stoopmama

I have broken free from my November slump! HUZZAH! Guess who I have to thank for lifting my spirits out of the doldrums?

What? Did you think it would be a picture of my kid? She’s ayight.

I freaking love Christmas, like whoa. Johnny Mathis Christmas album on repeat + peppermint everything + more opportunities to use my glue gun and glitter = I can never have the sads during this time of year. I’ll save that for January 1st when the dark, gloomy New England winter has set in and I’m clamoring for light therapy and straight bourbon.

Something about this time of year makes me feel nostalgic for my youth.  I could be wrong, but it probably has to do with the whole awesome concept of the fat bearded man who used to bring me Atari games, Simon, The Little Professor and new stickerbooks. I can’t think of Christmas without thinking about Christmases past, and when I think of Christmases past I naturally think of the 80s.

Bear with me while I revisit the 80s for a few posts (or forEVER). I’ve got Wham’s “Last Christmas” on my mind and it makes me long for my white legwarmers that said my name down the side and my braided ribbon hair clips with the long strands that would dangle down into my (frizzy) locks.

So, in preparation for an upcoming move that will probably take place in the year 2050 from her afterlife, my mother has been cleaning out the basement of my childhood home. She occasionally sends me little bits of this and that in the mail or shoves mementos into her overnight bag when she comes to visit. This past Thanksgiving she brought one of my well-worn, mostly broken but absolute favorite things from my youth:

my charm necklace.

Within seconds Lotte had slipped this beauty around her neck and was galloping around the dining room table. Most of the charms were broken off and missing, and some were relatively harmless, like these:

Sailing! FUN! Skis! A stupid abacus! So wholesome. Although upon closer inspection, I noticed some charms that were…well, less than normal.

I can picture a small me accompanying my dad on an errand to L.H. Martin and pleading with him, “Can I PUHLEEEZE get a new charm for my charm necklace?” while he searched for much-needed batteries or lintrollers or whatever brought us on that trip to the store. I’m sure he absent-mindedly said “Sure!” as I placed the SEXY charm on the counter and he didn’t have time to notice how ridiculously inappropriate it would be for a 9-year-old to have the word “SEXY” hanging from her neck, but whatever. Welcome to the 80s!

With this one, my mom probably ran to Lincoln Stationary to get some scotch tape and was all, “Sure! You can totally wear a tiny fake bottle of booze around your neck!”. Maybe she was distracted by my Madonna shirt that said “Like a Virgin” on the front. (I can’t even.)

I probably got this one after watching Less Than Zero. See what happens when you grow up with a sister that is 6 years older than you? I feel like I saw the movie Porky’s when I was still being swaddled.

TOTALLY INAPPROPRIATE EIGHTIES.

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