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Legacy Writing 365:47

I’m thirteen.
I’m running through the sprinkler.
I’m holding something in my hand; I have no idea what.
Because of the spray of the water, I’m making the sneery face that’s an expression I share with my brother.
My sister doesn’t make the sneery face.

I’m wearing the 52 jersey that I took from Lynne.
It belongs to her sister.
But I wear it because it’s David R’s football number.
I have a crazy mad crush on David R, even though he’s three years older than me, which is like a million in angsty teen years.

My sister has a gold bracelet with a single gold charm: the letter “D.” For Debby, of course. Sometimes if I ask, she lets me wear it, because to me the “D” is for David R, my secret crush who ONLY Lynne knows about. And maybe her sister. And her other sister, who’s actually related to David R by marriage (he’s her husband’s brother). I’m only a few degrees from David R, and he doesn’t even know I’m alive.

I’m standing in line in the lunch room when one of the Mean Girls comes up. She reaches for my arm, lifts it, points to the “D” on my wrist.

“Why are you wearing this?”

“It’s my sister’s.” I shrug. “I wear it because I like it.”

She laughs at me and says, “You wear it because of David R_____. Everybody knows you like him. He has a GIRLFRIEND. Stop making a fool of yourself, or we’ll tell her.”

What makes girls be mean to other girls? I don’t think I’d ever exchanged a dozen words with Mean Girl before that point.

Anyway, she was wrong. The time came when he did notice me and was nice to me. He was a good guy. I’ll never be sorry for the brief period of time that I wore his football number–or his initial–and adored him from afar.

I choose to hold onto the girl who runs through sprinklers, not the girl who quakes at unkind words from a Mean Girl.

Legacy Writing 365:46

My niece Gina flanked by her grandmother Dorothy, mother Debby, sister Sarah, and grandmother Maebelle.

My mother was a scene stealer. I don’t say that in a mean way. It was just a fact we all understood: She loved to be the center of attention. Still, there are times when it’s socially imperative to give up the spotlight to someone else, and it was always interesting to watch her inner Spotlight Hog struggle with her Doting Parent/Grandparent.

Let’s just say the Spotlight Hog is an awesome beast who can rarely be subdued.

No doubt my awareness of the Spotlight Hog made me develop an almost-phobic desire not to be the center of attention. There’s nothing that makes me squirmier than events like Christmas and birthdays when people watch me open presents. While my mother loved to have people sitting around the kitchen table when she cooked, I drive people and their staring eyes out of my kitchen with snarls and threats of bodily harm. Sometimes when I’m in the middle of telling a story, I suddenly realize people are listening and I have an interior meltdown.

All this is the buildup for shamelessly stealing Gina’s moment ONE MORE TIME, because…it’s my blog.

Gina’s wedding day was beautiful. There were so many friends and family members there for her. I love gatherings when I can see my nieces and nephews with their parents and grandparents, because that doesn’t happen often with families fractured by divorce and geographic distance. And it’s so great when it’s because of a wedding, birthday, anniversary, or holiday instead of illness or a funeral (although we generally tell the same stories and laugh our way through those, too).

I was wandering around shooting photos and watching everyone interact as they got ready (material!), then I went outside the church, where I promptly took a tumble down some cement stairs. I’m not exactly sure how that happened, but I remember Gina’s dad catching my head so it wouldn’t hit the ground, and I remember being all frantic about my camera. Other than the standard embarrassment of falling, some abrasions on my hands, and a few aches and pains, I mostly just wanted everyone to pretend it didn’t happen.

So I was horrified when Gina rushed up to me just before the wedding and said, “Aunt Becky, are you okay? I heard you fell down the stairs!”

AAAIIIIIEEEE. I felt like the Spotlight Hog!

“I’m fine,” I assured her.

“I’m fine,” I kept saying to everyone else.

“I’m fine,” I muttered at the reception later, while I sat at a table and tried to be invisible.

Fortunately there was lots of noisy dancing and talking and laughing–and that was just my mother.

I kid!

I was sitting at a table ignoring something edible in front of me, unaware that my sister’s friend Dottie, who’s an RN, was watching me, until she said to Tom, “You need to take her to the emergency room. Now.” And it was true, because by the time we got there, I was in intense pain. An x-ray later, it was determined that my arm was broken.

Fortunately, we’d left the reception so quietly, and so few people there actually knew Gina even had an Aunt Becky, none of the attention that was rightfully hers shifted to me. And I think the Spotlight Hog did all right, too.

Legacy Writing 365:45

Everyone seems very happy to see there’s a sale “NOW THRU CHRISTMAS.”

Here, Daniel and his grandfather are in my parents’ kitchen. If I’m not mistaken (in these old photos, I can’t go by how colors appear), they’d repainted the yellow cabinets green. Certainly I’m spying a green electric can opener and green Tupperware canisters. I love that Mother has a stack of hand-loomed potholders, though my nieces/nephews will have to tell me if they made them. I have potholders like that, but mine are from Jess, and from time to time, he still makes them for Lynne and me. And of course, the coppertone stove is there. If they hadn’t moved into an apartment after selling their house, and then my mother hadn’t moved more than twenty times after Daddy died, that damn stove would probably be in my garage right now–and still working.

The ad is from Fred’s, and until I looked online, I had no idea those discount stores are still operating in the Southeast. Way to go, Fred’s, serving the small-town bargain hunter since 1947!

I thought I’d see if I could find any sales flyers from Fred’s from the past Christmas season to compare to this one, circa 1978.

Nordic Fast Fry in 1978 was $9.97. In 2011, the stainless steel Elite Fryer was $19.95.
In 1978, the Santa Claus Gumball Bank was 97 cents. In 2011, the Dubble Bubble Gumball Bank was $6.95.
In 1978, a Wilson football was $9.44. In 2011, a Baden basketball was $5.95.
In 1978, the “Decorative Cookie Jar” was $5.00. In 2011, the one-gallon glass “Decorative Jar” was $8.00.
In 1978, the BB Pellet Rifle was $35.84. Forget it, kids. Now you get the Soft Dart Safety Shooting 3-gun set for $6.95 or the Military Mission set (2 guns) for $5.95 (there is no ammo).
In 1978, a Hot Cycle was $19.76. In 2011, a Super Cycle or Big Wheel was $19.95.
Too bad the clothes prices aren’t listed in the 1978 sales ad, because in 2011, items of apparel are mostly less than $10.00.

Dear Fred’s: BRING BACK THE $9.99 METAL TOOL BOX so we can all smile again.

…and toes

Be sweet to your feet on Valentine’s Day.

I started with a soak in my Dr. Scholl’s Foot Bath Massager. Heated water and gentle vibration to relax the feet. While I was soaking, I was nearing the end of Dean James’s latest Cat in the Stacks Mystery, File M for Murder (written under the name Miranda James). I picked this up the other day when I went to an event at Murder By The Book, where Dean, Avery Aames, Melissa Bourbon Ramirez, and Kate Carlisle were signing their new books.

Dean/Miranda with Daryl/Avery.

Melissa/Misa and Kate.

Check out their sites and read their books if you enjoy a mystery.

Now, back to me. Here are some UNSPONSORED products I used to indulge myself in a pedicure.

Heel to Toe’s Rejuvenating Spa Foot Soak added to the foot bath. A foot massage with Diabeti Derm’s Foot Rejuvenating Cream. (You can see a little corner of a Whitman’s Sampler ad in the photo. Have a piece of chocolate while you soak if you’re into that sort of thing!) Finally, a coat of Sinful Colors’ Tokyo Pearl, then a light coat of OPI’s Gold Shatter, and a top coat of Sally Hansen’s Super Shine.

Happy toes!

Hope you’ll do something nice for yourself today, too. And while you’re at it, check out Rex’s feet.

Happy Valentine’s Day

In honor of the day, I painted my fingernails with a coat of OPI’s “Gettin’ Miss Piggy With It” over a base coat of OPI’s Peru-B-Ruby. This is not the norm, because I usually keep my nails cut very short and unpolished. I buy polishes because I love to get or give myself pedicures and paint my toenails. However, I seem to always end up with the same colors. So the Miss Piggy polish, along with some gold and green glittery polishes, are my attempt at variety.

The painted fingernails will last about two days before I succumb to frenzied cleaning and clipping. Maybe the green will make an appearance on March 17.

Legacy Writing 365:44

I never pay attention to what’s in our medicine cabinet until I need something. So today when I opened it to get a piece of gauze, I began to wonder how many of the things in there were really used or even could be used. I found around ten medications–liquids and pills–that were expired. In fact, one nearly-full bottle of cough medicine expired in 2002. As I disposed of it all, I speculated on how many people may have taken a peek inside that cabinet over the years. Are you one of those people who can’t resist a little snooping when you’re inside someone’s bathroom?

I’ve never been that interested in the contents of anyone’s medicine cabinet. There are things I don’t particularly want to know. However, I do have my own ways of trying to assess people.

Do they have art?

Living things–animals? Plants?

And mostly, I check out their books.

If they don’t have books, I feel like I can probably never really know them at all, though I do have one friend who’s an exception to this.

These photos are of rooms in two different apartments my friend Steve R lived in. I wonder if they were ever so full again as they were when they were his, even when he wasn’t in them. When I look at these photos, I remember being in his apartment with different people, the music that played, the discussions we had, the food we ate. I don’t see empty rooms. I see life, love, friendship.

I mentally compare them to photos taken in the house of another friend who I met through Steve. Those pictures show people and parties and so many beautiful objects, yet in my memory they are the emptiest and saddest rooms.

I think of a favorite title: author Edmund White borrowed it from a letter written by Kafka about the inability of people to connect: The Beautiful Room Is Empty.

The memories that cause my heart to ache have no expiration date. They can’t be disposed of.

The rooms are always there–but all the rooms. They make the home that is my life.

Runway Monday All Stars: Fashion Face Off

On the most recent episode of Lifetime’s Project Runway All Stars, the All Stars drew seasons and competed in teams of two for high and low scores for a sportswear look appropriate on a weekend getaway. Since I don’t have a competitor, I had to figure out a way to let someone else control elements of this challenge for me. I asked my friend Johnnie to give me a season, and he assigned me “Winter,” with the beautiful Cleo De Nile as my model.

Using Cleo’s makeup as my guide, I chose an argyle fabric of teal and blue. I pictured Cleo joining friends for dinner out after a day of playing in the snow on a weekend in the country.

I was fortunate enough to have the perfect pair of Mattel shoes for her to wear.

The dress has an off-the-shoulder cowl neckline, is form fitting in the torso, and flares to an A-line hem.

I added a little drama with a silver link belt to compliment the silver strands in Cleo’s hair.

A fun design to keep Cleo warm while giving her a relaxed, feminine look.

See you next time on the runway!

This season’s previous looks:
Week 5: Clothes Off Your Back
Week 4: Good Taste Tastes Good
Week 3: Patterning for Piggy
Week 2: A Night at the Opera
Week 1: Unconventional Challenge

Legacy Writing 365:43

Sunday I ran some errands and ended up at Green Acres because I haven’t had any Lynne time in a while. We had fun catching up, plus Lynne put together a great dinner on a moment’s notice. This is not surprising because, unlike me, Lynne has what I call “Mom Kitchen.” I’ve never mastered this phenomenon, but if you ever decide you want to cook or bake at Lynne’s, whatever ingredient you need will be in the pantry or the refrigerator or the freezer. My mother’s kitchen was this way, too. They don’t run out of stuff. Or when they do run out of stuff–presto! A replacement appears from the Mom Stash.

I came home with a couple of albums of Lynne’s photos that I plan to scan–either because I want copies of them or to use in future Legacy Writing entries. This one melts my heart. Jess is nineteen months old here. It’s taken in the kitchen of the house where Lynne grew up. If you were the photographer, you’d be standing next to a high bar that separated the kitchen from the den. I’ve eaten countless meals at that bar, or sat around it talking to Lynne, her sisters, and her mother. The phone’s on the wall at the end of the bar (and yep, I still remember the phone number).

I saw a similar scene countless times in my mother’s kitchen when my siblings began giving her grandbabies. Certain cabinets were kept available for small hands to open so they could drag out pots and pans and bang the lids to their hearts’ content. And just as shown here, a wooden spoon or two would be handed down from above to join the wild rumpus.

It astounds me–I won’t even let the dogs walk through the kitchen when I’m cooking without ordering them out. Guess that’s one more reason I don’t have “Mom Kitchen.”

Legacy Writing 365:42

I believe my nephew Josh came into the world performing. He loved being the center of attention and could talk a blue streak to keep our focus on him. He also loved money, so occasionally we’d say, “Josh, if you can be quiet for five minutes, you’ll get five bucks.” He never lasted that long.

He loved music from birth and began playing the drums and being in talent shows when he was still in elementary school (his father is also a drummer). However, it was about that time that he stopped letting me take endless photos of him.

So I got a lot of grumpy:

and goofy:

Fortunately, he outgrew that phase and began letting me shoot him again. When I used to wonder if he’d remember his doting old aunt when he became rich and famous, he said he’d send me an autograph. He even autographed the leather patch from a pair of jeans to get in practice:

I don’t know if he’s rich and famous, but he’s recorded CDs with his bands, played several years at the Chicago Blues Festival, and shared the stage with some pretty impressive talent. I think he’s still okay with being related to me, but I haven’t received a recent autograph to prove it.

Legacy Writing 365:41

When she was four and her mother told her that Tom and I lost both of our dachshunds within five days of each other, she wanted to do something to make us feel better. Her mother went online and found dachshund illustrations to print so she could color and send them to us. She came up with the stained glass effect on her own. The coloring she used on the dogs makes them look very much like our pups, and these drawings have been displayed in our house ever since.

When she was twelve, after my mother’s memorial service, more than 30 adults and 12 kids gathered at a restaurant. The restaurant had set up a long table for the kids, and without being asked, she and my nephew Aaron (who was 14) took charge of the kids’ table, keeping them occupied with colors and conversation so the grown-ups could talk. They probably never knew that I noticed, but I did, and appreciated their thoughtfulness so much.

When she was fourteen and Tom and I got to spend a week with family in the mountains of Arkansas, I had the best time teasing her in the pool and having long conversations with her about books and school and whatever stuff popped into our heads.

She makes great grades. She donates her time to help other people. She’ll stand up for someone who’s being picked on. She has tons of friends. She loves to ride horses. She loves her dogs. She’s a kind, smart, beautiful young lady. Anyone would be proud to have her as a daughter, and Tom and I are blessed to have her as a niece.

We love her very much, and today she turns sixteen. Happy birthday, Toni!