Invasion of the Mannequin Snatchers?

I don't go clothes shopping very often mainly because I don't enjoy shopping. Every now and then I'm in the mood, or need a piece of clothing and so, I go. Which is what I did one morning last week.

While I was standing in line I vaguely noticed a man's plaid shirt and  dark green down vest on a mannequin near the cashier area. It wasn't until I was in bed that evening (after a very short and successful shopping trip) that I considered the mannequin. It was one of those greyish-whiteish somewhat featureless forms resembling ancient Greek statues that have been left out in the elements for centuries.

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And I wondered. Whatever happened to the ubiquitous humanoid Barbie doll mannequins I grew up seeing? Do you remember them? The females had plastic-y hair styled in bobs or flips. Their red pouty lips smirked and their arrogantly staring eyes were stylized with horrendous blue eyeshadow (whoever thought blue eyeshadow ever looked good on anyone real or plastic?). Their shapes were Barbie doll hourglass perfect and they had bare, toe-less feet. The male Ken doll cohort stared at passersby with blank blue or brown eyes and a perfect plastic pompadour of blond, brunette, or brownette.

So, they were actually the thing of nightmares.

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And the replacement models are no more endearing with their sometimes bald heads and bland, androgynous, often featureless faces (but continuing to possess  Barbie and Ken style bodies).

When did the new models replace the old? I don't actually remember the take-over.

The question, however, that really disturbed me as I lay sleepless that dark, hushed night was, what happened to the thousands, or maybe millions of humanoid mannequins? Did semi trucks quietly rumble down discreet back alleys, park in the shadows of closed buildings, soundlessly open their doors, silently steal into stores and kidnap the mannequins? Did the bland-faced mannequins plot a silent coup? Did stores open one bright, cloudless morning and discover featureless zombie mannequins had replaced the garishly shaded faithful mannequins of old?

Did hundreds of semi trucks travel along the highways of America stuffed full of naked mannequins? Where did they take them? Are they in mannequin Guantanamo? Incarcerated in cold, dank, abandoned warehouses? Were they dumped in dozens of landfills across our beautiful land and crushed to smithereens?

Someone needs to investigate this and discover what happened to the missing humanoid mannequins.

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A Love Letter

Dear Kids (because you'll always be my kids),

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How am I doing? Have you noticed I've been trying to leave you alone?

I've been very careful not to phone, or email, or text too much. I try not to pry. Or second-guess your decisions.

When you are home and go out in the evening, I do my best to only say good-bye and not ask where you're going.

All in all, I think I'm doing a decent job of letting go and letting you become an adult not tied to the old apron strings. Not that I claim I'm always doing this right, but I think I'm improving and I want you to know I'm trying not to be that annoying mother who insists on clinging to her babies.

But. . .

Don't you think you could call once in a while? Or, perhaps send a quick email. Or even just a text saying, "Hi." Is that really too much to ask? It doesn't even have to be once a week. Maybe once every other week.

I know you're busy, but so am I. And I'll never be too busy to talk to you.

So 

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Love,
Mama

R is For . . .

English is a strange language, probably because we have absorbed words from so many other languages into our vocabulary. And on that note, let me share a little story.

My sister is a kindergarten teacher and has been for a long time. Several years ago she wanted to buy a new alphabet poster for her classroom because the old one looked a little ragged from being taken down every June and put back up in September for so many years.

Barb went to the teacher's supply store to see what they had. She wanted one with actual pictures rather than illustrations and found a nice, bright poster that seemed just right. She bought it, brought it to school and hung it up.

One day, she was talking to her class about the alphabet and was reading the poster to them. A is for apple, B is for boat and then she gets to R. Her lovely, new poster said R is for Wrench.

Our family thought that was so funny, we worked on our own special alphabet list. I wish I could remember them all, but here are some of our creative favorites.

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A is for aisle
D is for djembe
G is for gnu
K is for knife
M is for mneumonic
P is for psychology
T is for tsunami

How about it, can you add any to the list?

Incredulous . . . and Ignorant

While laboring over a piece of writing recently, I learned the word distain is considered archaic. Incredulous. I was simply incredulous.

Archaic? What? It seems to me I read the word distain all the time, and believe me, I am not reading Chaucer in ye olde English.

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When was distain deemed archaic and who get to decide? Does someone examine every word printed every year and determine some perfectly innocent words are not used enough so they are sent to word purgatory and dubbed archaic?

I could not get this out of my mind and could not believe I was using archaic language. Granted, I can't claim to know the current slang and buzz words, but I am not that far behind the times.

I had to check one more time. Did I just misread the online dictionary? No, distain is actually archaic. But, uh oh, I looked a little more closely. The definition was referring to discoloration. Confusion, great confusion.

And then the light bulb went on. Not distain, disdain. The word I wanted to use was disdain. I spelled the word wrong! I traveled the road from incredulity to a shaming awareness of my own ignorance shaking my head the whole way.

Monday Morning Musings

Happy New Year everyone. Yes, I know the New Year is a week old, but I haven't been writing for the past two weeks and didn't want to miss the opportunity to pray that everyone be blessed with a wonderful new year.

Here are some random thoughts, questions and musings for this first Monday of the new year.

• Why do the last two weeks of December go faster than the last two weeks of January?
• Don't ask for beauty advice from a woman with a mustache.
• How come your computer works fine and then the next time you turn it on, the sucker virtually wilts and expires before your eyes?
• Have you noticed entertainers and athletes get paid lots more than police, firefighters and teachers? Does this mean we value our ability to be entertained over our safety and intelligence?
• How come the eyes and knees are the first things to go? I would sacrifice my sense of smell and my appendix instead, if offered the choice.
• I rarely run out of onions, but frequently run out of toilet paper.
• Taking a wedding dress to be altered and pressed is a tricky business when the two people working at the store mainly speak Spanish and Korean.
• Mondays have a bad reputation . . . and they deserve it.

Have a happy Monday and feel free to share some of your own thoughts, questions and musings in the Comment section.

Image:  Salvatore Vuono/FreeDigitalPhotos.Net

Nothing Says Christmas like Bing

My favorite holiday movie is White Christmas starring Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye and Rosemary Clooney (better known as George Clooney's aunt). In that movie is my favorite, all time best, no contest, hands-down absolute favorite movie moment ever. 

As an early Christmas present for you, here it is. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Have You Heard the One About . . .

Have you had a good laugh lately?

My husband and I were filling out health assessments last week because we would receive some extra health benefits through his company's insurance plan by completing them. One of the questions asked referred to laughter, something about did you laugh today, or how many times did you laugh in the last week. I'm happy to report I could say I laugh everyday, normally several times a day.

Chatty Crone

Although I've written about humor before, it's a topic worth looking at over and over again because it is both physically and mentally life-enhancing. Unless you're living through a very difficult and tragic time, you can usually find something to laugh at - particularly if you're willing to laugh at yourself.

 Here's a brief list of how I fill my humor tank:

1. BBC comedy is my not-so-secret addiction. I don't know if it is how they say things in the UK, or the scenarios concocted, but I find them much funnier than U.S. comedy programs. 
2. My husband and sons are funny people, if you find puns funny, that is (sometimes I do, sometimes I don't). But it's nice to live with creative men who possess a great sense of humor. They help fill my daily laughter quota.
3. I've written about humor blogs before, but this one deserves another mention, Chatty Crone. One Friday she wrote something like "It's Friday, time to do your happy Friday booty dance." I burst out laughing. It was so ridiculous, how could I not laugh?

As I wrap up today, let me share something I'm still laughing about days later. Last week my son woke up and said he'd had the strangest dream. He dreamt he was a fertilizer delivery man who used a motor scooter to make his deliveries. Can't you just picture it? My manly, bearded son riding a tiny little motor bike with bags on fertilizer balanced on the back. The only element that could have made this funnier was if he'd been wearing a tutu.

So, this is what makes me laugh. What do you find funny?

Ok, So I Lied

Remember my mold story from a couple of weeks ago?  The bathroom remodel continues ... and continues.  Did you know 1970's plumbing does not match up well with 2100's plumbing?  If my husband wasn't so handy, we'd be broke by now since he had to re-plumb the new bathtub and toilet before they would fit.  And the people at the big three, Ace Hardware, Lowe's and Home Depot know us by name now.

But we finally reached the point of painting the walls and trim.  We had a family discussion recently about who enjoyed which job when it came to painting.  It turns out I'm the only one who likes sanding.  And I said I didn't mind painting trim.  

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So, I did my sanding bit with assistance from an Available Son with time on his hands, but did anyone step forward to paint the walls and trim?  Go ahead, make a guess.

You're right.  All those kids/adults never seem to be around or are too busy when it's time to paint.  Handy Husband painted the walls, with some assistance from Available Son.  Handy Husband painted some of the trim. The man does have a daytime job that he needs to keep to pay for all this work, so remembering that I stated I didn't mind painting trim, I volunteered to continue trim painting while he was working.

I managed to successfully avoid painting yesterday, but knew I had to suck it up and paint trim today.  I didn't even get a brush into the paint before I already had a mess on my hands, literally.

It's harder to pour paint out of a can then you would think.  Those spots of paint on the family room carpet?  Well, we're planning to put in new floor or carpet in a year or two anyway.

That streak of white in my hair?  Not premature aging or angst from painting, I just got a little too close to the freshly painted door frame.

It's a hot day, but my profuse sweating has nothing to do with the heat and humidity.  Painting is stressful!  The stuff drips and streaks and gets used up faster than a pitcher of sweet tea on a summer day.

However, I soldiered on, making a mess as I went realizing well into the job that I really should have taken down the door before I started.  That's about when I gave myself permission to take a break.  After all, the trim around the door has to dry before I can take off the door, right?

I want to confess that I lied, I hate painting trim.

Mystery Word

Today is Five Minute Friday ... well, wait a minute, it's supposed to be but the Gypsy Mama (Lisa-Jo) is on vacation and we are left without a word prompt.

That's okay.  I decided to grab my dictionary, open it at random, shut my eyes and jab my finger on a word, which would become my very own Five Minute Friday word prompt. I would set my timer and ...Go.

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First I had to get the dictionary.  This wasn't all that easy.  We (using that in the royal sense) are still remodeling the bathroom which is next to the family room, which contains the bookshelf where the dictionary lives.

The problem was, the bookshelves are blocked by all the remodeling paraphernalia, tool box, tools, drill, broom, boxes with toilet pieces and so forth.  I was barefoot and didn't desire to impale my foot on some wicked piece of equipment, so I had to proceed with caution, plus it was rather dark down there and I wasn't smart enough to turn on the light.

Dictionary retrieval was successful with no injury to my person.

Here's where the fun starts, I thought.  Open the dictionary, take a stab at the page and - paleontology.  My mama didn't raise no dummy, and I know about lots of things, but I was pretty darn sure I didn't have enough to say about paleontology for five minutes.

That's all right.  Today we're playing by my five minute rules, so I decided to try again.  Nafud.  A desert in the Arabian Peninsula, said Mr. Webster.  I know less about Nafud than I do about paleontology, a lot less.

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One more try because the third time is always the charm.  Gorgerin, the part of a column just below the top molding or between the shaft and the capital.  I know a little bit about column capitals, but nothing about gorgerin.

Okay, just one more time.  Avidin, a protein in raw egg white; it can suppress biotin and the growth of certain bacteria.  How interesting.  I obviously need to study the dictionary more often because there seem to be a lot of words I don't know.

Should I try again?  Oh, forget it, a lot more than five minutes have passed by now and I'm feeling intellectually inferior.  I'll just go fold some clean laundry.  I know how to do that.