Category Archives: Crazy is as Crazie Does

Trendsetters

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Matching Dresses $#%?!

When I was little…well, I’ve always been little…when I was young, my Grandmother Nellie sewed several sets of matching dresses for my sister and me.  To any young parents out there – This is NOT okay!

I was a tomboy so didn’t like dresses in the first place and when I finally managed, after several years, to grow out of the first dress  that I hated, I had to wear the exact same dress again handed down from my sister.

I’ve been thinking about clothes a lot this week because I’ve crossed paths with two unique individuals that I can’t quite get out of my head.  The first one was at the shoe repair shop.  I walked in to see a slightly stooped old man behind a tall counter wearing a threadbare white button down shirt.  At the end of our conversation he walked out from behind the counter where I discovered he was wearing a pair of tight leather pants with a lace up crotch.  Hmmmm.

The next guy was at the coffee shop.  I stood behind what I could only assume to be a teenager – grey baggy hooded sweatshirt pulled over his head, extra-large/extra-baggy blue nylon shorts, orange banded white sport socks pulled up to just below the knee and brightly colored leather high top sneakers.  He bobbed his head to the rap music I could hear booming from his earbuds.  He turned around after he ordered his coffee and I was face to face with a 75-year-old man.  Hmmmm.

Evidently, these two guys found a look that worked for them and they decided to stick with it – FOREVER!

I’m looking at the picture above and realize that right now I’m probably not much taller than my sister was in this picture and since both dresses had 10 inch hems (notice the rick rack used to disguise the lengthening process) maybe I could still rock this look.  Hmmmm.

P.S. – More Trauma.  These are the kind of memories this picture brings up for me. Those wavy curls of mine were formed by an uncomfortable night sleeping on pink foam hair curlers.

Torture Device #1

Followed by a scratchy petticoat.

Torture Device #2

And the most humiliating of all…ruffled underpants.

Torture Device #3

Bootstraps are Over Rated

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My Closest Friends

Boxes of cold medicine, cases of Kleenix, gallons of water.  Like the volleyball, Wilson, in Cast Away, these items have become my best friends in the last five days.  It’s all I’ve seen from my deserted island in my bedroom.

Unlike Tom Hanks, I did not become the hero of this movie by yanking myself up by my bootstraps and carrying on.  No, not me.  I wallow under my quilts while I sneeze and cough and moan.

And, unlike the movies, I’m not lying in bed with full makeup and beautifully arranged hair.  My nose is red and raw, my eyes are stuck shut from some sort of self-producing super glue and my un-washed hair is plastered to my head.

I tried to get my act together long enough to get to my dentist for a long avoided teeth-cleaning appointment.  But, honestly, if I saw me walking through the doors, I’d run for the isolation chamber.

You might want to go wash you hands after you’ve read this post.

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Somehow I got up yesterday long enough to write this but was too out of it to actually click the Publish button.  Sorry this is late, but my dog ate my homework?  Ugh!  I’ll come up with a better excuse later.  Right now I’m going back to bed.