Apparently, the secret to getting someone to help me outside is by asking them to clean a closet...
At least it got the flower pots moved.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
Apples of My Eye
It's been a week, but one of these days I'll write a little about the birthday I just had. For now though, I just want to say how good it was to spend time together.
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| Jake's Origami |
Sunday, October 16, 2011
They Don't Make 'Em Like They Used To
"Inspired" by my dream(?) earlier in the week, I took a bit of time to poke around and look up some of the old toys I used to have. It seemed like a good way to work out of my stupor. I came across several of them on the fine site found here, which lists way more toys than I used to have. Some of these I don't even recognize.
Under the "Mattel" listing, you can find both the Thing Maker and the Vac-U-Form. I remember the Vac-U-Form being a slight precursor to the Thing Maker, but that may be due to the sequence in which they entered our home. Regardless, to me it was a more versatile machine. This was partly because it was mine and not my brother's, and partly because it would accept the same molds as the Thing Maker used... assuming, that is, that I could steal them and the goop from my brother.
The Vac-U-Form consisted three main parts. On one side was an interchangeable hard plastic mold that sat over a hand operated vacuum pump. On the other side was a hot plate that heated up to somewhere around 900 degrees. In the middle was a hinged frame in which you clamped a colorful piece of plastic. The idea was to let the plastic soften up over the hotplate and, at precisely the right moment, flip the frame holding the now soft plastic over the mold on the other side and suck it down with the hand pump. When it cooled, you would take the plastic off the mold, neatly trim it and glue it with model cement to the other half that you would make the same way. The clear implication was that this was some kind of toy factory.
Somehow, my stuff never came out looking like the toys on the box. When I did manage to get something glued together, it would be covered with gluey, dirty finger prints. My trimming skillls left a lot to be desired too, so the joints never went together very well. Every boat that I managed to get to the sink never completed it's maiden voyage. They would immediately list to the side and start taking on water. Many toys never even got that far. Too often I would get distracted by other things, leaving the heating plastic to droop lower and lower over the hotplate, until it gave out and dropped down, resulting in a smoking, stinking mess. Nothing burst into flames, but it was still fun to watch.
Without a doubt, the best thing about this toy wasn't something they advertised. I found that if you scoffed the metal lid from a large jar and placed it upside down on the hot plate, you could cook on this thing. Sliced up hotdogs, mini hamburgers, you name it. It put my sister's Easy Bake Oven to shame. Other than the bathroom, it was getting to the point where I didn't need to leave my room at all.
Unfortunately, the Vac-U-Form is long gone. There seems to be a Thing Maker still being sold, but it looks like a shadow of it's former self. As near as I can tell, this is some lobotomized version that is run off of a light bulb rather than a hotplate. This seems pretty unadventurous to me. It's like selling a chemistry set that only contains vinegar and baking soda. How can you get creative with something like that?
Under the "Mattel" listing, you can find both the Thing Maker and the Vac-U-Form. I remember the Vac-U-Form being a slight precursor to the Thing Maker, but that may be due to the sequence in which they entered our home. Regardless, to me it was a more versatile machine. This was partly because it was mine and not my brother's, and partly because it would accept the same molds as the Thing Maker used... assuming, that is, that I could steal them and the goop from my brother.
The Vac-U-Form consisted three main parts. On one side was an interchangeable hard plastic mold that sat over a hand operated vacuum pump. On the other side was a hot plate that heated up to somewhere around 900 degrees. In the middle was a hinged frame in which you clamped a colorful piece of plastic. The idea was to let the plastic soften up over the hotplate and, at precisely the right moment, flip the frame holding the now soft plastic over the mold on the other side and suck it down with the hand pump. When it cooled, you would take the plastic off the mold, neatly trim it and glue it with model cement to the other half that you would make the same way. The clear implication was that this was some kind of toy factory.Somehow, my stuff never came out looking like the toys on the box. When I did manage to get something glued together, it would be covered with gluey, dirty finger prints. My trimming skillls left a lot to be desired too, so the joints never went together very well. Every boat that I managed to get to the sink never completed it's maiden voyage. They would immediately list to the side and start taking on water. Many toys never even got that far. Too often I would get distracted by other things, leaving the heating plastic to droop lower and lower over the hotplate, until it gave out and dropped down, resulting in a smoking, stinking mess. Nothing burst into flames, but it was still fun to watch.
Without a doubt, the best thing about this toy wasn't something they advertised. I found that if you scoffed the metal lid from a large jar and placed it upside down on the hot plate, you could cook on this thing. Sliced up hotdogs, mini hamburgers, you name it. It put my sister's Easy Bake Oven to shame. Other than the bathroom, it was getting to the point where I didn't need to leave my room at all.
Unfortunately, the Vac-U-Form is long gone. There seems to be a Thing Maker still being sold, but it looks like a shadow of it's former self. As near as I can tell, this is some lobotomized version that is run off of a light bulb rather than a hotplate. This seems pretty unadventurous to me. It's like selling a chemistry set that only contains vinegar and baking soda. How can you get creative with something like that?
Friday, October 14, 2011
The Begining of a Very Long Day
The buildings were a lot shinier than I remembered. Smoother too. They almost looked like they were made out of plastic. And bright. Not bright like "colorful", but bright like they seemed to be softly glowing. It didn't strike me as unusual at the time, but even the sidewalk seemed to be giving off light.
I haven't been here in years, but as I walk through town, I am struck by how little things have changed. Stores from my childhood that I had thought were long gone, were still here after all. Gardener's Music Store, The Crest, Rimley's Market, all still here. What made me think they were gone?
I decide to go into Woolworth's to see if it was anything like I remembered. As soon as I open the door, I'm met with that old familiar smell of the wood floor, mixed with the smell of hotdogs cooking somewhere over at the lunch counter.
I step inside and immediately on my right are the gumball machines, just like I remembered. Even the one that held pistachio nuts is still here, still looking like it needs a good cleaning. To my left is the scale that gives you your weight and a rolled up horoscope, both for only a nickle. I decide not to step on the scale, but to continue slowly to where I remembered the toy isle to be.
It's almost a surprise and yet, somehow not, when I walk along past toys I haven't seen in years. "Thing Makers" and "Vacuforms" and even "Major Matt Mason". All favorites from my childhood. At first I think they must be old boxes, but the boxes look brand new. Maybe they found an old stash down in their basement.
I stand there for a minute or two before I realize how quiet it is. The only perceptible sound is the occasional squawking from the parakeets and canaries in their cages at the back of the store. The few people that are milling about are too far away for me to recognize. It doesn't help with that glow. Even though the light is soft, the glow is making it difficult for me to focus. Bodies seem overtaken by the light behind them. When I try to study a face, I can barely make out the indents of the eyes, the protrusion of the nose, before they turn away. I decide it's time to go back outside.
As I walk back down the sidewalk, I notice the town is nearly empty. I pass a couple of people I once knew. They turn and smile at me, but we never say a word, we never stop. We just continue to stroll along in our opposite directions. They looked much younger than I had expected. I begin to feel a little bit lost. And in some strange way, I feel a little bit like I've been left behind.
Up ahead, I can make out the silhouette of someone else walking toward me as if they are coming out of a fog. As he comes closer, I slowly begin to recognize him. He looks almost as I remembered. But, like the buildings, his face is smoother. The folds of his skin aren't as deep. The smile and the eyes though, they're exactly the same.
We say hi and start to catch up. He asks me how I'm doing, as if we had just seen each other a couple of minutes ago. Why do I feel like it's been longer than that? As he talks, I begin to realize that this is the only person I've heard speak since I got here. I study his face as he talks, and the more he talks, the more I study. I'm not absorbing what he is saying. He asks about the kids, he asks about me.
And I slowly begin to realize that this is all wrong.
"Dad", I ask, "How can I see you?"
He stops talking. He still smiles, but doesn't answer.
"Dad, you died. How can I see you? How can you be here?"
Still nothing.
"This can't be", I think. "This is impossible."
And I slowly begin to realize. A feeling of panic is starting to rise within me. I'm finding it harder to breath.
"No, it's not time", I think to myself. Dad's smile shifts almost imperceptibly as if he can hear what I'm thinking. I begin to panic more. "I can't go yet, I'm not done. I can't go." Dad's smile softens more. I think I'm starting to cry. I don't want to leave him but I know I can't stay. I turn and look around, I can't see the buildings. They're all gone. I turn back, Dad's gone too.
The pillow is damp from my sweat and my tears. I blink trying to get my bearings in the darkness, trying to focus my eyes. What just happened? How long was I gone? My heart is still racing. My alarm goes off and I get out of bed, touching my arm as I walk down the hall, trying to make sure I can feel myself. I'm not sure. I feel numb.
I go downstairs. At least, I think I'm downstairs. I'm not really sure. Which is real? I'm almost afraid that if I try to wake anyone up, they won't feel me, they won't see me.
I sit downstairs in the dark and listen.
All I hear is the clock ticking.
I haven't been here in years, but as I walk through town, I am struck by how little things have changed. Stores from my childhood that I had thought were long gone, were still here after all. Gardener's Music Store, The Crest, Rimley's Market, all still here. What made me think they were gone?
I decide to go into Woolworth's to see if it was anything like I remembered. As soon as I open the door, I'm met with that old familiar smell of the wood floor, mixed with the smell of hotdogs cooking somewhere over at the lunch counter.
I step inside and immediately on my right are the gumball machines, just like I remembered. Even the one that held pistachio nuts is still here, still looking like it needs a good cleaning. To my left is the scale that gives you your weight and a rolled up horoscope, both for only a nickle. I decide not to step on the scale, but to continue slowly to where I remembered the toy isle to be.
It's almost a surprise and yet, somehow not, when I walk along past toys I haven't seen in years. "Thing Makers" and "Vacuforms" and even "Major Matt Mason". All favorites from my childhood. At first I think they must be old boxes, but the boxes look brand new. Maybe they found an old stash down in their basement.
I stand there for a minute or two before I realize how quiet it is. The only perceptible sound is the occasional squawking from the parakeets and canaries in their cages at the back of the store. The few people that are milling about are too far away for me to recognize. It doesn't help with that glow. Even though the light is soft, the glow is making it difficult for me to focus. Bodies seem overtaken by the light behind them. When I try to study a face, I can barely make out the indents of the eyes, the protrusion of the nose, before they turn away. I decide it's time to go back outside.
As I walk back down the sidewalk, I notice the town is nearly empty. I pass a couple of people I once knew. They turn and smile at me, but we never say a word, we never stop. We just continue to stroll along in our opposite directions. They looked much younger than I had expected. I begin to feel a little bit lost. And in some strange way, I feel a little bit like I've been left behind.
Up ahead, I can make out the silhouette of someone else walking toward me as if they are coming out of a fog. As he comes closer, I slowly begin to recognize him. He looks almost as I remembered. But, like the buildings, his face is smoother. The folds of his skin aren't as deep. The smile and the eyes though, they're exactly the same.
We say hi and start to catch up. He asks me how I'm doing, as if we had just seen each other a couple of minutes ago. Why do I feel like it's been longer than that? As he talks, I begin to realize that this is the only person I've heard speak since I got here. I study his face as he talks, and the more he talks, the more I study. I'm not absorbing what he is saying. He asks about the kids, he asks about me.
And I slowly begin to realize that this is all wrong.
"Dad", I ask, "How can I see you?"
He stops talking. He still smiles, but doesn't answer.
"Dad, you died. How can I see you? How can you be here?"
Still nothing.
"This can't be", I think. "This is impossible."
And I slowly begin to realize. A feeling of panic is starting to rise within me. I'm finding it harder to breath.
"No, it's not time", I think to myself. Dad's smile shifts almost imperceptibly as if he can hear what I'm thinking. I begin to panic more. "I can't go yet, I'm not done. I can't go." Dad's smile softens more. I think I'm starting to cry. I don't want to leave him but I know I can't stay. I turn and look around, I can't see the buildings. They're all gone. I turn back, Dad's gone too.
The pillow is damp from my sweat and my tears. I blink trying to get my bearings in the darkness, trying to focus my eyes. What just happened? How long was I gone? My heart is still racing. My alarm goes off and I get out of bed, touching my arm as I walk down the hall, trying to make sure I can feel myself. I'm not sure. I feel numb.
I go downstairs. At least, I think I'm downstairs. I'm not really sure. Which is real? I'm almost afraid that if I try to wake anyone up, they won't feel me, they won't see me.
I sit downstairs in the dark and listen.
All I hear is the clock ticking.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Searching the 'Net
Is it normal to do a search on "Pork Sausage" followed by your zip code?
The results have been disappointing.
The results have been disappointing.
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