Or, what can happen after four cups of coffee by 7A on a Sunday morning - well, it gets me off the hook tomorrow!
I recently had a conversation with someone where the subject of smells setting off memories came up. One of the smells discussed had to do with shoe polish. Which eventually led me to rummage around to find my shoe polishing kit (charm school : shoe polishing kit). It's amazing what happens to shoe polish that hasn't been touched for 39 years... I picked up a new can of Kiwi Brown shoe polish this weekend and, having no idea how inflation has affected the price of shoe polish, actually gasped when I saw the price for a small tin! I bought it anyway and came home and polished my Danskos. I wonder how many people actually polish their shoes these days? Of course, this train of musing led me to remember my neighbors in one of my past lives. They lived next door and had three daughters - one just a teenager, one just into her tweens and a surprise - the toddler. The oldest daughter was beautiful and she and the toddler got the lion's share of their parents' attention. Which left B, the middle rather awkward daughter with braces, feeling adrift and angry. She ended up in my kitchen at some point almost every day. I was very fond of her. However, this particular musing is about her older sister - a more self-centered, limited creature of any age I have never met. I was there when she, in excited tones, discovered that shoe polish made her shoes shiny! There was much cheering. I had to leave the room. May I interject that B made straight As in school?
Does Art imitate Life? Or does Life imitate Art? I am thinking of creating a regular feature entitled "Daze of Their Lives". And I'm sure I'll have the pants sued off me. I am sure you all know by now that I do not watch television and have not for quite some years (aren't I the virtuous one?) But, really, do I need to when all I have to do to get my daytime soap opera fix is to sit in the Midas waiting room for an hour? Let me introduce you to the cast of characters: Older Woman, overweight, cane, car problems. Older Man, prior heavy smoker, permanently attached to portable oxygen tank (limited supply - clock ticking), various mechanics, trio of women - #1 indeterminate age; #2 20s; #3 teenager, Linda - weekend manager with heart of gold. Within the hour, the Older Woman opined on everything from toilet paper brands to knee replacements (she'd had 4). The Older Man rasped out his views on the cost of car repairs and the deficiencies of the medical system. Linda mediated with #2 who had been sold a car (sight unseen) which they held under a mechanic's lien. Apparently, the owner had sold the car to a number of people/friends, had collected umpteen dollars but owed over two grand to the garage. #1 made a stream of veiled and outward threats of bodily harm to the owner, then sidled up to me to say she wished she could knit, as her daughter (#3) was pregnant and expecting a baby! #3 looked to be about 15 and terrified. The mechanics zipped in and out with accounts of seizures, dog bites, hunting accidents, and any number of other catastrophes. I ask you, do I really NEED television?
True confession - I had a momentary thought about buying a big flat screen television set last night on which to watch my DVDs. Luckily, it was just that - momentary. I do have a terrible weakness for gadgets...
The following is a mental clip of my thought process while knitting something (my first pair of fingered gloves!!) out of baby alpaca yarn: "Oooooh. This is so soft. I love knitting with alpaca. Hmmmm. Alpacas are small. And I only have the two sheep now. Hmmm. I think Apria would like someone(s) else to look after. Hey! Maybe she'd like an alpaca(s) - it could be like having a little sister(s)! I bet she'd like sisters! And the goats! Hey! The goats may like having something new to look at. I think they have been bored. Hey! Then I could breed them and they'd have babies and I would have baby alpaca yarn......" Thankfully, by the time I had my second cup of coffee, this inane thought process had died of its own accord.