SIXTEEN

Today is the first of the semiannual weep fests known as my children's birthdays.  The Professor turns sixteen today.  For one day at least I'm able to see past the pimples and 5'10" frame, ignore his constant jokes about genitalia, and put from my mind the fact that he's now legally allowed to drive a car.  For 24 hours I remember the little boy obsessed with Thomas the Tank Engine, dinosaurs, and aliens.  The kid who compulsively watched Jurassic Fight Club, Monster Quest, and Primeval.  I remember his various short-lived obsessions like being a spy, collecting paintings from antique stores, and wanting to start a Patridge Family-style band (even though none of us can play anything except the recorder and then nothing more complex than "Hot Cross Buns").  

With Grandma-made Jedi robe.

Photo albums in lap, I took a trip down memory lane to some of his past birthday parties.  There were bears and trains and James Bond-themed soirees.  We did Star Wars and U.F.O.'s and Scooby Doo.  This year's theme was "Give Me Cash and Leave Me Alone."  Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad, but it's definitely been low key.  Friday evening Uncle Chester took him for his traditional gift of a rib dinner at Montgomery Inn.  Saturday was lunch at Applebee's.  In the evening was carry-out Dewey's Pizza with homemade cake and presents and no decorations.  His grandmother gave him cash.  We gave him cash and a dvd he picked out -- a double feature of the B horror movies Psycho Santa and Satan Claus, plus a new hard drive for his computer so he has room for all the videos he downloads.  (I pray they're not porn.  Probably are.)

A chic fedora and a briefcase full of spy gear.

 This morning I'm baking another cake for his actual birthday and he'll be taken out for a steak dinner.  I have one surprise gift.  He loves the song 99 Luftballons and I found a t-shirt at Threadless with the same name that literally has 99 red balloons pictured on it.  Thought he might get a kick out of it.  Or, like many other shirts, he'll never wear it and I'll end up stealing it for myself.

What happened to getting videos
of The Wiggles?

I try not to think about how close we are to high school graduation or dwell on the question of how many years are left when I'll see him on his birthday at all.  How soon before he's too busy with some girl to even show up for his cash or his cake?  Sniff, sniff...  Okay, time to go torture myself with some home videos of a baby in an Exersaucer....

Seems like a week ago.

A TOTALLY GROOVY BIRTHDAY

With a little help from my daughter's dolls,
all my gifts were on display at my mother's.
Yep, lousy photo.  Took it with my phone
under bad lighting.

Okay, yes, I know I use that word way too much, but there are times when there is no word I can substitute for groovy.  There's a nuance that isn't there if I say "fun" or "cool" or "awesome."

I wrote after Christmas about how I received this groovy cool American Girl knock-off doll and had big plans for decorating her room (actually the top of a mission style cabinet) in true 70s fashion.  I did the doll bed in January.  After months of anticipation, my 8th 44th birthday finally arrived and with it the most groovy awesome gifts ever!  Some were asked for, some were surprises.  All were GROOVY!

I apologize now for the photos.  I'd like to blame it on my camera, but it's probably just my general incompetence.  Don't hold it against the girls...

In case you're wondering about the Double Mint twins on the left, my mom and sister had to purchase another knock-off doll to act as a mannequin for fittings.  The second from left is Echo.  Foghorn's Kit and Kainani dolls are on the right and were quickly stripped of their clothing after this photo shoot and given back to their owner.

Denim skirt by my mother.
Crocheted hat and sweater by my sister.

An American Girl promotion item from Wrigley
Field and ordered from eBay.  Of course she needed
a Cubs jersey.  Shorts by my mother.

Granny square poncho by my sister.
Jeans by my mother.

Funky fur hat, vest, and purse, as well
as crocheted purple pants by my sister.
Shirt and socks by my mother.

Echo in her new romper and bandana
showing off her green shag foot rug.

Remember those?!?  Echo's tape recorder and record
player.  My record player had Kaptain Kool and the Kongs
on it.

My sister did the tie-dyed shirt and leather
vest.  She wanted to give it Roger Daltrey
fringe but couldn't make it work.
The colors in the shirt remind me of the one
Joe Cocker wore at Woodstock.

Every girl needs a terrarium...and framed David Cassidy album cover.

My sister made the doll jewelry box, as well as the bling inside.

My sister crocheted the ultimate accessories - shag pillow
and rug.  And a chair in my hideously beautiful 70s colors!

Seat lifts for storage!  Perfect place for her to stash her
16 Magazines.

Crocheted doll dress by my sister.

Hooded cape sewn by my mother. 

Crocheted jacket, hat, and purse by my sister.

Socks by my mother.
Duct tape shoes by my sister.

I swear my sister had a shirt just like this
in 1972.  Dress by my mother.  Leather
bracelet (with name etched) from my sister.

Could it get groovier?  My sister crafted an owl necklace
for me and a matching one for my doll.  Oh, my!

Okay, these shoes just came from eBay, but I had a pair just
like them in the first grade!  I can still see myself in my plaid
uniform, flowered shoes, and Scooby Doo lunch box.

Yep, sometimes it pays to have crafty relatives.  You couldn't purchase groovy stuff like this at any price.

And for folks who are interested in whipping up some accessories for their own  daughters' dolls, here are some helpful links:

1)  Instructions for making the socks can be found at Karen Mom of Three's Craft blog here.

2)  Instructions for duct tape shoes can be found at Sew Adollable here and here.

3)  Instructions for the barrel chair can be found at Cobbler's Cabin here.

4)  Instructions for the t-shirt can be found at Second Chance Studio here.

5)  Many of the crocheted clothing items came from Crochet for Dolls:  25 Fun, Fabulous Outfits for 18-Inch Dolls by Nicky Epstein.

VINTAGE BIRTHDAY KNITTING - THE FINALE

Today wraps up a birthday celebration that started in July when my mother began opening the daily gifts counting down 80 days to her 80th birthday.  She began displaying the gifts on a bookshelf in her living room and eventually they overflowed onto additional pieces of furniture.  She's now the proud owner of all manner of junk spanning eight full decades.



She now also possesses eight decades' worth of knitted items, some lovely, some practical, some...well, let's just say they were of their time.

Nothing says 1963 like a toilet paper roll cover.  To have a bare roll of tissue sitting naked would just be tacky, whereas this little baby is...ummm....  Anyway, the free knitting pattern is available here and my Ravelry notes can be found here.

I don't care what my sister says, these mittens are gorgeous.  Mrs. Brady would be proud to go skiing in them and that's good enough for me.  Plus, they just scream 1974.  The pattern actually came from an old Coats & Clark accessories booklet I found at an estate sale.  My Ravelry notes can be found here.

I didn't like much about the 1980s (curse you, teenage years!), but these place mats from a 1983 Workbasket magazine are kinda cute.  Ravelry notes here.

By 1997, I was really struggling to find patterns that didn't repeat an item already made.  (The poor woman can only use so many tacky lovely bathroom accessories, after all.)   The Tiny Cables Washcloths came to the rescue.  The free pattern can be found here and my Ravelry notes here.

These Eyelet-Edged Knitted Coasters filled the spot for 2001.  The free pattern can be found here and my Ravelry notes here.

The knitting finale was 2011's Drachenschwanz.  My mother herself sent me the link to this pattern after she stumbled across it last year.  Drachenschwanz is German for "dragon tail" and the pattern has this interesting effect that really does look like the spiky back of my fire-breathing friend.  The free pattern can be found here and my Ravelry notes here.

So, the big day has finally arrived.  Before she even has her official party on her actual birthday, my mother has received 80+ gifts (including ones from family and friends), had two birthday lunches, and endured a tree full of balloons (which have popped and shriveled constantly over the last two days).  If only the city had come through with that damn permit for the fireworks display...  Happy Birthday, Mom!

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LUCKY #13

When I think of teenage boys, my mind often rolls back to the mid-70s when my much older brothers were in that age bracket and I was in early grade school.  Our silent home movies of that period, taken on lovely holidays like Christmas and Halloween and at birthdays, unfailingly have one or both boys in the background, long hair dangling before their eyes, surreptitiously giving the camera the finger.

It is with that image in mind that I have mixed feelings about today.  In literally less than ten minutes, The Professor turns 13 years old.  I'm not one who wishes my children could stay babies forever.  Truth be told, infants and toddlers leave me cold.  I loved my kids and at the time they were mildly amusing, but now when I see mothers with the under-five set, I get slightly twitchy and thank the stars (and the doctor who performed my husband's vasectomy) that those days are over.  I don't look back with fondness on diapers or high chairs or bouncy seats.  At the time they became monotonously frustrating, yet the compensations of watching my kids grow and learn made up for it.  I don't, however, have any illusions about wanting to go through it again.

By the same token, the thought of my son becoming a teenager leaves me wistful and sad and more than a little scared.  I remember my own teenage years.  I was not some wild child running amok.  I went the other direction.  I was depressed and moody and solitary and miserably unhappy 99% of the time.  In fact, I remember distinctly bringing my eight pound, six ounce bundle home from the hospital and as I rode in the backseat with his rear-facing car seat, I gazed down at him and thought how cruel it was that same day he'd have to go to junior high.  In the blink of an eye, we're there.  How did some of those nights with a colicky, screaming infant seem to go on eternally while the actual decade or so went by in a flash?

The Professor With Bailey

When The Professor was an infant my husband added him to our website.  Years before we had children, The Vulcan had created a page for our deranged beagle, Bailey.  This was back in the day when you had to be a software engineer (like The Vulcan) to even understand how to create a web page.  Amazingly, the URL for The Professor's pages still work and I spent a little time today browsing through the online pages.  It's no coincidence that, like a digital baby book, the site was only updated through about six months of age.  After that we were too busy raising him to actually write about it.  (If interested, you can check it out here.)

Twice a year, on my children's birthdays, I torture myself with home videos of them when they are little.  While I don't want to exactly relive those days, watching their tiny, chubby faces makes me want to burst into tears.  Nowadays, though, I know if my son comes lumbering into the room and catches me mourning in front of the television, I'll get a braces-filled sarcastic smile from him, followed by a barrage of carefully-worded insults expressing his opinion that I'm the biggest idiot he's ever seen.  And it's at those moments that I start counting the years until he goes away to college...

With his new iPod Touch.  That's probably the
view I'll have of him for the next five years...

He always did have a mouth on him, although in school he's considered extremely quiet, studious, and well behaved.  The sarcastic wit of his younger days is increasingly being supplemented with crude behavior, off color remarks, and curse words.  His latest target is the fact that my sister, his unaptly-named Uncle Chester, is large busted and tends to show a fair amount of cleavage.  This leads him to serenade her with The Monkees' tune "She Hangs Out," with the lyrics changed to "They Hang Out."  Just last week it was Chester's birthday and The Professor didn't even try to pretend that he had any interest in her celebration.  She commented that he better quit being so sullen and that his birthday was no more important than hers.  His retort was "it's more important that I'm leaving my childhood years behind than you just taking one more step downhill."  She tried to threaten him with physical violence, but he's starting to tower over her...

Uncle Chester With The Professor

Happy Birthday, Professor!  Maybe you can get off the computer later long enough to share a piece of cake with me.


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THE TOP FIVE BEST AGATHA CHRISTIE MYSTERIES EVER!

It was on this day in 1890 that Agatha Mary Clarissa Miller was born in Torquay, Devon, England, to which you might say "big fat deal".  Well, Ms. Miller married Archibald Christie in 1914 and with her new name went on to be the best-selling novelist of all time.  Not too shabby.

Having been an avid reader of Ms. Christie's works since the 7th grade, I thought it only fitting to give you what I consider to be her five best mysteries.  With over 80 books to her credit, narrowing my list down to Christie's best five is, for me, like trying to choose my favorite Beatles song.  Just when I say one is my favorite, a different song pops into my head.  For someone new to Dame Agatha, however, this list will give you a good taste of her varying styles, detectives, and settings.  Enjoy!

1. Murder on the Orient Express - A classic story with the classic detective, Hercule Poirot.  With the whole story taking place within the confines of a train, Christie manages to weave a complex tale that leaves one guessing until the end (unless you've unfortunately already watched one of the numerous t.v. and film versions).
2. And Then There Were None - While it has none of the well-known detectives of Christie's other works, this is a gripping story with a jaw-dropping conclusion.
3. The Murder at the Vicarage - Christie's other classic detective, Miss Marple, in her very first appearance.  While the mystery itself is good, what is particularly appealing is the look inside the world of this spinster sleuth and her small English village.
4. The Murder of Roger Ackroyd - Another Hercule Poirot mystery and seemingly just another village murder.  Seemingly...
5. The ABC Murders - When a murderer appears to be systematically working his way through the alphabet, Poirot has his work cut out for him. 

As soon as I compiled this list I thought, "What about A Murder is Announced?"  I started to make a change to my list when I thought of Curtain, Poirot's last mystery and one that's not to be missed.  (Actually, I would suggest tackling a handful of his other mysteries first; it's a better read when you have a feel for the man.)  Then The 4:50 from Paddington entered my head.  And what about The Seven Dials Mystery, such a departure from her later works?  And we can't forget Cards on the Table, which inspired me to learn to play bridge...



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