Sometimes I take my grandmother’s uniqueness for granted.
When I was young one of my favorite things to do was sit on a small foot stool she kept in the hallway. It was at the base of a full length mirror and I’d luxuriate in said mirror while using the stool as a prop to strike poses. The stool was very clearly the perfect little girl size and not meant for adults.
Then I saw the stool a few years ago. It’s covered in fur: real corse black fur. And apparently not the good stuff because there are leathery patches where it’s rubbed off. It reminds me of my first few attempts at making book covers.
Then I remember she owned the salient character from Monkey Shine.
And now this:
Give thanks!
I found all these great pictures of my classmates from elementary school. Some of my favorites are the class pictures where you get a nice memory jog and are really able to compare who was fashion forward, and who was fashion retarded.
Remember Sandy? Very fashion forward in the 5th grade. That hair cut is almost skater-ish, and stirrup pants with flats? Oh yeah, that should still be IN! And although the sweater is a touch Cosby it isn’t so bad. I mean, the sleeves are pulled up.
Ohh, but you know what is coming next . . . consider Nessa:
Oohhh, the big tongue on the tennies . . . the sock’s obvious elastic problem . . . the scruffy knees. And lord God rugby shirts won’t be in until high school! But, ladies and gentlemen, let’s all give a standing ovation to the cherry on the top. This is what I call the Bisexual Bowl Cut. Who didn’t have it? I’d blame Dorothy Hamill but her hair had a hint of graduation to the base of her hairline.
You can’t tell on John, but when that thing grows out . . . it ain’t pretty.
A mystery fish has appeared in the koi pond! Although we have 3 fish which are gold, white and gold, and gold . . . a new fish that is PURPLE has arrived. Good God!
Total mystery.
When I was visiting some relatives in South Carolina I had neglected to print out directions between Aunt Anita’s and Second Cousins Roger and Helen’s. So when Aunt Anita said goodbye right before the big downpour hit, I just went to the main drag outside her suburban enclave and pulled over to call for directions. But apparently, Helen wasn’t sure where the landmarks I described were . . . 
I think if I lived in a town with a Christian Rollerskating rink I’d know where the hell it was.
That’s right.
I said hell.
Imagine my surprise when I find a rogue roll of film among my possessions. Imagine my heightened surprise when I find the pictures are of a rag-tag family of hippies caravanning across a desert. Also, numerous pictures of large poop piles numbered among the 36 and yet, no pictures of animals.
I’m betting on Captain Squatter.
Please let me know if you have any information on these people.