A friend of mine recently started a blog and one of his recent posts reminded me of a story from years ago. I have not met many celebrities over the course of my life and tend to clam up around anyone who has made a name for themselves, so my stories are few and far between. But this one time, many years ago, I lived an ’80s dream.
Born in the ’70s, growing up in the ’80s, I was a child of ’80s music. Sometimes a song will come over the radio that catapults me back into the days of wearing Madonna-esque clothing (although I was a tomboy and really just wore the same jeans and T-shirts until middle school). Night Ranger songs tend to have this effect. Isn’t it strange how a song can help you remember things that you thought had faded from memory? Smells have that same effect; I keep a perfume that I used to wear in high school simply so every once in a while I can take a whiff and remember how it felt to be 16 with no mortgage to pay and a back that didn’t hurt all the time. It’s a strange effect, really. I can no longer wear most “real” perfumes because they give me an instant headache. However, I do like the nostalgia they evoke. Anyway, back to Night Ranger.
It was the summer of 1996. I was newly graduated from college and living with my sister in a very small town (think a couple hundred people) in southwest Minnesota. The town had one bar, but the place seemed to draw some pretty big names due to some fantastic networking by the bar’s owner. That summer, we found out that he had somehow convinced Night Ranger to play at the bar, and that is where the adventure begins.
I’ll admit that I am more than a little weary of the new talking points of this time period, including the one I used in the title of this post. New normal, social distancing, and whatever adjective ad execs and politicians want to use in front of the word “times” – challenging times, unprecedented times, difficult times, extraordinary times, uncertain, etc. I am mildly annoyed that I have to sit through commercials that now talk about COVID and social distancing. Good lord, enough already.
At my house, however, nature knows no social distancing rules. The toads have invaded my pond and they are NOT 6-feet apart.
I know my pond has been the subject of this blog before, but for those who may not be familiar with the backstory, let me digress for a moment.
Last week, my husband and I were sitting on the back patio by the pond. We had just spent the past two days going around buying flowers at different greenhouses – mostly perennials, as I am trying to make landscaping as maintenance-free as possible. The area that was just to the left of the pond is full of colorful perennials, and I love going to the backyard when everything is in full bloom and just marveling at the beauty of it all. My backyard is my little haven, but it needs a couple of things: some privacy (I have two houses that angle toward my backyard and nothing to shield them) and even more color.
I turned to my husband and said, “What if we put yet another perrennial garden to the right of the pond, leaving a little walkway in between? Then in the middle of summer this whole area would be full of flowers.
In typical “me” fashion, I grabbed a can of spraypaint right then (leaving my coffee to get cold) and outlined what I had in mind. My husband liked the idea, so we changed into work clothes and started digging out the grass.
So, the quarantine days drag on. I think if I lived in a larger town, the stifling feeling of all of this wouldn’t be so bad, but as it is, we have few options for shopping. We have a grocery store. We have a Dollar General. Truthfully, that’s about it. We had one of the last K Marts in the country, but that closed down this past winter. It’s just four people in a too-small house in a too-small town.
If you have read this blog off and on during the past few years, you probably noticed that I have quite a fondness for the WNAX Neighbor Lady cookbooks. Now that I have some time on my hands, I’ve decided to start scanning in all the books that I have from the 1940s and 1950s. You can find the ones I’ve scanned so far on the new page designed just for these cookbooks. I will be adding to the collection as I get them scanned in, so be sure to check back!
Well, this “stay at home” stuff is an introvert’s dream, but even introverts hit a wall, and I think I’m getting there. I mean, it would be one thing if the weather was consistently nice and I could get outside of this small house to get some exercise. I did – for a few days. I got all the remaining leaves out of my yard and burned them. I got my pond up and running, which is probably the earliest I’ve ever had it cleaned out and functional. But then Mother Nature decided to play a little joke on us for Easter Sunday, and this is what the pond looks like today.
Like many people in the United States, I have suddenly become a homebody. I realized that my “Gee, I have no time to blog” excuse no longer applies, so here I am. Blogging. Thinking. Cleaning. Playing games with my family. Cleaning some more. Sneaking peeks at the CDC website to see what the newest bad news contains. Telling my kids that no, they cannot go hang with friends, although some days I am so tempted to just tell them to go wherever they want. I mean, MUST video games and movies be SO DANG LOUD? Repeat, repeat, repeat.
Although I was a little late to the party, I discovered Elvis while browsing through channels one day in 1987. It was around the birthday celebration week, and HBO was airing the documentary That’s the Way It Is. My parents were not Elvis fans, and I had apparently grown up in some sort of bubble, so I had no idea who Elvis was. I stopped on the special, intrigued. Who was this man? What was with that fringed jumpsuit? But man, he was handsome, and he could sing.
I went upstairs and told my mom that I was watching some guy in a white jumpsuit sing on HBO. She said, “Oh my, that must be Elvis.”
And that was it for me. My obsession with all things Elvis began.
It’s the time of year when I can easily be found wandering the aisles of Walmart with a glazed look in my eye, buying school supplies and about 842 other things that I really didn’t need but had to have at that exact moment. I don’t know what it is about Walmart, but I think there’s some sort of tranquilizing drug that is piped into the entrance, causing them to forget their budgets and release any sort of remaining restraint that they have.
Perhaps this is why I found myself with a laminator in my cart just a few days ago.
I went there for two things: boxer briefs (not for me, obviously) and Kleenex. I walked out of there $228 poorer. With a laminator.
Yes, I know it’s been a while. It took me a couple minutes to remember how to log back into WordPress. THAT is how long it’s been. I had to enter my password three times before I got it right. Wordpress seemed to give me the stink eye when I successfully logged in, as if to say, “Oh, and NOW you want to see what’s been happening after all this time?”