It is a sad state of affairs in American Culture when you begin to see the carnival workers as "normal" and the patrons as "the freak show." This the place I find myself after attending my favorite local lawn party.
It wasn't until I moved to Virginia that I even knew about lawn parties. In the Midwest were I grew up it was just a carnival. Carnivals were set up in vacant fields, parking lots and sometimes fairgrounds. Maybe I was to young to notice, but I don't remember any of them ever being fundraisers for a good cause. They were just fun when you were between the ages of 8 and 17. At age 8 I went to the carnivals for the food and fun and by the time I was 17 there were different motives, but they were still fun. My favorite memory of a street carnival from my youth was held in a parking lot and I was about 17. I would tell you that story but that isn't what this blog is about.
Lawn parties are held throughout the valley all summer long by the local volunteer fire departments. My assumption is that these are their single largest fundraiser of the year. My local fire department pulls out all the stops and I consider it the Mother of all lawn parties. I have watched my kids move through the carnival stages over the years and it is fun for me to watch them, and well, the other people too.
We arrived about 7 p.m. last night and minutes after we forked over our 45-dollars to get arm bands for our three boys to ride the nine rides available as much as they could it began to sprinkle. The sprinkles turned quickly into a summer downpour. "Crap" I thought as I looked at my light cotton summer dress. My quick thinking husband found us shelter under a roof built to accommodate the refrigerator truck. Shortly, many other folks joined us, then the smell hit me. The smell of a person who does not use, perhaps for religious purposes or out of plain laziness, a deodorant of any kind. As more people huddled under the shelter to keep dry, the closer the space became, the stronger the aroma. The choice as this point was tough it out or stand in the rain in a thin cotton dress. I toughed it out. Within about 10 minutes the rain stopped and I was thankful to move on into our carnival adventure.
Summer carnival fashion is a real hit or miss in a rural community and mostly it is a miss. Don't get me wrong there were plenty of perfect Mommies in their denim capri pants and reasonable tops but blogging about them isn't very fun, as they are boring in dress and probably boring in personality. Say what you will about the fashions of the 1980's and 90's but our high waisted shorts and jeans held back a lot of sin. If you lay on the bed while you zip those babies up you can hide almost any figure flaw. Today's "low rise" style is adorable on an adorable figure, but the real problem comes in with the not so perfect figure. Because of the cut of these particular shorts it is possible to shove a size 16 body into a size 8 pair of shorts, the results are frightening, but that hasn't stopped the proliferation of chubs on display at a summer lawn party. I saw more flesh pressured to bubble to the top of much to small shorts than a butcher sees when cutting meat. Shall we discuss the halter? Again, an adorable fashion statement, if purchased in the correct size. What was walking around last night was an abundance of shorts too low cut and too small topped by halters that did little to cover the massive flesh oozing from the midsection of girls and women who must not have full length mirrors in their home.
I will say I saw many lovely people with great smiles and white teeth, but I would be remiss if I did not mention the others. When I was a kid it was the carnival workers who lacked a full set of chompers. Last night I was amazed at the number of people who were perfectly comfortable to flash their smiles, with one or several of the most prominent front teeth absent. Couple that with the muffin top on the shorts and the bazaar show of cleavage and my friends you have yourself quite a pornographic freak show.
I am not trying to be negative, I had a blast watching my kids with blue lips from cotton candy (aka spun sugar), adrenaline rushes from the rides and joy in their hearts from "winning" that painted mirror is really priceless.
I will briefly mention a few of my favorite sights. The obese young woman dressed to the nines with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth as she hoisted her toddler onto her hip while at the same time using words that would make a sailor cringe. Then there was the wanna be tough guy who showed up in his black leather jacket complete with angled zippers. There were many many young girls and boys attached at the hip and many other places probably not appropriate for public display. Some folks brought their dogs and I think one young girl might have mistakenly thought she was Paris Hilton.
What is interesting to me is that the carnival workers themselves were among the most normal of the crowd. Maybe Carney is becoming a reasonable profession for the "new economy." I could give it a try. "Come right on up folks, pop a balloon and win a prize, three darts for $5, a winner every time."
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Random thoughts on the week
This past week has been a varied experience and although I had many thoughts and blog ideas, but now that I have the time to write, I don't have a handle on the many thoughts I had. The title of this blog as a whole will be fitting for this entry.
One thing that has had me puzzled this lately is my deodorant. It is Dove Pro-Age. Pro-Age is a line of Dove products marketed to women my age designed to help us fight the aging process. However, should I really be concerned about the perceived age of my underarms? I purchased this product because it was on sale not for it's anti-aging promise. Every time I use it I laugh to myself and wonder if my new youthful underarms will somehow improve my life.
I spent a couple of days this week in intensive sales training. I won't go much into that. It was fantastic but there isn't much funny about it, just interesting. However, one thing did just jump out at me in the first day. In this room full of professional sales people I saw a few saleswomen who really needed a fashion consultant. Seriously ladies, it is no longer 1995. I cannot understand how, in this mass media world, a woman living in 2009 cannot see that box jackets with rolled up sleeves are no longer in style. Using large amounts of hairspray and obnoxious amounts of make-up are not "the look." I think sometimes people in general tend to hold on to a time in their lives that represent happiness to them, it is difficult to let go of that time and that includes the fashion apparently. One fashion mistake that makes me insane is when a professional woman will buy a beautiful suit and then wear the suit jacket with something else other than what it came with. This hardly ever works, unless it is a plain jacket. I cannot put into words why this looks bad, it just does - don't do it.
I am sure next week will provide me with great inspiration for a blog that will once again make you laugh. I guess so much has gone on this week it is hard to harness it all in a simple blog space.
One thing that has had me puzzled this lately is my deodorant. It is Dove Pro-Age. Pro-Age is a line of Dove products marketed to women my age designed to help us fight the aging process. However, should I really be concerned about the perceived age of my underarms? I purchased this product because it was on sale not for it's anti-aging promise. Every time I use it I laugh to myself and wonder if my new youthful underarms will somehow improve my life.
I spent a couple of days this week in intensive sales training. I won't go much into that. It was fantastic but there isn't much funny about it, just interesting. However, one thing did just jump out at me in the first day. In this room full of professional sales people I saw a few saleswomen who really needed a fashion consultant. Seriously ladies, it is no longer 1995. I cannot understand how, in this mass media world, a woman living in 2009 cannot see that box jackets with rolled up sleeves are no longer in style. Using large amounts of hairspray and obnoxious amounts of make-up are not "the look." I think sometimes people in general tend to hold on to a time in their lives that represent happiness to them, it is difficult to let go of that time and that includes the fashion apparently. One fashion mistake that makes me insane is when a professional woman will buy a beautiful suit and then wear the suit jacket with something else other than what it came with. This hardly ever works, unless it is a plain jacket. I cannot put into words why this looks bad, it just does - don't do it.
I am sure next week will provide me with great inspiration for a blog that will once again make you laugh. I guess so much has gone on this week it is hard to harness it all in a simple blog space.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Messed up at Wal-Mart
Love it or hate it, Wal-Mart is where America shops. The first time I stepped foot in a Wal-Mart I was about 12 years old and it was in West Plains Missouri. Having spent my childhood until that point in the desert southwest, I had never seen or heard of a Wal-Mart. We shopped at Sears, JC Penney and Yellow Front when I was growing up in Mesa Arizona in 1970's. In 1980 we came to rest in Missouri and I was introduced to Wal-Mart. This seemed like a virtual shopping nirvana to a young girl. Long before the "super store", this retail establishment quickly became a source of comfort and routine. Each Saturday my Mother and I would set out in the morning and go to Wal-Mart to get the necessities of the week. We would then go to the grocery store next door, in this case it was Consumers Grocery and get the food we would need for the week.
Once I became a young Mother and working adult myself I maintained the same routine only in a different town. Each Saturday I would take my daughter to Wal-Mart, get the needed items, shampoo, glass cleaner, clothes soap, etc. We would then stop next door at the grocery, get our needed items and go home. For many years this was the tradition. Once the SuperCenter was introduced Wal-Mart became the only destination on Saturday morning and it was comfortable.
One of the greatest and strangest things about Wal-Mart to me was the familiarity it has brought over the years. The welcoming blue and white of the store's interior, the arrangement of the items in the store. The commonality of every Wal-Mart, every where. I remember going into a Wal-Mart in Rolla Missouri because my daughter had become sick during a trip to St. Louis. I knew exactly where to go to get what I needed, because all Wal-Mart stores were arranged in the same manner, in a way that made sense. There was a comfort in going into a familiar store, in an unfamiliar town anywhere and feeling at home, oriented and comfortable.
Fast forward to Summer 2009. I now live in Virginia, I shop at Wal-Mart, although not with the routine I once experienced, however, it is a comfort to me to go to a place where I know where every items is located. I do not browse when I shop. I am pointed and determined. It is somewhat like a strategic military mission for me now that I have such a huge family. I know what I need and I want to get to each item quickly, I want it to be in stock and I want to get the heck out of the store so I can get on with my life. Well, they messed up my Wal-Mart.
Over the past several months I had noticed they were remodeling the store. I thought it was getting a face lift and eventually everything would go back to it's rightful place. NO! I went shopping this weekend only to find a jumbled mess of items all in the wrong place. A shopping trip that should have taken me less than 45 minutes ended up a much longer and frustrating experience. Why would you put the pet food where the baby items should be?, housewares where the furniture should be, why are there potato chips on the wine shelf and wine on the potato chip shelf? Shoes? Shoes have always, in the entire history of Wal-Mart been in the back of the store. Where are they now? In the middle of the store! The do not belong in the middle of the store. Thank God they couldn't move Lawn and Garden or the electronics sections. So why did they spend all these dollars to move and remodel the store? It was working just fine! I think they may have spent entirely too much on the remodel because the selection was very short on supply. The old adage "stack it deep and sell it cheap?" not happening today. Prices have gone up, selection has gone down and the whole darn thing is messed up. We are in the middle of recession and Wal-Mart had to go and mess with my comfort zone. I guess my days of comfort at Wal-Mart are over. Once I get used to this new arrangement they will probably change it again. What about other stores, are they changing them all to this new layout or is it going to be a guessing game from here on out?
If you can't count on Wal-Mart for the same old thing, who can you count on for steadfast continuity?
Once I became a young Mother and working adult myself I maintained the same routine only in a different town. Each Saturday I would take my daughter to Wal-Mart, get the needed items, shampoo, glass cleaner, clothes soap, etc. We would then stop next door at the grocery, get our needed items and go home. For many years this was the tradition. Once the SuperCenter was introduced Wal-Mart became the only destination on Saturday morning and it was comfortable.
One of the greatest and strangest things about Wal-Mart to me was the familiarity it has brought over the years. The welcoming blue and white of the store's interior, the arrangement of the items in the store. The commonality of every Wal-Mart, every where. I remember going into a Wal-Mart in Rolla Missouri because my daughter had become sick during a trip to St. Louis. I knew exactly where to go to get what I needed, because all Wal-Mart stores were arranged in the same manner, in a way that made sense. There was a comfort in going into a familiar store, in an unfamiliar town anywhere and feeling at home, oriented and comfortable.
Fast forward to Summer 2009. I now live in Virginia, I shop at Wal-Mart, although not with the routine I once experienced, however, it is a comfort to me to go to a place where I know where every items is located. I do not browse when I shop. I am pointed and determined. It is somewhat like a strategic military mission for me now that I have such a huge family. I know what I need and I want to get to each item quickly, I want it to be in stock and I want to get the heck out of the store so I can get on with my life. Well, they messed up my Wal-Mart.
Over the past several months I had noticed they were remodeling the store. I thought it was getting a face lift and eventually everything would go back to it's rightful place. NO! I went shopping this weekend only to find a jumbled mess of items all in the wrong place. A shopping trip that should have taken me less than 45 minutes ended up a much longer and frustrating experience. Why would you put the pet food where the baby items should be?, housewares where the furniture should be, why are there potato chips on the wine shelf and wine on the potato chip shelf? Shoes? Shoes have always, in the entire history of Wal-Mart been in the back of the store. Where are they now? In the middle of the store! The do not belong in the middle of the store. Thank God they couldn't move Lawn and Garden or the electronics sections. So why did they spend all these dollars to move and remodel the store? It was working just fine! I think they may have spent entirely too much on the remodel because the selection was very short on supply. The old adage "stack it deep and sell it cheap?" not happening today. Prices have gone up, selection has gone down and the whole darn thing is messed up. We are in the middle of recession and Wal-Mart had to go and mess with my comfort zone. I guess my days of comfort at Wal-Mart are over. Once I get used to this new arrangement they will probably change it again. What about other stores, are they changing them all to this new layout or is it going to be a guessing game from here on out?
If you can't count on Wal-Mart for the same old thing, who can you count on for steadfast continuity?
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
The DMV and The CanadianTerrorits
One of the birthday presents I received this year came from the Department of Motor Vehicles. My driver's license expired on my birthday. Now, usually an online renewal is possible but as I reached a decade point it was time for a brand spanking new quality photograph on my license. My birthday was on a Sunday so when Monday June 29th rolled around my license was expired. Perhaps because of my love of governmental offices, I was putting off the pleasure and joy of this experience and did not get myself down to the good ole' DMV until today, making my license two days expired. I took a quick look at the website and it appeared that as long as I had my license and another form of ID (like a voters registration card) it would all be good. OH how wrong I was.
The ladies and gentlemen (I use the term loosely) who are employed by the wonderful DMV are such a happy bunch, they welcome you with a smile and are eager to serve you (I say this with tongue planted firmly in cheek). As the first face void of smile asked me why I was there I handed her her my form and she highlighted the parts I needed to fill out and told me repeatedly to take a clip board. "Ma'am, take a clip board, take a clip board, take a clip board." I wanted to say, "I don't want a freaking germ infested clip board." Her unpleasant expression scared me a bit so I took the stupid thing (note to self, thank God I have Purell in my car).
So I sat on the hard, cold plastic chair next to the least frightening person who appeared as if he probably had a shower recently and might not try to talk to me. I filled out my required paper work and was waiting for my number to be called. The numbering system used at my local DMV defies all reason. It is government code and there is no way to track when you might be next. Each number is proceeded by a letter, mine today A-054. The pleasant computerized voice announces A-051. Now you might think, wow, I'm getting close - YOU WOULD THINK WRONG. It is all a trick. The next number called EE-778. What? EE-778? Next, N-34. What the heck is this bingo? Well finally my number is called. "A-054 please go to window number 7, A-054 please go to window number 7. I hand my paperwork to another smiling DMV worker. Without a smile, without a greeting this urchin says "Do you have a birth certificate or passport?" "um, no." I respond. "Well your driver's license is expired and I need a birth certificate or passport," she says. I respond, "I checked the website and my voter's registration card is listed as a secondary identification and it is right there." I say pointing at the card. "That won't work." says Mrs. Happy DMV worker.
If you can imagine I am not very happy about this turn of events. I am trying to remain mature, calm and collected. Really all I need is to renew my driver's license, not the third degree. So I calmly ask "are there any other documents that you would accept in lieu of the passport or birth certificate?" I of course did not have either with me at this moment. Here is where it gets maddening. "Well," the blond 20 something overpaid government worker says, "If you were really a citizen of the United States you would have one of those two documents."
Okay, seriously? For those who know me I could not look for ethnically American. Put a cowboy had on my head and throw me on a horse and put me in Dallas kind of American Girl. This woman was insinuating that I was trying to pull something over on the American people by getting false documentation, after all if I were a real American, I would apparently carry my birth certificate and passport around me with to prove it. Giving this some consideration she must have just gotten out of a workshop on Canadian Terrorists sneaking into rural DMV offices attempting to get driver's licenses so they can plot against America. I really could only pass as a Canadian.
I know how useless it is to argue with a government employee so I simply smiled at Mrs. Got A Little Power and I'm going to Exercise It, and said "Well then, I suppose I will be driving illegally for a while, have a good day."
Who the heck knows where my birth certificate is. I went on line to order one. I guess I will also go down and get a passport soon as well, because after all if I were really a US citizen I would have these documents on my person at all times.
These anti terrorist, anti immigration laws have gotten out of hand. An illegal immigrant can drag their half dead body across the border and get free medical treatment in any hospital but I can't get my driver's license renewed for fear I might not be a citizen.
I do admit I should have renewed my driver's license before it expired. t I am a working American, I know it is a dying breed. There are not many of us out there and we are trying our hardest to keep this country afloat with our tax dollars. I have to work, to pay taxes, to support the millions of Americans who can't or won't work right now. So forgive my tardiness in renewing my government required driver's license. I was very busy earning my paycheck of which I get keep a full 60-percent.
The ladies and gentlemen (I use the term loosely) who are employed by the wonderful DMV are such a happy bunch, they welcome you with a smile and are eager to serve you (I say this with tongue planted firmly in cheek). As the first face void of smile asked me why I was there I handed her her my form and she highlighted the parts I needed to fill out and told me repeatedly to take a clip board. "Ma'am, take a clip board, take a clip board, take a clip board." I wanted to say, "I don't want a freaking germ infested clip board." Her unpleasant expression scared me a bit so I took the stupid thing (note to self, thank God I have Purell in my car).
So I sat on the hard, cold plastic chair next to the least frightening person who appeared as if he probably had a shower recently and might not try to talk to me. I filled out my required paper work and was waiting for my number to be called. The numbering system used at my local DMV defies all reason. It is government code and there is no way to track when you might be next. Each number is proceeded by a letter, mine today A-054. The pleasant computerized voice announces A-051. Now you might think, wow, I'm getting close - YOU WOULD THINK WRONG. It is all a trick. The next number called EE-778. What? EE-778? Next, N-34. What the heck is this bingo? Well finally my number is called. "A-054 please go to window number 7, A-054 please go to window number 7. I hand my paperwork to another smiling DMV worker. Without a smile, without a greeting this urchin says "Do you have a birth certificate or passport?" "um, no." I respond. "Well your driver's license is expired and I need a birth certificate or passport," she says. I respond, "I checked the website and my voter's registration card is listed as a secondary identification and it is right there." I say pointing at the card. "That won't work." says Mrs. Happy DMV worker.
If you can imagine I am not very happy about this turn of events. I am trying to remain mature, calm and collected. Really all I need is to renew my driver's license, not the third degree. So I calmly ask "are there any other documents that you would accept in lieu of the passport or birth certificate?" I of course did not have either with me at this moment. Here is where it gets maddening. "Well," the blond 20 something overpaid government worker says, "If you were really a citizen of the United States you would have one of those two documents."
Okay, seriously? For those who know me I could not look for ethnically American. Put a cowboy had on my head and throw me on a horse and put me in Dallas kind of American Girl. This woman was insinuating that I was trying to pull something over on the American people by getting false documentation, after all if I were a real American, I would apparently carry my birth certificate and passport around me with to prove it. Giving this some consideration she must have just gotten out of a workshop on Canadian Terrorists sneaking into rural DMV offices attempting to get driver's licenses so they can plot against America. I really could only pass as a Canadian.
I know how useless it is to argue with a government employee so I simply smiled at Mrs. Got A Little Power and I'm going to Exercise It, and said "Well then, I suppose I will be driving illegally for a while, have a good day."
Who the heck knows where my birth certificate is. I went on line to order one. I guess I will also go down and get a passport soon as well, because after all if I were really a US citizen I would have these documents on my person at all times.
These anti terrorist, anti immigration laws have gotten out of hand. An illegal immigrant can drag their half dead body across the border and get free medical treatment in any hospital but I can't get my driver's license renewed for fear I might not be a citizen.
I do admit I should have renewed my driver's license before it expired. t I am a working American, I know it is a dying breed. There are not many of us out there and we are trying our hardest to keep this country afloat with our tax dollars. I have to work, to pay taxes, to support the millions of Americans who can't or won't work right now. So forgive my tardiness in renewing my government required driver's license. I was very busy earning my paycheck of which I get keep a full 60-percent.
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