Two-year-old Billy Jones of Wilmot, South Dakota plucked a geranium from his mother Jean’s flower box in August of 1957, and shoved it into the face of sister Lois Ann, 1. We can only hope that Lois gathered her rosebuds while she may, and lived a life of being fully present and carpe-ing the diem. We also hope that neither sibling is perched atop red diner chairs anymore, as a broken hip could only make 2020 that much worse.
These Boston women cooked up jars/vessels/urns of their city’s famous baked beans, often eaten at Sunday breakfast in days of yore, per the British tradition. What about ye? Hast thou partaken of an English breakfast? Who wouldn’t want to start the Sabbath off with a healthy start of fried eggs, bacon, bangers, half a tomato (why?), a burnt hockey puck, and buttered toast?
Did the Irish later come in and change our whole notion of breakfast by trading beans for potatoes? The only beans consumed in my house for breakfast are refried and tucked inside a breakfast taco.
You heard it right, folks. 2020 has been a tough year on all of us, especially George, who evidently had a few too many old-fashioneds and plowed his car into yet another Bedford Falls tree. Environmental agencies are livid. As you can see, even Shirley Temple tried to uproot nature’s oxygen-releaser to replant it in a safer space, preferably Holmby Hills. This time, poor weather could not be blamed.
The recorded dialog below reveals that food vendor Pietro was understandably incensed. “You pay for my vegetables–yes?” In this year of electorate division, I think we can all agree. Pay for the vegetables, George.
Joyce is over the moon with this new shade of nylons–in stylish palomino! The golden color would cover up her pasty white legs in no time!
Ladies, when’s the last time you gave an ounce of thought to the color of your pantyhose? Have you even purchased hose in this millennium? I never see anyone sporting them these days. Probably because they didn’t have EZ glove to remove “mannish leg-hair.”
But once those legs were shaved, it was time to don some Dancing Twins! And remember folks, these nylons necessitated garter belts. Peggy Sue hadn’t yet invented pantyhose. 😉 Seam-free nylons did the trick for THIS cute trick.
If nylons weren’t up your alley in 1947, you could stay feet-focused on trendy bobby sox, in an assortment of colors, sure to entice your local soda jerk.
And if you were a girl who knows what goes, you’d pull on some Bonnie Doons before strapping on your skates to burn off the calories from eating too many Lorna Doones.
But socks weren’t the end of the conversation. You had to accessorize them. Everybody’s doing it!
So much pressure on young women! These days, a woman can just pick an atrocious tattoo to reflect her inner soul. But back in 1947, sock buttons were the way to express yourself. Can you imagine anyone taking the TIME to interpret your sock buttons?
Actually, it wasn’t Revlon; it was Cutex, a name we associate today strictly with nails, not lips. But back in the day, they offered coordinated colors for style from head to toe! Step off, Satan! I’m fabulous!
Like many of us, Santa has spent the last six months confined to his ornate mansion with elves/servants to meet his many needs. As a member of a high risk population, he made the wise decision to not leave his estate. However, his eating habits suffered, and consequently, he “shakes when he laughs like a bowl full of jelly” more than ever before. With autumn’s arrival today, sources say he is focusing on tightening his core, to meet his Christmas Eve duties of navigating a sleigh and climbing in and out of chimneys. Word on the street is he tried both Tae Bo and P90X and found them too taxing. He has now taken to old VHS cassettes of “Sweating to the Oldies.” As of this writing, his shape is somewhat uneven.
But don’t fret for Mr. Claus; he’s been in the game for hundreds of years now, and he still has that Santa Swag that woos the ladies. The cap hides any receding hairline, and his red suit means he’s always soft to the touch.
Nonetheless, Santa is making his health a priority with heart-healthy veggies and lean meats. Don’t be surprised if you spot him at the North Pole 24 Fitness.
During the Roaring 20s (as opposed to this current 20s, whose moniker remains to be seen, but I vote for Recovering) flying circuses and wing walkers were all the rage. I find it curious that they simply couldn’t paint in smaller font and thereby include all of the letters in TRANSPORT, but no matter. Although, technically, it could abbreviate TRANSPLANT as well. I would not volunteer for an aerial transplant.
Most of us don’t immediately associate beaches with the city of Cleveland. In fact, I am so full of ignorance about the city, that other than it existing inside of Ohio, I only know that Drew Carey was born there. I also know he was a Marine, and that his middle name is Allison, so that shows how much MORE I know about Drew than his birthplace. So if you’re like me, you will be gobsmacked to learn that they put some sand along the edge of Lake Erie and called it a beach. No sharks? No salt water to sting your eyes? Sounds nifty!
I hear they have freshwater jellyfish, however, but not big enough to give you a painful sting that lasts for two weeks with shooting bolts of pain down your leg, like the fun Gulf of Mexico offers. Cleveland’s Edgewater Beach website says one can enjoy 2400 feet of beach and 1000 feet of swimming access. Let’s go! Any readers done some swimming this summer, either alone or completely disobeying all the laws and engaging with friends and family? I surely have not.
This gal throws much attitude, but I honestly can’t tell if she’s 13 or 23. Huge Jackie O sunglasses, permed bob, lip gloss, tight waist. Love it! While her shirt cuffs are reminiscent of my own tees in 1985, this was actually September of 1975, exactly 45 years ago. That was the year emissions testing on the exhaust analyzer went into effect, and she was watching her go through testing at an inspection station in Cincinnati, Ohio.
What I don’t get is the possessive S after banana. Is the world going bananas? Sure, that’s solid. But banana’s? Certainly it doesn’t own her. She looks like the boss of herself.
I Don't Get It 