Think Violet ChenilleIn the latest Victoria's Secret catalog, I was pleased to see my bathrobe available. I am fond of both the concept and the fact of bathrobes. I was grateful when I eventually did get one, loved the Snugglesnaurism of any robe, and appreciated having something to keep me warm.
My first bathrobe ever was a hand-me-down from CLH the summer after freshling year. I had gone to college without a robe and with two worn towels of insufficient acreage, which were all that BJWL had been willing to risk to the rigors of campus life. I never considered buying my own, mostly because I had never considered buying my own household supplies and partly because of money. By sophomore year, when I moved into a coed dorm, I was glad to have a robe. Anyway, that one lasted for the rest of college, though it was fairly sprung in the seat by the end. I loved it because CLH had given it to me.
And then I graduated and moved back to my mother's house. Now I had hoped that JPS would survive college, because I wanted to be able to say good-bye to her, and she did, but only just. We had the vet euthanize her just weeks after I returned. Soon thereafter I bought a sumptuous new robe, thinking, perhaps callously, that here was something else to keep me warm.
JPS has been dead for almost seven years, and that robe is nearly transparent in places. So I have ordered a new one. This one has a large embroidered crest on the breast pocket, which would be a major fault if another member of my family didn't love it. Blake functions as an efficient seam-ripper.
I also ordered two bras. I was sure the style I have now was my correct size, but apparently that style is no longer or has never been made in my size. Damn it. I expect to lose some weight with the Nordic Track, but I wonder if I'll lose enough to wear the style I love: stretchy lace, racer-back, front-snapping.
And whenever I complain about my weight (and its distribution), I need to remind myself of MEWN, whose life, it appears, has been drastically improved by breast reduction surgery, and whose size I am far from, and of the fact that exercise will help.
Spice AngelsIn the catalog is a photograph of five women in camisoles whose caption is "What kind of angel are you?" The captions embroidered on the camisoles are "cranky angel," "naughty angel," "nice angel," "angel face," and "spoiled angel." The immediate association is to the Spice Girls, of course; four of the models are white and one black and one of the white ones is red-haired. It took me a while to remember all five nicknames, but, sadly, I could. I just saw them on Dick Clark's Rocking* New Year's Eve. How pathetic. Anyway, I added the nicknames to these Victoria's Secret models, graffiti-wise, and I'll send the page to CLH. She'll be amused.
*I refuse to drop almost any "g," no matter how moronically a copyrighted word is presented. Copywrite before copyright, I say.
PuzzlesI have finally finished HAO's crossword puzzle, although I still need to compile all the clues. Unlike CLH's, which was very successful, only the top left quadrant is really HAO-specific. Elsewhere, to fill in space, I have just regular crossword clues. Well, not really. CLH's was a masterpiece
These puzzles have been varyingly successful through the years. I made CLH's in 1992, I think, because of what living room I remember picturing her sitting in completing it. Also because it would make sense for my own situation: just another excuse not to do my schoolwork, albeit a good one. Now, she loved hers thoroughly. Again I was reminded how stupid it is not to photocopy the completed puzzle, because there are two clues whose answers she couldn't guess and I couldn't remember. The very first clue I thought of was "Name from beyond the grave." As children, we made up a name that we would never tell anyone else so that after one died, she could haunt the other and say that name to prove her authenticity. And she didn't get it. "Audrey Rose" (a drive-in movie about reincarnation during which I had to go into the back of the station wagon to sleep; I've never seen it, but CLH has described it in detail) didn't fit. I was really surprised she didn't get that, except that it was fun to laugh about it on the phone afterward. And it's our favorite clue when remembering the puzzle.
I have made them for all of my boyfriends, and each one's reception is telling. I was subscribing to Games magazine when I met PSA, which is how I got the idea to make one. PSA didn't work the puzzle because (he said) he didn't want to mar such an opus. (He learned all these verbal moves from his social dynamo of a brother.) I made one for NCS, who said he found it too challenging. (This is the man who presumably was happy only when the number of times he had crossed the Atlantic was even (he was born in England) and continually asserted the importance of his birthplace, yet didn't know the answer to this newspaper crossword puzzle clue: "Good Queen _ _ _ _.") I made one for SSP, who enjoyed his. I made one for PLT, who allegedly worked on his a bit and then lost it but--I believe--lost it immediately. Then I made CLH's, who (with SSP) has been the only one to guffaw at her puzzle as thoroughly I hoped. I made one for RDC, whom I married. Now I'm making one for HAO, who also subscribes to Games, bringing this tradition full circle, except I still haven't made one for DEDBG.
LEB suggested I make one for CXJ--there, I must have made CLH's for her birthday in 1992, because that's when I was buddiest [sic] with CXJ, and LEB was in Australia during CLH's 1993 birthday--because he enjoys crossword puzzles. He and LEB's husband used to make a competition--surprise, surprise--out of The Willimantic Chronicle's every day. I demurred because we didn't have enough in-jokes to make a whole puzzle.
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