SPF 30 my ass!

It's summer 1976. The USA proudly celebrates its 200th birthday, the sacrifices made to form our democracy. But I'm 14 and clueless - I have one thing on my mind. Getting a good tan. Oh sure, it may look like we're just laying around reading magazines. But let me tell you it is WORK, with skeels required. I even took jobs based on how I could improve my tan.... detassling, walking beans, lawn mowing.

My aunt Janie and my friend Sheryl's mom were my mentors. They had raised the bar in tanning with their time commitment and creative tools and processes. My aunt was known to stop time itself for her tanning regimen. Sheryl's mom perfected the foil lined refrigerator box.

Top 10 competencies for a good tanner circa 1976 include:
1. knowing to use only Johnson & Johnson Baby Oil
2. knowing when/how to turn the chair/towel towards the best sun angle
3. knowing when to turn over, a good tanner knows both sides need coverage
4. knowing the best magazines to read (if you are by yourself, you can indulge in Seventeen. which is really your favorite, but if you're in public you'd better be seen reading Glamour or Cosmo.
5. keeping the towel on the chair when you get up or sit down or keep the chair from collapsing.
6. how to unsnap and resnap your bikini top while laying (lying?) on your tummy
7. how to adjust the antena on your transitor radio for the best reception on the AM stations
8. how to free your mind for hours for endless hours of appearing to do nothing
9. if at the pool, how to maneuver slipping into the pool to cool off during adult swim, when all the pesky kids are at the snack bar
10. Never, ever, wear a hat.

Today, I felt 14 again. Launching the new lounger, laying in the sun, listening to, appropriately, songs from summer in the 70's. Lots of new job aids have been created since 1976; hair clips, bottled water, cd players with radios, US magazine, and something called SPF. Searching through the house for lotion, I found SPF30 and SPF 8. I'm older, more mature, with aging skin - so of course I should opt for the SPF 30. NOT! For this one, priceless, perfect Friday afternoon, I'm a renegade, and I shout "SPF 30 my ass!" It was glorious. Carry on my wayward SUN!

Slowwwwwly losing it.

Well, I just bought a new pair of jeans 2 sizes smaller than most of my other pants. Not to be confused with "I just bought a new pair of size 2 jeans" - it ain't no Michael Thurmond 6 week body makeover, but it's mine. It's more like the dedicated but not so much she doesn't cheat once in awhile body makeover. I can tell when I told my boyfriend, Rick, that my jeans were 2 sizes smaller, he was thinking "Reeeeeally? - Hmmm, I just don't see it." But he said "Good job hon!" with an enthusiastic smile - God bless him.

I lost my work out partner to busy motherhood duties, so getting myself to the gym as often has been a challenge. However, once I'm there, I get a better workout because I don't talk so much! When I have a bad day at work I still think I deserve a concrete mixer for the drive home. And I can't seem to shake the rule that food day food doesn't have calories. Or that I can't have pizza... because it's Friday afterall and that's what we always have on Friday and it wouldn't be fair to Rick not to have pizza.

So for the next six weeks, I'll continue my behavior modification therapy and trips to the gym. I'll keep dancing with the stars and breaking furniture. I'll keep trying to have either potatoes or bread but not both. Ect. Ect. Ect. I appreciate you all keeping me honest, knowing you are out there helps a lot! Love you!

A Gleek from WAY back

I love Glee. It never fails to stir up old memories. These trips down memory lane are really important to me and so are the people along the road. I don't know if I'm just weird, or if other people have random memories that sustain them - for example, years of playing records in my room by myself or with a friend or in their room. Doing homework. Crying. Daydreaming. Singing. Making up dances. Just laying on the bed. Our rooms. Ahhhhh. With the "Don't Trust Anyone Over 30" sign on the wall.

This started about age 4. Some well worn albums or 45s are Winnie the Pooh, Mary Poppins Soundtrack, Sound of Music Soundtrack, The Partridge Family, Bobby Gentry, Johnny Cash, Herb Albert and the Tijuana Brass, Glen Campbell, Roberta Flack (can you tell these were my mom's :-) Cher, Gilbert O'Sullivan, Funny Girl, Funny Lady, Bette Midler, Simon and Garfunkel, Diana Ross, Barry Manilow, Chicago, Olivia Newton John, Elton John's Good Bye Yellow Brick Road, Godspell, Best of Bread side 1, and I rented classical albums from the library. I guess I didn't think they were worth buying! Of course, there are many more.

For someone who can't sing a note - music really helps me expunge emotion, or celebrate life, love and All That Jazz. What helps you?

Our Mothers Themselves

As Mother's Day approaches, let's think about our moms in a completely unique and unconventional light, in a way we may have never have considered them... as people. Women, who were girls, and teenagers, and had diaries and pimples and dreams and aspirations, and talent. Lots of talent. My mom is a wonderful artist, especially with water colors. She is just creative in general, a centerpiece Goddess.... I think she inherited that from her mother. Every season comes with a new centerpiece on the dining room table. And who else would think of a heart shaped meatloaf for Valentine's Day? I've carried on that tradition and have evolved to other shapes, including apples, pumpkins, footballs, sham rocks and stalks of corn.

And my mom is a beautiful woman. I always thought she looked like Elizabeth Taylor in her teenage and young adult years. And she has style, dressed like Jackie Kennedy - before she was Jackie O. Now she's a Chico kind of lady, always with matching cool jewelry that she got at an art fair, not Kohls.

My mom taught me to be an independent thinker, even when all I wanted was for her to "just please tell me what to do!!!!" I don't know if she always appreciates my independent thinking now, but she only has herself to thank! :-)

We make fun of my mom a lot. Let's face it, she's an easy target. But I'm starting to feel guilty about that, because now that she is becoming a real person, it just seems mean. I don't like to be mean. So why have I allowed myself to be mean to the woman who gave me life? Who taught me how to make chocolate chip cookie dough, never mentioning we could bake them, as we rolled it all up in wax paper and threw it into the fridge for anytime snacking? Who gave up many of her own dreams so that my brother and I could follow ours?

So, this Mother's Day, I'm remembering Barbara Sue Boatright Bartison, artist, feminist, non-conformist (still doesn't have a debit card), devoted friend, teacher, and American beauty. Thank you for putting Barbie Sue aside all too many times, so Dana and Mark could be Dana and Mark. We love you!