Prepare to live vicariously through me, experiencing all the glamour of a visit back to Arizona to see my parents!
Upon arriving last Saturday evening, I realized the saying "You can never go home" has never been more true. What used to be my bedroom has become a combination office, sewing room, tool storage area, and the place where an odd assortment of funky furniture goes to die. My luxury sleeping accommodations involved an army surplus stretcher on the floor. As an added touch, they upgraded the room to 5-star by removing the cat's litter box.
On Sunday morning, I woke up to the sound of my mom's voice outside my door saying "Sarah, do you know how to work your sister's boom box? I want it to play a song again."
My sister, Beth, used to have a boom box. A legitimate gigantic gray plastic boom box with a double cassette tape deck and probably some Depeche Mode stickers, last seen circa 1989. It was her pride and joy...25 years ago.
I was confused. I was pretty sure that boom box was long gone, maybe ritualistically burned in a shrine to Flock of Seagulls or something. I went out to inspect the alleged boom box and found this:
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| Beth's iPhone hooked up to a little portable speaker playing a stream of Johnny Cash songs. |
I explained the evolution from the boom box to the newfangled invention of the cell phone, and welcomed my mom to the 21st century.
A few minutes later, the phone's alarm clock went off. Mom jumped.
"Sarah! There's an alarm clock ringing! I think it's coming from inside that record player!"
Sigh. One step forward, two steps back. Maybe I should have tried welcoming her to the 20th century instead.
Meanwhile...
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| I can't even begin to explain this. I know it's made from the hood of a car, a piece of lumber painted orange, the rubber foot nubbin from the bottom of a cane, a stainless steel turnbuckle, and a very long single piece of blue twine. I know my dad thinks it's world's greatest home-made musical instrument. What I don't know is why. |
Looking in the background of that last picture, I suddenly see how you developed your crippling aversion to knick-knacks.
ReplyDeleteAlso, good grief, are those actual 8 track tapes on the shelf there?!? Amazing!
Good eye! They are most definitely 8 tracks, dredged from the depths of many a yard sale over the years.
DeleteI laughed at this because I know that when I visited with you, I got a bed and you got a bed. And now there's just a cot. And, really I don't know why I deem that laugh worthy, but whatever, it did make me laugh. Or at least chuckle.
ReplyDeleteIf you'd been along for the visit, I'm sure they could have pulled out all the stops and managed to produce two cots.
DeleteI don't know if they could have issued you a musical instrument of your very own, though. Cutbacks, you know.
I'm honored to have made it onto your blog! Thank you.
ReplyDeleteTwo explanations:
(1) The stretcher was not just "army surplus! It is FRENCH army surplus.
Tres chic! Very Continental. Haute couture! And brand new.
(2) I didn't say the big balilaika was the worlds greatest muisical instrument. I started to say it was the best musical instrument I ever made. And it is. The others were really trashy.