Based on a Facebook post...regional food names and a childhood memory

I have decided not to post about the trip to/from NC or the goings on at the funeral. I am once again making a concerted effort to cut some of the negativity in my life.

I will say that I decided it was time I grew up and paid for my own hotel room for the weekend. And it was nice to see my nephew/little brother who flew in from CA for the funeral- it's been nearly 20 years since we'd seen each other. Also, I ate FAR too much junk, but enjoyed every bite.


So, one of the things I did was post pics of some of the meals from my favorite hometown restaurants to a foodie group I belong to on FB. Another member of the group posted pics of her haul from a farmer's market she'd been to and then asked for a meal idea using the ground meat she bought in a moment of optimism. Another member suggested cabbage rolls, and gave a recipe for them. I got the giggles when I read it. For some reason, I've always thought of cabbage rolls as a bread product when I've seen written references to them.

Turns out that what they call cabbage rolls are what my family calls Pigs in a Blanket. Meatballs, usually studded with rice, rolled in cabbage leaves, and cooked in a tomato based sauce. We also call it Stuffed Cabbage. This confused the heck out of my cousin Melissa when she married into our family. I had to laugh because my one & only Girl Scout camping trip lead to the same confusion for slightly different reasons.

I am not an outdoorsy person. Never have been. I went on the trip because they promised we'd be sleeping in cabins, not tents. They failed to mention the lack of electricity, running water, and that we'd be using outhouses. Or that it was mosquito season. It was a horrible drive up- the leaders couldn't get the vans we were supposed to go in, so we wound up being crammed into 4 cars (25 kids with gear plus chaperones) and we got caught in traffic due to a festival in one town. We were all hot and cranky when we got there, not to mention desperate for bathrooms, and it degenerated from there.

The counselor was trying to cheer up 25 disgruntled little girls (we were Brownies) and promised us Pigs In The Blanket for dinner with a special surprise for dessert. "OH BOY!" I thought. I loved my mom's version, so I was expecting something really good. Imagine my surprise at dinner when I was handed a limp hot dog and an even limper piece of crescent roll dough and told to wrap my piggie in its blanket. I burst into tears and so did 3 other girls who didn't like hot dogs. We all refused to eat the things. The counselors had a hurriedly whispered conference and decided to see how we fared with dessert.

Dessert was great! MY first encounter with S'mores and I loved them. NOBODY cried or refused those!

The rest of the night was pretty rough. Some idiot told us ghost stories, so nobody could sleep. No one wanted to use the outhouses at night. (or during the day for that matter) We all itched from mosquito bites, a couple had found the poison ivy. Most of us were starving, and I just hoped we'd have something good for breakfast.

Nope. They planned cheese filled scrambled eggs for breakfast. At that age, I ate neither one. (still won't eat eggs) My mother HAD warned them that I couldn't wouldn't eat that and even offered to provide an alternate for me herself. The leaders foolishly assured her it wouldn't be necessary. Boy were they wrong. One of the other girls who wouldn't eat the dinner the night before and I both flat out refused to touch eggs. They hadn't brought anything else. Finally, one of them remembered that there were some graham crackers left over from the S'mores, so that's what we had for breakfast. Then everybody got crammed back into the cars for the drive home.

So there you have the story of one of my childhood traumas. LOL. Mom is STILL mad at those troop leaders, 30+ years on. I still hate outhouses. But we both like S'mores!

10 Random Questions Answered

Gail Carriger, one of my blogging/writing idols, posted these on her blog last week. Here are my answers!

1. As a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?
Well, I'm not sure I've grown up yet, but I went from actress, to writer, to morning show DJ, to wrestler (actually did that one, briefly), to anything but what I am now...LOL. I'm not sure what I want to be anymore. Except a princess. I'll always want to be a princess!

2. What is your favorite food-related memory?
So many good memories in my life center around food! Here are two, one for each of my parents:
1. Daddy used to work for a chain called Jack's Steak House that had really good chocolate cake. I was in 2nd/3rd grade then. If I had been good, he would bring home a piece of cake when he came in for the night (He'd get home between 1030-1100) and I was allowed to get up and watch Odd Couple re-runs with him while I ate my cake.
2. Mom & I went to England for my 32nd birthday. On the actual day, we took a day-trip to Bath & Stonehenge. We had our first official British tea in a little tea-house in Bath. (not Sally Lunn's- couldn't get near it, but the little place we wound up in was charming!) I discovered the joys of clotted cream that day!

3. Summer or winter?
Winter. I just can't deal with summer heat, despite the fact that I was born & raised in the American South and it's pretty much a year round thing. Actually, I prefer moderate spring/fall weather to just about anything.

4. Proudest five-minutes-of-fame moment?
I won a best lips contest at a screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. We'll go with that.

5. What is your most irrational fear?
Not really irrational- I'm terrified of blindness & suffocation.

6. Favorite holiday destination?
ENGLAND!!!

7. What singer / band did you see at your first concert?
Eeep. I'm not entirely sure anymore. Does going to see my friend Peter's band in high school count? If not, I'll go with Garth Brooks in the early 90's. Not sure it's right, but it's one of my most vivid concert memories! (as talked about here)

8. What’s the worst lie you ever told?
"I've just got the flu."

9. Which teacher had the biggest impact on you?
My 8th grade English/Social Studies teacher taught me not to try to answer questions in her class. She asked us what amendment freed the slaves. Nobody in my class knew. I had read the chapter we were supposed to, but couldn't remember for sure if it was the 13th or 14th. (it's the 13th, BTW. I will NEVER forget that for the rest of my life) Anyway, I was brave enough to guess and got treated to a thirty minute diatribe about how disgraceful it was that I didn't know the amendment that set my people free. And another 5 minutes about being a smart ass when she paused for breath & I told her it only set half of them free, thank you very much.

My 10th grade Spanish teacher was a better influence. She was a big lady, and saw how uncomfortable I was in my own skin. She tried to teach me to appreciate myself as I was, and got me involved in the school student council. I'll never forget her for that. Sadly she died of cancer a few years ago. I regret that I never went back and told her how much she meant to me.

10. If you won a million bucks, what would you spend it on?
My parents get a house wherever they want it and then I'm taking the rest and going straight to England.

Good Memories 2

I don't have a lot of good memories from Junior High/middle school. But one that stands out is from my 9th grade year. The science department was taking a group of students on a bus trip to Washington DC. I begged and pleaded with my parents to be able to go- it was a lot of money for us, but I REALLY wanted to go. Then my parents got a check from the IRS for an overpayment for the year before. We all needed to see doctors, I needed new glasses, and the car always needed work, but Mom said it was a sign and I was going on that trip. YAY.

The trip itself was a disaster. 75 deranged teenagers, 5 teachers, and one bus driver who hated everybody. We stopped at Luray Caverns on the way up, where 3 idiot boys wandered off and it took the guides 3 hours to find them and my crush, Troy, got his wallet stolen. We toured part of the Smithsonian and I got to see the model of the Starship Enterprise that is seen in the opening credits of the original Star Trek series and buy a mini replica that I STILL have.

The highlight of the trip was the dinner theater show. I'd been chosen to help the teacher in charge of the trip coordinate everyone's orders a week or so before the show. I don't recall the EXACT details, but we basically had to choose between chicken or beef for dinner and then the special orders had to be written up for the 3 students & 1 teacher who had dietary restrictions. I sorted through the paperwork, recorded everyone's choices, and presented Mrs. Pender with a typed up- in triplicate, no less- list of the sorted entree choices, alphabetized by traveller's last name. She was impressed and showed it to the other chaperones, which got me labelled a suck up by my fellow students. (it also got me upgraded to a better steak as a reward for my effort, heh heh heh)


So, after running the teachers ragged all day, the night before we went home, we got dressed up & went to the theatre. I wish I could remember the name of the place. We were originally scheduled to see Guys & Dolls, but they had changed shows and none of the chaperones knew. So instead of a gangster musical, we got to see A Chorus Line. None of them was familiar with it, but they figured it was probably ok...

...And it was, right up to the point where one character breaks into an ode to plastic surgery called "Dance 10, Looks 3."






If you can't access the clip from the movie version, here's a sample of the lyrics:

Dance: Ten; Looks: Three.
And I'm still on unemployment,
Dancing for my own enjoyment.
That ain't it, kid! That ain't it, kid!

"Dance: Ten, Looks: Three,"
Is like to die!
; Left the theatre and
Called the doctor
For my appointment to buy...

Tits and ass.
Bought myself a fancy pair.
Tightened up the derriere.
Did the nose with it.
All that goes with it.

Tits and ass!
Had the bingo-bongos done.
Suddenly I'm getting Nash'nal tours!
Tits and ass won't get you jobs,
Unless they're yours!

So the actress is singing & wiggling, the 75 students and 2 male teachers are whooping it up, and the 3 female teachers all went into cardiac arrest. "We're going to have to explain this to all their parents!"

I'm sure, of course, you can guess what song was sung, repeatedly and with great gusto, by 75 little heathens on the ride home to NC the next morning.

Oh, and as far as I know, nobody's parents complained. In fact, my mom took me to see the movie version when it came out a few years later!

Good Memories

Instead of my usual griping, I thought I'd try thinking about good things in my life. Here's a childhood memory for your consideration:

My dad spent most of my life working in the restaurant business. In my younger years, he was often the manager/main cook at steak houses & various family dining places. Which meant poor Daddy had to wear a collared shirt & tie and polished loafers to cook in. (the last restaurant, where he spent 25 years as shift manager/head cook, was a casual place where tennis shoes & t-shirts were acceptable. Boy, was he happy!)

Back to the shoes. We didn't have a budget that allowed for multiple pairs of shoes for anyone in the house, so Dad's shoes got quite a workout. At least once a week, during his rare downtime, Dad would get out the polishing kit, spread out some newspaper, and shine his shoes. I would watch, fascinated, as a pair of grungly looking shoes would turn into something sleek and shiny that looked brand new in his hands.

I got up one Sunday morning, full of piss & vinegar, ready to raise hell. Mom asked me to keep quiet a bit longer. Daddy had come home late the night before and told her he had to go back on what was supposed to be his day off because a cook quit and they couldn't get anyone else in. He'd been working crazy shifts all week and needed any rest he could get.

Well, poop. I was about 8-9 years old. Not known for being a particularly quiet age, right? Mom didn't have time to play with me because she was frantically doing a load of laundry so Dad would have clean clothes for work. This was before the days of mega-cable, so there was little on TV to interest a kid on Sunday morning. We were supposed to go to the library later in the day, so I didn't have much to read.

Then it hit me...Daddy hadn't polished his shoes yet! If Mom was going to let him sleep in, he wouldn't have time to do it before he left for work. I'd watched him do it enough times that I was pretty sure I could do it too. And it was a quiet job! So, left to my own devices, I spread newspaper out under the dining table (as long as I was being quiet & out of the way, why not work in my own little fort?), got the polishing kit out of the cabinet, grabbed the shoes, and went to work.

Mom called out once to see where I was. I said "in my fort!" and that was good enough for her. She knew I wasn't the kind of kid to hide out and drink bleach or do something majorly stupid. Daddy got up and grumbled his way around the house, getting ready for work. He growled something about his shoes and I heard Mom say "Oh, no, I forgot about those. Who's going to be looking at your feet anyway?"

Dad growled a little louder. "Don't care how they look right now. WHERE ARE THEY?!?"

Ulp. It's showtime! "I've got them, Daddy."

"WHERE ARE YOU?"

Mom lifted the edge of the tablecloth to reveal me. I silently passed the shoes out to them, hoping I'd done a good enough job.

" What the...." Silence. Uh-oh. The tablecloth lifted again and my dad peered in at me. "Boy (his nickname for me), get out here."

I crawled out. Both of my parents were staring at Dad's shoes in astonishment. "Did you do this."

*swallow* "Y-y-y-yes, sir."

"I'll be dipped!" Daddy rarely swore. "Thank you. Did a real nice job on those! Looks like I'd done it myself!" Then he hugged me.

Whew! I wasn't in trouble! Mom asked me how I knew what to do and I told her that I always watched Daddy do it, so I just did what I'd seen him do...only in my fort instead of on the table. Then I saw the look of panic in her eyes and heard my dad snicker. I realized she was wondering what kind of unholy mess I'd probably created, and quickly said that I'd put newspaper down first. Daddy kissed us both goodbye and told Mom not to be hard on me if I'd made a mess. He left, Mom heaved a sigh and knelt down to see what kind of damage I'd done. Imagine her surprise to discover that the worst of the mess was on me!(and more easily washable) "Wait a minute, and I'll clean it up, Mommy."

Just like my dad, I closed the tin of polish and made sure the lid was tight. I folded the buffer rags and tucked everything into the kit. I carefully folded the paper so no polish got on the carpet or furniture and took everything to the kitchen. The polish kit went back in the cabinet, the paper went in the trash, and my mom almost cried. "That was a very sweet thing for you to do for your daddy. And cleaning it up was a sweet thing to do for me. If you'll go take a quick bath, I think we might have time to get some ice cream before we go to the library."

And we did! (Baskin Robbins coffee in a sugar cone- my favorite at the time. Yes, I was an odd child)

For some time after that, polishing Daddy's shoes every week became my job. I don't know why I enjoyed it so much, but I always liked doing it. And Daddy would always look at my finished handiwork and tell me it looked as good as if he'd done it himself...

Happy Halloween

                                                     

                                          Picture from google images, not my own work. Many thanks to the original source.

No review this week, just a couple of stories from my past for your amusement.

I am a classic chicken. Not that most people ever guess that from my bad-ass, take no prisoners attitude. But put a horror movie on and watch me lose my shit faster than a goose that's been given ex-lax.

Many of my friends love horror movies. I actually like the idea of them, it's the sounds & some of the over the top gory visuals that I have a problem with. I usually wind up watching them, giving my friends a good laugh at my reactions, and then having nightmares for the next 3 days that often result in me prowling through the house with my sword (What? Doesn't everybody have a sword for defense? Kept right beside the bed? No? Moving on...) and swinging at shadows.

So, going back a number of years, here are 2 stories featuring my former BFF Susan, from the Garth Brooks concert story.

1.  As I mentioned in Concert Tales 1, our birthdays were only a few days apart. One year, there was a new Friday the 13th movie (Jason Goes to Hell) out right around then. We were on the road with our wrestling buddies and in Charlotte NC. Sue really wanted to go see the movie, so we got a group together and went. Now Sue LOVED horror movies, and almost nothing fazed her. She was one of those people who could happily drink cherry soda and eat anything while watching the most gruesome of scenes.

I, on the other hand, cannot. We used to do weekend movie marathons at her house with her Mom, sister, and whatever friends/cousins were about. We usually started off with comedies or action flicks, but everyone knew what to do when it was time for the horror flicks. Move all drinks away from me, put the popcorn somewhere I couldn't knock it over, and hand me the cushion known as "Mickey's scream pillow." During the worst scenes, I'd bury my face in the pillow and have my fingers in my ears. Hearing the gross sound effects is actually worse for me than seeing heads go flying. The sounds linger in my imagination and then I start imagining things way worse than what was actually onscreen. This practice works well at home, not so good in public.

Anyway, we were at the theater and the guys had been warned that I would most likely wind up burrowing into someone's shoulder and shrieking like a loon. The movie (for those who may not have seen it) started with Jason being blown into a zillion pieces. Then, during the autopsy of the remains, his heart starts beating...the entranced doctor doctor picks it up...I realize what is about to happen and slide off my seat onto the floor. Around me, a theater full of people are shrieking/gagging "He ate the heart!" I look to my left and what do I see but SUSAN crouched on the floor beside me. We finally found something that was too gross even for her. I was less than sympathetic. "YOU wanted to see this movie, bitch, now get back up there and watch it!" I don't remember much after that. I do know that the guys ribbed us about that for months.

2. Weekend movie marathon at Sue's. (Her mom had cable & a VCR- Yes, I'm old- at the time & I didn't, which is why we always did these at their house. But I would cook for whoever was there and always brought snacks/drinks/desserts, and helped clean up afterward, so her mom was totally fine with it) One weekend it wound up just being the 2 of us. Her mom, little sister, and the gaggle of gigglers were going to a dance at the Community Center. My BF at the time said he might drop by later after he got off from work.

Well, this was the perfect night for anyone but me to watch horror movies. It was dark & stormy, and spooky as hell. Their place was at the end of a row with a slightly overgrown wooded area to the side & rear, so the branches of trees & bushes would sometimes scrape the house when the wind gusted. Sue, knowing that my nerves were on edge, took pity on me and we watched comedies most of the evening, until it was time for Tales From The Crypt. She was dying (heh) to see this episode for some reason because Morton Downey Jr  (bonus points if you remember him) was in it. If I remember correctly, he was a skeptical journalist investigating a haunted house. It was more suspenseful than gory, and even got me interested. As we neared the end of the show, the real life storm started getting REALLY bad, and just as all hell broke loose on the tv show, it broke loose at the house. There was a terrific flash of lightning (we found out later it had hit the transformer half a block down from us) and a horrendous clap of thunder and everything went black.

Naturally, we were a bit taken aback by this. Ok, really, we freaked the fuck out. We're both shrieking and then hear a pounding on the door. We are beyond rational thought at this point. Sue screamed something to the effect of "Oh shit, something's trying to get us, RUN!" And we did. Now it's too bad that nobody had a night vision camera there to film what happened next, because I'm sure it was comedy gold.

Still screaming, flailing around in the dark, we both tried to run for the back door. In the dark, in a small living room crowded with furniture. After falling over things several times, still screaming, with the pounding continuing, we made it to the hall by the kitchen, leading to the back door. With my usual grace, I tripped over an air molecule and went SPLAT, face down. Sue trampled me, still trying to get out. The problem here was that the backdoor had a deadbolt lock...and we didn't have the key.

The front door flew open with a resounding BANG. Sue screamed "Kill her first!" and began alternately throwing her weight against the back door and kicking/pushing me toward the hooded figures in the front door.

Any guesses? Yep. My boyfriend & her mom. Her little sister got sent back to the car when we started screaming, just in case something was going down. (other than me) Chris had gotten there just as the power blew- that was the first pounding we'd heard. Mama C joined him at the door, heard our screams, dropped the keys, and that's why he kept pounding. He was trying to alert the fictitious killer that help was at hand. They finally got the door open, pointed Chris's flashlight in, and once they realized we weren't actually being murdered, laughed their asses off at us. The laughter stopped for a minute or two when I went for Sue's throat for trying to sacrifice me to the potential killers, but they pulled us apart and it was pretty funny once everyone calmed down.

Poetry Monday

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond



by E. E. Cummings






somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond


any experience,your eyes have their silence:


in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,


or which i cannot touch because they are too near






your slightest look easily will unclose me


though i have closed myself as fingers,


you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens


(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose






or if your wish be to close me, i and


my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,


as when the heart of this flower imagines


the snow carefully everywhere descending;






nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals


the power of your intense fragility:whose texture


compels me with the color of its countries,


rendering death and forever with each breathing






(i do not know what it is about you that closes


and opens;only something in me understands


the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)


nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands






 
 
*I loved the show Beauty & The Beast. So much that I even bought the soundtrack, mixed with music and Ron Perlman's deep melodic voice reading assorted poems. This was one of my favorite tracks!

Poetry Monday

The Parakeets

by Alberto Blanco
translated by W. S. Merwin


They talk all day


and when it starts to get dark

they lower their voices

to converse with their own shadows

and with the silence.



They are like everybody

—the parakeets—

all day chatter,

and at night bad dreams.



With their gold rings

on their clever faces,

brilliant feathers

and the heart restless

with speech...



They are like everybody,

—the parakeets—

the ones that talk best

have separate cages.




*As much as I wanted a dog growing up, we lived in apartments where it was too hard to keep one. I did however have several parakeets with amazingly distinctive personalities. Casey bird was my first, followed by Rio, Dove, Sunshine & Storm. This poem reminded me quite a bit of them.

Happy Father's Day/5 for Sunday Bonus edition

I realized that the 5 movie listing was short-changing my dad, so here are 5 memories to go along with it!






1. Possibly one of my favorites- the year my brother graduated from dental school, nearly the entire family flew to California to watch him get his degree. (poor Mom didn't get to go) Anyway, my brother took us to one of his favorite Chinese restaurants for dinner one night and tried to show off. He asked for chopsticks and said "Here, Dad, let me show you how to use these!" Daddy snatched them out of his hand and said something to the effect of "Boy, I know what I'm doing" and began eating with them as though it was something he did every day. 6 jaws dropped around the table as we watched this, and then I started laughing.






2. My dad cheats at checkers. When I was around 12 or so, the library system in our hometown was opening a new branch. Being a staffer's kid, it was decided that I would be given the honor of being allowed to check out the first book there. The newspaper was supposed to send a photographer out to take a picture of this momentous event. Mom was worknig at the main branch that day, so Dad got to take me out for this. Now, he had probably worked all night before we were scheduled to be at the library, so I imagine he was pretty tired. And of course the photographer wasn't there on time. So we waited....and waited...and while we were waiting, I challenged Daddy to a game of checkers in the kid's area. He started pulling out moves he called things like "Mississippi long legs" and beat me at every game. After another hour or so, we gave up on the photographer, I checked a book out, and we left. The next day in the paper there was a shot of our backs as we walked out the library door- guess who showed up as we were leaving?






3. I take number 1 back- THIS is my favorite Dad story. We used to be owned by the world's biggest cockapoo- Scotty. (that's what the shelter told us he was when we adopted him as a puppy. fortunately for him, by the time the growth spurt proved otherwise, we were already pretty attached to him and not willing to give him up) My sisters have complained for years that I'm Dad's favorite kid. I'm here to tell you that it wasn't me, it was the dog and this story proves it. Mom was working the evening shift at the library one day. Dad & I were watching TV with the pup. Dad asked if I was cooking dinner. "No." A few minutes later, he said "Kentucky Fried Chicken sounds good." I agreed with that. So he got up, got his car keys, and drove off with Scotty in tow. (that dog LOVED to go for rides in the car) 20 minutes later he came back with two boxes. He opened the first box- livers & gizzards (yuk), clearly for himself. I sat up, anticipating that the next box would be something for me. Silly girl. Daddy opened the next box to reveal more livers and gizzards WHICH HE THEN PUT DOWN ON THE FLOOR FOR THE DOG. I didn't even get a biscuit.






4. A few years ago, Daddy had several health issues that landed him in the hopsital for several months. My brother flew in at one point, and he & I were at the hospital with him when a nurse came in to give Dad another round of shots. Trying to be perky and upbeat, she chirped "Where would you like your shot this time?" Without missing a beat, Daddy pointed at my brother and said "HIS butt." My brother protested "DAD, be serious" and the nurse cooed to Dad that it was nice to have his kids there to visit him. When we mention that there were more of us, she asked Dad how many kids he had. Again, without missing a beat, "Too darn many. Now get those two out of here." Apparently we were interfering with his TV watching.






5. Dad is responsible for my fondness for Pro Wrestling. (to Mom's dismay) When I was in high school, out town became a mecca for filmmakers and I wound up as an extra in several movies. I used some of the money from my first paycheck to buy tickets for us to go see the NWA when they came to town. Well, I had a good time- Dad, not so much. He was ok until I got into a screaming match with the bimbo valet of one wrestler. The truckers sitting in front of us thought it was a hoot that I was getting into it with this girl, so when she screamed for me to come to ringside and say something to her face, they were going to lift me over the barricasde to do it. Dad grabbed my by my back belt loop and yanked me back down to my seat without saying a word.

Happy Mother's Day!

Today's not-so-silly list is 5 good memories with my Mom.

(in no particular order)

1. Our trip to England. For all the squabbles and near disasters, we had a blast! Some of the best memories of that trip are going to Bath & Stonhenge (on my birthday, no less), the look of delight on Mom's face when we finally found the British Museum, and the night we found a terrific Indian restaurant and got slightly tipsy.

2. The day we went to the pound and adopted Scotty-dog. Dad's birthday was coming up- Mom had seen a picture of the most adorable pup in the paper (featured pet of the week) and decided we were getting him a dog for his birthday. We got to the shelter and there were 2 pups left in the litter. We had decided on the black & white one- the girl working there tossed us a leash and said "go in and get him." We spent 15 minutes chasing those damn dogs around in the pen and Mom finally managed to grab the solid black one. "We'll take this one" she said, daring me to argue. Good choice. He lived with us for around 15 years, and while he was Daddy's dog in theory, he loved all of us and we all adored him.

3. Mom reading to me as a child. I wasn't much for being read to once I mastered reading for myself, but Mom read most of the Laura Ingalls Wilder "Little House" series to me. I believe I also remember her reading the Jungle Book and Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. Thanks to her, I'm still an avid reader!

4. Being in the odd position of being both the youngest child (5 siblings form my dad's first marriage) and an only child (they didn't live with us), I often didn't have anyone to play with. Mom spent hours playing card and board games with me. She tried to teach me how to be a gracious winner (I have finally stopped doing victory dances, but I still gloat. A LOT) and a good loser (I sulk, swear and am impossible to be in a room with until I finally get a win) and had a lot more patience than most adults would have.

5. Getting to do something just for her. Mom moved heaven and Earth to take me on my dream trip to England. I haven't been able to do anything quite on that scale for her. However, the touring production of the Color Purple came through Louisville a few years ago, right around Mother's Day. Knowing how much she loved the book, and that she wanted to see the show, I bought tickets, made a reservation for the special dinner being offered at the theatre restaurant and went with her so that my dad wouldn't have to. (not his kind of thing at all- I didn't expect to enjoy it and was VERY pleasantly surprised) We got to dress up, had a wonderful time, and I still smile when I remember the look of pleased shock on her face when I told her what her present was that year.

5 for Sunday

5 ways I amused myself as a child:

1. Blowing bubbles. Give me a bowl of soapy water and a ring to blow through and I was a happy kid. I still do it from time to time- only now I blow catnip bubbles for my kitties to chase. However, having seen the new Crayola Washable Color Bubbles, I may have to invest in some and see if anyone wants to revisit childhood with me.

 

2. Picking flowers/making flower chains. Do kids even do this anymore? I used to love picking little bouquets of flowers in the grassy areas near my various homes. Granted, the flowers my friends and I picked are/were regarded more as weeds, but to us they were beautiful. Mom always displayed my homemade bouquets with pride on the cabinet or her desk at work if they hadn't wilted away to nothing overnight. Give me a field of clover and/or dandelions and I'd spend hours making necklaces/bracelets/crowns.



3. Speaking of dandelions, I also loved finding a field of puffballs- aka dandelions gone to seed. Loads of fun blowing until all the seeds flew away, making wishes that usually never came true, and just generally making a mess. Good times!



4. Reading. DUH. I read through my school and public libraries like a termite through wood.



5. Watching TV. Yeah, as much as I could get away with. My favorite after-school block used to air on TBS- UltraMan, Space Giants, and Battle of the Planets. (I wanted to be Princess. And it broke my heart to see what Casey Kasem- the voice of Mark- looked like)

  

*many thanks to the kind folks who put thier photos out on Google Image.

Love Letter to the Library

I read this article on BBC.co.uk : http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/thereporters/willgompertz/2010/11/are_libraries_out_of_date.html

Go ahead and read it, I'll wait. 

Ok. Are libraries passe? I don't think so. Nor should they be phased out. My mom was a career librarian and gave me my love for reading. Even before she went back to work, we took weekly trips to the library to stock up on books. Back in those days, books were a luxury we couldn't afford to buy on our own and the library was always there for us. Once she started working there? I was like a kid in a candy store. Dad & I would go to pick her up (he worked nights, so he was free to keep an eye on me after school while Mom was at work) and I would frantically grab books to take home. If I was a good girl, I was allowed in the back where I could plunder through the newly returned books for treasures. If the librarians were busy back there, I'd browse through the stacks and carry a pile up to take home. 

I watched my first videotape at the library. Back then, our library had 3 viewing stations so that people who didn't have VCR's at home could still see movies, and I think they were one of the first libraries in the state to offer that. Anyway, the first one I watched was Star Wars. There were also a few listening stations for LP's and audiotapes. I learned about old radio serials from the AV department and checked out all of the Amos & Andy tapes, as well as other programs. I picked out albums based solely on the cover art (hey, I was a kid) and discovered jazz and blues and a handful of comedians. (mom didn't censor my book choices much, but she kept an eagle on on the audio selections- not that the library had too much of anything hardcore. public funding and all that) Oh, and the magazines! I didn't know that there were that many magazines available. I quickly figured out that most of them didn't appeal to me, but just knowing that they were there was enough.

When I got older, I was hired as a library page. This is basically a glorified term for shelver. I felt all grown up- I had to get my social security card for payroll, the librarians who had always seen me as "Marie's kid" now treated me like one of them, and I still got to take home as many books as I could carry, plus I got PAID! Shelving allowed me to find books I might not have seen otherwise. When I went off to college and was given a choice of jobs for my work-study financial aid, I immediately chose to work in one of the college libraries. My bosses were amazed by my shelving prowess and amused by the stacks of books I constantly took back to the dorm.

Post college, I eventually wound up working in bookstores. I'd still be there if A: they paid more, and B: I hadn't thoroughly come to loathe working retail. I like books, people I'm not so crazy about. With the employee discount, I bought books out the wazoo. I stopped using the library as much because it wasn't as convenient and I hated waiting for them to buy the new books that I wanted to read. (still do. I realize that they have to spend their money on books that will appeal to the largest number of people and can't buy EVERYTHING, but it makes me crazy when they don't get a new title in for months, if at all)

Although I no longer work retail, I still buy a fair amount of books. But I also use the library a lot more. It took a few years for me to find a branch that I liked- the main library here is mostly staffed by some of the most lazy, obnoxious people I've ever met. (alas, they're in a union, so they can't be easily fired) There are a handful of VERY nice people there, who I miss talking to, but I got tired of dealing with the others and eventually quit going there. The branch closest to my house had a rotating staff when I started using it and I had numerous problems there at first, but now they have a permanent staff who are some of the most delightful people I know. They know me by name (and I know their names) , are amused by my omnivorous reading & music habits, and we share family stories and book recommendations all the time. I use the computers there a few times a week (no printer at home, and can't print some things at work, so I go to the library for that too) and attend a few of the programs when they fall in hours I'm not working. We even held a book club meeting there once. (the club disbanding shortly after that was a coincidence- My friend Laura and I keep trying, but can't get one off the ground.)

It makes me crazy when I hear people say that they don't know what good libraries do. Let's see- free access to books/magazines/music/videos, free access to computers (limited time, but they're free!), free classes in computer skills/creating resumes/job searching online, a safer place for kids to go after school, school tutoring/homework assistance, storytimes and other programs for small children...the list goes on. Anyone who doesn't want to go through formal education can still learn about almost anything under the sun by reading library books.

Two years ago here in Louisville, one of the most hotly contested issues was a proposed library tax. It was an occupational tax that would have cost most people about $5 a year, if that. The money it would have raised could have increased the collection, built new branches, remodeled some of the older branches, and been a real asset to the community. It got voted down. I partially understand why- our mayor was known for taking money earmarked for projects and throwing into his own pet issues, but a lot of people said they voted against it "because I don't use the library, so why should I pay for it?" Well, going by that logic, I don't have kids and am not going to, so why should I pay taxes for schools? Some people don't drive- why should they pay taxes for roads? What if you need to use it some day and it's not there? For $5 a year, it would have been a bargain.

Anyway, now that I've rambled on forever, the point that I was trying to make is that I love libraries. Friends and family members laugh at mom & me when we go on vacation and one of the first things we want to do is go check out the local library and the bookstores. On my first trip to Toronto, one of the first things I did was pick up a handful of fliers from a library and mail them to Mom in NC. When we went to London, we didn't get to a library, but by gad we went to as many bookstores as I could drag Mom into. (And I learned the valuable lesson of go to the British Museum first, hit the Charing Cross Road bookstores last or you will spend the entire time you're in the museum waiting for your arm to fall off under the weight of all the books you foolishly bought and have to lug around until you go back to your hotel!) We went to Washington DC and toured the Library of Congress (beautiful building- if you've never been, GO) and got official library cards from it. (one of my most prized possessions) And if anyone ever succeeds in dragging me to NYC, you can best believe that I will be going to the NY Public Library and getting my picture taken with the lions!