April 9, 2015

Just like the astronauts!

0 comments
They said the astronauts drank it. You know, I question that in terms of interpretation. Did the astronauts drink it in outer space? Or did they just have a little sip at Cape Canaveral before they lifted off?

 photo Tang.jpgBecause Tang was the worst thing since the sip of my dad's beer that I'd lifted during a bridge party. Tang was bitter and not at all sweet, and adding sugar didn't help; I know because I tried. It was supposed to be a very healthy drink, all that Vitamin C and such. But I could never make peace with Tang; the only thing I admire is the name, which is exactly what it tastes like.

 photo FoodSticks.jpg Now, Food Sticks were another matter. I swear I remember that the astronauts ate these as well, though I can find no one else to confirm that.

At any rate, supposedly you could get the nutrition of an entire meal in a single stick! This was so handy, because mealtimes cut into my childhood work of bike riding and other activities. And Food Sticks did not require manners, an important consideration.

Eventually someone got wise and figured out that Food Sticks were just glorified candy bars (and not very good ones in that context), and after that they sort of went away. Turns out you'd have been about as well off to eat a Butterfinger. And a root beer instead of that horrible Tang!

April 4, 2015

I'll always have the diner

If this blogging thing doesn't work out, I won't be without work.

Neon Sign photo neon_sign.jpg 
Click the pic to make your own!

March 30, 2015

I love a good book coincidence

While American novelist Anne Parrish was browsing bookstores in Paris in the 1920s, she came upon a book that was one of her childhood favorites - Jack Frost and Other Stories. She picked up the old book and showed it to her husband, telling him of the book she fondly remembered as a child. Her husband took the book, opened it, and on the flyleaf found the inscription: "Anne Parrish, 209 N. Weber Street, Colorado Springs." It was Anne's very own book.
--From While Rome Burns by Alexander Woollcott

The next one isn't about books, but it's great:

Henry Ziegland thought he had dodged fate. In 1883, he broke off a relationship with his girlfriend who, out of distress, committed suicide. The girl's brother was so enraged that he hunted down Ziegland and shot him. The brother, believing he had killed Ziegland, then turned his gun on himself and took his own life. But Ziegland had not been killed. The bullet, in fact, had only grazed his face and then lodged in a tree. Ziegland surely thought himself a lucky man. Some years later, however, Ziegland decided to cut down the large tree, which still had the bullet in it. The task seemed so formidable that he decided to blow it up with a few sticks of dynamite. The explosion propelled the bullet into Ziegland's head, killing him.
--From Ripley's Believe It Or Not

March 26, 2015

Cheer up. Ugly houses exist!

I get depressed at all the "design" blogs and websites on the internet. They make me feel terribly inferior, and they insult my dust bunnies. Seriously: half the time I see the stuff on those sites and think, "My God, what a dust collector that is!" My own main decor theme is books. I'm sure any realtor would hate us if they tried to market our home, it's a basic library. The potential buyers would be too busy reading book spines to pay any attention to anything else. Which could be a good thing.

On the other hand, I found a blog that actually made me feel good about myself, home design-wise. After awhile, the blog made me feel sick. But not as sick as Apartment Therapy or Design Sponge!

Yup, Ugly House Photos is my cup of tea, for awhile. Some of the following pics are from that blog, others are just things I found on the internet.

First we have terrible terrible paint. I don't even know the name of that yellowish color. It's kind of greenish-yellow...why am I telling you that, you can see. It's awful.
 photo Neon.jpg


Now I know these colors: blue and orange. And some white. Did they mean to go with red, white and blue? I see they have a flag there. Alas, we may never know.
 photo brightpaint.jpg


 photo polka-dots.jpeg Now to the left we have a polka-dotted house, very crafty! And it's in my two favorite colors: lavender and pink.

But I'm not stupid, I'm not completely tasteless, and I see this is all wrong for a house.

I do have two questions: how did they paint such perfect circles?

And how do their neighbors feel about having this house on the street?


Ohhh! A Hello Kitty house! Look at the archway! This house is a little girl's dream, I tell ya.

But yeah, it's pretty horrid.
 photo hello-kitty-house.jpeg



I have a professional opinion here, about why these folks can't seem to grow grass! 
 photo NoGrass.jpg



Now these folks take a boulder approach to landscaping! heh heh

Actually, I know that some folks in Arizona or other desert areas use gravel for their yards and I'm cool with that ("Honey, get out there and rake the gravel!") but these people must've said, "Throw a coupla big ones in there, too" because that's what they got.
 photo BoulderYard.jpg 

Yes, I feel better. I might even go rearrange some books.

March 20, 2015

1968

This one was my favorite; it just revs up my taste buds to see it here. That meatloaf was pretty good and you could take the ketchupy sauce and put it over the tater tots and some of the sauce always got on the brownie, which to this day makes me, sometimes, want to put a little ketchup on any piece of cake, something I could not explain until now.

The green beans were terrible. Very hard to chew. But I ate them, too, because you just did with a TV dinner.

These have been ruined now. They probably removed all the hazardous chemicals and dyes, because the healthy choices available in frozen foods are just that: healthy choices of stuff you should be cooking yourself.

TV dinners were what they said. A frozen dinner that you made because you were busy, man. Busy watching TV, which was also a better deal back then. Even if we had only three channels.

Sigh.


TV Dinner, 1968