A Wild Yarn

My friend Elise bought a knitting book several years ago with the most hilarious, hideous sweater patterns to make for men.  The patterns themselves could probably have been made a little more classy by using different yarns, actually, but the models used to display the sweaters were beyond redemption.  Truly.  Every one of them was posed in such a way that we could just tell they had been talked into this particular modelling gig by someone they owed lots of money to, because there was no possible way for them to pull off "sexy beast" and "my sister knit this for me" at the same time (which seemed to be what the pattern designers were going for).  

As we sat in the park and looked through the book, we laughed until tears were in our eyes, each picture funnier than the last!  And ever since then, we've been looking for the same sorts of patterns and pictures for each other...kind of like unbelievable JELL-O recipes; so awful you can't look but you can't stop looking.  

I think I finally have enough images that I can make up the calendar of sweater centerfolds that we've been planning.  I plan on hanging mine in the living room like a piece of art. You know, similar to a velvet Elvis; everyone will see it, but no one will say anything because it's impossible to come up with anything that really does it justice. 

As a teaser, I'm going to post a few NEVER BEFORE REVEALED IMAGES here, so that you can see what still cracks us up:

As if the peach and mint green cap sleeve sweater wasn't enough, the polyester pants demand a pose that makes you squirm uncomfortably at the viewing of the whole mess...

Interpretive dance should probably never be used to sell sweater patterns for men.

Belted sweaters seemed to be easier to carry off, especially if one didn't have to pose with any other models.  (We have much better belted sweater images. I didn't want to shock you TOO much before the calendar came out...) I was hoping to catch a glimpse of a Star Wars guy in the background of this set, but no such luck.

I think she's grinning because she won a fantasy football bet in which these guys had to wear the sweaters for a week in Lukenback, Texas or something.  

I cannot come up with a single person, male or female, that I'd gift with a granny square tank top...even the ones that I'm not feeling so charitable toward right now.  No one deserves that sort of abuse. 

(But these models seem completely tickled with their wardrobe at the moment! There may have been a cocktail party just before the photos to ease the pain.  I don't know.)

Here's that "look" I was talking about....he's not happy, Bob; not happy. 

The best for last...

Elise hasn't seen this one!  

The photographer was obviously in a hurry to wrap up the shoot because he didn't give this poor chap time to put on his polyester double knit wide-legged pants! (He DID manage to snag a sexy hat, probably hoping to draw attention away from...*ahem*....and it almost worked.) 

Gives one a whole new perspective on knitting, doesn't it?!

Won't this be a great calendar?

And a year long testament to twisted friends forever...

Beulah Claus

Every December (and many days in between), I think of Beulah Brown...oh, how I miss her!

She was an elegant little woman who had the gift of knowing a child's heart and enchanting them at every turn. Married to Bill Brown Sr., a "cattle baron" (to me, at the time) that my Dad worked for from when I was four years old until I was seven or eight, she was the resident ranch grandma...but a more glamorous grandma than we'd ever encountered in our short lives.  My brother, sister and I were the only ranch "babies", thereby doted on and completely spoiled, not only by Beulah but also the Brown kids who were teenagers at the time. 

But Beulah...

She always seemed completely delighted that we'd shown up, as though she'd been waiting for us all week.  And indeed she may have been, because her candy drawer (at kid level) was always full and free choice to any child who might show up. She ALSO had those squatty little half-cans of Coca-Cola for us (instead of plain old water) and she'd pour them over ICE.  We were so important (and wired) that you couldn't stand us. I'm certain that if she'd had a supply for little umbrellas, we'd have had those in our Cokes, too. (Mom talks about getting after us for grazing through the candy drawer and Beulah got after HER.  That was OUR drawer.) Isn't that marvelous?! 

Beulah had a guest room with two twin beds where we slept if we stayed overnight. Everything in the room was blue (even the TISSUES) and everything matched.  For us kids, it was like spending the night in a castle or something. There were soaps in the bathroom that were shaped like shells. She had TELEVISION and we were allowed to watch it!  She had a whole pile of toys that we were allowed to drag out at our pleasure, even if we were only going to be there for 15 minutes. 

I have so many happy memories of the years we spent at Brown's. My Dad worked very hard, I know that, and our "bunkhouse" was pretty shabby now that I see pictures of it, but there were things like ranch Christmas parties, a quonset dance, the hired men and Brown kids pulling our saucer sled behind the pickup all morning one Christmas, and Beulah.

I don't know how old we were when THE Christmas happened....I think I may have been about 5...and it was as though Santa had scripted it for us kids.  We always had Christmas Eve in our family because my Dad said that he always hated having to wait for gifts until Christmas morning and when HE was a grown up, HE'D open presents on Christmas EVE. (Bless his heart, he still can't wait.  I love that.) So, after stockings on Christmas morning, we were bundled up and drove the short, short way to Bill and Beulah's house, much to our surprise. 

Beulah had a huge tree in her A-frame, sunken 1960's (modern in the 70s!) living room, and it was decorated like they do in department stores....perfect and sparkly.  She led us down the three carpeted steps and across the room to the tree and showed us the presents under the tree.  

The presents that all had our names on them. 

A LOT of presents.

Beulah and the Brown kids had played Santa for us three, and they were so excited to see us have Christmas that morning!  

I know there's a photo in my Mom's album with us sitting in front of the tree with our loot.  We have a slightly dazed look, as kids who'd just had their socks blessed off would have.  

It wasn't the gifts, though. 

It was the complete unexpectedness of dear people thinking of us as family and delighting in our surprise. 

It was the validation that Santa really did exist, that magic happened, and we KNEW it.  We knew we were loved and that our parents and grandparents would have gifts for us.  We never imagined that there would be Santa elsewhere. 

Beulah's birthday was in December, either the 9th or the 10th, I can't remember because her husband Bill Sr.'s birthday was either the 9th or 10th, too, and they celebrated together...as my Dad and Karen do in June with the same dates!  

I don't think it was any coincidence that one of the kindest, most generous souls I've known was born in the month that is known for love and joy. 

And I can't wait to get to Heaven to find Beulah, hug her tight, and go straight to the candy drawer which will be right at my height, full of my favorite chocolates, and no such thing as "no more".

*In a funny memory, my baby brother was just learning to talk when we moved to Brown's and he wanted to marry "Booz" when he grew up. He couldn't say "Beulah", so she was "Booz"....and at age 2-3, he couldn't imagine a more perfect woman.*

And they lived happily ever after...

This is not the truth.
This ending came about because the storyteller, having woven an amazing tale of good vs. evil, heros and villains, princesses who originate humbly and rise by virtue and good luck to royal statuses, wraps up the saga with those iconic words of finale because they flat can't come up with anything more at the time.  They've got nothin'.  So they proclaim that all lived "happily ever after" and toddle off to make a bologna sandwich with a big glass of milk.

It's not true, of course.

It's sort of a lazy, slap-down-the-ending, we're-done-here,-folks, don't-worry-your-cute-little-head ending to a story that sticks with kids for a long time.  This is rough, because kids want MORE!  We ALL want MORE!

(This is how Disney makes their dough...Lion King, 1 1/2, 3, 14, etc.)

Really, though...
Cinderella STILL had a veddy ticked off step mother and sisters, not to mention the new in-laws.
Sleeping Beauty lost how many years?  When she was LAST awake, it was wax seals on parchment letters; today, instant messages and Twitter.
Goldilocks? That chick will have recurring nightmares about bear beds after hibernation, don't you know?

And the list goes on.

I don't mind fairy tales...
Truly, I don't.
I like the clear black-n-white good vs. evil examples.
I like that commoners can accidentally or by good luck become kings and queens.
I like the tiaras.
:)
And I like that girls feel beautiful when they put on a crown, that boys feel brave and noble when they pick up a sword...or shovel to kill a rattlesnake.  I like the crafty old crones who are witches, because they aren't just hanging out in the nursing home, waiting for their lukewarm tapioca pudding.

But I have always felt very unsatisfied with
"And they lived happily ever after!"

I'd really like something more along the lines of:
"And they lived through the ever after; working hard, embracing the day, finding love and grace especially when they didn't deserve it, with good, strong coffee to motivate them every morning! Their adventures, big and small, are another story for another time..."

NOW you can make a bologna sandwich.

Spoiled Child

Second generation of spoiled children, that is...

My Aunt Bert sewed wonderful things for my siblings and me, sometimes clothes, sometimes toys. (I still have the black elephant she made for me when I was 6!)

This last year, since she's "retired", she's been designing and sewing clothes for her grand nieces.  They get to choose the fabrics according to the style of the dress, then....voila!....a unique, personal dress that suits the lucky girl who gets it in the mail! 

I don't know if you can see (or if you care) but Maggie has a fondness for Amy Butler fabrics; very modern and hip fabric designer that only licenses a precious few designs each year. 

I'm glad she recognizes good design in fabrics and that Aunt Bert has good taste in patterns for the eclectic choices of cloth! 

And because Maggie has done some sewing for 4H projects, she appreciates the amount of work that goes into these garments.  She and Bert are a great team!  

In defense...

And we grow up....

(I wrote this several months ago and found it in my "drafts" folder. )
(Who KNOWS what's lurking there, right?)

Today I went to a high school classmate's dad's funeral/visitation.

This is something grown ups do, something I didn't think I'd ever have to muster up and gracefully attend.  This is what my folks are supposed to do....comfort the hurting friends, deliver casseroles, talk about 25 years ago in high school...

But here we are.

My high school classmates are now grandparents, losing their parents, retiring in seven years, taking high blood pressure medication.  

We're the grown ups!  

When did THAT happen?!  

For some reason, we 19 are coming back together after 25 years, now.

Getting each other's addresses.

Forming fantasy football leagues with each other. (And kicking each other's butts therewithin.)

Calling each other on birthdays. Not just the "big ones". 

Heck, celebrating TOGETHER on birthdays!

Challenging one another in fitness and personal growth goals. 

Talking politics and religion and how the world is going to hell in a hand basket.

Admiring each other's receding hairlines, greying beards and temples, sharing tips about hormonal changes.  

They're so DEAR to me, these people who knew me when I didn't even know myself! 

It was oddly poignant to step outside after visiting my classmate and friend to see the GCDHS homecoming parade going by. It's the 100th year of our high school, so each class and organization did a specific decade for their float.  I don't know who did the 1980's, but they really needed help from someone other than Wikipedia.  Really.  NO ONE on the float had leg warmers or big bangs or parachute pants or those big combs in their back pockets or Bon Jovi music or ANYTHING.  But they tried really hard and threw homemade brownies.  

Monday, my Aunt Bert and I will travel to Lewistown to visit one of her high school classmates from the 1960's...I want to say 67, but I might be wrong.  They're at almost 50 years of friendship.  What richness!  

Do you think kids from small towns are closer and keep in touch better than other places?  

Is Montana exceptional this way, because we have so few people?

AND....this is my biggest question....
do they whitewash rocks in the initial of their town and year of graduation on the sides of hills in towns other than Montana?!?