Get Well With Junk Food
By bldhny2002 on January 05, 2010
So, since by the time stuff would have been co-ordinated my dad would have already gotten home from the hospital, so I sent a Get Well basket. The Junk Food basket, shown here, cost just as much for a nice bouquet and my mom has no green thumb so the junk food would last longer. I have no idea where I got my green thumb.
I remember one year my grandma (my dad's mother) sent the family a bouquet of lilies. They lasted for at least a week. My mom was determined to make them last. She bought food for the flowers, watered them daily, and was about to use that water worm, a clay worm that hangs in the pot to tell her when it needs to be re-watered. As my mom was inserting the clay worm into what she thought was going to be dirt in the pot she hit a wall.
A wall of oasis, that grey or green foam that fake flower arrangements sit into. Up until that moment my mom was so proud of how long she had "made" the flowers last... I feel bad for telling the world this story so I will counteract with a tale of my own embarassment.
When I was about five or six years old, my cousin Jaime came to Thunder Bay for a visit. She, having actually grown up in the 80's was familiar with the old awesome songs like Tiffany's "I Think We're Alone Now." We played in my basement rec-room and choreographed a routine. I loved that song (and I still remember the dance and did the dance at O'Hans old hits night). My cousin left to go back to Nova Scotia (where the rest of my family is from) and I was left to my own devices to find this song. No one at school knew what I was talking about. I had just about given up hope when one day my mom or my dad pulled out our old record player. My mom had the Tiffany album on its original vinyl and played the song for me.
Now, in the early CD hey-day I was pretty dumb. I was five or six. All I understood (though I was well aware of cassettes and how they operated) was "press this button and the song plays again or I can go to the next song with a press of this button," you know, the normal stuff about basic CD Walkmans at the time.
After the song was over and my mom and I are laughing, I mention that I want to hear it again. It sounded so great! It was loud, it was awesome! I taught the dance! I did the dance! Better than a freaking Pixie Stix and a bottle of Orbitz, it was.
So I pose the very regrettable question. "How do I rewind the record?"
This has been the constant source of a laugh and embarrassment. I can't fight my way through the memory with logic.
"I was six, seven at the most! I had a Walkman. It was my first time with a record player, how was I supposed to know?"
Nope, people don't want to hear my reasoning for asking that very forgivable, very simple question almost two decades ago (gasp!).
The most comparable experience to this by another was when my exboyfriend and his family visited his elderly aunt and we watched a DVD (a normal, run of the mill, very hey-day-ish Digital Video Disk) of Delovely, which in my opinion was a subpar movie and I expressed this before the rental. After the movie his aunt, who was never my favourite but that's besides the point, asks how we rewind it so it can return to the rental store properly. Does anyone snicker? Laugh or embarrass her? No. She has an excuse- she's old, she doesn't know better. Psshaw.
-[.Blood.and.Honey.]- *[See the original post or more of the story at: http://www.chainedmaiden.blogspot.com ]*
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