Last night, my grandparents flew in, and my grandma was bearing all sorts of those strange, grandma-y gifts. Things like deodorant and toothpaste, which, crazily enough they actually sell locally, hummingbird coasters, a second Superbowl XXXI Green Bay Packers watch to match the one she gave me in 1996 (I think she stockpiled them or something!), and a set of four hors-devours-cheese-spreaders, each topped by a different bird (oriole, bluejay, cardinal, and one I can’t identify) because I do SO much entertaining with snacks in my home.
I think, in total, I’ve managed to convince about a dozen people to come over to my apartment since I moved to Kent over a year ago, and two of that dozen was simply because they were picking up my dog, and one of the others was required to show up as he was my boyfriend. People just don’t want to drive to Kent. I wonder how many years those bird spreaders are going to sit in a drawer or a box before I have occasion to use them?
I know her heart was in the right place; it just makes me giggle to think that the woman who re-uses ziploc bags, the woman who brought a coupon with her to Washington to buy coffee creamer to keep in their hotel room is the same woman who saw a bunch of bird cheese spreaders in a store and said “YES! Melissa needs those!”
She also brought me a small photo album with some pictures of me and some of my parents. So today is picture post day, presented in the order in which they appear in the book, with as much or as little smart-assed narration as I feel is necessary.
Even when I was little, I was more than ready to rock the Chore Wars. 30XP and a chance of bounty freshness!
It was about this point when I must have realized that my family had essentially dressed me in a quilt, and I started to approach the camera-person menacingly as even at the tender age of twenty months, I knew that quilts would never be flattering to the hips. I’d just finished punching the glow-worm in the face, and my tiny fist was clenched and ready for more action.
As you can see, they quickly changed me out of the quilt outfit and promptly put me into something else with Jetsons sleeves. I pretended not to notice and played with my robot dog. My family liked photographing me in the exact same spot with different outfits and toys. I imagine if I compiled all of these photographs together, it would make for one hell of a funny flip-book.
OH GOD NOEZ WHY ARE YOU TAKING PICTURES OF ME IN THE BATH!? The shame! The shame!
I wasn’t about to let them take any more naked pictures, so I layered myself into an impressively thick snowsuit. Additionally, I now understand my sudden desire to dress in a snowsuit at Lesley’s wedding.
Some sort of lamb…bunny…thing they put me in. It contrasts nicely with the brown carpet. Behind me in blue is my mom, and the woman in the striped shirt is my grandma (on my father’s side; the one that is currently visiting). Grandma, as you can see, is not so sure what to think of the lamb-bunny-bastardized hybrid.
Apparently Grandma is even less certain about the front than she was about the back.
This picture was the first one that told me WHICH house with ugly 70’s colors the photographs were being taken in–it’s my grandparents on my mom’s side. The Chinese characters on the wall were a dead giveaway, as they are the only relatives I have who have lived out of the country–China, Singapore, and Indonesia. They have those characters on their wall to this day, though the furniture is much more tasteful these days.
My mom likes blush.
My mom and dad on their 5th wedding anniversary, in 1983. The stereo you see on the right, they had all the way up until their divorce in 2005, with the exception of the record player, which they got rid of in 2000 when the family moved to California. This is also one of the few pictures I’ve ever seen when my mom looks genuinely happy.
Then, the photo album jumps into a time machine to grab a picture of me when I was a baby. HANDLESS BABY! I didn’t get the hook replacements until much later, when I was able to appreciate them.
Then the time machine jumps four years into the future! I CRIED when my family got rid of that hideous orange couch. I told my parents that I wanted it for when I got my first apartment. No, even though they kept the stereo for over twenty years, this couch crying fit did NOT happen recently. When I picture a monstrosity like that in my place now, I shudder a little. It was velour. VELOUR!
This last Christmas, one of the presents i received from my grandmother was an avocado. Another was a lemon.
She gets on these dietary kicks, see. Ten years ago it was colloidal silver. Now it’s anti-oxidants…i think.
You know what they say, when life (grandma) hands you lemons and avacados…make guacamole.
You’re totally rocking the moccasins (sp?) in that last pic.
I actually had TWO pair, one black, one white…
And it is kind of fun to see the late 70’s/early 80’s “decor” that greeted our generation. Barf.
Moccasins were our generation’s ballet flats.
I’m just glad that there’s photographic evidence of this decor so I know exactly how NOT to replicate it!
1) i love my velour sofas.
2) My dad’s mom pulls the same shit. I remember she got these cheap-ass cameras for my sister and me when we went on a trip to washington DC. We were insanely excited to have cameras that weren’t disposable and so when they broke after two or three frames we were CRUSHED. She got them at a yard sale for free. I predict that your bird-knives come from that very same garage sale. THE GARAGE SALE OF USELESS STUFF YOUR GRANDMOTHER WILL BUY AND GIVE TO YOU AND EXPECT YOU TO BE GRATEFUL FOR.
Old people get all the breaks.
YOUR velour sofas aren’t bright, Arby’s-cheese-color orange.
I think we should all take our cues from granparents, and buy ironic, sad gifts for all of our friends from garage sales. I’ve got my eye on a sweet little ‘precious moments’ number for you. Ninety-five cents, but you’re worth it, baby!
it would touch my heart. especially since we are getting married.
It’s good to know that my devious precious-moments-plot to win your heart completely will be effective. Huzzah!
These are just too great. I love all the sass in the last picture.
I’m quite jealous that you had a glo-worm.
The sass has not diminished over the years, it’s just drifted into ‘outright sarcasm’ territory.
The fun thing about the glo-worm is that even though it was marketed as a cuddly toy that lights up, the thing that actually made it light up was made of super-hard plastic, which isn’t all that cuddly!
a set of four hors-devours-cheese-spreaders, each topped by a different bird
dude – ENVIOUS!
They’re definitely something!
Now it’s your turn for the CUTE ATTACK 😀
Little Mellzah is not quite on par with kittens, but thanks! 🙂
I don’t want to make you freak out with jealousy, but my aunt gave me cheese spreaders with little men on them. LITTLE MEN. Little, be-aproned men. Note when you came over, I didn’t offer you any cheese spread, which makes me a failure as a hostess.
And frankly, the lamb/bunny combo is the cutest thing I have ever seen in my life. I’m sorry grandma was so disdainful of it. I wish you still had something like it, but then I don’t because I think it might be verging on fur-vert territory.
Failure as a hostess, failure as a friend, they all sort of intermingle for a big failure souflee, which will not withstand the oven of love and will fall like so many fat kids on rollerskates.
I don’t really want a lamb/bunny thing now, but I wouldn’t mind having a pair of the she-ra pajamas with footy boots like I did when I was little.
Failure eh?
If it wasn’t for me, your ass would still be parked in Somers waiting for someone to take you to the airport.
That might be preferable to knowing that there was cheese spread available with little men to spread it with, and they both went unoffered. :sobs wildly:
dude, i had no cheese to offer. i had little men, no cheese.
Well, then, forget the whole ‘failure’ thing. Cheese is serious business!