You know, when you want to wear that awesome little dress for the first time in the spring, but Mother Nature isn't cooperating...but for some reason, your parents let you wear it anyway? I was only 3 in this picture, but I have a vivid recollection of this day. It was cold, and I was cranky.
Nada has changed. Ask Poseidon, I've been cranky for the past 2 weeks because of the weather and I think he is ready to make me sleep in the crawlspace under the house.
I'm whining, yet again. Next Monday, high of 72ish. Tuesday? High of 48ish. Mother Nature, to quote one of my good friends, Mar, "Go home. You're drunk."
Last Wednesday was the first day of spring. Why am I still wearing my parka? INSIDE?
Dear Mother Nature, perhaps you and Sun are quarreling? Maybe some old wound has reopened? I understand. These things happen. But you see Mother Nature, our azaleas started blooming because it's, well, the end of MARCH. Now they are confused and trying to "unbloom" but they can't. Those azaleas are in weather limbo hell at the moment and have no clue what to do. Oh, and neither do we.
I'm begging you Mother Nature, put down that wine and go make nice with Sun.
Saturday mornings, growing up Gen X, were the best (and I've blogged about Gen X Saturdays more than once). We got up, fixed our Cheerios, and parked ourselves in front of the television to watch cartoons. Saturday morning cartoons were followed by the ABC Weekend Special (hosted by Willie Tyler and his ventriloquist puppet, Lester). I lived for those episodes in the early 80s, especially the spookier episodes.
Today's Five for Friday - 5 of my favorite ABC Weekend Special episodes (and a YouTube link, if I could one):
"The Haunted Mansion" - Original aired in 1983, in two parts (the great ones were always in 2 parts), and starred a very young Christian Slater. This was my favorite, and I'm sad I couldn't find it on YouTube. New girl in the neighborhood. Christian Slater's character tells her house was owned by a creepy old miser who disappeared. Secret room in house, searching for fortunes, etc.
"The Red Room Riddle" - Also airing in 1993, this story is the typical, if-you-want-to-be-part-of-the-cool-kids-club-you-must-prove-it fare, but it was (and still is, in my opinion) spooky. I like the graininess of these clips. Takes me back. Way back.
"The Haunting of Cassie Palmer" - This one wasn't actually a part of the official ABC Weekend Special series, but it aired in the early 80s, around the same time, over several Saturdays, so I'm including it in my list because I associate it with ABC Weekend Special. It was a British children's drama, consisting of 6 episodes, and I found them on YouTube! I've linked to the first episode. Cassie's mother was a psychic who has been accused of fraud. It turns out that Cassie may have the "gift" herself and conjures up a spirit in a graveyard. I won't spoil it! If you can get through the poor quality of the recordings, it's an eerie good time.
"The Gold Bug" - Part I and II aired in 1980. It is based on Edgar Allan Poe's short story, "The Gold-Bug," starring...Anthony Michael Hall. Secrets and buried treasure! What more could a Gen X kid want out of a Saturday afternoon?
"The Ghost of Thomas Kempe" - Originally aired in 1979. I would like to watch the entire episode again (this one aired in 2 parts also). Family moves into new house. Young boy encounters poltergeist. Creepy.
No, it cannot. However, this does not alleviate the trepidation I feel when I look at my sewing machine. Tis the bĂȘte noire of the house.
Some may recall, from a series of blog posts I did in 2010, the ridiculous anxiety I was feeling when I decided to buy a sewing machine and start making some stuff after not having touched a sewing machine since the 7th grade. Well, I was doing great for a while, then there was lull in my sewing, then I would pick it up once more, then another hiatus, and because, to quote Dorothy Parker again (because I must), "They sicken of the calm who know the storm," I'm once again trying to palsy walsy up to that machine. I expect any day Poseidon will be forming a search party, and only my bone fragments will be found. In the dining room. Next to my sewing machine's presser foot.
Source: natalie dee http://www.nataliedee.com/archives/2009/jul/
Sure he (in my head, this machine is a he) looks all innocent, like a kid on the playground who wants me to come and play, but is too shy to ask, but I'm not buying it. Looks can be deceiving, because I know this machine is profoundly manipulative, giving me side-eyed glances, waiting for me to sit down, get comfortable and start sewing only so he can hurl caustic remarks in my ear about how my skirt is going to look like a shower curtain gone bad.
Monday, I sat down and stared at the bully for a few minutes. I thought we might make nice if I were to practice threading and winding a bobbin for a few minutes. Oh, my sewing machine could sense my fear, but I'm loath to give the monster any power of me. I'm no crafter, and my taking up sewing again was supposed to be a new "hobby." I think I'll be safer taking up target practice, with me being the target. Is that so wrong? Would that make me totally out of my therapeutically reconstructed mind?
I'm not the first person to write about soda addictions, and I won't be the last, but here begins my ridiculous, maudlin plea for sympathy: I've had a love affair with sodas my entire life. I want to gag just thinking about this, but I was practically raised on RC Cola. My family used to drink so much of this stuff that we had stacks and stacks of empty glass returnable RC Cola bottles in our home. Of course, we didn't call it RC Cola, we called it pop.
When I tried Coke (real Coca-Cola, that is), I never looked back. It became my 'pop' of choice. I drank Coke like water, in my teens and early 20s, never realizing how many empty calories I was consuming because I was still a skinny little twig with a kick-ass metabolism. I needed not worry about such things as calories. Until around the age of 28.
Even though I was putting on the pounds, I continued to drink Coke like it was a commodity not
Source: nataliedee.com
long for this world. In 2003, I decided to get serious about losing weight, so I joined a gym. At that point I was drinking at least 3 or 4 Cokes each day, which was keeping a cushiony 15 pounds on my body each year. I decided to make the switch to Diet Coke with Lemon (it had just been introduced on the market at that time). I hated it. I wanted to throw up after every one. Stupid me, I just kept drinking them until I grew used to the taste. Then, I switched to plain old Diet Coke and I haven't stopped. For the most part, it's been a beautiful relationship -- except that one time I got really mad at D.C. for nearly ruining my overpriced Anthropologie purse!
I am an addict. I must have a Diet Coke first thing in the morning. Every morning. I want to stop. I chose not to make this a New Year's resolution because I usually don't make resolutions because it's just too much pressure to perform. I don't need that!
I know D.C. is bad for me. I do. Poseidon has emailed many articles to me about the theories of Diet Coke and the havoc it can wreak on one's system. I've read articles about Diet Coke eventually turning into formaldehyde
when inside the body. I'm a slow learner I suppose because none of this had me scared.
This week, and I don't know why I chose this week, I have started writing my Dear John letter to Diet Coke. I mean, I'm married, and Diet Coke has so many other hangers on, so this will be the best thing for us both. I need to close the door permanently, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Without sounding trite, I wish D.C. nothing but the best for the future.