So a few days ago I helped my mom organize a storage room. It is full of crafty things: feathers, glue, kaleidoscope kits, blank wooden frames, cotton balls... and toys for her preschoolers.
Well, they call it a storage room at least. Some might say otherwise, as you can see from the sarcastic sign on the door:
Makes me wonder whether one would need to use "air quotes" when talking about the place.
"Hey Viola, where can I find some fake flowers for a craft project?"
"Oh, they're in the "storrrrage" room, Sandy."
See Viola would drag out the word and raise her voice while making an annoying motion similar to this:
[yes I was really saying "storage" when this was taken]
Seems a bit pretentious to me.
Anyway, here is the Before shot of one area I organized (or should I say "Beforrre"?)...
[chaos! chaos!]
After hours of sweat, blood, elbow grease, and a little bit of coffee, the place looked much better...
[the blurriness should prove this is real and not from an IKEA magazine]
There was one little gem I stumbled upon when going through the stuff. I found the most masculine wallpaper book that has ever existed.
[maps? compasses? paisley? navy blue?! too much testosterone for me!]
Not only does this wonderful collection feature sailboat patterns, plaid, and fishin' designs, it also includes the manly macho room design seen here:
[makes me want to butcher a deer and drink raw eggs!!]
Now, you asked for more memory box hilarity so I am going to deliver.
You're welcome, is what I say.
When I was in preschool my teacher had us look in a magazine and cut out models who looked like members of our family. Sort of a lame project idea, but I'll show you mine anyway. We glued the cut-outs on a house-shaped piece of white paper that said _____'s Family. Then we practiced writing everyone's names next to their picture.
[obviously the red marker areas were done by my teacher]
Leafing through the 90's magazines with glossy photos of models, I found the perfect headshot to represent my dad:
[is this the Brawny man??]
Brown hair, blue eyes... no one could look more like my ol' pop. Well, the bleach-colored teeth and extremely square jaw might be a little off.
What my dad really looked like in the early 1990s:
[in his defense he wasn't always wearing that hat]
Oops, guess I forgot about the mustache and glasses as well. Can you really blame a four-year-old?
With my mom, I was a little further off the mark:
Once again, I got the hair color down, and even the skin color... but everything else, not so much.
What my mom really looked like in the early 1990s:
Did magazines in the 90s discriminate against individuals with short hair and glasses or was I just stupid?
You're welcome, mom, for the very flattering picture of you.
I'd like to point out that I failed twice for my mom. After choosing that picture, this is how I wrote her name:
[ohh... kay.]
Now Kevin was still a baby (as seen in above photo) so his was easy:
[still unexplained: why I scribbled on him and why my teacher thought his name was "Calvin"]
Hey! Not bad! All babies look the same, right?
What Kevin really looked like in the early 1990s (again):
[I guess that kid was always tanner than me]
He's the baby, in case you weren't sure. He might be redder than the baby in the magazine, but come on you know they Photoshop those models!
When it came to choosing a picture of myself, I got a little cocky:
[yes, I looked like a 24-year-old African American model when I was 4]
Not only did I choose a picture of a taller, more mature, better dressed (kind of) woman; I also wrote my name as "Cal." What the hell?
Maybe I really really like the name Cal/Calvin. So much that I wanted it for BOTH me and my brother.
What I really looked like in the early 1990s (again):
Other than "we are both females and human--I guess," I cannot find one physical similarity between myself and this model.
Wait! I've got it--we both closed our mouth in our picture! Brilliant.
Now, after this mishap my teacher should have stopped the project, but she continued to push me and I chose this cut-out to represent my little sister Marina:
[yes, this is real]
I don't think we really need words for this one.
What Marina really looked like in the early 1990s:
[whoops, guess she wasn't a black man.]
I was such a cool four-year old.
Maybe the real lesson here is that magazines do not reflect reality. What a surprise. Ha.
Before I go, I have a quote or two from my childhood to share:
Technically, I was five at this time, but I still think it fits.
Another one I'm pretty proud of is this,
" 'Hi Mom!' said Christie as she raced into the room. "
In case you weren't sure, I said the whole thing, not just the "Hi Mom" part. This was one of those times when my mom started to wonder if she read to me too much.
Today I went through my "memory box," a.k.a. the bin of random crafts, drawings, and awards I have saved over the years. There were a lot of things I wondered why I saved-- some more than others.
For example...
[uh?]
Yes, it is a tube filled with green tinged water and glitter, topped with corks and wads of glue. Not really sure what it was meant for... a glowstick perhaps?
Or glitterstick? Sparkly wand? Mold experiment?
No doubt there are some beautiful memories attached to this object. Must have been a joy to create (and probably only took about 2 minutes!).
If you thought that was AWESOME, you will love this construction paper silhouette of me:
[it seems I couldn't close my mouth or cut it out on my own at the time]
What a great idea my 1st grade teacher, Ms. Wiese had! All children should quietly sit in front of a bright light to be traced at this age! How else could they remember their awkward slouch or the shape of their hairstyle? Brilliant.
So maybe I couldn't cut a silhouette in first grade, but I sure was handy with leather! Oh boy oh boy oh BOY am I glad I kept these beautiful crafts:
[especially the bag]
You'll be happy to know that the bag is not the right size for pencils... or anything else a kid would want to hold for that matter. Stickers would get crushed, small rocks would fall out, and frogs would escape. Maybe it was made to mail a very very special letter.
Oh, it gets better. Guess what this is:
"Is it barf or dried cottage cheese?" you may ask. No, friends, it is a small hunk of homemade paper. This lumpy, blueish scrap was definitely worth saving. Reminds me of recycling and all the odd things we did in girl scouts. Too bumpy to write on or glue to any surface, but maybe it could be used as highly absorbent toilet paper or the cover to a very ugly (title-less) scrapbook.
Speaking of writing on weird materials, here is another item I saved:
A piece of wood accented with yarn that has my name written on it. Gee golly.
Apparently I love my name because I also salvaged this specimen:
[does the busy background make it more interesting?]
Man, what could be better than a piece of construction paper shaped like a star?
An altered Folgers can, of course!
[it was obvious from the beginning I'd be an art major]
Did you know I've been a Highland Bank customer for over 5 years?! The day it happened is one I'll never forget... because I saved the key link they sent me.
[never used. never forgotten.]
Okay, so something a company made to encourage more sales isn't that cool. But what about something handmade? That's worth saving, right? Maybe...
Wow. Glue and lame feathers and hunks of felt. Must have taken a master-craftswoman to make these!
Now I feel like there are too many funny objects, I am running out of things to write! Here is a floppy clay boat.
[how can something be so detailed yet so lame?]
Which accessory is your favorite: the tie-dye oars? The lumpy life jacket? The 3D shorts?
My favorite might be one that is not pictured:
[fishing pole = broken... oh and a red scrap of dried clay too]
So, do you like it? I have a few more funny things from memory lane if you do!
