Note: Since I’m on vacation, I’m giving you a rerun. This first appeared on June 3, 2015, back when I was new to blogging and had about 10 followers. It relates a childhood memory of mine that involved murder and explosives, as all good memories do. Also, the post includes a recipe because when I first started blogging, that was supposed to be my schtick. Then I forgot my schtick.
That’s the trouble with schticks. They only work if you remember them.
Oh well. Enjoy.
Growing up in the 70s was great. I’m not even talking about the movies and music from that era, although we had some darn fine ones.
What I’m talking about is the total lack of parental involvement. Even if a parent stayed home, they pretty much left us to our own devices. It was great.
Brother and I had it even better, as both Older Sisters and Older Brother were out of the house.
We’re talking complete lack of supervision, baby! Frankly, it’s a wonder we didn’t burn the whole place down.
Though we came close. Continue reading “My Glorious Summer of ’76”
Not sure about you, but I’ve been in a bit of a funk lately. Not quite feeling the lighthearted folly I try to bring to you every Wednesday, if you catch my meaning.
I was about to give it up for lost and take the week off, certain you’d understand, being the understanding sort of readers you are. Then yesterday evening, while going through a box of old photos, I found a little Valentine’s Day card dated 1924: Continue reading “Message From 1924: We’re Gonna Be Okay”
One look at that little rodent corpse, the serene look on his face, and I knew. It was a clear case of mouse suicide.
My family lived in west Phoenix in a square cinderblock home, painted turquoise. And the thing to know about cinderblock homes, however unattractive they might appear, a splash of turquoise paint makes them nearly… less unattractive.
In any case, cinderblock keeps out rodents and reptiles, and for desert living that’s darn smart.
Although about the time I was 12-years old, my dad built a garage in our backyard.
Actually, it wasn’t so much a garage as a giant workshop/sanctuary. It took up nearly half our backyard and was made primarily of wood.
That’s when the mice moved in.
The reason we knew we had mice is that every so often, about once a week or so, we’d find one floating in Pepper’s water dish.
Pepper being our family dog.
Continue reading “The Suicidal Mice of 40th Drive”
When I was a young lass, I believed Christmas songs were like homemade cookies. There was no such thing as a bad one.
Then someone shared their mom’s cookies made with raisins, dates and orange peel, and my childhood innocence was lost forever. Continue reading “Do You Hear What I Hear?”
A few days ago, someone brought a quilt into the office that was made by his great-aunt. She made it in 1939 when she was 15 years old, living in the small town of Ajo, Arizona.
Fifteen years old!
She made it in honor of her high school football team, the Red Raiders.
It’s clearly been well-cared for and the workmanship is excellent, but it was the attention to detail that impressed me the most.
See for yourself: Continue reading “A Fabulous Football Quilt From 1939”
Have you ever read about lottery winners who won a huge jackpot, then messed up their lives?
That’s not the kind of contest I’m referring to, but even winning on a smaller scale has its drawbacks. Trust me on this.
Husband and I were at store recently and they had a drawing for a $25 gift card. As the guy was reading off numbers, I realized I was the only one not holding a ticket.
This was no accident. I duck past drawings, raffles, ‘guess-how-many-marbles-in-the-jar’ contests I see. Because I know, with my luck, I’d probably win.
And I’d probably hate it.
Because having my name announced in a room full of people brings back painful memories. Dark memories.
Such as the time I was in college…
Continue reading “Why I’ll Never Enter Another Contest”
Holy cow, guys, check this out!
Remember back in June when I visited Idaho and soared over Snake River Canyon (in my dreams) just like Evel Knievel tried to do in 1974? (I wrote about it here.)
Well, turns out someone is going to do it for real! Possibly TODAY! (weather permitting)
Hollywood stuntman, Eddie Braun, is going to attempt the jump in a replica of Knievel’s rocket cycle. According to CNN, they made improvements to the parachute system but other than that, the technology is the same.
You can read the full article HERE.
Sounds like Eddie is getting a lot of criticism over it, but personally I think it’s cool.
It’s cool he’s not using the original launchpad, thereby keeping it intact. It’s cool he’s not using modern technology, instead trusting Knievel’s vision.
Plus, there’s this:
It’s not about doing something Evel Knievel couldn’t do. It’s about fulfilling his dream,” he said. “How many people get to fulfill the dream of their hero?” -Eddie Braun
They hope to have a livestream of the event. If so, I’ll be watching.
God speed, Eddie Braun. I hope you fly like the wind. 🏍
He did it! 😀 Here’s the video:
Sometimes my inner Reporter gets a little zealous digging for facts.
Actually, “a little zealous” describes her off-days. Most of the time she’s a research fanatic.
But I can’t complain much because she often finds some real gems. Case in point, a charming publication called Old Settler’s Gazette. A compilation of century old news, brought together for the residents of Pulaski County, Missouri.
Interesting year, 1912. Remember it? Continue reading “All the News That’s Fit to Print in 1912”
The Family Book of Best Loved Poems. Tattered and stained, yellowed pages, glorious old book smell. Wow, the memories it contains…
On Monday, I sent out a request for poetry suggestions. As of now I have 2 journals, 22 poets, and a number of online resources to explore.
You don’t leave a girl hanging, do you? Consider this my personal thank-you, as well as my pledge to do you proud.
One comment (left by Claudette from To Search and to Find) mentioned her fondness for silly, humorous stuff, reminding me of my dad’s favorite poems.
Dad had a fondness for silly rhymes too, and he would recite them often.
For one, he had a bit of help from Longfellow: Continue reading “A Poetry Lover is Born”