Am I Really Old Enough to be Retrospecting?

I recently went to a High School graduation ceremony, and by recently I mean last June. This, my friends, is what happens when you draft things when you are unemployed. You get distracted by the business of watching infomercials and the brilliant posts you compose fall by the wayside. But never fear, my blogger-block has inspired me to dig it out. Anywho, when at this commencement ceremony, it caused me to look back over the years, and count, and realize it's been over a decade since my High School graduation (in fact it's almost a decade since I graduated from college), and freak out, and then reflect.

First, it made me reflect on how our society is deteriorating rapidly and some people should not be allowed out in public. To the people sitting around us: maybe you've never been to a graduation before (see what I did there? I've been holding that in for a week), but when they play Pomp and Circumstance, you are supposed to STAND. From the first graduate to the last graduate. You will not die from all of that standing. Also, just because your particular graduate apparently made it there by the skin of their teeth and is not part of the band or choir, or one of the speakers, does not entitle you to talk LOUDLY during the choir and band performances, and over the poor valedictorian who worked so hard to prepare a speech. It was his moment. He's going off to college, where he most likely won't be known by all, and ranked the smartest. And you totally just disrespected him. Shame on you, people behind me. And ANOTHER thing. When the master of ceremonies reminds us SIX TIMES that you should not use air horns, that means that you SHOULD NOT. Nor should you hand it to your teenager, and have them do it. There's this thing your supposed to be doing--parenting. You know, where you teach your kids that breaking the rules placed there in respect to those eager to hear their name read, a moment they have dreamed about for years, is jacked up. Way to go parents. You have perpetuated the tradition of idiots at graduation. Your children will follow in your footsteps.

Second, the valedictorian's speech caused me to reflect. He did what I think is common at this point in your education career. He talked about teachers who had helped shape him at his high school, and why they are so great. I really did love that he did this. It was obvious that these teachers were loved by many from the crowd reaction when he dropped their names. I can think of teachers at my high school that got this recognition at assemblies and during other gatherings such as graduation. I automatically think of my teacher, Mr Vinson, who was my favorite teacher in Junior High School. He was my teacher who made me want to be the best in a classroom for the first time since elementary school, and he showed us how to have fun while applying ourselves. He always got the cheers at school gatherings. I think of my choir teacher, Mr. T (he probably pities the fool, but it's not that Mr. T) who was one of the best high school choir teachers out there. Even though I'm pretty sure he didn't like me very much (he once yelled at me for looking at my nails too much while we practiced in front of the whole class--a nervous habit I had at the time, and possibly still do. But he was right. I'm sure I was annoying). Those are two teachers who I'm sure have gotten lots of shouts-out throughout the years. As an adult who now works with teenagers, I think of them both a lot, especially Mr. Vinson. Working with teenagers is a hard job. Even if you know you have to be the bad guy sometimes, since you are in a position of authority, and have to think about their safety and well-being, you still want them to like you. It's sad when they don't. I sometimes question if I"m asserting my authority correctly, or if I'm coming across more like Mr. Fill-in-the-Name, who always made me wonder why he taught since he seemed to hate teenagers. In reality, and in retrospect, I don't think he did hate teenagers. He just didn't put up with some of our adolescent antics, among other things. And sometimes I am that adult.

In retrospect, having been in the position where you care about these sweet little teenagers, and watch them grow and change and become adults, I wish I had shown more gratitude to my teachers. Certain teachers knew I appreciated them. But I never was that kid who brought the card on teacher appreciation day. And as an adult, I realize how hard it is to tell sometimes how much you are impacting their lives. I have teenagers who seem to like me, but I do not generally even factor in when they think about the things they will miss when they go to college, along with most other adults who have impacted them deeply for years. Lately I've had some sweet girls who are more vocal about their appreciation for me. When they all chime in and tell me they love me, or that I'm funny, or they include me in a conversation about the boy they like or the dress they're getting for prom, or they "friend" me on MyFace, I'm always a little surprised. And I think that maybe, just maybe, someday I'll be cool. I just need to go look up krunk on urbandictionary.com. Because I seriously don't know what it means. And I've got to be old if I don't even have a guess what the slang means, right?

Thanks, Dad! or Why I Have Odd, Unexplainable Opinions

My dad taught me lots of things:

1. How to change a tire. Because he apparently did not share the views of the mother of a lady from church, who taught her "if you have to change your own tire, you've lost it."

2. Air conditioning in an automobile is for sissies. He held that belief pretty much until the last kid left home, and up until their recent purchase of their nice, air condition equipped cars they have been taking road trips in rentals, to ensure that they have not only air conditioning, but also heated seats and a roomy trunk.

3. Wearing headphones while you run is dangerous because you could get hit by a car. Come to think of it, I think that stems from his personal experience of getting hit by a car while walking along a road... minus the headphones because they didn't have them way back when. Same goes for driving cars. You should not drive with headphones because you won't hear the car that's about to hit you... er something.

4. Look for the stud when mounting things to the wall. And generally that means knocking, not using those nifty little stud-finders they sell at the hardware store. Said stud finder is totally useless in finding studly men, by the way.

5. How to check the oil. Because, again, we were not to rely on "it" to ensure this got done.

6. Toyotas are true quality, and Fords are a piece of crap. I swear I grew up with that imprinted in my mind. Which is why I find this confusing and a little disturbing. Come to think of it, I think they may own a Ford now. I have no idea, not being one of those freaks of nature who notices make and model, or can tell it from the frame.

Now I feel inspired to make a list of things my mom taught me. Like, to always use the inside of your wrist to feel a person's forehead, because your hand is often cooler, being the outer extremity and whatnot.

Let's all Go to the Fair! Also internment.

I'm late in posting this, but it has been whirling around in my mind for a while. I went to the Puyallup Fair back in September (thanks, Dizzle for hooking me up with the tickets!). The Puyallup Fair, also known as the Western Washington State Fair, is a super fun fair, and I think it's the biggest in Washington. I could totally be making that up, but I can't find anything on the site that refutes that, so it must be true. I have great memories of the fair. I held a boy's hand there once. Also he let me hold his Harley Davidson bandanna while he went on the roller coaster. That's romance, my friends. And no, that wasn't last year, smarty pantses, it was when I was a young hoodlum. That was also the time my friend almost got kicked out of the fair for whapping one of those people in a big animal costume on the back of the head. Turns out they have little body guards that follow them around. Who knew? I think the dude was hanging back in hopes of entrapping teenagers in the act of fake animal abuse. Because you know at least one teenage boy would try something. Helloooo.

But enough reminiscing. Every year when I go to the fair, that is what I do. I remenisce. Also I ponder how you spell the word reminisce. You think you know, but try typing it in a blog. The other thing I ponder when I go to the fair, ever since I first discovered the existence of such a thing, is Japanese internment camps. I remember I was in my 9th grade Pacific Northwest History class, and in one of the sections, we talked about how the Puyallup Fair grounds were used to house Japanese-Americans during World War II. To which I said, "Wait, WHAT??? No one told me that. That's never in the movies."

I find it interesting that the fact that we had actual internment camps for US Citizens who had committed no crimes in the US is so seldom mentioned. It's mentioned so little that I couldn't remember any of the details I most likely learned at one point, and I had to go to my trusty Internet source. I love (and by love I mean hate) that they called the fairgrounds Camp Harmony during it's internment years. According to this trusted source, the Japanese Americans who settled on Bainbridge Island were given six days to register, sell or rent their homes and farms, pack, and surrender to travel under armed guard to California, where they would spend the next four years. I don't know about you, but I would be cranky. From everything I have read or heard, the Japanese Americans were cooperative, and were treated fairly respectfully. But they were still prisoners. For doing nothing. They lost years out of their lives, I'm sure many of them lost property and businesses and life experiences and all sorts of things. And yet, somehow, most of them have gone on to live their lives quietly, and continued to embrace the country that showed so little faith in them.

Remember the First Day of School?

Because I don't. I have no recollection of how I felt about going to Kindergarten. I'm guessing I was probably excited, because I had gone with my mom to the school barbecue since my sisters were already in school. I do remember that I had the best Kindergarten teacher in the world, and that we had show-and-tell, and snack time, and bunnies. And we had painting easels. And cute little workbooks where we learned about letters and stuff. My most vivid memories involve sneaking the popcorn from snacktime of the floor and eating it when I thought no one was looking, since we ate snack sitting in a circle on the rug. I'm sure I was totally super sly. At least I wasn't that girl that picked her nose and ate her boogers. That was my neighbor. Not to name any names.

Wuv. True Wuv!

Wuv is what bwings us togetha today.

Last night I went through an old box of stuff my mom found in their garage. It was pretty much the silliest box of saved stuff I have looked through yet. Mostly it was a bunch of stuff that I should have recycled, were it not for the fact that there was no such thing as curbside recycling (at least in my neighborhood) when I packed it. My favorite was the notebook I carried most places with me when I was 12 or 13. There was page upon page of the most creative game known to teenage girl.

In order to play this game, write your name and the name of your current crush (or all of their names, if they change daily) on the top of the paper. Then, write out the words true love below, and count the number of times those letters appear in your name. Like so:

Holliberry Guttersnipe
T- 2 L- 2
R- 3 O- 1
U- 1 V- 0
E- 3 E- 3

Add the letters together, and then repeat with all other names you want to try. You can check crushes, semi-cute guys, and repulsive guys (the last just for giggles). Then, be sure to check the numbers for every other person you can think of, so you can find out who is Meant to Be Together.

Most importantly, save the results for the next 15-20 years.

We Knew Even Then...

We knew it was coming. We made fun of hair from other eras, and yet we knew we would some day be mocked. I've watched to movies that kids these days would probably classify as "old" (just like me), where I saw the hair that I used to yearn after and now want to apply frizz control to. I'm speaking of this:

And of this:

Curls are fun, yes. But this looks like unhealthy frizzy permed hair. Which I totally tried to have during junior high school.

Look how pretty her hair is here:

Even if you don't like the coloring you have to admit her hair looks much healthier and touchable, right?

That super curly puffy hair to me is reminiscent of the 'do we were all trying to achieve to some extent. You know the one. The one where you had the spiral perm, adn then you had a big puff on the top of your head, like Elaine from Seinfeld. My only comfort is that it seems to be making a comeback, so we can mock these crazy kids some day too. I'm talking about this:

All the kids are doing it.

Make the Voices Stop

Why, oh why, do we need commentators for the Olympics opening ceremonies? I'm trying to watch the wierd choreographed boat dance thing, with huge feather looking oars and waves projected onto a screen above the stadium stands, which I'm sure would touch my heart and bring me to new heights of thought and awareness, except I have to mute it to get rid of the "blah, blah, blah you can see his vision blah blah blah, the churning of the oars are symbolic of my words and how they go on and on blah blah blah." We need to have not one, but TWO men to tell us all about the meaning and the design. Because apparently the part where they chose the music was not all that significant.

Now all the pretty chinese women are coming out in their traditional looking garb with cool hair, and all I hear from the announcers is that China is coming out... of the closet? of the wardrobe? Not really sure. I muted it. Because I DON'T CARE. I am trying to watch the pretty ladies and the huge pillars that are blossoming on the field.

I have now resorted to creating my own music, since I obviously don't get to hear theirs. I am reminded of the lyrics to the Olympic Theme Song that I learned as a child:

(To the tune of the theme song)
This is the Olympics theme song
that you've always heard but you do not know the words
(This is the drum part, this is the drum part).

I can sing it for you if you would like. It's much more pleasant to listen to than sportscaster Bob's voice that just goes on and on and on and on.

Side note: I see from a commercial Christian Slater is still ACTING. When did that happen?

I last remember him from this:


And of course this treasure:

Best. Chick Flick. Ever.

Or at least one of the best.

Um, why do they stop talking for the strange glowing men routine but not the pretty, pretty ladies?

When I Was Your Age, Television was Called "Books"

When I was a kid, we played Red Rover all the time at recess. Kids who wanted to be extra safe on their bikes changed from their flip flops (which we called thongs before they mucked up that word) to their tennis shoes, and merry go rounds and seesaws could be found on playgrounds. Also, in my house at least, video games and computers were not something we spent a lot of our time playing with. Not when there were books to read, sandboxes to play in, sprinklers to run through, and bikes to ride.

Fast forward to nowadays, and Red Rover has been banned from play grounds, along with seesaws and teeter totters. In many places swings and slides are on their way out as well. Big toys, which used to be made of wood and metal, are now all plastic.

Some of this change I'm okay with. Like the metal playground equipment part. I can get behind that. Especially considering that when I was little I tumbled down a slide backwards and cut my head on the edge of the slide on the bottom. I still have the scar on the forehead to serve as a memory. Although if there were no alternative, I would still feel that to get rid of a play toy because someone could get hurt on it is silly. Kids can get hurt on trees. Are we going to cut down the trees? Or perhaps we could be reasonable and just teach our children not to climb trees and hope they have the good sense to not climb too high when our backs are turned. I have many little cuties (see cuties tag) who I care about, and who I hope don't get hurt. But I also hope they are allowed to have fun as kids. And if I never broke a bone playing Red Rover when I was little (if you've met me, you will understand why that is a big thing), I think they will be okay. And if they break a bone then they get a cool cast and their friends can all sign it. Also they will learn a bit more about being careful so they don't break bones.

The helmets on bikes thing I get. Head trauma is bad, and if we can prevent trauma I can totally get behind that. But again, it amazes me that if head trauma was possible, I never incurred it, especially considering how much time I spent on my bike growing up. I also get seat belts and booster seats, although I sometimes wonder if we're being a little too loony about this booster seat thing. But I totally support preventing internal injury and death.

When I was a kid, my mom refused to get us a Nintendo. It was partly because it wasn't in the budget, but as an adult I now understand why she would put her foot down. Video games muck up childhood. (I want to put a disclaimer here that I have friends with children who own wii's (the friends own them, not their children) and who allow their children to play computer games. This is not a criticism of those particular families. The parents are doing great keeping their kids busy with other activities and balancing things out. They get a gold star) "I'm bored" is in one of the most annoying things a kid can say, in my opinion, and it seems to be code for "I want to go play a video game," or "I haven't chatted with my friends online for hours" nowadays. I've met lots of ill-socialized teenagers who seem to have more "friends" online whom they've never met (creepy, by the way), and I can only conclude that allowing them to get hooked on video games and computers when they are young would lead to develop this seeming inability to relate to kids realtime. I've decided that my kids will have limits. There will be a timer. Maybe 30 minutes max, or if I'm an in an incredibly good mood, and they have no homework, AND they've done productive things, an hour. Also every time I hear the word bored they lose a half hour. Because I'm mean.

When I was little, and my mom would ask me what was on my wishlist for christmas and my birthday (being a December baby I only got to make one list), I would often just put "books." I didn't even put titles. Because I loved books so much that I didn't care which ones my family got me, I knew I would love them. Books are wonderful places children and adults alike can go to develop their imaginations and think new thoughts. When I am a grownup with children, they will not be used as punishment, as sorely as I will be tempted to say "go read a book" as punishment for saying they are bored. Because they should love books. And if they don't love books, they will just have to watch their mother break down into tears all the time until they see the error of their way.

Really what it all comes down to is I wish I was still five. Then I could run through the sprinklers and race my friends in their Dora bathing suits down the slip and slides, and color and put together puzzles and... oh, wait, I did that last week.

Comfort TV

People talk about comfort foods, like meat loaf, or chicken soup, or a gallon of ice cream right out of the carton. But I have realized over time that I have comfort tv. Jeopardy is really comforting to me. When I am having a really down day and everything makes me want to cry, nothing soothes me more than the dulcet tones of Alec Trebec's voice. I think it must stem from the memories I have of Jeopardy being watched in our home by my family in my childhood when I was safe and protected and problems were simpler. For the same reason, Wheel of Fortune, one of my mom's favorites when I was little, also has that effect on me. I'm betting that Perry Mason and Magnum, P.I. would have the same effect.

Am I the only one who has comfort tv?

Tradition!

Traditions are important. Just ask Tevye.




In our house growing up, we had a special tradition that I still think of with fondness. Every Sunday night, when The Wonderful World of Disney was on, and some Disney movie was being broadcast, mom would pop popcorn and we would sit and watch the wonderful world of Disney together. Even after college when I was at home I would crave popcorn every Sunday evening, even though the days of Wonderful World of Disney have sadly fallen by the wayside to make way for news shows, crime dramas, and sappy reality shows capitalizing off of people's misfortunes. Not that I'm referring to anything specific.

We didn't have our popcorn in just any old popcorn bowl. It was popped in our popcorn bucket, beautiful and orange, painted by the hand of my paternal grandmother. Those were the days.

When you are a single person living on your own, it's easy to lose the feeling of traditions in your life. I need to start some new traditions. Any ideas?

Remember MASH?

Not the tv show, which I also enjoyed. The game. You know, "Mansion, Apartment, Shack, House?" I found it online. It's good times. And I played. The results? Surprisingly close to real life.

"You will live in Apartment.You will drive a pink station wagon.You will marry Hugh Jackman and have 6 kids.You will be a teacher in Italy."

Happy Saint Patrick's Day

What better way to say it than with Muppets! (Thanks W :) )

I Hate Plastic Spider Rings.

Let me tell you why. When I was five (okay I don't know how old I was but it was before I moved and my sister makes fun of me for thinking everything happened when I was five), I was wearing one of those little plastic spider rings around Halloween. I remember I was standing on our front porch, and my sister and her friend decided to educate me on those rings. They told me they were real spiders with wax over them made into rings. And while I'm pretty sure I told them I didn't believe them, I pretty promptly removed the spider ring. I've never been able to wear them since. That's right, Amie, you scarred me for life!

The New Michael is Growing on Me.

He's not as dorky as I thought he would be. Also, he's 6'3", only an inch shorter than my husband, the real Michael, who is 6'4". Which explains a lot. Even as a child I liked the tall men. I'm not saying the movie wasn't cheesey. Because it was. Oh, it was. But there may be a tv spinoff, and if there is, you can bet I will be there for it. Also Agent Rivai wants to be cool, but really she's just annoying. I mean, seriously. OBVIOUSLY this sherrif dude she just met is gonna be dirty. Don't put Michael on speakerphone when he gives his location! What FBI agent trusts the police? Hasn't she seen Law and Order? Or Without a Trace? So I would be okay if she doesn't make it to the spinoff.

Best line so far? Why you gotta hate on Nebraska? (hey! Don't mock!)
Best moment? When the SUV actually BOUNCES off of KITT.
Most shocking moment? Seeing how old my husband looked. Obviously they had to use a lot of stage makeup to make him so old and make it believable.

It's okay, honey, I know the truth.

Also? I want flowers like that on my coffin.

Why, Anthony, Why?!?

I saw Anthony at the gym tonight. You know, Anthony who we went to high school with? Okay, so not all of you went to high school with me. But those who did know who I am talking about. So we're walking past each other... I'm going down the stairs, he's coming up. He totally saw me, and then he totally PRETENDED NOT TO SEE ME. Why, Anythony? What did I ever do to you? I thought we were friends. I got a similar reaction from him at our high school reunion. I don't recall any fallings out in high school. I don't remember snubbing him. I thought we were on speaking terms until the day we graduated. Okay, so we were never best buds. We were friends in the sense that we killed time in class talking and sometimes did class projects together.

Have you ever had the uncomfortable feeling that those shows with the picked on kid getting vindication when he meets up with the mean kid from high school that didn't realize they were being that mean might be about you? Even though you still have no idea what you might have done or how you might have snubbed whoever you snubbed?

Don't Make Me Ring the Bell

You know how there are certain smells that you can smell, and they take you back to a specific time and place in your life, and you feel all those emotions again? Same thing with sounds. Have you ever heard your old ringtone for your cellphone and remembered exactly what was going on in your life when you had it?

I got a little Cinnaberry tree freshener for my car the other day. You know, because my car smelled like feet. Or possibly a dead animal that had crawled up under my seat and died. And the moment I freed it from it's little package and I caught a wiff of that scent, it took me back to a certain time in my life, when certain people were in my life. I always liked that air freshener. But now it reminds me of the people that were in my life then that are no longer. Not because they died or anything. But because I can't get them to answer a freaking email, not to mention call me. Also because they think they are too busy to keep in touch. Which I have to say is just a slightly politer way of telling a person that on your list of priorities, they don't rate.

But never you fear. I will create new memories with my Cinnaberry car freshener. But only people who answer emails are allowed in my car. Because I can only recreate the Cinnaberry feeling so many times. Don't make me ring the bell.

My Husband Michael

I was going to marry him. And he is no Michael Knight. But I'm still excited. Because it's a shadowy flight into the dangerous world of a man who does not exist.

Where has all the cheese gone?

Remember this magical slow dance song from the good old junior high days? Sigh... Dancing with the dreamy guy with the skater cut? I heard this in the grocery store the other day and it took me back. Of course, the lyrics to me have always sounded like some skeezy guy wrote it to try to a girl into... well, something. Because, hello? "What would you do if my heart was torn in two? More than words to show you feel That your love for me is real." Although it does just make a girl want to drop her basket full of microwavable soup and slow dance... if there were someone not skeezy standing nearby.

(I got a "helloooo" from a guy selling newspapers on the way into the grocery store today. Which on the one hand was flattering, because he wasn't too skeezy for a salesman, but also made me question his sanity because I have a cold and feel like a big crusty piece of snot right now. And I swear I look like one too.)

This one on the other hand had my convinced that he would fight for me, yeah, he'd lie for me, walk the wild for me, yeah he'd DIE for me (or ask me to slow dance in the church gym, which is also hot). THAT was romance.

But this one is the best. Because it's about red. And because he has a feeling of complete and utter love. Red does that to him.

Do they even write slow dance songs like this anymore? Kids today don't know what they're missing out on.

Also this was going to be my wedding song. The talking part in the middle was the piece de resistance. My heart hurts, baby, I feel pain too.