Time Changes Things

*** Read to the end to enter yourself for a little something other than JUNK in your mailbox!***

Ten years ago, this would have been my definition of 'luxury':

My, oh, my....how one little decade can change things!

Presently, this is my new, and slightly pared-down definition of the same word:

Jimmy Buffet himself couldn't even make Paradise seem any more perfect than what I am enjoying on my own front porch right now.

This scenario was created largely in part to the wisdom tooth removal that occurred in my mouth bright & early yesterday morning. Was it worth it? YES. For this moment of solace alone, I'd consider removing even more teeth...however, there are far more ladies I'd rather resemble than LouLou from Hee Haw (this post is going to take a distinctly vintage turn. If you don't remember the 80's country music variety show as referenced above, consider yourself far classier than I).

I am sitting out on my front porch with my husband's laptop, my favorite cappucino drink and a bunch of cheery yellow flowers that were dropped off yesterday by two incredibly thoughtful friends. In addition, my husband took the twins, picked up the 3 other children who had stayed overnight at my parent's home {thank you!thankyou!thankyou!} and headed to the church camp where the eldest son has been staying all week. That leaves me alone. Blessedly alone.

To maximize my enjoyment of this 'down time', I vacuumed, dusted, straightened up, made beds and made sure all the drawers in the house were closed nice and tight. Yes, I've been told I am to take it easy...and I am. Now that I feel my home is in order, I can relax to the fullest. I'm weird that way. Just like when we rent a movie...I flutter like a bat out of Hades, tidying up the house so I can truly sit and savor before pushing 'play'. That children's book partially sticking out of the drawer will drive me to distraction. Orderliness leads to Serenity. You know what I mean???

I digress. {But what's new?}

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There are a few things from my childhood that I miss. {This is where this post is taking a vintage turn. If you prefer the new and the modern, you might as well keep blog hopping now}.

The first, is this beaut:

I miss sticking my fingers in those round little holes and the smooth zipping sounds of varying lengths that led me to the line of the friend I was dialing. I wish for my children the lack of privacy that these telephonic wonders created, the way one had to stretch the cord, exhausting is elasticity in order to at least be able to talk around the corner or in the closet...away from the rest of the family's listening ears.

There is danger in the privacy of these little vats of communication found in the palms of our hands, especially the young hands who have never known anything other than instant access and abbreviated conversations that do not require a voice.

Even better would have been the days of Aunt Bea, dialing up Sarah, the town Operator, to connect her through to Andy. But I am waaaaayyyyy too young to have known that era. ;)

Oh, Fisher Price...Oh, Fisher Price...where did your record players go???

I had the exact model as pictured above. It's scratchy needle afforded me hours upon hours of serenades by the Bill Gaither Trio, Disney sound tracks ("It's a world of laughter, a world of tears...there's so much that we share, that's it's time we're aware, it's a small world after all!) and other deeply life changing masterpieces like "John Jacob Jingle Heimerschmidt”.

There is comfort in the crackling sound of music created by a needle.

Today's sentimental journey trails off with Tinkerbell cosmetics. I can still smell the distinct aroma of the lipstick and the easy peel nail polish (oh the satisfaction of peeling it off in one whole piece!). It was around that time that my cousin wore Avon's "Sweet Honesty"...oh how I wanted my own vile of that delicate perfume! Instead, I had to settle for my own "Baby Soft" roll-on scent. It did smell fine, but nothing like Sweet Honesty {to my mother, I'll insert here that you should not recoil in guilt or allow yourself any angst that you never 'read the signs', failing to order me a little Avon goodness. It's water under the bridge, or dam, or whatever it is}.

Now, I have a question for you, dear reader:

What is it that YOU miss or hold fond memories of???

A submitted memory is a chance to win a little something special (perhaps made by Judy @ Just A Little Something For You!)