Belated

I bought cards last week for two birthdays this weekend, and somehow managed to send both of them off late. This is, to my shame, not uncommon. I think I wouldn't feel so bad about sending things (cards, presents, financial aid forms) off late if I did not usually have them ready to go well in advance. Hopefully people have chalked this up to a delightful quirk and can enjoy the element of surprise, since you just never know when something will arrive from me, no matter what the occasion.

I didn't scan the birthday cards, but I realized that I have a couple of sent postcards that I never posted:

Mailed August (egads) 25:

I didn't mean to send so many of those cat postcards at once but 1) they're rad and 2) this one went to friends who had just completed an interstate cat adoption, thanks to My Awesome Sister. To celebrate the successful handoff of the Wee Nugget, one of the color cards.

Mailed September 7:

This is from another postcard book I bought - all covers of real romance comix from the '50s. Most of them involve our heroine shedding symbolic tears and making exclamations about choosing between two men, or making a man choose between her and another woman. I like this one because the lady in question seems more angry that her date has been thwarted than guilty about her evening hobby.

Besides, who can resist sending something that says "I Was An Army Camp Pick-Up" to their mother?

and finally, mailed today:

Kiki Smith, Flock, 1998

This one just sums up how I've been feeling the last while - shadowy, out of focus, and possibly not what you think I am at all.

Come see this show!

No postcard today, but an update about the flamenco show I talked about back in July - it's happening this Friday! At the Rendezvous Jewelbox Theater. Come see amazing dance and music! Yes!

http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/261376

Added bonus - there is a show on Thursday in Bellingham, and TWO shows in Portland, Saturday and Sunday nights.

And thank you Melinda for introducing me to an ongoing Tuesday night flamenco show that is happening in my very own neighborhood.

MOMA moment from Mom

I am procrastinating. I have a new refrigerator that will be delivered tomorrow (my life is SO exciting!), and I should be defrosting the old one, throwing out items that have been lurking in there for far too long, cleaning the kitchen, moving the furniture to make it easier for the delivery, etc etc etc....sounds exhausting, non? Fortunately, my mailbox had a couple of interesting items today to distract me from such boring endeavors.

First up:

The Vegetabull, Jan Lewitt, 1943

"Read the fine print! xxx Mom"
                                                    is all she wrote.

I'm not really sure if that's a literal instruction or a figure of speech. There is one line of type so tiny it couldn't possibly say anything relevant - but I do know this image was part of a very groovy exhibit on kitchens that my mom and I went to in September 2009 at the Museum of Modern Art. It might be a surprise to see vegetarian propaganda from the mid-20th century, but the message - "a vegetable dish made with dried eggs or household milk is as good as a joint" - is not espousing an ethical, non-meat diet; it's a positive spin on wartime rationing.

I also got a card (not a postcard) from my friend who was in town last month, and in light of my last post I had to share one line:

"So many times I've wanted to return your fabulous postcards that you've sent with an extra cool one from me, but, no dice. Sorry!"

See? For some reason, correspondence creates pressure, even though it should just be fun. And no, I didn't pay her to say my postcards are fabulous. All I can say to any potential correspondent is: in this day and age of mostly electronic communication, anything other than bills or junk mail in the post box is a huge thrill! it's not so much what you write - it's that you write at all!

Back to School

It doesn't matter how long it's been since I was in the education cycle - the beginning of September always means both new beginnings - and time to get down to business. Before things get too serious, here are a couple of fall postcards from summer friends, both received in 1986.

Postmark 10/20/1986:

"Dear J, saw this card and thought of you. Sorry I have not written for so long. I got into a college in Iowa? Amanda is the girl who knows Jay B. You a senior? I don't know if I'm going back to the Chalfonte. Justin (of course) has not written did you write his sister? Hope to see you if I have a game at [my high school]"

This is a postcard from my INXS-groupie friend from this post. I'd love to tell you her name, but she didn't sign it. I don't remember why Goodnoe's reminded her of me, or who Amanda or Jay are, and while I also don't remember Justin or his sister, I'm guessing they worked at the hotel with us. Her handwriting is really spidery and almost runs off the card in places. I wonder if I even wrote her back.

Postmark 11/25/1986:

 "J-
I know - it's not my turn but I just thought I'd send this anyway to say hi + see how you are doing - though I suppose I can't see anything through this postcard anyway. I'm making up for it not being my turn by writing a postcard not a letter. Hope you're doing okay. Lynn"

Ah, the old 'whose turn to write' conundrum! Very sneaky to get extra credit by writing out of turn - especially sending a postcard that essentially says nothing. It didn't matter if what you received was meaningless - if you were caught having gotten extra (unearned!) correspondence, it meant your next letter had better be super awesome.

This was a girl I met at summer camp in either 1984 or 1985. She went to a rival school, so I got to see her a couple of times. I remember when she said she'd be coming to a basketball game at my school, because 1) it meant I had to attend the game and 2) her school had a varsity AND a JV team of cheerleaders with 12 students each, official uniforms, and complex cheers. My school had the only 5 or 6 students who were interested in cheerleading, wearing their own white sweaters with school letters tacked on the front, and they mostly just jumped around and yelled a lot. I secretly wanted to be a cheerleader (yelling is fun!), but it was considered so uncool in my school that I didn't do it.