Geronimo!

that I reaveal my little tattoo.

There. Now you can experience the thrill with me. In real life, meaning not here, it’s about the size of a large quarter (Some super sarcastic friends have pointed out you may not know what kind of quarter…quarter bag? Quarter horse? This is a quarter you’d put in a bubble gum machine, but a bit bigger than that, not quite as big as a 50 cent piece). Now see, that’s not bad at all. Sorry, Mom, for posting my bum. You can’t tell it’s my bum. Unless I say it is. Which, I just did. So again, sorry, Mom.

I pretty much check in with running2ks every day. I’ve even spoken with her on the phone, more than once. So it’s safe to say I like her. I also like to copy her. As I am doing now. She is posting some pics of her “fertile” self, for a little contest Queen of Spain is running. So I will, too. I never said I was original.

I love this shot because at that moment, I actually thought I’d have a baby without major surgery (I’ve had 3 c-sections).

And this one, after it was all over, and I did indeed get the major surgery, because she looks as ticked as I was. Lord knows we tried…note the cone head.

(The contest didn’t call for the babies themselves, so I improvised a bit. For me, these go together, and after all, this is all about me, right?)

After posting what I thought were pretty embarrasing pics of my prom dresses, and the hairstyles that accompanied each one, a very gracious comment was left to the tune of “oh, puuleeze, you look great in every shot”. This is extremely kind, but it got me to thinking. I know I remember a picture somewhere that really earns me some sort of status in the Mid 80’s Fashion/Hair Hall of Infamy. I think I found it. The year before my first prom, was the 8th Grade Dance.

I dare anyone to think this is a flattering shot. But if you actually do, thank you, you are indeed very gracious, or, have a serious vision disability.

For this ridiculous dress. And late 80s triangle hair-do. Count me as a contestant in Promalapooza, or whatever it is!

Actually not the prom pic, that seems to have been burned. That’s another story. This is me, at my sister’s Sweet Sixteen, with Long Haired Hottie hubby-to-be, who is more hottie now, than then. Whassup glasses? He’s aging nicely, and has newer specs. Thank God. And don’t tell us he looks like John Lennon, he gets testy about that. Why would we ever say that?

OK, viewed this posted, and thought it was so fun, I’m going to do ALL four years of prom dresses…for your viewing enjoyment?

This is the year I was dating a bad boy (my mom cried when we drove off). Do I think I’m going to the ice capades here? What’s with the one arm bared design? I was also trying to make my hair big.

And then, the year earlier. God help me, I was Scarlett with 80s hair. White gloves? Egaads. But, to be that thin again…it’ll never happen. (sigh)

And last, which is actually first…Hellooo? Cinderella called…she wants her dress back for the ball!

It may be a cliche’, but Blake and I, we’re children of the 70’s. Each of us were born that auspicious year, and reached 10 by the end of that decade. When I think of the extremely formative things our children have experienced/are experiencing, and aren’t even 10 yet (not for 2 more months), I realize how powerful an impact this first, young, ripe decade in person’s life is. So, of course, we, as parents, are seasoned, and bright, and always on task. For perfect example of how we may spend our valuable time, there’s this really stupid game we play occasionally, that is strictly free association based on a theme. Yesterday, as I was stepping in the shower (listed in my accomplishments), DH called. “Yo yo”, he said, in greeting. I said, “pogo stick”.
I heard a “jump rope”, to which I replied, “moon shoes”.
“Roller skates”, he countered.
“Hippity Hop”, I volleyed.
4 Square.
Mood ring.
Slinky.
Stretch Armstrong.
GI Joe.
Baby Alive.
Cabbage Patch Kids.
Betsy Wetsy.
My Merlin.
Simon Says.
Slime.
Silly Putty.
Operation.
Shoots and Ladders.
Shmoo Meets the Flintstones.
Captain Caveman and the Teenagers.
Sid and Marty Croft.
Space Giants.
Johnny Bench bats.
Josey and the Pussycats.
ElectraWoman and DynaGirl.
Rubic’s Cube (off on another direction).
Pac Man.
Space Invaders.
Dukes of Hazzard.
The Muppets.
The Donny and Marie Show.
Betty Crocker Little Bake It Oven (not sure about the name here).
Make Your Own Rock Jewelry Kit (again, what was that thing called?).
Pet rock.
MonChiChi.

I think the point is taken. What do you remember? What did you think you could not live without? As my folks played Abba, and Paul Simon, Eddie Rabbit, Olivia Newton John, and, The Eagles, these toys and things were forming the fabric of my childhood. Just the mere mention brings memories I never realized existed…and what is so weird, is that there are images forever imprinting themselves on our children’s memories, in just the same way. To The Black Eyed Peas? Dave Matthews Band? Bruce Hornsby? And the stuff we subject them to from our college days (R.E.M., B52s, Edie Brickell, The Rembrandts, John Hiatt, World Party, numerous others I can never remember to mention)? Today, they ask for material to make a robot, computer program games, cell phones (yeah, right), motorized scooters, their own PC (yeah, right again), IPods, etc. As we think they’re nuts, so must our parents have felt about us. Same thing, different time. That’s all.