Barbie vs. the EZ Bake Oven

My cousin, Tanya, had an EZ Bake oven. Big Sister had an EZ bake oven. I did NOT have an EZ Bake oven. I think my mother was afraid of what I would do with it. EZ Bake ovens were a cool way for young girls (and I am sure the occasional boy) to make delicious bite sized cakes under a 100 watt bulb- because, as we all know, that is how a "real" oven works. Big Sister would never let me use hers. It was a Hollie Hobbie EZ Bake oven. It was cute and came with these wonderful little pans and plastic spatulas and plastic knives. It also came with a cake pan "shover" that you used to push the tin pan under the bulb in the oven so you didn't end up with third degree burns on your fingers. Unfortunatley, it didn't come with pot holders. That would have been smart KENNER to include something to pick the TIN PAN up with after the cake was done cooking! Tanya and I were bored one summer and decided that "Barbie" (tm) was going to open a bakery and so we fired up the EZ Bake oven. Apparently, it was an industrial bakery because when you compared Barbie to the size of the EZ Bake oven it looked like she worked at Dolly Madison Bakery Factories, but I digress... Opening up the tiny package of cake mix and adding the water (sounds delicious already doesn't it?) we put the cake tin in the oven. Then sat back and waited. It apparently took 15 minutes for the cake to bake under a 100 watt bulb. So, we decided to play with the Jamie Summers (Bionic Woman) doll and Steve Austin (The 6,000,000 Dollar Man) doll when we got this brilliant idea. Let's say that Barbie was in a horrific EZ Bake Oven accident and was unable to escape from the factory. Let's send in the Bionic Team and have them save the poor helpless girl! **Now, here is a little side note...for a woman who owned a convertible, an RV, a camper, a jet, a townhouse AND a Dream House, and more clothes and shoes that I would ever own in a lifetime, why exactly WAS Barbie working in a Bakery/Factory?!? Apparently, she had to support her lavish lifestyle. I mean, two mortgages and multiple car payments and an obvious shopaholic problem is going to have to get money somehow because it is obvious that Ken wasn't supporting her. He was Captain of a boat and an Airplane for Pan Am, for cry-yi-yi! He didn't have time with his playboy lifestyle to see that Barbie was clothed and fed and living in the lap of luxury without having to work!** So, back to Barbie and her perilous situation... Barbie was sitting on top of the oven, trying to escape the imaginary flames that were beginning to lick at her long (and completely unrealistic length) legs. Tanya kept up a steady stream of "Help! Someone Help Me!" as I went about getting the Bionic Team to break thru doors and walls and jump over flames and falling flaming debris. It was quite the palm sweater. All of a sudden, this smell began to fill the air. It didn't smell like the delicious chocolate cake the package claimed. It smelled of burning plastic. Like something caught under a 100 watt bulb... HOLY SMOKE! Barbie's bottom was melting to the top of the EZ Bake oven!! Tanya yanked the plug out of the wall and the bulb went out. Without thinking, I pushed the cake pan out with my fingers, burning and blistering them in the process. I dropped the pan and watched our cake explode all over the floor. Tanya went to pull Barbie off the EZ Bake oven, she came off the oven with a melted bottom and strings of plastic going from the oven to her bum. The smell of burnt plastic and rubber filled the room making us gag. I opened a window to let in some fresh air and stare at the mess we created. The floor was covered with partially cooked chocolate cake, the EX Bake oven lay smoking on its side,the Bionic Team lay sprawled in a forgotten heap and Barbie...poor Barbie was the victim of a tragic industrial accident. He bum and thighs melted beyond recognition. How would she ever fit into her tight denims again? How could she show herself in a bathing suit? Would Ken throw her over for that with Krissie? Barbie-0; EZ Bake Oven-1

Is There Anyone Out There?

I ask this question of myself on a daily basis and thanks to social media the answer is a resounding "Yes!" Now, the real question is, where exactly IS "out there?" As I check my stats on my blog I see that I have a pretty good following in Russia, Germany, Israel as well as the States. I find it intriguing that my little inconsequential blog is seen by so many people in so many far away and fascinating countries! Many of these countries, I would love to visit some day- when I win the lottery, that is. The current salary of an accounting assistant isn't exactly exorbitant. The furthest I could get on my salary is Wisconsin Dells. I, have, however been able to learn much about other countries and cultures through some of the most reliable sources out there. Historical Romance Novels. I mean, come ON! That takes a LOT of research to get the specifics on a country and a culture just to let the main characters have "relations" there. And trust me, I have read a lot of those books, but purely for the historical aspect and reference. (insert scoffing sound and winking icon here) I started reading these types of books at the age of 13- much to the chagrin of my mother- but I wasn't reading them for the risque' parts (although they made the story more worthwhile at times) I read them to escape from the boring humdrum life in a small midwestern town. And, Lord knows, nothing ever happens in a small sleepy Midwestern town. So, I escaped through reading and movies. I learned a lot about harems in Turkey and India, brothels in Regency London, Elizabethan fashion and ettiquette, Highland Lairds and clan systems in Scotland, winters in St. Petersberg Russia and a plethora of other wonderful cultures and climes in our wonderful world. I must admit, my favourite stories are the ones about Scotland, but then I have Scottish roots so I tend to be a little biased. It is strange how big this world seems at times but when it comes right down to it, we are all connected in one bizarre way or another. So...leave me a comment! Let me know who you are (first name only please) and where you are from! I would love to know who is following me and be a little more connected to the world! :)

Imaginary Friends

I think all of us at one time had an imaginary friend. Me? I had an imaginary brother. His name was Timmy and he was responsible for all sorts of shenanigans at my house and was a tad bit accident prone. As my mother tells it, I was about 3 years old when Timmy made his first appearance. She said I had told our Pastor's wife that my brother Timmy fell out of a tree and broke his arm. The dear woman was sympathetic and asked her husband, "I didn't know Sandy had a son." Pastor gave her a confused look and said, "She doesn't. Obviously, Jenny has an imaginary brother." Thus started the stories of my brother Timmy. Timmy lasted for several years and we had many adventures together. I mentioned him to a family friend, Roger, who owned a horse ranch and regaled him with the tales of Timmy and those adventures throughout my pre-school years. Whenever we would go visit him, he would always ask "How's Timmy?" and I would have another story for him. Once I started school and started making new friends, Timmy started to take a backseat to my daily routine and eventually disappeared forever. Timmy was replaced by my friend, Kelly, who grew up only a mile away from me. As we moved from kindergarten into first grade, Timmy "died." I remember going to Roger's house and he asked me "How's Timmy?" I told him quite plainly that Timmy had passed on. Apparently he had been playing by the train tracks (we had no trains near our house) and got hit by said train. It was very tragic. Roger said "That's too bad. I liked hearing about the things you and Timmy did. He was a funny guy." and thus, the imaginary brother was laid to rest. Even as I got older Roger would always ask me "How's Timmy?" and wink. Roger is long gone now, too, and I hope that he and Timmy could finally meet in the afterlife. I wonder what kind of stories Timmy would tell about me?

Childhood Heartthrob...

My first crush was David Cassidy. I think I was 4. My cousin, Dawn, had his poster in her bedroom, along with Donnie Osmond and a couple of 70's teen idols, but David Cassidy was my favourite. He had awesome hair, come hither eyes and that cool hemp necklace. He was dreamy. I told Dawn that when she didn't want the poster anymore that I would take it. True to her word, when she outgrew David, she took him down, rolled him up and gave him to me. I think I was 6. As I got older and my music tastes grew, I added many different posters to my bedroom walls. Duran Duran in 1984/85 was my wallpaper of choice. I think I had about 250 posters and pictures adorning the walls of my teenage bedroom, but on the back of my door hidden behind pictures of John Taylor, was David Cassidy. His eyes staring at me out of the Duran pics. Eventually, I outgrew Duran Duran and took their pictures down and packed away. I moved on to Classic Rock; The Beatles, John Lennon, Janis Joplin, The Doors. I outgrew those and down those went. Next up, Yngve Malmsteen, Whitesnake, Aerosmith, Bon Jovi...those, too, took a dirt nap eventually. But David never came down. He was a balm to my teenage soul of quieter and much less tormented times (in my life- not the world). Eventually I moved out of my bedroom and moved off to college. Everything came down and much of it went into the garbage. But not David. I rolled him up and put him in my trunk where he wouldn't get crushed. Years went by and I graduated, got married, had children, got a job and bought a house. I added a lot of memories to that trunk and removed a few (like old graduation cards and birthday cards). Recently I sat down with my daughter as I rifled thru the memories of that trunk and came across a rolled up poster. I chuckeled to myself as I lifted it out and carefully unrolled it, knowing full well what it was. "Mom? Who is that?" she demanded. "That's David Cassidy." I replied, staring into David's beautiful blue/green eyes. "Well, he looks lame." she replied scathingly. I just smiled at her and said "He may look lame to you, but he was my first crush and I think he is beautiful." I rolled it carefully back up and put him back in my 150 year old trunk that holds all my other treasures. My children's baby books, by high school graduation diploma and mortar board (That funky flat hat that professors wore), my marriage certificate, my high school year books and baby pictures of my kids. Just knowing he is there and has survived nearly 40 years in my room, on my wall and in my trunk without a single tear or rip, makes me feel content. Part of my childhood that will always be there when I need it.

Sugar High

Easter- the time of year when children can eat their weight in marshmallow Peeps, chocolate eggs, bubble gum eggs and a chocolate easter bunny the size of a new born child and parents don't seem to care... As a kid, we would wake up on Easter Sunday early- as it was the Spring equivalent to Christmas- and start hunting for our Easter baskets that the Easter Bunny had hidden over night. Big Sister Amy, Baby Sister and myself would start in the kitchen and move stealthily throughout the house trying to locate our baskets and the sugary sweet convections that were left for us. Discovery! Mine was in the dryer- thank God Mom didn't have to do laundry that morning. I would have had chocolate encrusted t-shirts instead. Big Sister Amy's was in the pantry hidden behind the boxes of cereal. Clever. Baby Sister's was hidden in the coat closet on the shelf behind the box of colouring books and crayons. We would all then sit on the couch and compare our candy horde and trade stuff we didn't like. Big Sister got my Peeps if I could have her chocolate marshmallow eggs, Baby sister could have my jelly beans if I got her chocolate marshmallow eggs. Yes, I love marshmallow eggs. Don't judge me. Then after a few nibbles from our baskets it was time to get dressed and head to Easter service at church. We would get dressed in our new (or new to us) Easter dresses and have our picture taken holding our baskets in our pretty clothes. And, usually, I had chocolate around my mouth in most of these photos because like a chocolate Ninja, I would always have another chocolate marshmallow egg in my mouth. Hence, the closed mouth smile... Then we would pile into the car and wave goodbye to Dad as we drove to church. (Dad was a non-practicing Catholic and we were Methodists, and he said that he would be in trouble if he went to our church. I think it was just a way of getting out of church.) One year, when Baby Sister was still a baby (10 months I think) I decided to take a purse with me to church. It has all the important things in it- a key to something I wasn't sure what, a doll brush, chapstick, a pocket mirror and my illegal contraband- a box of Junior Mints. Now, I don't know about you, but Easter Sunday services can get pretty long and drawn out sometimes, and when you eat breakfast at 830 am and go to 930 am service, by 1030 am this girl is starting to get hungry! So, we settled into our pew by Gramma and Grampa. Mom next to Gramma, Baby sister in Mom's lap, me next to Mom and Big Sister on my left. Greeting and opening hymn commence, then Pastor starts the sermon...Yawn...I sit, swinging my legs back and forth and watching my black patent leather shoes flash in the sunlight coming in the window to my left. Big Sister starts to swing her legs. Back and forth, back and forth, we swing our legs opposite each other, then hook ankles and start to swing. Mom reaches over and puts her hand on my knee- the silent warning of "stop it and sit still." Pouting, I stop swinging my legs and glare at the back of the pew in front of us. I pick up my purse and rummage around inside for a bit and pull out my pocket mirror. I open it up and let the sunlight catch it. The mirror flashes in my eyes and I am momentarily blinded. Then I realize I can create a diversion with the light! I shine it onto the ceiling and watch it dance around as I move it back and forth in my hand. and then...Mom snatches it out of my hand and takes it away from me. I feel like Gollum from Lord of the Rings when he lost his "precious"...LOST! LOST!! Well...back to the purse. Doll brush...can't do much with that. The rogue key that no one knows what it is for...boooorrrrinnnng! AH-HA! JUNIOR MINTS!! I was starting to feel a little hungry anyway. This time, I leave the junior mints inside the box in my purse. Mom will never suspect anything! The congregation stands for another hymn. No one will hear the box rip open when they are singing! Victory is mine! I open the box and pour out a couple of mints into my hand, being the nice sister that I am, I give one to Big Sister to shut her up, if you will. I pop one into my mouth and chew quietly. Hymn's over so everyone sits down. I pop another Junior Mint in my mouth my head turned to the left so Mom can't see, and then hand another one to Big Sister just to keep her quiet. Suddenly I feel a tap on my arm. Rats! Caught red handed! I turn to Mom, she is staring at the front of the church and holds her hand out to me without turning her head. What the what? I wasn't sure if I was supposed to give her the entire box or just one. So, I figured I had nothing to lose. I pour a couple into her hand. She pops them into her mouth and looks at me out of the corner of her eye and winks. I grin up at her and sit throught the rest of church happily munching on my Junior Mints and sharing my sugary contraband with Mom. I am sure even Jesus would have understood that day...