Friday, November 30, 2012

11-30-12 Fisher

Fisher has never made life easy. She and her sibling tore up the house, and each other, as kittens. There was always something off about them, but we chalked it up to kittenness for a good while. When Hunter went to live with a family with land and a barn and a lot of space to be crazy, we wondered if this wouldn't help Fisher relax. And while she did less spazzing out and didn't get beat up in cat wrestling matches any more, she was never a normal cat. I've come to think of her as a little like my cousin Walt, who we lost ten years ago now. He never quite fit in, but there were little moments, even in the bit of time I spent with him, that you could tell he really, really wanted to be normal. 

Fisher comes out when others are over so rarely, they always express surprise that we have another cat, that is if they happen to catch a glimpse of this very pretty, fluffy orange tuxedo tabby cat trying to disappear.

If cats hear voices in their heads, I'm pretty sure Fisher does. She has bizarre reactions to very normal interactions. She can be purring and getting petted and, in an instant, jump across the room and start hissing at invisible ghosts. She can't be around any of the animals without getting so anxious she has to leave the room, even if she was curled up next to me happily purring and another cat simply saunters into the room and hops on another couch. 

So it was with a smile that I greeted this sight yesterday. 

I don't know if going on 13 years, or something about the sunshine, or the pillow, that  allowed it to happen, but the two of them spent half the day dozing within a foot of one another, and Evan laying beside my bed, just out of sight, as usual. 

11-30-12 AMOOXP Day 6 (1974, Part II)

1974 Part 2, although on further consideration, I think this must have been before yesterday's set since I turn up in this outfit at Mammammy's house in front of a tree with presents still wrapped underneath.

At least we're in the same year.

Me-Maw and I survey the presents under her little tree.

1974 was the year for getting cosmetic bags, it seems. 

The year of Rub A Dub Baby

And the year Rub a Dub Baby got left on the floor for year of the big fluffy white cat with green eyes. 
Her pink ribbon didn't stick around too long, either.

Kool-aid close up.

Then we're back at Mammammy's with all those presents. 

Mom is dressed the same too, but grandaddy is in his PJs. Now I'm completely confused.

There's the cat, so clearly we've already been to Me-Maw's.

Mammammy and Me, and the cat and the baby.

For some reason, we have no home movies from this year at either house, but Mom and Dad have little Super 8 boxes marked "1974 Christmas"at their house. Sounds like it's time to rev up the Super 8 Projector again! 

Thursday, November 29, 2012

11-29-12 from the "But . . . why?" Files

I freely admit, I probably enjoy Pinterest a little too much. For a visual person, it's internet candy.

But there are times when I stare at a pin and think, not only did someone do/make this, but someone else thought, "WOW! I need this (or need to try this), let me pin it!"

And I'm sitting there thinking, "but . . . but . . .  why?"

So, of course, at that point, I have to save it. 

Dye your hair six different glow in the dark colors and then braid it! Brilliant!

If you won't allow yourself to eat bread, slapping your turkey inside an entire cucumber is not going to be a satisfying substitute. Just, ew.

Not only would this sleeve make me absolutely batty, 
but I also can't stop staring at the odd indentation of her left breast.Silicone too heavy?

This is what my hair looks like when I get out of bed, maybe worse. There's a tutorial for that.

And finally, the winner of this round:

The almost $1300.00 horror that is, hysterically, Daf Booty.

11-29-12 The Morning Moon

This morning, I caught her before the tree did.

11-29-12 AMOOXP Day 5 (1974, part I)

It was a Christmas mystery.

I'd set up folders for each year and started the drag and drop, starting with the earliest and figuring out which year the other sets must belong to. I knew definitively which pictures were 1975, which was when I was still recovering from the chicken pox. But I ended up with two sets that I, at first, thought were two different years, until I ran out of possible years it could be. 

Most of the shots from the two sets made me think I had to be younger in the blue shirt and older in the red, but that was all dependent on angles. When I set these two full length shots side by side, it was those blue shoes that made me sure it had to have been the same year.

So here we are at the Blue Shoe Year, 1974.
Part 1: At Mammammy's

At our house, with a new baby doll crib.

At Mammammy's house, with a baby to go in the crib. 

Handing out the presents was always my job. Mom is the caller, I'm the runner. 

The knock-off Easy Bake Oven

The Snoopy Viewmaster set

I love this picture and the next. 
Here, I'm checking out Snoopy, Mammammy is watching me and wearing her red footies, and Mom is . . . carrying on a conversation with the baby doll?

And the next shot, Mammammy is now checking out Snoopy
(while Mom tries to figure out the Easy, er, Warm Bake Oven.)

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

11-28-12 Sunset and Full Moon

11-28-12 November's Full Moon

I'm normally a big fan of trees, but  . . .not so much this morning. The full moon, settling down behind the mountain peaks from the back windows of the house, is picking the exact place where I can't get around the trees to see. 

Window #1 option

Window #2 option

So, there she goes, between the branches and behind the mountains, where she'll be eclipsed over Australia in the next twenty-four hours. 

11-28-12 AMOOXP Day 4 (1973, Part II)

A Month of Old Xmas Photos Day 4: 1973, Part II

The average home price is $32,500, the average income $12,900, and a gallon of gas costs .40 cents. It's the year that President Nixon resigns, the year the World Trade Center becomes the tallest building in the world, Wounded Knee is seized by AIM, and the year Billy Jean King defeats Bobby Riggs in the "Battle of the Sexes."

At three and a half, none of this means anything to me. 

But getting footies in my stocking, like Mammammy always wears, 
which are little brightly colored, furry ankle socks, are the best thing ever.

Here we have Billy May's Rudolph Mambo, since it appears with a little instruction I could turn it into the Christmas Present Mambo. One step forward, two steps back...

Post distribution, in which I have lain everyone's presents out in lines (piles just won't do.)

If you spotted Pop-n-Fresh in the stocking picture above, from the night before Christmas, you'll be comforted to know he only had to spend one night alone before being joined by Poppy.

In the background, the Peanuts drum which I'm sure my parents did not buy, since they had to live with me and it together under the same roof. Plus, in the foreground, some groovy pants.

Choosing which present to open next.

Daddy's presents are never as interesting as mine, but I try to seem happy for him.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

11-27-12 the present day Christmas prep

Lest I be accused of living entirely in the past...

The Present Day Christmas Decoration pictures:

My Snoopy Tree

My Snoopy, who only wants belly rubs instead of picture posing

One last round of the most delicious bread pudding on earth, with my co-baker.

Bob's Superhero Tree, and Bruiser tree skirt

and in the dark

11-27-12 AMOOXP Day 3 (1971)

 AMOOXP Day 3: 1971

I am 17 months old and we've only recently moved our of our apartment and into our new house at 10210 Kirkdale, which may explain why there is absolutely nothing on the walls. That golden book I'm holding is the album into which all of my baby pictures have gone this past year and a half and will continue to go for several more years. It it the book out of which these pictures will be removed and digitized, in fact.

It's Christmas morning and I'm in yellow. I look terrible in pastels, but mom loves the ruffles, I'm sure. Babies always look pasty anyway. Maybe it was yellow to match the piano. Or the banana. The presents this year, as you can see, include three new baby dolls I can torture, lots of clothes (hopefully some without ruffles), something to hammer on, a table and tea set, and the yellow piano. 

Plus, from another angle, my Chiquita ride-on banana and a little red wagon. What a haul.

Clearly a prodigy at 17 months, I am playing while standing and holding my chair. 

Different house, different ruffly pastel shirt. . .  at Me-Maw's, giving a look I still use pretty often today.

And this Santa guy has got to go.