…so fragrant. It was the smell of a happy, playful boy and I’ve never forgotten it. In fact, J’s son would smell the same and he brought back so many memories for me.

I think everyone has a smell and I also believe that our attraction to someone is very much related to this. Some people just don’t smell ‘right’ and no matter what they do, it’s just not there. Out of all of my many hubbies (shutty the mouthies please 🤨), #3 smelled the best. Even after working in the garage or coming home from a 2 day weekend motorcycle trip without stopping to shower, he still smelled yummy to me. And yes…Bill does too.

Courtesy of classmates.com

Other smells I love? The smell of school books and supplies like pencils, notebooks, erasers, etc.; in fact, the smell of an elementary classroom is what I’m hoping heaven smells like. I love the smell of laundry in the drier and when I run by a house when this is happening, I can smell the steam and I get a great feeling inside. I love the smell of running gear…after you wear it a few times and sweat your butt off in it, it doesn’t matter how many times you wash it, there is still a smell….mmmmmm. Going into ma’s house with all of its smells always makes me feel at home and this sounds gross, but when I’m really upset and need something to calm me down, I snuggle Little Dottie or Eddie and smell their ears. Believe me…it works.

Anyhoot, I was just surprised at how much a lack of taste and smell would affect me. Life is more humdrum without these senses…I can’t wait until they come back. EXCEPT for this: picking up the dogs’ poop has never been better…I’m actually doing it now without gagging. That’s the only plus I can think of.

Kristi xoxo

“Take me back to the good old days” ~ Tommy Collins

So, with Bill and I being in isolation because we have COVID, we’ve been watching a lot of true crime (very uplifting when you’re sick 🙄) and just finished ‘The Night Stalker’ (Richard Ramirez) on Netflix. As fascinating as it was regarding the investigation of this serial killer and how horrible we felt for all those he victimized, here’s what really got us: how old the film clips, tv’s, clothes, cars, etc. looked. When we started watching this, we both would have sworn that the time period being shown was the 60’s, but alas, we would have been wrong. It was the 80’s.

Courtesy of parade.com

Heh? The 80’s look OLD to us? Archaic? It was the 80’s…our era, baby! Just a few years ago…right? Well…no. I remember when I was growing up and grandma and grandpa would talk about the 40’s and 50’s and to me, it seemed like a life-time ago (and it was…literally…duh…🙄). Now that we’re in 2021 (the year in which I thought everything pertaining to the Jetson’s would be happening), the 80’s was a life-time ago; after all, my sonshine was born in 1993 and he’s 27. Damn!

So after the show ended, Bill and I started to play the ‘Did you ever imagine…’ game, and we realized how much the world has changed in the decades that followed the cool one we were teenagers in (OK, I was never cool…nerdy/homely would be a better descriptor for me 🤓). Here are some examples:

  • Didya ever think that we’d hold a phone in our hands…without cords…that had a MUCH bigger computer capacity than the combination of every single computer we ever used in high school had?
  • Didya ever think that you could ‘send’ a message to someone instantaneously?
  • Didya ever think the world would be connected and we could access that knowledge every single day without leaving home?
  • Didya ever think ‘books’ would be read electronically?
  • Didya ever think you’d be able to take a better pic through a PHONE than you did using the most expensive camera out there when you were a kid?
  • Didya ever think we’d have electric cars?
  • Didya ever think there would be a more graphically ‘real’ game than Pac-Man?
  • Didya ever think there would be something to ‘hold’ your music that was more compact than a Sony Walkman that used cassettes?
  • Didya ever think you wouldn’t be using VHS tapes someday?

And the list goes on and on.

My first camera! The film just popped in…what could be better than that?

Take cameras: my son is a professional photographer and he is a hybrid shooter in that he uses film and digital cameras. The first time he started shooting in film, he was so excited! You would have thought he discovered an ancient civilization that hadn’t been seen for eons. For the first few months, he would show me every single pic he took on film and he was just gob-smacked by how they looked…they were so ‘vintage’! And, every time he did this, I’d be giggling inside: “Sweetie…what the hell do you think ALL of your baby and childhood pics were taken with?? ”

And the computer stuff really does boggle my mind. I remember sitting in Mr. B’s computer classes in high school and trying to wrap my head around ‘Basic Programming’. In only 1 semester, I learned how to program a computer to scroll my name on the green and black screen! It was quite an accomplishment. Really. If you would have told me that computers would be the size of your palm someday…AND…we would carry them around in our pockets and be obsessed with them…I would have said you might be a tad delusional.

Courtesy of Reddit

When hubby 2 and I got our first ‘real’ desktop computer, we were a bit afraid of it, and after getting an AOL disc to use in it, we were petrified. The disc said we had like a zillion hours of ‘internet’ time and we couldn’t understand what the hell the internet was and why the hell we’d want ‘on it.’ We popped the disc in after O was in bed for the night…that way, if something horrible happened, he wouldn’t be a witness to it. A funny, screechy, dial-y sound (much like how my voice is described 😐 ) started and we thought the computer was blowing up. After about 5 minutes (SO FAST!), we were ‘online’ and had no idea what to do. Hubby started clicking around on things on the AOL homepage but we closed it out because there was nothing that interested us. Here’s what we said (word for word): “The internet is stupid…I’m never using it.” 🤨 I guess we were sorta wrong on that one.

Courtesy of Screen Rant

And movies? Good lord…I remember traipsing to the local ‘video store’ and checking out a VCR and a movie…this would cost about $40! BUT, since VCR’s were around $600-700 in the mid-80’s, this was a steal! My boyfriend and I’d lug this badboy home in the ‘suitcase’ it came in and then spend a grueling hour trying to figure out the fucking wires that needed to be connected while ma was shouting down the stairs: “Don’t mess up the damn TV!” After saying some not-so-nice things to each other during this fiasco, we’d finally get it hooked up, watch the movie (in our house…oooooo…😲) and then unhook it the next day to get it back before we got hit with astronomical fines. Tech at it’s best!

For my son, using Netflix and Hulu is nothing…he’s been doing it since he was a teen. He doesn’t remember a time when movies weren’t at our fingertips! I do though…and I’m still amazed that you can watch about anything you feel like with a few clicks. And I LOVE how you can stop watching something after a few minutes and go on to something else. When I would ‘rent’ VHS tapes, I’d watch the movie even if I hated it…I didn’t want to waste money by not watching it. BTW, I just got my first talking remote for my cable and using it amazes me…I don’t even have to change channels myself anymore!

And social media? I never dreamed…in a million years…that you’d be able to connect with anyone and everyone in the WHOLE world you wanted to with the ‘click of a mouse’. Further, who could ever have seen the effects of doing so? I’ve been off Facebook now for a few weeks and really don’t miss it at all…except for seeing what my sweetie students are up too. I certainly don’t miss the gossip, political fighting, high-school type antics among adults, etc. In fact, my stress level has decreased knowing I can just enjoy something without worrying about having to post it. It’s freeing! 😛 Plus, I just finished a quilt, have kicked ass on getting my classes set up, and am running 4-5 miles a day! Know what? That’s better than clicking on a thumb for hours at a time!

Anyhoot, how weird to think the era I grew up in was as many years ago as when my gramma would talk about the depression. It’s funny how time goes by so fast, but then you sort of get stuck in a time and it stays the same in your mind as if it were just a few days past. Sometimes I miss those good ole days when kids were out riding their bikes all over the city, and were playing tag at night under the street lights, and playgrounds were full and waiting for a swing was your biggest worry at the time. I feel like people were more connected back then…regardless of the social media and technology we have today. We called each other and yapped for hours on the phone. We had slumber parties and would stay up all night telling naughty stories and freezing each other’s bras. If you wanted to date someone, you had to ask them face-to-face…no swiping…and then you’d actually talk and do things together with no phones interrupting your time. You also didn’t have the pressure of ‘having’ to take photos to post to prove to others you were having fun with so and so. You didn’t have to worry about documenting everything…you just lived it and made the memories in your head where they aren’t judged. People felt better about themselves because you weren’t comparing yourself to others on social media and feeling less than because of everyone’s ‘perfect’ pics. If you had an issue with someone, you actually had to talk to them…not see it splattered across an open platform that everyone reads and can judge you by.

As much as it ages me, it’s like it was a more ‘innocent’ time…more laid back…more linked…united. I didn’t take pics of my son 100x every single day…film and developing were expensive! But when I did take pics, they were special and showed a time in his life that I really wanted to capture; then I’d mail copies to the grandparents for them to stick on the fridge. I didn’t force him to pose or stop playing with him to get yet another pic to post because it wasn’t about the pic…it was about us simply being together.

My life was my life…it wasn’t a life that was open for others to criticize publicly. If I wanted to learn about something, I got actual books and read them and studied them and learned from them. I didn’t passively ask Alexa for an answer…I found the answer myself.

So yes, I’m old. Yes, I’m feeling nostalgic about the 80’s. And yes…even though it was far from perfect, there is so much I miss about it. I guess I’m finally one of those people who yearn for the ‘good ole days’…and in fact, I think a lot of us actually do.

Kristi xoxo

“…rolling on the river.” ~ Proud Mary

So, blech. Isn’t that a great way to start? Makes you really want to read more, huh??!! 🙄

Anyhoot, Bill started his new job and guess what he brought home? Wait for it….wait for it…

COVID!

On Sunday morning, I told Bill that I felt ‘warm’ and he put his hand to my head and said I was nice and cool. So what did I do? Take my temp for the first time in years. It was a couple of degrees high and later in the day, we both were coughing and tired and achy…you get the picture (there was also a bit of diarrhea involved, but I’m not going to tell you which one of us had it…just suffice it to say it wasn’t me…😳). We got tested Monday and our results were back Thursday. We are in isolation until Feb. 3rd. I’m not good at isolation.

When I got the test results back, I called ma and said: “Ma, I’m sad because I’m not going to be able to see you for 10 days!” She said: “Kristi, we have gone a lot longer than that without seeing each other.” So I said: “But ma…when I CAN’T do something, I WANT to do something…you know, like when you forbade me to pierce my nose and I pierced my nose.” Ma said: “We’ll facetime.” Here’s the problem with that: ma doesn’t prop her phone up during our screen time and I get nauseated because of the movement…I liken it to being on a boat during a storm.

I am one of these people that get motion sick REALLY REALLY easily. Just watching the words scroll at the bottom of a newscast can make me dizzy and if I ride in the back-seat of a car, watch out. It’s going to get ugly.

When I was a junior in High School, me, ma and her fucking bastard of a husband went camping on Lake Michigan in the Cabin Cruiser they had (he could be fun at times…he got progressively worse through the years and they weren’t even married yet). I have no idea why I didn’t beg off of going except I thought it would be fun. You know…camping on a boat, in Lake Michigan, and not setting foot on land for a week. A couple of days into this nightmare, we decided to boat across Lake Michigan and because I’ve always had such great luck in my life, a storm came up and the boat that always seemed big to me felt like a raft in the ocean. Wave after wave was hitting us and I thought we were going to die. Ma thought we were going to die. R was having the time of his life…I’m assuming he felt like Skipper on the Minnow. 😐

Anyway, did you know Lake Michigan is HUGE? And once you’re in the middle of it, you can’t see land? And when you are in the fucking middle of it during a storm you can’t see land and you have to barf in a minnow bucket because you’re scared if you do it over the side of the boat you are going to fall in? And when you barf in a minnow bucket that smells like dead minnows, it makes you want to barf even more?

So, R was steering, ma was yelling, and I was barfing. Charming. Finally, after what seemed like days but was only about 4 hours, we motored into Chicago. I was REALLY sick by this time and getting dehydrated, plus we hadn’t planned on staying in the city so we had nowhere to dock. R finally spotted a small marina which was labeled “Yacht Club”. The boats were the size of my old snow saucer so the fellows there used the term ‘yacht’ very loosely. In fact, it was a pretty seedy place. But, they let us dock there and we set out to find somewhere I could recover.

We started walking (this was pre-Uber, my sweeties, plus we didn’t have cab fare…no cash and ATM’s weren’t a big thing yet 😐) and we walked and walked and walked. Actually, ma and R walked…I wobbled and teetered and barfed. We were in the Southside of Chicago, it was getting dark, and we had no idea where the hell we were going. We passed a billboard that said “God is watching you” and I said to ma: “I hope!” Finally, we spotted a hotel and R used his last check to book me and ma a room…he wanted to sleep with his boat.

So, ma and I were in a hotel on the Southside…I was moaning and groaning on the bed while she was trying to determine if I needed to go to the hospital or not. Finally, we both fell asleep until we heard someone messing with the door. They were actually trying to break in! Luckily, they left after they heard us scream and we spent the rest of the night with me dry-heaving and ma watching the door like a hawk.

A Greyhound from the 80’s.

The next day, it was decided that I needed to get home since there was no way in hell I was going to step foot on that Godforsaken boat one more time. The solution? I got to ride a Greyhound home! That was an adventure as well…my first time traveling across the state alone on a bus (actually, it was my last time too…so far…). At first I was excited, that is, until the last words I heard from ma while I was boarding were: “What if she doesn’t make it home?” That was comforting. Ma always has a way of seeing the bright side of things. Well, obviously I made it home and gramma and grampa took care of me and spoiled me to bits…it was heaven.

You know, I realize how lucky Bill and I are that our bout with COVID is mild and we are doing well. I also know how horrible this virus is for so many and my heart goes out to them…truly. Finally, I know that no matter what, ma has always been, and still is, there when I’m sick. Thanks, ma…you’re the best.

Kristi x0x0

“I don’t want to grow up…” ~ The Ramones

So, I was perusing amazon the other day and came across a book called “How Not to Act Old” by Pamela Satran and it really interested me for a couple of reasons. First, what the fuck (sorry ma, I’m already cussing 😳)? Do we really need lessons on how not to ‘act old’ in this day and age? What is ‘acting old’ anyway and why must we shy away from it? Why is ‘acting young’ so much better? Second, why in the name of all that is holy do we fear aging so much in our society that we have to learn to ‘act younger’? Does that seem right to you? Grrrrrrrr.

Actually, this book is really funny and the author is excellent at satire. Plus, if I must be brutally honest with myself, I think I need a few of these ‘lessons’ myself. Let’s take a look see at the ones I apparently need to work on…I may need to leave a few out for the sake of brevity (look up that word, youngsters…it’s not used much anymore 🙄).

One of the tips is to not talk to strangers which is something us old folks do. My son is probably cheering right now because he absolutely hates it when I do this, but what can I say? I’m a talker and baby, this bird likes to chirp! No one is a stranger to me…literally. I’ll talk to anybody and everybody anytime and anywhere. And, while that makes my son very very nervous, ma will laugh after she realizes the person isn’t going to spit in my face.

The other day we were at Wally Farts and I was in the make-up aisle looking for the only lipstick that looks decent on me (Maybelline 24 hour matte…#50 🤨 ) and there was another gal yacking on her phone which kinda pisses me off. Is there anywhere we can go where we can get away from those damn things (I wanted to say ‘fucking’ instead of ‘damn’ but ma might get mad so I resisted 😬)? Anyhoot, she said the word ‘Aunt Linda’ and after she hung up I said: “Was that Linda?” And she tentatively said it was. I said: “Aunt Linda…from Decatur?” And she said YES! Do you actually know her? I said of course I did…I was trying to get some lipstick for her and this gal actually said: “She sent me to do that too!” Then ma and I started cracking up and the gal did too! I could hear her continuing to laugh through the body lotions aisle (note: I need to put that on my shopping list) and it made me happy. If my son had been there? He would have left the store and called an Uber for me. I guarantee it.

This is the exact watch I had…sigh…

Another suggestion is not to wear a watch. Heh?? I grew up wearing watches and since my phone isn’t connected to me via an umbilical cord like I know others have, I need to know the time. My first ‘fancy’ watch was a gold number from a store named “Venture” and it had the red numbers that lit up when you pushed a button. It was awesome and I loved it…very ‘tech’. I actually have a lot of watches I’ve collected over the years: Tweety bird, Hoops and YoYo, Mickey Mouse, various Timex’es and I wear them according to my mood. When O was a little guy, I had an Elmo watch and I’d say: “Elmo says it’s time for a nap!” Worked like a charm.

Another suggestion is to not talk about menopause. Yeah. Right. Look, when I was sweating like a dog every freaking day of the month for 2 years straight, wanted to kick anyone that got in my way, had mood swings far above and beyond anything bipolar can be responsible for, and saw my belly grow day by day because my metabolism was getting shot to hell…I’m going to bitch about it. To everyone. Hello??!! If I’m miserable, I want others to be too. It’s just a quirk of mine.

(NOTE: skip this part, ma). In another part of the book, the author says that although men continue to be randy throughout their lives (tell me about it 😐), women don’t want to really have ‘it’ anymore. OK. Here’s another area where I must be an anomoly because good Lord above, I still like ‘it’. Why is it assumed that older women don’t like to have sex? I hate to blame anyone for this situation but I tend to think that if our men (I’m leaving out women as a partner because I think we’re already OK at this) romanced us like they did when we were young…quit wearing sweatpants around the house all day while carrying a beer…stopped watching the boob tube for hours on end…stopped assuming that going out to dinner is just too much trouble…and not ogle young ladies that are barely old enough to vote then guess what folks? Women might really like it ‘again.’ Hello, men. Ever hear of foreplay? Sweeties, take it from me…that never gets too old for us. K?

This is one badass grammy! From: The Bored Panda

And tattoos? Not for the old? I disagree. What the hell? I’m getting older and fewer and fewer people are going to want to see my bod so why not get it covered in ink? I’ve actually got 6 tattoos and am getting a sun/moon on my right upper arm this fall. Ma doesn’t know about this and she is going to be calling me in 5-4-3-2-1…hold on, I’d better take this. 🙄

And, this brings me to something else ma has told sissy and I since were were 4. Long hair isn’t for older women. In other words, having 2 inch hair is the ONLY style acceptable for ‘cough cough’ women of a certain age. With no disrespect to ma, and I know I speak for sissy as well, bullshit! My longer hair can be used to cover up my face when my wrinkles are a bit more pronounced, look really great when nothing else does, and makes me feel like I’m at least a year younger than I really am. Win win win.

OMG. Me in the 80’s. Good Lord.

The author also talks about what you shouldn’t wear as an older woman and I agree with them…particularly the bright blue eye shadow which every single 80 year old I know wears (and yes, I live in a very old neighborhood where I’m the youngest resident by about 50 years so I know a lot of 80 year old women 👵). I don’t want to dress in ‘Jr.’ clothes…for fuck (sorry, ma 🙄) sakes, the day I show my midriff in public is the day you need to commit me, but I’m not going to wear these ‘new’ high waist ‘vintage’ jeans either. No way in hell. Look, maybe the ‘young folk’ think having the 80’s back is fun, but these are the jeans that us older people look at in our school pics and laugh at. No way are those boobie-touchers going on this bod. I will continue to wear my boring old Levi’s with the button fronts so when I eat too much dessert, I can unfasten a couple of ’em and shove more cake in. Seriously…what could be better than that?

Last one that made me think a bit? ‘Don’t fear the thong.’ Oh…I don’t know about y’all, but I fear them…a lot. Look, underwear is supposed to cover your underarea and keep you…well…contained. Free from drippies. Protected from chafing jeans. There is no way on God’s green earth I’m going to wear a 3″ swatch of fabric with dental floss holding it together in the back. I tried them. Once. And I spent hours with my hand picking the floss out of my butt crack which I’m sure looked very sexy. Regular panties it is.

So, getting older may not be cool, and yes, there are suggestions on how not to act too old, but here’s how I see it: I’ve gotten to 53 and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to take advantage of it. There are just some things us old folk can take advantage of and be OK…like staring at handsome firefighters while saying something naughty. “I can’t help it…I’m old.” That sort of thing. Pros to getting older? You can act about anyway you want and blame it on age. Cons? Well my sweet peeps…that’s a whole other post.

Kristi xoxo

“Sunday, Monday Happy Days…” ~ Happy Days Theme Song

Photo by gya den on Pexels.com

So, my ma sent sissy and I an e-mail that was literally entitled: “Pictures for Seniors”. Yes. You read that correctly. My ma apparently thinks my sis and I are in the ‘senior’ age category like she is. I think I speak for my sis when I say I was going to e-mail ma a snarky comeback to such an e-mail, but then I opened the damned thing and realized I knew a LOT of what these ‘old pics’ were. Thanks, ma. I now feel elderly. “T? Should we start looking at old age homes together?” 🙄

These 2 pics actually made me laugh out loud. When ma was a fresh divorcee and I was a freshman in high school, she decided she wanted to save some money and asked me to give her a perm. Let me rephrase this in case you don’t get the dramatics of it: Ma asked a freshman high schooler who had absolutely no experience at all with curlers, perming lotion, etc. to give her a perm with the expectation it would look at good as the gal at the beauty parlor used to give her for $50. Now I ask you…what could go wrong?

Well…first off, ma’s hair is not the thickest and after rolling 3 curlers, I was done. I literally got all of her hair into 3 rollers and figured the ‘stragglers’ and short hair underneath that couldn’t fit on a roller would just ‘blend in.’ Ma was skeptical since the beauty parlor used about 30 on her but I told her to trust me…I knew what I was doing. (I had no fucking clue what I was doing…sorry, ma! 🤨). Anyhoot, I drizzled on the very smelly and chemically goop on the curlers and we waited for the magic to happen. After a time, I figured we should wash it out. Now, here’s some life advice for you grasshoppers…please take heed: when you are asked to wash your ma’s hair in the sink with a shitty sprayer, don’t do it. Period. You will inadvertently spray water in her ears, up her nose, and in her eyes. She will get mad at you and say words you never ever thought your ma even knew.

I took out the curlers (didn’t take long) and VOILA! Ma had a perm in 1/20 of her hair with the 3 curls looking fried and crispy. She was not a happy camper…but neither was I! “That’s what you get for trying to save a buck, Ma!”

My grandma also liked curls and after grandpa would shampoo her hair in the sink (she certainly didn’t fuss like ma 🙄) she would sit on the ‘davenport’ (which was always covered with a flowery sofa cover so you never knew what it looked like at all) with a hand mirror between her legs and make her ‘pin curls’. It was quite something to see.

Does anyone play ‘jacks’ anymore? I’m thinking not since they are sharp, metal mini-weapons that you played on concrete to where you scraped your hand with every move. Ahhhhh…those were the days. Anyhoot, I was a jacks champion! I could get to my ‘sixies’ fast but I have to say this: T had the best jack ball of all and I was pea green with envy. Neon orange and pink and bigger than the standard ball…it was a sight to behold.

I know there are still roller rinks around but in the 70’s they were the bomb! The skates that stank of old feet whose laces were always torn so you had to tie little tiny knots you couldn’t untie later in the day. The disco ball rotating above the floor with The Village People singing YMCA in the background while you made the letters with your arms. The ‘moonlight’ skate where you…gasp!…held hands with a crush and skated around to Olivia Newton John. The snack bar where you could buy a plate of nachos with sticky orange cheese globbed on top. The bathroom where your friends would congregate so you could giggle about the guys you skated with. I’ll say this: best $5 you could spend. 😃

And I actually had a ‘Wooly Willy’ and Pic Up Stix. When I think about it though, Wooly Willy was kinda creepy and if I had one now, I’d probably be naughty with where I put the black stuff. But I loved Pic Up Stix…trying to get a stick out of the pile without moving any others. Only for the very talented…that’s for sure.

Now, do you know what these are? They go in the center of 45’s (records, peeps) and you played these singles again and again and again. There was nothing sis and I liked more than to grab our hairbrushes, close her bedroom door (her room was bigger…my closet was bigger…it worked out well), and sing The Partridge Family to our pretend fans who were listening with rapt admiration while we gyrated along on our pretend stage on T’s shag carpet. *T…should we go on America’s Got Talent together? Text me ASAP.

Ahhhhhh…the smell of old classrooms with chalk and crayons and pencil sharpeners and the class hamster no one wanted after the first week. I loved school! Every single classroom I was in from Kindergarten through at least middle school had the green alphabet hanging over the blackboard. Why in the name of all that is holy are some school districts not teaching cursive writing? This just burns me 😠 ! Writing in cursive is an art and doing so can actually boost creative juices…this is why so many authors write in long-hand like Joyce Carol Oates and J.K. Rowling. In fact, Voltaire once said: “Writing is the Painting of the Voice.” Isn’t that a yummy quote?

And ditto machines? Every worksheet was in purple and to be one of the teachers helpers and actually operate this beast was the best. I loved using the machine because not only did you miss class for a bit, your fingers got all purple and the ink smelled so good. Actually… Hmmmm… I think the ink actually made me quite high at times. No wonder I wanted to be a teacher. Go figure.

Whenever I see a flashbulb camera, I think of my grandpa at holidays. His wasn’t as cool as this one but he had a camera with a flashbulb that would literally blind you after it went off. Hells bells…no wonder everyone in my generation wears glasses. Anyhoot, you had to stand ramrod straight so the pic wouldn’t blur, look directly into the lens so gramps could line everything up correctly, and then BOOM! A blue light flashed throughout the room and for the next 10 minutes, you battled a migraine while seeing spots 🤪. Now son, I know you are a professional photographer and are so amazing at what you do. But until you use a flashbulb and everyone’s skin looks transparent and their eyes remind you of someone possessed, you haven’t experienced photography at it’s best. Just sayin’.

So…I just read this over and am kinda thinking ma did right by sending that e-mail even though her daughters are no where near being a ‘senior.’ It’s fun to look back on things that seem so archaic or silly now and it makes me wonder what my son’s future kids will someday say about what he grew up with. Laptops? iPhones? Pokemon? Blue Ray player? What the heck are those? Of course my grandkids will think I’m the hippest grammy ever…and I’ll be right there with them rolling my eyes at my son as he reminisces over his Charmander card one more time.

Kristi xoxo