Friday, June 24, 2011

Selective Memory

Michelle and Dawn - we should be ashamed of ourselves! Nearly a month has gone by since one of us posted something worthwhile to our blog, and that is simply unacceptable. I'd like us to do something about that immediately. And Michelle, since you follow direction exceptionally well (especially if it's coming from yourself), go to it.





"Okay. But what if I don't have anything of significance to write about?"





Then you might want to recognize that as a sad lack of creative writing skills. Or, a severe state of pitiable boredom.





"Hmmm, yes. One or both of those sounds very plausbible."





Just write what you write best: you know, that whole cynicism thing.





"Good call. I like the way you think, me."





And that's how it went in my head. So, here I am, trying to get in at least one more blog post in the month of June. (Which should tell you right now that I'm not writing this post because it was inspired by some amazing/fascinating/irritating/humorous observation. Or, inspired by something meaningful. Kind of like tattoos: If you have to ask your friends, "So, what should I get tattooed on my body this time?", then you probably don't actually need to get one. Things that require you to permanently alter your body for the duration of your life should, in my humble opinion, be at least mildly significant and have a point to them. But moving on...)





And now that I've overclarified the backstory to this post, let's get started. I've decided that instead of being all cynical and complain-y, I thought I'd write something entertaining (probably only to me) and maybe even nostalgic (again, probably only for me. And maybe my sister.)





I went to Disneyland with my family this past week, and I definitely noticed that seeing it through my nieces' eyes made it extra fun. But I have to admit that I'm pretty sure I didn't need 3 little girls there to get me to that place of childlike euphoria and awe. Other than feeling like my legs and feet had been beat with lots of tiny angry fists by the end of the day, or shaking my head at the prices of things in a digruntled way that clearly shows I've been jaded by the economy, I was pretty much in the mindset of a kid the whole time.





Disneyland holds some of the best, most comforting childhood memories for me, and it made me start thinking about the other things that were a part of my youthhood that still make me feel exactly like I did as a kid. I thought I'd list some of those. Some may need explanation ("why do you receive comfort from mail slots in front doors, or the smell of certain kinds of laundry detergent, Michelle?" Don't worry about it.), and some probably won't. And some will probably have you embarrassed for me. We'll see, won't we. Here goes...









  • "Mary Poppins." This shouldn't even require explanation. But, basically, I call that movie my "comfort food" movie. Everything about it makes me feel...comforted. And carefree. I can't tell you how happy I was when I heard my nephews were obsessed with the movie. That put them as officially a part of our family, in my opinion.



  • Huey Lewis. But only because it reminds me of "Back to the Future." Which leads me to Michael J. Fox. I don't know how he made such a hideous puffy, nylon vest look so attractive and cool, but he did. And he did a fine job of it.



  • The really awful, pointy animation of "Sleeping Beauty." Today, it looks almost purposeful because it seems all arty and surrealist, but that's probably not what they were going for in 1959. And that's perfectly fine.



  • Laffy Taffy and Fruit Roll-Ups, neither of which taste anything like the original. They're both still deceptively called by their original names, but instead of "grape" flavor or "cherry" flavor, there's "Psychedelic Rainbow flavor!" Or, "Banana Strawberry Smoothie!" No.



  • The smell of chlorine. This is one of those that probably needs some explaining. That smell will always remind me of swimming lessons in indoor pools with flourescent lighting and echoe-y, loud voices and not noticing if you got a swimsuit wedgie. Not noticing or just not caring. One or both of those.



  • The Beach Boys and John Denver...together. This is because these were my family's first two Real! Live! C.D.s! So of course we listened to them on rotation one summer when I was a kid living in California and swimming all day long. So, naturally, summer and swimming and the music of The Beach Boys and the original Rocky Mountain High go together quite nicely for me.



  • Toto's "Africa", and Willie Nelson singing "You Were Always on my Mind." Okay wait; let me explain. As a kid, my parents got an Oldsmobile, and with that majestic piece of automotive machinery came a delightful casette tape of songs picked out specifically by, I'm guessing, the makers of the Oldsmobile. Maybe they were hoping the music would inspire the driver of their automobile to imagine himself coasting down an open road with wind in his hair and a beautiful woman making herself right at home on his sexy maroon, felt car seats, and then the driver would go tell all his middle aged, little -league-dad friends that they too can have that life: the life of an Oldsmobile owner. Either way, the songs on that tape would be a volitle and piercing ringing to anyone else's ears. But to my siblings and I, the music is pure gold. We still talk about "the Oldsmobile tape" and I've gone as (pathetically?) far as to try and remember every song on it so I can create a playlist. Which brings us back to Toto and Willie Nelson. They both made an appearance on the casette, and they will forever be known as "family road trip" music for me.

So, there's some nostalgia for you. My own, but still; nostalgia nonetheless.


(Let the mocking from Dawn about every musical reference in this post begin...)


Just Michelle




Thursday, June 2, 2011

Movin' on Up.

Moving is fun. I'll bet you've never seen those words written together. But here I am, in my "New Digs" (more on that later) and I've forgotten the pain and hassle of moving. The backbreaking physical WORK of moving all of our belongings from point A to point B and then spit shining point A AND point B. (No, I didn't spit on anything, people, did you just meet me?!) It's kind of like child birth....tons of work and discomfort and pain, and then your whole life is happy and new and wonderful. (Well, for 19 years at least.)

At this point, dear Reader, go back and read my post about Lake Forest. Hey Lake Forest, Hell called, they want to know where they can get some more leaf blowers.

Humorous moving stories: #1. I drugged my dog. Poor Ruby! Both of them must have taken note of that because they have been on their absolute best behavior. #2. I have a cardboard cut out of a "Luau Guy" and a "Hula Bikini Girl", you know, where you put your face in the hole where their face should be and take pictures of Grandma and Grandpa as sexy hula folk. Hilarity ensues. Well the 3 ex-cons we hired from "Super Cheap Moving Company...We'll make ya an offer youse can't refuse!" thought it was hilarious too and I walked in on them posing and snapping photos. Their embarassment was adorbs, especially when I told one of them that that bikini made his boobs look nice. But hey, they got a good Facebook post out of it. #3. Incredible friend Jim shows up to help and works with us all day on both ends. He is carrying in a large box of dishes and the box gives out. The crash was deafening and everyone stood in silence. John was waiting for a serious swear word, I was trying to think of something nice to say so he wouldn't feel bad like, "Oh, I didn't have room for those dishes anyway." and Rick walks in and says, "Hey Ballidis, you're Greek!...OPAHH!!!"
Funny husband AND friend points.

Non-humorous moving stories: #1. 1st night in our new house, glorious sunset, across the street neighbors making us dinner...John's car breaks down on the freeway. Super-size my stress, please! I didn't want any money anyway! #2. Washing machine making clicking sound instead of washing sound. No repairman till Thursday. #3. Plug in my trusty PC and get lines, static, 4 beeps and power off. (Ok, maybe this one is funny, because after I got done panicking, contacting my IT guy on retainer, and removing the battery, I realized that I was using the wrong power cord. User error, again. (I owe said IT guy a box of cupcakes from Frostings.)

WORST part of the move: Money stress, sore back, more money stress. Finding a new Costco, Vet, and Del Taco. Transferring all of my prescriptions. Not being able to find______(fill in the blank...band aids when Rex busted open his tail, box cutter when boxes got 2 stories high, garlic press.) Waiting for the cable guy. I HATE waiting for the cable guy. I despise the phrase "new digs" to describe moving into a new home, and 3 people in a row asked me how the "new digs" are. Did I mention the money stress?

BEST part of the move: The nightly sunset light and color show is a gift. God talks to me in colors a lot, and being here is just confirmation to me that He desires to be close to me. That He wants to make me smile, and He is promising me a colorful smile 365 evenings a year. I AM God's masterpiece, along with His ocean, His sun, and His sky. Wow. It feels amazing to be loved this much. In light of this, you may disregard the previous list of "Worsts". There is no worst when we get all of God's best.

Plus, God doesn't take Visa or Mastercard. Whew! Finally no money stress. If you need me, I'll be on my new patio asking God how to blend orange into purple so seamlessly. (If you are on my Christmas gift list, you are all getting paintings of sunsets. I will try to do Him justice.)

just Dawn