Rather than reopen any of several years-old threads I’ll start this one anew.
At the age of 62 I finally saw an actual point to making a bed other than obsessive-compulsiveness. It’s somewhat less necessary now that most people use fitted bottom sheets, which is probably why I never appreciated it before, but:
First, if you toss and turn enough to dislodge the bottom sheet you’re going to need to remake the bed anyway. Second and perhaps more pertinently, wrinkles will become uncomfortable to lie and and disturb your sleep. This also explains the obsession with making a perfectly flat and taut sheet that used to be stressed in camp and the Army.
Using rinse aid in the dishwasher. For decades, I’ve always been annoyed at how the plastic containers managed to stay wet while everything else gets dry.
No more with rinse aid. Could have been doing this years ago dammit!
Around 1963 I noticed that a house a bit north of us had a sign on it saying “Upson Dunes”. It was built on sand dunes, as is my home. I (being all of 6 years old) assumed the people there were the Upsons, and never gave it another thought. The sign fell down decades ago. The house changed hands a few times between then and now.
A week ago, walking the dog past the place and reminiscing to myself about the old place, I realized the sign was a takeoff on the phrase “ups and downs”.
My best friend of more than 25 years was born on Christmas day. She’s 20 months younger than me.
And I’ve known since I was in middle school that my mom was 14 weeks pregnant with my younger brother or sister when I was 20 months old, and she unfortunately fell down the stairs while bringing an awkward load of laundry down them; Dad was at work, so it was just her and me home at the time. And I know that she was too hurt to get up, and couldn’t reach the phone’s buttons because the cord wouldn’t reach, so she had me bring her the receiver and had me play with the buttons - which I didn’t yet know the numbers on - until I hit 0 enough to get an operator on the line so an ambulance could be called. Sadly, mom lost that baby, and I didn’t get a little sibling until I was six.
I’ve been celebrating my best friend’s birthday for 25 years, and it didn’t occur to me until right around New Years this year that my poor parents lost their baby right around Christmas. Man, that must have been extra sad for them, but I can’t offer my belated sympathies to them now that I’m aware of the timing because they’re both gone.
As a kid I knew my dad hated the 1962 Ford Falcon station wagon we had. It was our only car until I was in third grade, when we became a two-car family, and he loved the 1967 Pontiac. At some point I became aware that the Ford had been given to my parents by my mom’s parents, a secondhand used car at the time, so probably around 1964.
I took in as a second piece of information, at a somewhat older age, that my dad had demonstrated his financial solidity and ability to do nice things for his family and to give nice gifts to his inlaws, with some emphasis and flourish, with the occasional overheard comment that There, see, I knew what I was doing all along.
I finally knitted them together one day as a twenty-something adult. Mama’s mom, my grandma on that side, was not very diplomatic or circumspect, and had most probably said disparaging things about him staying in school and going on to do graduate work while he was already married and had two young kids to support. (It would not have been grandpa; she was the one with a tongue on her). I’d heard fragments of those comments, or allusions to them, along the way as well. So it fitted that some comments had been made along with the gift of the used car. And we’d needed the car badly enough that he wasn’t in a situation where he could turn it down, but he resented the combo of charity + condescending criticism of him living as a grad student and pursuing a PhD instead of going out there and supporting his family.
My local public radio station has a relatively new host, who likes to say “It’s the top of the hour” at the beginning of the hour, and “bottom of the hour” at half-past the hour. I was familiar with the phrase “top of the hour” but I don’t think I’d heard “bottom of the hour before”. But that was when I finally figured out that the “top” and “bottom” of the hour refer to the position of the minute hand on a clock face.
“Crazy Aunt Rosalie” didn’t actually exist. It was an inside joke between my cousins and their parents and I had no idea until just a few years ago when I asked how she was and everyone just stared at me like I’d grown another head. They talked about her for years, then apparently it just petered out. I was in middle school when they first started; I was 43 when I found out the truth.
The song Greased Lightning is way dirtier than I expected.
As a lesbian who prefers to drive flashy cars, I can vouch that at least some of my dates have been delighted when I pulled up in a Mustang or Camaro. I’d go so far as to say most of them have been at least a little excited to go for a ride in it! One gal I saw casually was utterly blase about my car… And it turned out that’s cuz she drove a very cool vintage Mustang that was vastly nicer than my ten-year-old used Camaro.
I’ve owned a 2019 Miata since, well, 2019. I often get people coming up to me to comment on it, or yelling “Nice car!” at a red light. I’d estimate around 95% of them are men.
For a long time, having never actually seen one live, I thought the “first pitch” of a baseball game was the guest, celebrity, governor, actress, whoever, standing on the mound and throwing a pitch that was literally meant to be hit as part of the game. I thought that gave the hitting team at a hugely unfair advantage (imagine the Yankees hitting a home run off of Bill Clinton.)
When my old Mustang died, I got my heart really set on a Miata. I think they’re just the coolest. My ex looked over my shoulder as I browsed the used car listings and then very gently, patiently said “Honey, I don’t think you’ll fit in that thing…”
I wound up with my Camaro instead. It’s OK, but I don’t like how it looks nearly as much as the Mustang or the Miata (and aesthetics are virtually my sole consideration.)
