Forever is not Forever

Forever 21 was on the verge of bankruptcy when it was purchased by some company called Forever 91.  No one knew what to expect.  

Grand opening showed a line that stretched from Cheesecake Factory to Red Robin, with a mixture of girls and old ladies.  The girls clustered and giggled as they watched the old ladies laugh at the girls. Apparently they had worn that stuff in 1969, and they looked better in them, way hot. I know I did: hot!

The doors opened and the females moved in quickly and then they screeched to a stop.

When stores close

Where had the store gone?  Where were the skater shorts? Crystal Doll? City Studio? Swimsuits that exist in the strands of fabric only? Jewelry was obscene and expensive.

Forever 91?  The open door provided shopping carts and scooters ready for use, to be used by the 91 group.  Old ladies races to the carts, shrieking and laughing. The lady walkers were the best, quicker. 

styles across the ages

WELL, the carnage did not go well.  Old lady clothes someway appealed to the skinny giggles 16 year old girls. Why, it is not known. 

So there you have it. The Old may be old, but oh my, do not get in their way. The youngsters lost interest, decided to go to local arcades. 

I told my gr-daughter (8 yr. old) about turning store to a Forever 91 really upset her. We went to Starbucks, all was well with the world.

We Are Who We Are

When one walks into our home, one could guess that we just moved in and lived in perpetual scattered messes. Well, it is not as bad as all that, but I look at it with dismayed eyes. We are messy, in a community where it seems that other people live organized lives.  

Oddly enough, my house was very tidy when my children were little.  Maybe it was that a toddler or crawler was wandering around, or that I was a stay-at home mom. But things morphed when they grew to be teenagers who left a trails or heaps of stuff.  Then they moved out. (see below what they became as adults) 
Now all the messes around are our own.

We both are eclectic people with our own talents and interests.

He is all math and science, a huge bridge fanatic. Around his recliner, one will find books on bridge, astronomy, science fiction, and investing. 

I am all color and art, with writing as my joy. Around my chair, there is no mess. But on the table, my computer is surrounded  by printouts, post-its, rough drafts being edited, and photos.

When one combines those two, there is and will always be a mess.

So if and when someone visits, we will close doors to our "creative" rooms, hoping that visitors will focus on art around and on the walls. Will go "ahhhh" at quilts commanding parts of their own walls.   Will smile at our collection of family photos. Will nod with appreciation at my laptop on the dining table, knowing that I am a writer, one who writes everyday.

Being as we are, I believe our messes will be understood and maybe even admired.

Well, not admired, but at least understood.

A quilt for my daughter

My sister made this for me.  She is so precious.

Anatole Krasnyansky

Are we alone in this?  Do you have a flare of your own, resulting in a mess? Oh, please say yes.

J is for...

Jetsons!  Meet the Jetsons!

 

“J” is for…Jetsons

f you are a fan of Hanna-Barbera cartoons, then you have watched all the simply drawn, repetitive, and yet charming representatives of a different time.  I remember “the Flintstones” and waiting to see what Fred and Wilma named the baby—Pebbles! 

No one ever listened to him.

I'll never know what she saw in him. 

 

Then there was “Yogi Bear” whose incessant needs for pic-a-nic baskets frustrated poor little Boo-Boo.  I identified with Boo-Boo; Yogi would have done much better foodwise if he had stuck to the usual bear diet of berries, carrion, and fish. 

Oh, the life of the future family~

There were others, of course.  But the one that I actually enjoyed the most was “The Jetsons” where the future was automated, and oh-so-much-easier than my life on the farm.  If they wanted dinner, Rosie the Robot just pushed some buttons and out came a full-on feast; then Rosie did the dishes.  Meanwhile, I was peeling potatoes while Mom fried chicken, and making all the other elements of a farm family dinner.  The dishes were mountain of work for a family of seven.

The Jetsons  had the same problems that faced all of humanity.  Work.  Transportation.  Harsh and unrealistic bosses.  Teen-agers angst.  What to wear.  Remembering important anniversaries and birthdays.  The list is the same for the Jetsons as it is for us mere humans who still have to peel potatoes and wash dishes.

But, watching the Jetsons was an escape for this once-teenage girl.