Mosquito bites: 8
Bloody gashes on shin: 1
Giant, painful zits: 1
Photos taken at car show: 14
Photos taken of ONE car at car show: 11
Pairs of dangly plastic whistle earrings: 1
Enormous black sun hats: 1
Estimated ’40s-vintage Vogue suits: 1
Saving-for-birthday-present vintage faux-leopard coats: 1
Circa 1969 PlayTape 1200 machines: 1
PlayTape cartridges: 3
Flat pennies: 3
Things to do upon returning home: approximately one million
Filed under amusement, fashion, friends, jewelry, life-threatening clutter, nostalgia, romance, relationships, shopping, vacation, vintage
I am not a Trekkie.
There are many characteristics that certain immediate family members and I share, but a nearly-encyclopedic knowledge of Star Trek characters and stories and timelines is not among them. However, living in a household with two aficionados (and my nearby uncle, a third) means that I did watch many episodes as I was growing up. I know more about Star Trek than someone who didn’t watch it with any regularity. In fact, I recall more about the original series than I do about ST: Voyager, which I watched, with friends, with a weekly eagerness. I probably saw one or two or three of the first batch of Trek movies. I just didn’t care that much.
I heard the trailer for the new Star Trek movie was amazing, but I didn’t watch it. I didn’t see any television ads. I didn’t recognize any of the actors’ names, and I didn’t look them up. I somehow overheard that this movie was going back to the original characters, the only ones I had any affection for. And my circle of friends is a bit heavy in the sci-fi department, so I had a general interest in going to see it.
Oh, on opening day? In IMAX? Well, okay. That will be fun. We’ll meet first at Megan & Joe’s house, drink some “Romulan ale,” and then carpool over to the theater. It’s a party!
We bought our tickets well in advance. Joe researched and decided on an “appropriate” recipe for Romulan ale. Megan and I both wore Lurex. She in a retro, bare-shouldered gold top, me in a vintage red minidress. Alison chose to not wear her TOS-accurate dress, citing fit issues. Joe brought his communicator. Along with Jay and Rich and Sui and Genevieve, we chatted and laughed and snacked and drank and ’pooled over to the theater and waited in line for our showing. People were walking out of the 7pm showing exclaiming that it was “awesome.” And they looked like normal people. Megan and I were the snazziest folks within view in the 10pm line, although there was a gal not far behind us wearing a red, “EXPENDIBLE” T-shirt. As we piled into the theater, we eventually saw one couple in their TOS outfits. Overall, an understated crowd.
The movie began with a flurry of absolutely no fanfare whatsoever. No theme song, no “Space: The final frontier” speech. No definitive moment that Trekkies could hoot and holler about. But… that ping. That sonar-like ping. That’s lifted from the show! My grin began.
And was glued to my face for the next two hours.
As the movie came to its conclusion, I wanted more! More of these characters, the younger versions of the characters I knew and didn’t realize how much I loved. Played so well that, outside of the visually-obvious Sulu and Uhura, it was clear who was who from the get-go. These actors truly became their characters, without making them into caricatures. The cadences, the attitudes, they had it down. I believed them. And yet, they each added their own personality to the roles. The story line was entertaining. The ship sets and props were fresh and modern, but still nodded at the originals. The visual effects were loads of fun, and I would hazard that nothing like them has been seen in the ST canon until now. That being said, I could have done with a lot less “lens flare.” I wondered for a long time if there was an issue with our print of the film before I realized it was an effect. The closing credits appeared rushed and cheap compared to the rest of the movie. But, it’s the closing credits. It didn’t exactly detract from the plot. And I would like for someone, someday, to explain to me why the Romulan ship was shaped that way (and how would it dock?)… but not today. Today, I’m going to bask in the glory of the film, and continue to wear a smile on my face.
Because it was awesome.
A blog post? On a weekend? No, Hell hath not frozen over. Although, by looking out the window on this April morning, you may not realize that. Yesterday was beautiful; sunny and warm, so today? Snow. Welcome to springtime along the Front Range.
If you follow me on Twitter (@ampersandwich) you know that I was sewing a skirt the other day, and even hinted at a blog post about it, but suddenly stopped talking about it. Here’s the deal: it’s coming out really well. Seriously. The first evening of sewing went off without a hitch. The initial fitting is just about perfect (as with anything I sew for myself, I could have cut it a little smaller). The only thing I have left to do is the waistband, which I’ve been putting off because I’ve never done a waistband before and I don’t want to screw up an otherwise excellent sewing project.
On the other hand; without the waistband, it’s unwearable. So there’s that.
Also, I desperately need to finish this skirt because not only will it be fodder for an interesting (I hope) blog post, but because it’s a planned outfit for Day One of my annual pilgrimmage to the Viva Las Vegas rockabilly weekender, and Day One is getting very, very close. So close, in fact, that while I certainly miss the income that comes from being employed, this is the last weekend before the big event and were I having to head to the office on Monday, I would be FREAKING OUT right now.
Which brings us to Viva Las Vegas. Vivaaaaaa Las Vegas. In past years, I have spent the month or so before the trip planning and plotting and packing with local friends. This year I’ve been on my own, although with the supportive buzz and hum of assorted online “friends” whom I expect to run into down there. I suppose I should be more assertive (eek!) about getting people’s phone numbers, so we can actually coordinate general times and locations. It can be difficult to find people in the sizable crowd even when you DO know what they look like in 3D. I was planning on spectating from the safety of The Boyfriend’s arm, but it turns out that he has a handful of friends who will be there, and he’ll want to spend some time with them. My last attempt to make friends with his friends didn’t go so well, so I think I’ll bypass this “opportunity” for now. (It wasn’t their fault. It’s just that, even when you explain social anxiety to folks, they think that once they say “hi” and the sky doesn’t fall down, that I’ll become a normal person. But it doesn’t work that way. This, apparently, leaves them feeling inadequate. Or something.) A couple of my own friends recently decided to go as well, but they’ve been keeping to themselves lately and I don’t want to interfere with whatever they’ve got going on. So I guess I’m back on my own again, for some events. As a result, if you’re down at The Orleans and see a ’billy girl hyperventilating quietly in the bathroom, that’s just me, freaking out about having to interact with other, live, human beings. Please move slowly, bring me something to drink, preferably liquor, and I’ll be okay. I have already put the schedule of bands I want to see into my iPhone, so if you can help me calm down enough to operate it, I’ll know where I need to be next.
As for now, I need to busy myself with finishing the skirt, creating three more hair flowers, researching spray tans so my pasty glow doesn’t blind people poolside, getting my hair color touched up (appt is on Wednesday; nothing like the last minute!), making a new necklace, and figuring out how to fit 8 dresses, 8 handbags, 8 pairs of shoes, plus all of my toiletries and whatnot, into ONE suitcase and ONE garment bag. If I have time left over, I’d like to sew my Standard Oil patch onto the back of my jacket (Suggested company motto: ‘Squishing a dwindling supply of dinosaurs for over 100 years’) and paint flames on the cuffs of a pair of jeans (although I’ve been saying I’m going to do that for a year).
Today’s agenda: Finish skirt. Glue flowers. Make trip to Walgreen’s to exchange the Almay Moisturizing Eye Makeup Remover pads for the less drippy Almay Oil-Free Eye Makeup Remover Pads. Seriously, I think Almay took all of the oil they WOULD have used in the oil-free pads, and added it to the oil in the moisturizing pads. Dipping a cotton ball into straight mineral oil would be less oily. I went through two tissues before switching to a washcloth just trying to get the excess oil OFF of my eyes. I’m all for moisturizing the delicate eye area, but come on. Oh, and the gal who will be doing my hair on Wednesday asked if I could stop by her shop today so she could take a look at what she’ll be dealing with. And, um, post this. So, step one begins… now.
Two is a coincidence, three is a collection. -Me
Well alrighty then, kiddies, gather ’round and let me tell you ’bout a little girl who never wanted to dress like a cowboy until some time late in high school when she HAD to have herself a pair of cowboy boots. And by “have herself,” I mean “beg for a pair for Christmas.” I still remember ’em: Dan Post boots, in black leather. Nothing fancy, which, even then, I was disappointed by. But still, good boots of my very own. And for that, I was pleased. They were joined shortly thereafter by a pair of Larry Mahan lizard-skin boots, very graciously donated to me by my friend Winston, a real, live Texan. They were too small for him, and too big for me. My heels would bleed from rubbing around inside those boots, and the lizard was cracking, and the soles were separating, and I was in no financial position to do anything about it.
Actually, even before the boots, I had a t-shirt on which was printed an old photo of a line of cowgirls, real buckaroo rodeo gals, from maybe the early ’30s. Wonderful, broad-brimmed hats.
I’m not sure at what point I decided that I wanted to be Dale Evans. I loved Nudie‘s work, and I’d wanted majorette boots since I was a tiny little thing, so I guess it was a natural progression. I bought my first leather-and-concho belt in Kansas in 1995 or ’96, and my first fancified snap-front shirt in… shoot. I don’t remember. It’s been a while.
Click on the photo to take a look at the collection.
Filed under collections, fashion, nostalgia, shoes, vintage
I don’t read Maggie Mason. Do you hear that, Universe? Here is a crafty, educated, independent, liberal woman who DOESN’T READ MIGHTY GIRL. I have nothing against Maggie, it’s just that, in an ever-increasing world of Well-Written Blogs, I can’t read everyone. And, since I don’t have a 2-year-old or live in San Francisco, Mighty Girl is not always relevant to my life.
Why the preamble? Because I only stumbled upon Maggie’s list of 100 Things To Do a freaking year after she’d written it. And I thought about making a list for myself, but Item Number One would have to be “Make list of 100 things to do before I die” and I’d probably never get around to crossing that one off. Besides, I’ve already been feeling a bit “what’s my point” lately, so I’ve decided to come about this from the opposite direction:
25 Things I Would Already Have Crossed Off My List If I’d Bothered With A List In The First Place (in no particular order, other than the order I remembered them in, and some of them happened more by chance than desire, but we can’t always pick our good fortune.)
1. Live in NYC
2. Get tattooed
3. Visit Europe (I can now cross through that three times, and I promise I’m not done)
4. Pick up and move halfway (actually, more) across the country with no friends, family, or job waiting for me
5. Buy a new car, like NEW new, not new-to-me new
6a. Go to art school
6b. Actually make my living at it
7. Own a computer, and a COLOR monitor (I am old enough for this to have been, at one time, pure science fiction)
8. Fly in a Cessna
9. Eat a crêpe in Paris
10. Watch the sun set at Cape May
11. Visit the Statue of Liberty
12. Go to the observation deck at the World Trade Center
13. Learn to play an instrument (I never claimed to play it well)
14. Stand underneath the Eiffel Tower
15. Drink a beer at a sidewalk cafe in Amsterdam
16. Take a Duck tour through Boston
17. Buy Sky Sox season tickets
18. Make a decent pie crust from scratch
19. Watch the vintage car races at Lime Rock
20. Zoom through Harriman State Park in a Mercedes 190SL with the top down (bonus points to the cop who pulled us over for NOT ticketing us, although we were very much speeding, and the FAIRLY EXPENSIVE car was not registered in either of our names)
21. Dip my toes in both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans
22. Shop at Harrod’s
23. Tour a real castle (I’ve done this a few times, actually)
24. Eat a slice of Black Forest cake IN the Black Forest
25. Watch a ballgame at Fenway Park
In keeping with the theme of the anti-meme, you are hereby not allowed to post your own list. Ha! But I encourage everyone to think about all the things you’ve accomplished that other people may only dream of.
shoes and pie 