Monthly Archives: September 2011

2.  Gak: Is it silly putty? No. Play-doh? Nope. It is slimy, slippery goodness that, until 1992, you could only play with if you were lucky enough to go on Double Dare. What did you do with Gak? Well, other than get yelled at because you got it smooshed all in the carpets … I’m not really sure. Squished it and made fart noises? And there were so many versions! Glow in the dark, smelly gak, magnetic gak … and floam. Remember floam? It was like gak, but bubbley and soft and microbeady (so descriptive!)?

Disclaimer: Not MY actual Staci.

3.  Cabbage Patch Dolls: Is the Cabbage Patch Doll the best doll in the history of toys? Of course. It kicks that pretentious American Girl’s butt! Those chubby cheeks! Yarn for hair! The concept was simple, yet children went insane for them! I remember the Christmas morning when I got my red-headed Anastasia (Whom I quickly renamed to Staci – with an “i” – by mailing out her name change form and receiving an official birth certificate in the mail, naming me as her sole guardian.)  Staci was joined by her Cabbage Patch Kids Surprise Newborn brother, David (named after MY baby brother. So original), the following Christmas. Staci and David are currently patiently residing in my parent’s basement, wrapped up tight and waiting for the day that I force them upon my own, human children.

4.  Tamagotchi: The Tamagotchi was not a child’s game. Only a tween could be trusted to take on such responsibility. Hatch the egg. Name it. Play with it. Put it to sleep. Check it’s happiness. Check it’s hunger. It was too much! TOO MUCH! Long before Angry Birds and iPhones, children were spending their recess playing catch with their digital pets. (I bought my Tamagotchi for $5 from a girl on the bus, the day before spring break. She got a new one and her 12 year old self just didn’t have the time to take care of both. Her hectic lifestyle was my gain!)

5.  Pound Puppies: I grew up in a time where toys were simple. The Pound Puppy was just a stuffed dog with floppy ears and big eyes. Like Cabbage Patch dolls, all Pound Puppies were different. Cooler, the bloodhound, was obviously the best (Pound puppies – let’s start pounding!). Honorable mention here goes to a similar toy, Puppy Surprise (how many puppies are there inside?!)

 There are approximately 100 more toys I want to talk about, so I’d also like to give honorable mention to Easy Bake Oven, Glo-Worms, Super Nintendo, Popples, Rainbow Brite, Wuzzles, Care Bears and Micro Machines. What else can you think of?

Posted by Heather Wheeler in Personal Thoughts

All families are like a small group of indigenous people.  They have their own special way to make pasta sauce (use Dom’s yellow can as your base) and pie crust (pre-made, naturally. If you focus on the filling, nobody will notice the crust anyways).  They have their own slang (See: pig con-scious [pig kon-shuhs] noun: 1) a person who hogs all the food, consciously), which has evolved over years.

You look like a deranged Easter Bunny.

Most families also have deeply rooted holiday traditions.  For my family, it is watching, and quoting, A Christmas Story (which isn’t necessarily something designated solely for the Christmas season) as often and feverishly as possible.

 “You’ll shoot your eye out.”

“Oh, fudge.”

 Please. That’s child’s play. Rookies quote those lines.  As my brother, sister and I are now all in our 20s, we dig deeper into the script, pulling out obscure references that the average movie watcher wouldn’t usually recognize. Do you know the name of the Lone Ranger’s nephew’s horse? How about Farkus’s crummy, little toadie?  Didn’t think so.

This afternoon, I saw a picture of meatloaf, which immediately led to me saying “Meatloaf, beefloaf, double smeatloaf. I HATE meatloaf.” Oh, Randy.

While I’m not one to rush winter our way, I admit that my anticipation for Christmas is probably on-par with that of a five year old.  If summer has to leave us, and fall will never be one of those people who drops by for a visit and stays indefinitely, then bring it on December.  I’m getting anxious to watch Randy lay there like a slug – his only defense.

Posted by Heather Wheeler in Personal Thoughts

If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all. Or am I thinking of ”You can’t please everyone, so please yourself?” “Those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones?” (I know that last one isn’t right, but I’d like to take a moment to say I don’t care for that phrase. Who do you know living in a glass house? If I lived in a glass house, I definitely would not allow rocks inside. Or out. In fact, I think most everything in and around a glass home should be squishy or fluffy. Safety reasons.)

I’d like to believe most people are inherently good, and that they live their life with the hopes of making others happy.  Many are quick to bend – change plans, edit opinions – in order to please someone else.  But I think its imperative to remember who you are, deep in your core, and to be unwilling to sacrifice that.  Don’t lose sight of what matters most to you, because someone else’s vision is clouding it. Or worse – because someone demands it of you.

There are some people in this world who simply want a black, when all you have to offer is white.  And then, when you find your 64 box of Crayolas (all of them in their original order, obviously), and graciously offer your black, that’s not good enough either. (Excuse the weird, almost confusing crayon reference. I was coloring over the weekend, and forgot how awesome that can be.)

Maybe you shouldn’t offer anyone your black crayon. Maybe to borrow, but definitely not for keeps.  Black is a pretty essential part to any crayon masterpiece.  It is typically the base, the outline, of which all of the other colors work around.  And you definitely shouldn’t offer your black to someone who takes it, breaks it in half and then throws it back at you, because they didn’t even want it in the first place. And also, they don’t say thank you.  Some people just believe they were entitled to that all along.

It is hard to accept when you can’t make someone happy.  Its even harder to accept letting go.  But you’ve got all of these crayons, in so many different colors.  Share them with someone who appreciates them (and, hopefully, returns them to their rightful place in the box).

Who else loves this gem of a Christmas movie? "If the idiot won't ask you, ask the idiot."

Posted by Heather Wheeler in Personal Thoughts