The Elizabethan Era: I like

Showing posts with label I like. Show all posts

6.24.2009

A real treat from Mom

Ever since about 8th grade or so, I've wished I was born in a different decade (hence The Elizabeth Era). Mostly, I idolized the era in which my mom and dad grew up - the days when Christian Dior was making waves with fashion, Sinatra was making his first comeback on Capitol Records, and everything was seemingly hunky-dorey (sp?). I used to study my mom's high school scrapbook - please be aware that these were not the cutesty scrapbooks of today, but the practical "this is what I did in high school, for-reals" kinds of scrapbooks that were like a genuine history book of my mom's high school experience, where I learned that, in the 1950s, there were a lot of restaurants in Chicago that were referred to as "rooms," e.g., The Blue Room, The Empire Room, and that birthday parties were real social events when girls would dress their best and throw very elegant soirees, and that any event invitation was a good excuse to compose a cute limerick or poem.

After my mom graduated from high school, she enrolled in a secretarial college and practiced her shorthand listening to Sinatra's "Come Fly With Me" album. She also used this really awesome typewriter - an Underwood Olivetti. Of course, when I was in Boise last month and she happened to dig this up in The Dirty Clothes Closet (this is the closet downstairs where our laundry chute dumps all the dirty clothes we drop from upstairs), I squealed with glee over this beautifully compact machine, radiating such a 1950s shade of blue.

What a sound these keys make. I'm typing on my laptop right now, which I like the sound of, but it could never compare to the forceful tapping of this typewriter.

So here I was, thinking how cool I was for lifting this machine from my parents' house and toting it along back to Spokane, to sit on my corner desk, adding a nice touch to the other various timepiece furniture items that display my love of the 1950s.
Sitting pretty, I was.

Then, Mom mailed me the manual. Printed in Italy. Pocket-sized. Red plastic cover. Spiral bound. Absolutely amazing.

Who makes instruction manuals like this anymore? The answer is NO ONE. Not even Italy. Man, this is so great. Thanks, Mom, for such a treasure.

2.06.2009

Getting off work on a Friday...

...a little something a clever coworker left for me to discover as I was backing out of my parking spot:

Ha, but seriously, how do you actually use this sticker? Do you wear it, asking people to remember your special needs as well as your name? Or, maybe if I was in school and did a horrible job on a paper, perhaps I'd turn it in with this sticker affixed to the top with my teacher's name on it. "Mrs. Hemmings, Remember My SPECIAL NEEDS." Surely people with special needs would not want to bring attention to the fact that they're a special needs person by wearing it on their shirt. Or would they? I'm confused, but at the moment mostly amused everytime I change to the left lane.

1.13.2009

Growing up around goldenrod

If a color can be considered comforting, that's goldenrod for me. It was a pretty big player in color palettes of the 1970s, and therefore, a prominent element in my childhood memories.

At the risk of embarrassing my mother, who said that this would embarrass her, I'm posting my bathroom wallpaper. But only because it's been the family joke for years, how we're just waiting for this to come back in style. You should also know that the rest of my parents' house does not look this way (well, except for the orange bathroom downstairs). The bathroom has been left virtually untouched, like a time capsule from 1975, buried in my parents' house. But honestly, I could not see this bathroom any other way. You've got to hand it to the bold-patterend 1970s. People slathered this stuff across their walls in an unabashed fashion, and the more you could envision Doris Day frolicking through a pattern, the better.

Here's another lovely shade of the yellow: my mom's orange chiffon souffle. Quite yummy and light.

And I'll leave you with this comforting sight - Oma's dinner rolls, resting on the stove.

9.11.2007

Amen

More photos on the way, but I just started out my morning reading this refreshing article on the solution to global warming.

I'm a fundraiser -- a preacher, if you will, of the phrase "every little bit counts" -- but our efforts at Whitworth are only as good as the alumni who voluntarily choose to support their alma mater (and frankly, alumni participation is not really a hot ticket to sell).

It's so hip to be green right now, and we feel good when we change out our light bulbs, buy local, print on recycled paper, but for every good deed I do, there are still thousands of cows passing gas, people driving Hummers, and overheated people who need to run their air conditioner full-blast.

Having interned at a clean-air agency, I know that air-quality laws can be extremely effective. It seems like that could translate to a much larger scale somehow.

Although if we required every alum to give $25 every year, I'd totally be out of a job. But that's beside the point. Just read the article.

8.31.2007

August 30

Kat and James got a new kitty. Her name is Keiko and her favorite spot to surprise you with a claw-pat is out from behind the couch cushions.

8.18.2007

August 17

My conference got out at noon, and I had a couple hours to play. I spent them at the Nelson-Atkins Museum. It's hard for me to say what I enjoyed most - the art outside or inside.

Oldenburg's shuttlecock between the old building and the new, and you can also see the reflection pool. Gorgeous at night.

7.24.2007

July 22

Technically, I took these photos on July 21, but we were out past midnight, so I think this counts.

While in Boise, Laura showed me where she lives her glamorous 9-5 life making films - the Muse. Here is a photo of a wall in the kitchen.

And then whoops, her head is covering the "E," but isn't it the greatest thing that her building is called The Muse? I think so.

Later, we went to The Modern, a motel that is dec'd out in all things mod, and this is what one finds in the bathroom. I went potty after selecting Dusty Springfield to play.