Presbyfruit

Farrah

In between early reports on Michael Jackson's death, I heard Shephard Smith of Fox say a few words about Farrah Fawcett.  He said something about her having been loved by lots of little boys in the 70's. 

And this little girl.  

I was a huge fan of "Charlie's Angels" when it aired in the late 70's.  And I

loved, loved, loved Farrah Fawcett-Majors. 

For Christmas in 1977 (or maybe it was '78), I got a shirt emblazoned 

with the iconic photo of Farrah in the red bathing suit.  

If my mother was suspicious about why her daughter wanted a shirt with a woman in a revealing swimsuit on it, she didn't say. I was obviously not out of the closet (being 10 or 11 years old) and just coming to terms with my realization that I might possibly be gay.  I hadn't yet realized it was something I needed to be ashamed of and suppress.  Otherwise, I would have admired the shirt on someone else and definitely not asked Santa Claus for it.

I remember my mother asking why I was interested in such a bimbo.  She said that when she was my age, she had idolized Elizabeth Taylor who was much classier than Farrah, in her estimation.  

I didn't care about her low opinion of Farrah.  I wore the shirt until the image was faded and barely recognizable.  When I was older and "Charlie's Angels" aired at midnight, I sneaked downstairs and took photos of the TV, trying to capture scenes (this was before home video, screen caps and youtube).  

When I think back to myself as a young, closeted baby dyke, Farrah Fawcett is there too.  RIP...

Pay it forward challenge

I just saw this on Angela's blog.  Since I'm currently struggling a bit with my ongoing spiritual dead zone and trying real hard not to panic about whether or not I'll still have a job in 2010, I'm going to do this.  I'll feel better doing something for someone else and not obsessing about bad economic news and existential angst.  Here are the rules:

"I will send a handmade gift to the first 3 people who leave a comment on this post requesting to join this Pay It Forward exchange. I don’t know what that gift will be yet and you may not receive it tomorrow or next week, but you will receive it within 365 days; that is my promise! The only thing you have to do in return is pay it forward by making the same promise on your blog."

Okay, here's the thing.  I'm not such a great knitter, and that's pretty much all I can do.  Squares and rectangles.  I do have a sewing machine that I want to learn to use, so perhaps I could do a simple square or rectangle on that. Whatever, let me do it for you.

What the ??

I recently bought a pair of Sony earbuds for my iPod.  I've gone through countless pairs of earphones and headphones ever since, oh about 1982 when I got my first Walkman knockoff.  The headphones never last because I wear the crap out of them.  

These were an upgrade from my iPod earbuds (which hurt my ears and kept falling out).  The new ones were perfect, the best I've ever owned.  

And this morning, when I woke up, they were on the floor looking like this:

Gone.  Totally eaten by what I assume was a mouse.  That is, I hope it was a mouse. Although all that rubber and plastic and electrical bits can't be good for such a little thing.  

I suppose we'll be smelling something really bad in the house soon.

Losing my mind

I've always been worried about the state of my poor little pea brain.  I protein-load and have since high school.  My breakfasts then were ham and eggs and cheese.  I hang upside down to increase the blood flow to my noggin.  I take vitamins and supplements that purportedly enhance memory.  Still, I worry about early onset Alzheimer's or just plain garden variety dementia.  

I'm not putting my car keys in the freezer yet, but I find myself zoning out more often and doing dopey things.  I mean, dopier than usual.

I call Kari on each of my federally-mandated breaks at work (we're a tad bit co-dependent, or perhaps we just like each other a lot).  Last week I called her and the line was busy.  I decided to take a quick walk around the block, which is in a residential area.  I put my phone in my back pocket and set off.  My ringtone is "Dancing Queen."  No more than 5 minutes later, I hear "Dancing Queen" behind me.  

My first thought:  wow, those people sure are playing their radio loud this morning. After other thoughts, such as "I like that song" and "maybe that's a CD and not the radio," I realized it was my phone.