Duck, Duck, Goose!

The photo here is representative of ‘a picture of something that means a lot to you’ and I know what you’re all thinking -- ‘A duck? Really?’ but let me assure you its not just the duck.

I don’t know exactly when my mom knitted the ducks in question, possibly before either of us were born, but this red white and blue duck was mine and my sister received a pink and brown duck. If Wendy weighs in over here I’d love to hear if she still has her duck somewhere. Let’s just say hers got a little...um, floppy.

This little guy was probably one of the only stuffed animals I ever had that didn’t have a name, he’s just duck. And he’s definitely a he in my mind. Not sure why but to me all ducks are male. He used to live in my doll cradle.  Sadly, I have no idea what prior learning experience I lost the cradle in, but I somehow managed to hold onto the duck.

When I said it means more than a stuffed animal its true. It’s something that’s always been in my life, a constant, and something that my mom made with her hands that lived in something my dad made with his. It’s kind of the representative of the short number of years that my parents were still together and happy with that arrangement. Before the fighting, the divorce and the moving of lives.

Namely ours.

So we moved from Humarock to Arlington. We moved into a second floor apartment. My mom paid rent and we frequently had babysitters at night. I had to make new friends at a new school, had to wear hand-me-downs because we were so poor there were food stamps involved, because of that I got picked on and bullied, I introverted something awful and started to hate life.

A shake up in your home life at age seven will do that to a girl.

I stopped sleeping with the duck at night. There was something about it that I felt needed to be preserved. Something that said, if I just left it happily sitting in its doll cradle, everything would turn out okay. My sister hugged hers to death I think. She wouldn’t even let my mom wash it, and believe me, the pink had all but turned to brown so it really could have used the wash.

When we moved to the house the duck of course came along for the journey. But here’s the interesting thing…beyond that, I have zero recollection how I still have this duck.

In the many (read: many, many, many, many, many, many…) apartments I’ve had over the years there have been a bunch of items lost forever to the prior learning experience apartment gods. For some reason though, duck managed to stay by my side through it all.

Obviously older, and happier for my parents not being together (which of course is a whole other blog for a whole other day), the same kind of significance I put on the duck doesn’t apply daily anymore. But it's always a good reminder of where I’ve been, how much my life has changed since then, and where I aspire to be in the future.

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Catch up on anything you missed  30 Photos, 30 Days
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Another Impossible Request?

A picture of your favorite memory. That’s today’s photographic request. Holy crap really? I mean, kind of like yesterday, how in the hell will I narrow down close to 14,000 days worth of memories into just one photo? Too bad I don’t have a montage!

Because I don’t have a montage of memories in picture format I’m going a little outside the box again on this one.

Let’s break it down Barry Manilow style.

Back when I was about 22 years old I was the Assistant Manager of a record store. For those of you who are too young to remember record stores they were places where you actually had to drive to and purchased a physical copy of a piece of vinyl, a cassette tape or CD. Don’t even get me started on 8 track tapes…

But I digress, as usual.

While working at that store I was fortunate enough to be the operator of a Ticketmaster machine because we were an authorized purveyor of concert tickets in the area. Generally when tickets went on sale there was a line of about 6 guys outside. I got to know them well because it was the same scalpers lined up for every ticket sale date.

When I heard Barry Manilow was playing at (it was then called) Great Woods, I called my sister immediately and suggested we do the tickets for my mom for Mother’s Day. Wendy was all for it. The only stipulation, I told her, was that I had to provide for the line before I could get my own so they might not be the best seats on earth. We both agreed it was no biggie seeing as though it was still Barry.

My mom had been in love with Barry Manilow since about the second his first record hit the scene. I’m not sure I was even born yet when he started releasing music. At any rate, growing up in a Barry house meant lots of Saturday afternoons acting out the scenes from “Copacabana”, shedding tears as he crescendos during “Even Now” and getting reflective every time “Weekend in New England” plays. He was everywhere back then too; you didn’t even need to have a tape deck in the car because his songs were plastered on the radio. Mom knew all the words to every song.

It was the perfect gift.

Because Wendy was already living in Arizona at the time it was just going to be me and mum at the show. I knew that getting two tickets closer to the stage would be easier than three. The morning arrived when tickets went on sale and I made sure to schedule myself as opening the store. Being a manager had its perks sometimes.

I got everything ready, turned on all the machines and waited for the clock to strike 9:00 AM so I could open the doors and release the 30+ tickets the scalpers were sure to buy.

But then a funny thing happened. There was no line. It was one minute to 9:00 and none of the usual guys were outside. No one was outside. I had the machine all to myself. The first available tickets were mine!

At the dot of 9:00 I hit whatever button it was you had to click back in those days. My tickets printed. Sixth row, stage right. Oh. My. GOD!

She was thrilled of course and weeks later we took off for the concert. He did all the classics, all the songs we both knew by heart and damn it if that man could put on a show! His piano was set up right in front of our side of the stage and I think mum and I both squeed like little girls before either of us knew what squee even meant.

But back then you weren’t allowed to bring a camera to most shows. Back then they actually searched bags and confiscated stuff like that so I had to leave the camera at home. So what’s the memory part of the picture today?

There is nothing creepier to a 22 year old than a multitude of 60+ year old women flinging their bras onto a stage (at a man who probably couldn’t care less that you’re currently going girl-commando).

So as my little tribute to the memory of that experience, here’s the lyrics to…

Memory
By Barry Manilow

Midnight
Not a sound from the pavement
Has the moon lost her memory
She is smiling alone
In the lamplight the withered leaves collect at my feet
And the wind begins to moan
Memory
All alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the old days
It was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again
Daylight
I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life
And I mustn't give in
When the dawn comes tonight will be a memory too
And the new day will begin
Burnt out ends of smokey days
The stale cold smell of morning
The streetlamp dies
Another night is over
Another day is dawning
Touch me
It's so easy to leave me
All alone with the memory
Of my day in the sun
If you touch me you'll understand what happiness is
Look a new day has begun
Memory
All alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the old days
It was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again

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Catch up on anything you missed  30 Photos, 30 Days
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Randomness Goes On Forever

It happened again, the dreaded tag. It has gotten to the point where I do not think it is possible to share anything else random about myself without revealing way too much information. Although, that has never stopped me in the past so why should it stop me now?

Because it was my Mom who tagged me it would be impossible for me to blow this one off and hope they did not notice I never completed it. I know my Mom and six months from now I would get a comment reading something like “Hey why did you never do that blog tag I tagged you for here?”

Instead of waiting around for that comment, here are the required seven random facts about myself. As per usual however I will not outright tag anyone else but open it up to say that anyone reading can feel free to play along if they so choose.

1. Only very rarely do I ever eat breakfast, generally I don’t eat anything until about eleven. (Have I shared this before? Déjà vu?)
2. Speaking of…I love déjà vu. There is something so mysteriously excellent about not being able to explain the feeling that something happened before but there is no real recollection that it did.
3. Since I finally got my first cleaning in ages this past July, I now floss every day.
4. Shoes and socks make my feet ache for summer. I like to be barefoot as much as possible.
5. When I handwrite anything it is in all caps and never in blue ink, I am a fine tip, black ink kind of gal.
6. If I were independently wealthy and had time on my hands I would spend a couple weeks at my sister’s house this November and take her to this show. I am quite sure she would fall in love instantly as so many of us do. Sigh.
7. After just coming out of my weirdness phase I am now at a place where I feel like I can accomplish anything -- write, blog, sew and paint all in one day and still have time to watch the Sox trounce the Rays last night.

So now that I got that out of the way here are some recent projects I have completed.

I was commissioned by one of my Mom’s friends, M to create a bag. Her grand daughter (who I happened to go to High School with, man this town is way too small) is having a baby shower in November and M wanted to give her a really nice handmade diaper bag as her gift. She is taking underwater birthing classes and is a diver so the request was made for something watery and with enough pockets for all required baby related items. This was created from a pattern, the first I had ever completed. Also the first zipper I ever installed. That is why my Mom did the zipper and I just swore a lot.


M picked up the bag this week and she was thrilled! That of course made me so happy because it took well over two weeks from purchase of fabric to completed bag. I learned so much though and will be applying those techniques to other bags in the future; hopefully even braving a zipper install all on my own. I have named it Labor of Love.

I booked a table at the First United Methodist Church Craft Fair in Melrose on November 15. This is my first fair and I am a little nervous but just pouring my positive energy into all of the items I am creating for it! I will only be showcasing fabric items like bags, placemats, coasters, etc. Here are a few recently completed items that will make their way to my table. If you are in the Massachusetts area and want to stop by to say hi feel free, I would love to see you! The info - 645 Main St Melrose, MA, Saturday November 15 from 9:00 – 1:00.

Tonight Jason is playing at The Orpheum in Boston but instead of going to see him Matt and I will be enjoying a lovely pasta dinner, then playing a nail biting game of Monopoly, with my Dad and Evil Step Mom*. It will be a bummer to know he is only seven miles away singing his little avocado off and I will not be there but in this past year I have had the opportunity to see him live twice, both times about twenty feet from the edge of the stage and both times meeting people I had never met and now call friends. I should not be so selfish in wanting that ticket and just be glad that maybe someone else (that may have not been able to go if I had) will now get the opportunity to realize how fan-freaking-tastic he is live. I will call this my passive way of sharing the love.

So whoever you are that got that ticket have the most amazing time at the show and I will say to you both congratulations and I’m sorry -- congratulations for discovering the most kick ass, talented, Hottie McHotterson making music today and I’m sorry because once you feel the Jason love there is no turning back. Enjoy the ride.

* The disclaimer for those of you new readers out there, this is what she calls herself and it is totally in jest. She is awesome, fun and not actually even married to my Dad. Although after eleven years together they might as well be, I guess its one of those “if it ain’t broke” type situations.