While browsing a Barbie site this morning, I came across this picture. It bought back memories of a childhood incident. I laughed out loud.

I know you won't believe it, but I'm a child of the 60s. And when I was a young chick, I loved Twiggy. I mean LOVED Twiggy. I liked the fact that she never smiled. Why I found that interesting-Who knows? I even wanted to dress like Twiggy all the time. In fact, on my Twiggy lunchbox, she had on a pair of white go go boots. Every day at school, while I ate my lunch, I would long for a pair of those boots.

Well, finally, I convinced Mom to buy me a pair. She took me to Rich's in downtown DC. The guy measured my foot and retreated to the back of the store. I remember being soooo anxious. I was scared that they wouldn't have my size and if I didn't get anything, I couldn't get a treat out of the "treasure chest" that they kept for kids. Now, looking back on it, I realize that they were only dollar store trinkets, but back then those treats were to die for.

So anywho, the guy comes back with a box and announces that it was the "last pair." The last pair. That's when I made the decision. The WRONG decision. The decision that I would take those boots home, NO MATTER WHAT! So Mister Man takes the white patent leather boots out of the box and they were gorgeous. It reaffirmed the decision. He put the boots on my feet. They had a long zipper on the inside of the leg. But even before he zipped them, I realized that my toes were folded up inside the shoe part. And I also remembered that he had said, "THE LAST PAIR." I grinned in triumph, but also in pain. I couldn't even walk to the mirror.

For some reason, the psychic powers that Mom usually possessed had taken the day off. I had fooled her. That, in itself, was a great feat. I proclaimed that I loved them. The guy asked if I wanted to wear them home. I KNEW I couldn't walk, so I declined. Mom gave me a headtilt and I thought the jig was up, but she paid for the boots and we left, with me carrying the bag.

I NEVER wore those boots. EVER. I would make up an excuse everytime the subject came up. Of course, it didn't take Mom long to figure it out. I learned an important lesson--what good is having something if you can't use it? I've never forgotten that lesson.

Your comments--priceless!!

When I was a kid, I would love to see newly fallen snow. It was so pretty, untouched. Later, when cars started driving on it and folks started walking on it, it was so pretty anymore. It became yucky.

There's another thing that I'm reminded of when it snows. Everytime I see snow, even on television, I think about it. When I was young, my Mom would act strange when it snowed, even when they were only calling for a dusting. She used to stand at the window and fret. She would look so sad.

Once, I asked why she looked so sad everytime it snowed. She replied, "I'm just thinking about all the people who have no place to go." That's always stuck with me. I was looking at the beauty of it, from my warm, cozy home--with food in the cabinets. Someone else was looking at it close up, from their sleeping spot on the street. Ain't it funny how 2 folks can look at the same thing and the meaning it totally different for them both?

Your comments--priceless!!

Ok. I confess. I watch Dr Phil. hehehe...Anyhow, this morning Dr Phil played referee between two groups of women--Working Moms vs Stay at Home Moms. I had no idea how controversial this was. There was major attitude and at some points, insults were hurled. I thought it might come to blows.

Both groups thought their way was the best and the other way was the stupidest thing that they had ever heard. Whatever happened to doing what's best for you and your family?

I'm a working mother. My mother was a working mother. I never really gave it a lot of thought when I was growing up. Heck, I LOVED that my mom worked, that meant that I ate!!! I also have friends that had stay at home moms. Those moms were cool too. I don't think either option is an automatic "best." Again, folks should do what's best for them. And if you are on the outside, looking in--STAY IN YOUR LANE!!!

Your comments--priceless!!



I post daily. So that you don't miss any of my randomness, you might want to subscribe by email.

What is your earliest memory? How far back can you remember? Do you remember when you were a toddler? a baby? in the womb? What things have stayed with you?

I have many snippets of memories from my babyhood, but since I wasn't adept yet on using the calendar, I'm not sure which was the earliest. I do remember the day that Martin Luther King was murdered. We lived in house off of Missouri Avenue in Northwest Washington. I remember that morning. I remember the hardwood floors and the bedroom furniture in my parents' room. I remember the black and white television and I remember my mother crying and when I asked her what was wrong, I remember her going into the adjacent bathroom, getting tissue, wiping and face and saying, "THEY killed Martin Luther King." I had no idea who that was, but I started to cry too. If I live to be 100, I'll never forget that clip of time.

What do you remember? Tell me about it.

Your comments--priceless!!

Please help me settle a 40 year old family argument! It all revolves around Porky Pig. You youngsters may not know who Porky Pig is, but the oldheads know. Porky Pig was an animated Warner Brothers cartoon character. His most distinguishing features were his severe stutter and his lack of pants(repeated later in Chuck E. Cheese).

Now, some of you may know that I have brothers. They are 14 months younger than me (which means that they, too, are OLD!) and they are twins. Anyhow, when we were all toddlers, our family "acquired" 3 children's plates. I haven't been able to determine how they came to the family, but they were in our kitchen as far back as I can remember. So, we got THREE plates. (THIS IS SIGNIFICANT). We had 3 children in the family. (THIS, TOO, IS SIGNIFICANT). Two of the plates had a huge Bugs Bunny in the center, and the third had Porky Pig. So, let's examine this. THREE PLATES. THREE KIDS. TWO BUGS. TWINS. ONE PORKY PIG. ME.

Well, at EVERY meal, and I do mean EVERY, there was a huge fight about which of us would get to eat from the plate with the big Porky Pig. It was like whatever meal that was on it tasted so much better. Whoever ended up with it gloated while the other 2 glared. For years, we argued about that plate. There were tears, fighting, slaps, punches, punishments, and it usually ended up with everybody being sent to bed early, sometimes without eating at all.

Anyhow, the plate was MINE. The Porky Pig was MINE. The boys had the Bugs Bunny plates. Porky was MINE!!!!! But noooo, do you think my parents would back me on this???? NOPE! We had to rotate Porky at every meal because they claimed they didn't know who rightfully owned Porky. They knew. They knew. It was MINE! And this lack of support, so early in my formative years, probably contributed heavily to the neurosis I suffer from today. But I digress--

S0metimes now, years later, when we get together as a family, someone will bring up the big Porky Pig plate and it will start a fierce debate. Both of my brothers still claim that the plate was theirs. My parents still claim that the plate didn't have a rightful owner, but was rather a "community" plate. Hmmph!! Ok, so I've told my side the story. Please tell me--WHOSE plate do YOU think it was??

Your comments--priceless!!

Over the weekend, FOJ Tamara of Mocha Mish Mash, awarded me the Honest Scrap Award for honesty and authenticity in my blog writing.

To keep this award, there are some rules by which I (and future recipients) must abide:

1) Say thanks and give a link to the presenter of the award.
2) Share "ten honest things" about myself.
3) Present this award to 7 others whose blogs I find brilliant in content and/or design, or those who have encouraged me.
4) Tell those 7 people that they've been awarded HONEST SCRAP and inform them of these guidelines in receiving it.

So, here are the "ten honest things about myself":

--FOJ Cindy, gave me 2 collectible Barbie Dolls more than 10 years ago, and inspired a collection that has grown to more than 100.
--I don't drink alcohol at all--not beer, not wine, or even champagne.
--I absolutely hate cilantro.
--I am named after my mother, that makes me a Junior, kind of.
--I'm married to my best friend.
--I was born on an US military base (Walter Reed), many moons ago.
--My brothers are twins. They are 14months younger than me.
--I had a baby on Leap Year Day. (Feb 29, 1992)
--I LOVE my Blackberry, my Kindle, and my laptop. Don't ask me to choose between them.
--I am terrified of lizards, snakes, frogs, bugs, spiders, etc. etc. ETC. I am NOT afraid of humans.

Tagging 7 other FOJ:

-Beth Tea and Thee

-Erin Nuggets of Truth

-Benny For Christ, the City, and Our Culture

-Kat Katz Scratch

-Rafael twofishfive

-Tami Talking with Tami

-Sharon A Break from the Norm

Today, I need to pick up a birthday gift for my Mom, whose birthday is next week. I know exactly what I'm going to get, it's something that I know that she'll get a kick out of. On the other hand, I could always get a gift card--or could I?

I wouldn't mind giving a gift card to a coworker or a neighbor, but I would never consider giving a gift card to my mother. I just feel that it's much too impersonal. I've been knowing her all my life. I know what she likes. I know what her interests are. Why not give her something that she would just love?

I do realize that in some situations, gift cards are ideal, especially when shipping is a consideration. They also work well for kids, teenagers, college students, and those you just don't know very well. I even keep a couple gift cards around for those occasions that catch me unprepared. But for my Mom? A gift card? NOPE..

How do you feel about gift cards versus a real gift? Are they always acceptable? Are there exceptions? Do you give everyone gift cards or just some people? Tell me about it...

Your comments--priceless!!

Back when I was in high school, my mom had a small vegetable garden in our backyard. At the time, I didn't appreciate the fresh produce, in fact-in my teenage mind, it didn't make sense to me that she would put forth all of that work for something she could just simply pick up at the grocery store. She tried to get me interested, but this was when I was young, thin, and cute, and didn't have time for such things. We had all kinds of salad fixings and I refused to eat salad. I called it "rabbit food." Boy, was I stupid or what?

Now, as I settle in to middle age, I truly understand the value of home grown fruits and vegetables. I wish I had the time, patience, and inclination to plant produce. I have grown to LOVE salads. I have a lunch of salad more often than not. And with the price of fresh veggies skyrocketing, I could save a grip.

Now, I need to figure out if anything will even grow here in the land of brutal sun or if I'll have to make some provisions. And the next time Mom comes down to visit, she really needs to show me how to get started. I think I will definitely be more attentive this time.

Your comments--priceless!!