Hello Dear Readers! Well another week has rolled more or less away, and as we slide into Friday on this last day of November, we have to ask ourselves what was going on with ads from 1953? (See how I did that great segue way? Who says things don’t get done right on Friday.)
Here are some ads from a magazine called Better Living from 1953 that for some reason, my brain, Peanuts, insisted on boiling down into limericks.
There once was a product named Kleenex
That met you half-way when you sneezed next
Little LuLu and Godfrey
Got paid by the wad, see?
To get Father some money for Xanax.
When poor fifties Mom must relax
After featherdust-wacking does tax
She chews Beechnut Gum
But it makes her feel glum
What she needed was Father’s Xan-ax!
There once was a little food dude
Who claimed Wilson’s B-V was a food
It subtracted from rents
Just one point five cents
But to like it, you had to be stewed.
There once was a man who wore lipstick
People thought him the consummate dipstick
He drank coffee that sounded
Like a law firm compounded
So his wife mixed his cream with some arsenic
And there you have it, Dear Reader, the first installment and quite possibly the last installment of Limericks Base on Ads from 1953.
Roweena Patina was late for tea. Her mother-in-law, Tulip Aarff, invited her three days ago and yet, somehow, Roweena didn’t know how, she completely forgot!
Now Roweena found herself racing through the streets of Van Schmoodenfloffen, at such a furious pace that one of her wooden shoes flung itself off just as she was passing the Van Windenflooffen Bakery.
And even though Roweena felt her shoe fly off — she was in such a tizzy, she didn’t even bother stopping to retrieve it — despite the aroma of Van Boozlephaffen Pie tempting her . . . tempting her . . . tempting her!
For you see, Roweena, had managed to pile on fifty-three pounds during the annual Glockenflockenfluff Fish Festival to the mighty chagrin of her mother-in-law, Tulip Aarff.
In fact, Tulip Aarff found Roweena Patina lacking discipline in every respect — both as a human being, in general, and as a daughter-in-law in particular. Now, Tulip Aarff could add “fat” to her myriad list of Roweena Patina complaints.
For Tulip Aarff made it her hobby to find fault in the tiniest imperfections of her daughter-in-law’s personage. And today, Tulip Aarff was about to hit the jackpot when it came to her favorite amusement.
When at last Roweena arrived at the double Dutch door of her mother-in-law’s cottage, she said a prayer for protection, then knocked.
“Enter this instant!” commanded Tulip Aarff. “For the cold herring is getting warm and the warm tea is getting cold!”
When Roweena stepped inside with her shoeless foot, her disheveled apron and her bonnet hopelessly askew, Tulip Aarff gasped the Great Mother-in-Law Gasp of the Ages.
“You’re late as usual!” Tulip Aarff barked.
With a hollow smile and a sugary, sweet voice, Roweena said, “I’m only late, my dearest mother-in-law, because I was baking you this “special” Hagleslagen Cuppencaken!
When Roweena finished her tea, she bid Tulip Aarff a cheerful adieu. A cheerful adieu that Tulip Aarff failed to acknowledge, however, what with her being dead and all.
Hello Dear Readers! I love Thanksgiving! It’s one of my favorite holidays. Every year I cook for my family and every year I look forward to it with great pleasure. Maybe a little too much pleasure. That’s why I’ve come up with this list of warning signs on how to tell if you are going to overdo Thanksgiving.
How to Tell if You’re Going to Overdo Thanksgiving
You’ve replaced the phrase “I love you” with the phrase “Olive you”.
You just got back from Potato Mashing Immersion Camp.
You’ve instructed your surgeon to break ground on that new stomach addition.
In preparation for the big feast, you’ve managed to diet down to a size bite.
Even if you were to carry out pi to a million decimals, all forms of pi will be polished off by Friday.
You’ve taken to sleeping on a pillow of mini marshmallows.
Thanks to you and your voluminous Yam Stockpile the earth will be taking 6 days longer to orbit the sun.
You made an appointment with your dentist to get your teeth sharpened.
Your new gravy boat sleeps six.
Your husband Tom is slightly worried about you because his name is Bill.
You’ve been preheating your oven since the 4th of July.
You refuse to read, watch or listen to anything that isn’t about Jello.
And the most obvious way to tell if you’re going to overdo Thanksgiving:
Your appendix has been officially called back into active duty for the stomach reserves.
This weekend’s Trifecta Writing Challenge is to write a story between 33 and 333 words utilizing three pictures that they have provided as prompts.
Gone with the Jupiter Wind
Vendle Grub maneuvered his craft around the Space Needle fast enough to be undetected by human eyes; but not so fast that he didn’t get a useable snippet of molecules from which to recreate a replica of it back on Jupiter.
You see, Vendle Grub was an Earth Aficionado. There was nothing Vendle Grub liked better than collecting earth souvenirs for Jupiter’s Little Earth which is what Vendle called his backyard.
Of course, most of the landmarks Vendle collected would eventually blow away, living as he did in the eye of a 400-year hurricane of epic proportions, but Vendle persisted anyway, partly because he was determined, and partly because it was a good reason to get off the planet and away from the constant gurgling of his nagging wife, Davenportia — who couldn’t even be bothered to remember his name.
One time, Vendle Grub brought back molecules from the Amazon jungle, and proceeded to recreate a replica of it in the backyard. He down played it by telling Davenportia it was nothing more than a really big ant farm.
Davenportia was okay with having the Amazon Jungle in her back yard at first. In fact, she loved the Piranha (either mixed with yogurt or just straight out of the pond). But neither one of them could ever figure out how to twist the tops off the bottle-nosed dolphins, and the yard work was ridiculous — so they were both relieved when it finally blew away.
When Vendle returned home with the Space Needle, Davenportia was overjoyed! Finally what’s his name, brought home something useful! Davenportia poked some holes in some leather (a Jupiter token of love) using the her new Space Needle! When Vendle saw what Davenportia had made for him, he was deeply touched and took out his White Out (Jupiter’s version of the ballpoint pen) and scrawled lovingly:
hi! I’m________and i’m completely inlove with you.V
But before he could hand it back, it blew away.
* * *
Dear Readers! I gallivanted to my mailbox this morning, and discovered I had another suitor!
It seems Xfinity is now in crazy, passionate occupant love with little ol’ moi!
Ah! Be still my beating letter opener!
First off, no matter what I decide about whether I’m going to allow myself to be “wooed” by Xfinity, they want me to know that this plastic card that was attached to the occupant love letter is mine to keep!
Then there’s this:
Don’t worry, you don’t need to read it, it’s way too boring, (sigh) however I did read it and here’s what it more or less says:
If you pay Xfinity $30 every month, they’ll put security cameras all over your house so that if you decide to go to Hawaii, you’ll be able to sit on the beach and stare at your house on your smart phone to make sure everything is still not stolen every minute of every day until it’s time to come home.
Or it means you’ll be able to actually watch live on your smart phone as a burglar breaks into your house and steals all your stuff!
And Xfinity is also offering the handy feature of being able to control the lights in your home remotely so that while you are sitting on the beach in Hawaii you can turn the lights on in your house in order to better see the burglar who is stealing all your stuff.
Jeepers! That’s a pretty good deal Xfinity is offering little ol’ moi! Let’s see what other occupant tokens of love Xfinity is throwing at me to win my affections:
Oh Goody! A touch screen controller . . .So when my grandson touches all the buttons trying to access Elmo, it will accidentally trigger the swat team to be dispatched to my house. Well, okay, that’s pretty cool.
And, with this 3 window/door sensors Xfinity is offering to provide me with much needed help when it comes to sensing which is a door and which is a window. Well that’s over-the-top thoughtful! I’m really liking the direction Xfinity is going in with this one!
Oh wow! Every time we move, an alarm will go off at the police department! Well, I’m all for that. Who wouldn’t be?
Woo-hoo! A keypad! Xfinity doesn’t say what this if for but I think we all know by now, don’t we? That’s right. It’s the Xfinity Wireless Keypad to my heart! Because Xfinity has finally managed to woo me with their tokens of occupant affection.
All that’s left to say to Xfinity is, “you had me at “Dear Linda Vernon and/or Occupant: My beloved OOXXOOXXfinity!”
And that’s what came in the mail today, Dear Readers.
Until next time . . . I still love you but not quite as much as I do you know who
Remember being ten? When life was fresh and easy and filled with simple pleasures?
We were light as a feather when we were ten! We turned cartwheels and skipped and hopped for no other reason than because we could.
At ten, the present moment unfolded naturally. We just were and it just was. We were a part of “all that is” and our ten-year-old hearts knew it!
It was a time when we were sure about where we belonged in the world, and what was expected of us. We were satisfied to accept each day as it came. Most of us had no idea of what the future held nor did we care!
Oh we had our little setbacks. We laughed and we cried, but either way, we were real and true to ourselves. Why? Because we didn’t know any different.
We were traveling light – in a fresh, new world.
Me at ten, peeling the world’s largest potato!
This is is me at ten. As you can see, I’m wearing an outfit that doesn’t match. The skirt was red plaid and the sweater was blue and white plaid. Did I care? Of course not. It was my most comfortable outfit, and I remember wearing it often.
I was at my grandparent’s house when this picture was taken, and I had just learned how to peel potatoes. I remember being happy about that. I was capable and I was making a contribution. Grandad even got out the camera, so I must have been peeling pretty impressively.
But, alas, like everything else, the thrill of potato peeling eventually wore off (probably later that night). So that today, the only thrill I get around potatoes is when they happened to be mashed with lots of gravy sitting on my plate.
Still, what if we were to takethat essence of being ten and incorporate into our everyday lives. If we could somehow conjure up that feeling of having every possibility open to us — unjaded and shining — and with all the time in the world to explore!
What if we could just look at life through the uncomplicated eyes of our ten-year-old selves — maybe we’d remember how it was when we were experts at life — before we grew up and lost our way.
I say we go peel some potatoes? I will if you will!
Dear Readers. Back in 1967, the reigning queen when it came to Italy Food was this woman.
Now this isn’t the first time this blog has fallen all over itself pointing out the Italy food cooking expertise of Ruth Conrad Bateman, but, obviously, this blog just can’t get enough of Ruth Conrad Bateman! And who could?
Let’s look a little closer at Ruth’s deep understanding of a country you may or may not have heard of before called Italy. Here is just a smattering of Ruth Conrad Bateman’s Italy food wisdom. Ruth says:
Good advice, Ruth Conrad Bateman. So allow this blog to summarize Ruth’s wonderful advice, if it may be so bold:
When Italy people get sauced, they want more pasta than sauce, and they like their pasta dressed in butter and cheese.
When American people get sauced, they want more sauce than pasta and they don’t care what it’s wearing.
Next here’s Ruth Conrad Bateman’s explanation for how Italy people cook eggplant the Italy way like Italy people do.
Good advice again, Ruth Conrad Bateman! (How does she do it?) So allow this blog to summarize Ruth’s wonderful advice for broiling Italy Egg Plant, the Italy way, if it may be so bold:
Broil some eggplant
And finally, Ruth Conrad Bateman sets us straight about Italy Meat Sauce Bolognese:
Ruth tells us that this recipe for Meat Sauce Bolognese is made of Italy Bologna in the town of Bologna which is the Eating Capital of Italy. This blog doesn’t even have to look at Ruth Bateman’s recipe for Meat Sauce Bolognese in order to summarize it:
Even though this Italy recipe is full of Italy balogna
It will never be as full of Italy balogna as the weird and wonderful Italy Food Expert Ruth Conrad Bateman!
Uh oh . . . is it this blog’s imagination or is Ruth Conrad Bateman giving us the Italy evil eye?
Uh . . . this might be a good time to bid you Salve! Dear Readers — which is Italy talk for “bye”.
Now . . slowly . . . very slowly . . . let’s just . . . back out . . . of . . . the . . . . room . . . shh . . .
Hello Dear Readers. Hey! Look what I found from 1982!
Today we are taking a little trip back in time to the year 1982. A time when it was considered attractive to wear football shoulder pads underneath all your dresses and a time when every wishbone wish in America was to wake up with cowlicks covering 90 percent of your head.
Let’s take a closer look at the 80’s through the pages of A People’s Friend Special, Time Saver’s Cook Book and see what people considered edible back in 1982 or as it is sometimes referred to by Food Historians 198eww.
Super Waffles 198eww Style
Now here’s a real 80’s treat! Waffles covered with things that don’t go with waffles at all. Like tomatoes! And kidneys! And whatnot!
Let’s take a closer look at the 198eww deliciousness:
Although this looks a bit suspicious, the recipe absolutely insists this is a waffle and not a shingle! Therefore, what is on it is not what you’re thinking is on it even though it looks exactly like what you’re thinking is on it.
But please don’t think about what’s on it anymore, Dear Readers, because you wouldn’t want to ruin your appetite for:
Whatever This Is
And finally our Pièce de résistance from 198eww:
Unfortunately there is nothing in the ingredients that would account for the unidentified miscellaneous chunks floating around at large (and small). Well, we must remember that in the 198eww, absolutely nothing made sense. Even though we loved pretending it did!
Dear Readers! As Lucy Ricardo might ask, “Are you tired, run down, listless? Do you poop out at parties? Are you unpopular? The answer to all your problems is in this little bottle book that I just happened find while rummaging around in my favorite thrift store:
This little volume was edited by the staff of Journal of Living in 1952 about the same time that Lucy Ricardo was pitching for Vitameatavegamin. Let’s take a look inside to see what 1950’s wisdom awaits us, shall we?
In chapter one, writer, Betty Pratt, tells us about her visit to Dr. Rathbone’s Scientific Relaxation Class!
Obviously, brave writer, Betty Pratt had no idea she was taking her life into her own hands by entering into the fray of Dr. Rathbone’s Scientific Relaxation Class. All this tautness relieving in the form of face screwing and arm swinging was probably downright dangerous!
Next, Dr. Rathbone relayed to Betty Pratt his rules for sleeping.
Dr. Rathbone told Betty Pratt he would like people to start getting ready for bed right after breakfast, but if that is not possible then somewhere in the neighborhood of 10:00 a.m. should give the sleeper plenty of time to leisurely prepare for going to bed, Dr. Rathbone stated after looking at his watch and noting the time to be somewhere in the neighborhood of 10:00 a.m.
Dr. Rathbone could not stress enough to writer, Betty Pratt, what a big mistake tearing off one’s clothes is under most circumstances. If, however, a person happened to be a romance writer doing research then it would be considered a perfectly reasonable approach. He then asked Betty Pratt if she was planning to write a romance novel any time soon to which Betty Pratt responded by soundly slapping Dr. Rathbone’s face .
Dr. Rathbone responded to Writer Betty Pratt’s slap to his face with the following bit of advice:
Shortly after this Betty Pratt’s husband, Brawny Pratt, showed up to calm and relax Dr. Rathbone’s nerves by physically persuading him into a coma.
Which is really is the most effective way to calm one’s nerves and relax.
And don’t worry. All Dr. Rathbone needed was a couple of bottles of Vitameatavegamin and he was back to his old self in no time. Attempting to scientifically calm and relax women’s people’s nerves day in and day out!
Hello Dear Readers. I hope you all had a wonderful week and that you will have an even more wonderful weekend.
For me, this week started out by driving an hour and 20 minutes to my dentist to get new trays for my Invisilign braces (which I’m loving by the way).
And I am happy to report, Dear Readers, that the hillbilly tooth that was nearly sticking perpendicularly out of my mouth (making it look like I just had the one), has been almost completely rehabilitated into a Responsible Citizen of the Mouth!
The dentists and his assistant were very proud of me for wearing my braces regularly! I thought I did a good job too for a little girl who is only 60. (Although they didn’t give me even so much as a sticker for it, even though I drove so far. But I didn’t want to say anything.)
Then the next day I went shopping with one of my pregnant daughters, Nikki, for maternity clothes. I say one of my pregnant daughters because I have two pregnant daughters! My oldest daughter, Jackie, is also pregnant!
So Nikki and I went to H & M which is a young person’s clothing store. You can tell this the minute you walk in the door because the music is loud, very, very loud.
It was weird though because the only people in the store besides Nikki and I were a bunch of old ladies.
So I decided to try on a couple of things (well all the other old ladies were!). But when I went up to the Dressing Room Girl holding some clothes, she said in an incredulous tone, “YOU want to try those on?”
Judging from the crowd of Geritols milling around in the store, you’d think she would have been used to us old ladies trying to recapture our youths by shopping in stores that played music at hip-breaking decibels. But no.
In fact, for a second there I didn’t think she was going to let me. For a second there, I thought she was going to ask for my ID.
Finally, she mouthed for me to “go on in” figuring, correctly, that I was deaf from the music. (Maybe she decided that it was never too late to be the deci-Bell of the ball — ha ha.)
Now, in addition to the synapse-scrambling music, this H & M store also had backwards escalators in that the side of the escalator that went up was instead, on the side that should have gone down, etc. and maybe even vice versa — but for sure etc.
Frankly, I see it as yet another attempt like the very loud music and the Dressing Room Girl Centurion to keep old ladies like me from wanting to shop in their store and why not? You gotta admit, nothing dulls the cutting edge of fashion faster than a room full of elastic waistbands and comfortable shoes and gray roots.
Anyway, in the end, Nikki found some really cute maternity clothes and I bought myself a cute, little pink sweatshirt with fur around the hood (hoodie?).
And I’m telling you Dear Readers, You can’t believe how young I feel because of it! I don’t feel a day over 55!
Maybe it’s because my new pink hoodie really goes good with my braces!
Ah . . . now if I can just find my skate key . . .