Bit of a mixed bag
Dec. 12th, 2011 12:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
impyIf you're one of the... three people who also have the joy of getting my sporadic Facebook thoughts, this is going to be a retread. Sorry.
The other morning when I was buying stuff for my enchiladas (be payday so I can repeat this, dammit!) I stood briefly in line and noticed the new Readers Digest was out. To most people this is not a thing. I, however, am not most people. For as long as I can fully remember, my family has had a subscription to it. And as long as I can remember, I am the only person who looked forward to the new issue. It makes perfect dinner time reading and is a fantastic way to kill time when the computer needs you to sit there and hold its mouse while it does... something.
It also reminds me of my grandmother, which I suppose isn't any weirder than the smell of really strong fabric softener/laundry detergent reminding me of her cat and thus her, and that leads to a pool memory (you walked through her laundry room, which held the cat box and the cat's food for the next three months or something, to get to the pool). I don't have a lot of memories of her, really. But one of the few really, really vivid memories is sitting in her living room, kind of afraid to touch anything because this was a room I saw for one week a year... anyway. On the bookshelves (and one wall was essentially floor to ceiling bookshelves) was an entire row of Readers Digest magazines. It blew my mind the first time I noticed it because she had so many and she so obviously kept them all. It was one of those little moments where you discover a quirk about someone you didn't really suspect had any they'd share. Maybe everyone's grandmother did this? I don't know. I only had the one.
At any rate, she paid for a subscription every year for Mom and Dad. And every year they'd ask her not to bother because neither of them read it. But she did it anyway. To annoy them? Because she wanted to? I don't know. I never figured it out. For all I know it was some kid selling magazines and she felt like making their day. Doesn't matter. Because to me it was like a tiny visit from her less... critical self? So, I got into the habit of reading them. Enjoyed them. Would offer them to other people to open first, especially the first one of a new subscription.
Then my grandmother died and the magazines kept coming, even though they always ran out at Christmas time. I'm not sure if the first year was because she'd prepaid or if my aunt simply took over that year. If it wasn't that year, she did the following year. So it became a little reminder of both my aunt and my grandmother, although I couldn't tell you whether my aunt liked it or not.
Seeing the new issue hammered home the realization that she sent them to Dad. Dad who never read them and would chuck them in the garbage so I'd have to fish them out. I'd hoped she'd continue to send them for old time's sake, or as a sign that hey, it wasn't just for Dad and that the rest of us mattered and fine, because I like to have something to read at dinner... but I knew she wouldn't. Because family is complicated in a lot of ways, but simple in one way: when Dad died, certain members of his side of the family seemed content to throw the rest of us away. Which isn't based on a magazine subscription, but in the way they've disappeared since then and how they handled certain other things.
In other news, I went to go hang the lights in the living room and realized that the box of lights I'd told Widget not to touch (and he promptly did, destroying nearly all the strands) was not the box of dead lights. No, no! He'd wiped out the good lights but left the bad lights wrapped up perfectly safe. *twitch* And this is after work sold out of those lights.
On the plus side, Mom has hinted that cookies shall be made. My favorite ones, even. Yay! Well. Second favorite since I believe we lack the jam for my favorite ones.
Oh, and I caught myself up on Once Upon A Time and last night's? I believe "nooooooooo!" was the response.
The other morning when I was buying stuff for my enchiladas (be payday so I can repeat this, dammit!) I stood briefly in line and noticed the new Readers Digest was out. To most people this is not a thing. I, however, am not most people. For as long as I can fully remember, my family has had a subscription to it. And as long as I can remember, I am the only person who looked forward to the new issue. It makes perfect dinner time reading and is a fantastic way to kill time when the computer needs you to sit there and hold its mouse while it does... something.
It also reminds me of my grandmother, which I suppose isn't any weirder than the smell of really strong fabric softener/laundry detergent reminding me of her cat and thus her, and that leads to a pool memory (you walked through her laundry room, which held the cat box and the cat's food for the next three months or something, to get to the pool). I don't have a lot of memories of her, really. But one of the few really, really vivid memories is sitting in her living room, kind of afraid to touch anything because this was a room I saw for one week a year... anyway. On the bookshelves (and one wall was essentially floor to ceiling bookshelves) was an entire row of Readers Digest magazines. It blew my mind the first time I noticed it because she had so many and she so obviously kept them all. It was one of those little moments where you discover a quirk about someone you didn't really suspect had any they'd share. Maybe everyone's grandmother did this? I don't know. I only had the one.
At any rate, she paid for a subscription every year for Mom and Dad. And every year they'd ask her not to bother because neither of them read it. But she did it anyway. To annoy them? Because she wanted to? I don't know. I never figured it out. For all I know it was some kid selling magazines and she felt like making their day. Doesn't matter. Because to me it was like a tiny visit from her less... critical self? So, I got into the habit of reading them. Enjoyed them. Would offer them to other people to open first, especially the first one of a new subscription.
Then my grandmother died and the magazines kept coming, even though they always ran out at Christmas time. I'm not sure if the first year was because she'd prepaid or if my aunt simply took over that year. If it wasn't that year, she did the following year. So it became a little reminder of both my aunt and my grandmother, although I couldn't tell you whether my aunt liked it or not.
Seeing the new issue hammered home the realization that she sent them to Dad. Dad who never read them and would chuck them in the garbage so I'd have to fish them out. I'd hoped she'd continue to send them for old time's sake, or as a sign that hey, it wasn't just for Dad and that the rest of us mattered and fine, because I like to have something to read at dinner... but I knew she wouldn't. Because family is complicated in a lot of ways, but simple in one way: when Dad died, certain members of his side of the family seemed content to throw the rest of us away. Which isn't based on a magazine subscription, but in the way they've disappeared since then and how they handled certain other things.
In other news, I went to go hang the lights in the living room and realized that the box of lights I'd told Widget not to touch (and he promptly did, destroying nearly all the strands) was not the box of dead lights. No, no! He'd wiped out the good lights but left the bad lights wrapped up perfectly safe. *twitch* And this is after work sold out of those lights.
On the plus side, Mom has hinted that cookies shall be made. My favorite ones, even. Yay! Well. Second favorite since I believe we lack the jam for my favorite ones.
Oh, and I caught myself up on Once Upon A Time and last night's? I believe "nooooooooo!" was the response.