Costumes – Writing Between the Lines

Fifty Shades of Yellow

Purple is my favorite color, and it always has been. But I love yellow for its cheerfulness.

It’s my daughter Bea’s favorite color.

And she wears it well, don’t you think?

She isn’t the only one.

Whether yellow comes as a tasteful accent…

…a warm background…

…a pleasing bit of contrast…

…or a big splash of color…

…Ma Nature wears it well too.

…and so do her children.

We’ve borrowed this sunny hue from nature to brighten our homes on the outside…

…and on the inside too.

It shines a cheerful light through the darkness…

…and lifts our spirits.

It warms us from the inside out.

Yellow comes in many eye-catching colors and goes by many names…goldenrod, schoolbus, taxicab yellow…

Maize, saffron, lemon…mmm, yellow never smelled so good.

Yellow means different things to different people. Does this signal mean approach slowly? Or go very very fast?

It might depend on whether you’re coming…

…or going.

Is it animal, vegetable, or mineral?

Never mind. That’s neither here nor there.

Want to dance?

Click here for more interpretations of The Weekly Photo Challenge: Yellow.

Sex on the Beach (and The 2013 Blog of the Year Award!)

We rang in the New Year with a 1950s cocktail party. Costumes were recommended, encouraged, applauded and appreciated.

Eli took a class in bartending while in Argentina last year, and mixed some very colorful cocktails for some of us, and some very tasty mocktails for the kids, teetotalers, and designated drivers. He dressed the part, right down to the fake cigarette that made little puffs of corn starch when blown into.

We have the best friends in the world! We can always count on the Rahn Gang to come dressed to the nines…

Check out those poodle skirts!

We had our beatnik, our cube(squarer than square), and our cool cat.

Remember the Alamo? How about Davy Crockett of the Wild Frontier, the rage in the late fifties?

Speaking of wild, Cousins Nancy and Ian lent some class to the party when they arrived looking like James Bond and Jackie O, only better.

And in a class of their own…Sue, Rick, and Stu!

They brought soft drinks I haven’t seen since the ’50s AND….

(Hey, Rocky, watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat!)

…the fine fare we were raised on back then: Bugles, Velveeta, Franz Fruit Pies, Vienna Sausages, and Hostess Twinkies, Cupcakes, and Ding Dongs!

Not to mention Wonder Bread and baloney!

My new favorite photo in the world—Sue holding “Mommy’s Little Helper.”

Our bartender kept ’em coming, mostly non-alcoholic drinks with all kinds of fruity juices adorned with tiny umbrellas. I saw a really pretty drink go by, and asked for one just like it. I thought it was a mocktail, but it went straight to my head. “Isn’t this non-alcoholic?” I asked. Eli replied, “Mom, if it were a virgin cocktail it probably wouldn’t be called ‘Sex on the Beach’.” Yeah, probably not. But I did discover how much I enjoy Sex On the Beach.

At midnight, like always, we toasted the New Year with a chorus of Auld Lang Syne and a round of Boston Coolers, the perfect combination of Vernor’s ginger ale and vanilla ice cream.

Dear friends, family, followers, and all my blogging buddies, here’s wishing you a very Happy New Year!

And one last nod to the old year…

Many thanks to Sarah Potter, of sarahpotterwrites for nominating me for The 2013 Blog of the Year Award. Sarah is a novelist, a talented musician, and a poet with a fresh voice and a sly sense of humor. Her mastery of the haiku is a wonder. Please check out her blog!

Prepare to Be Boarded

Recently my daughter Bea declared her major at Stanford: Privateering.

Her friends Ben and Michael signed on as awkward incompetent first mate and shoulder parrot. So my sister Constance and I decided to try our luck as chief cook and bottle washer, and cabin boy.

Bea was flying home for spring break. We went to meet her at Sea-Tac airport. We picked up a cart, to carry our booty.

Not only did Bea immediately don the captain’s hat and coat we brought along, just in case Cap’n Bea was traveling incognito….

…but from out of her pack she pulled out her very cool pirate goggles to top off the outfit.

The next best thing to a contract signed in blood, we press-ganged an innocent bystander to photo-document the deal.

I have proven once again that it is impossible to embarrass Beatrice.

But we can just keep trying.

Unless otherwise stated, all images and words cNaomi Baltuck.

Click here for more interpretations of The Weekly Travel Theme: Hats.

Click here for more interpretations of Cee’s Odd Ball Challenge: Week 9!

No Admittance, Except on Party Business

A cherished friend, One-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, broke bread with us on Christmas Eve, and shared the gift that keeps on giving–the nastiest cold germ I’ve ever made personal acquaintance with. By Christmas night, my throat was scratchy, and it was all downhill from there. The next day Bea was felled. The day after, Eli. My brother Lew, who spent the holiday with us, left to suffer in the privacy of his own home. A week later, on New Year’s Eve Eve we were still in no shape to host the hobbit party we had planned. I rescheduled with family friends, but Bea asked if she could still have just a small handful of her friends over. I said, yes, but only if they knew they were coming at their own risk. So we did a little decorating, a little shopping, a little food prep, a little dress up, and we were ready to party in quarantine.

Eli and I were chief cook and bottle washer, but we dressed up too. Then, like dwarves showing up unannounced at Bilbo’s hobbit hole, the guests began to arrive. They came in ones…

..and threes…

Oh, yeah, and in most interesting and unexpected twosomes!

They played…

…and played.

As midnight drew near, there was only one task left to do. Mama hobbit began to prepare the Boston Coolers, an ancient custom practiced by native Detroiters and their offspring, to toast the New Year. It is a delicate concoction of Vernors ginger ale, not Canada Dry or any other pale substitute. Only Vernors, aged in wood, and deftly mixed with vanilla ice cream. Try it sometime, but you must promise not to settle for anything less than real Vernors!

Cheers! Bottoms up! Skumps! Happy New Year!

Then, just as suddenly as they came…well, actually it was four hours later…the mysterious guests slipped out of the door…

…and melted into the night.

The moral of the story is this: When a friend comes knocking, and you are tempted to go back to bed with a hot water bottle…open your door to the possibilities. Even if you think you aren’t up to it, chances are you might be glad you did.