Anyone who knows me, knows I love a good happy hour. Giant margaritas and cheap tacos? Yes, please. But what about cocktail hour in the home done with a little more sophistication?
The cocktail hour (which is essentially moved to a restaurant and called happy hour) was a staple of life beginning in the 1920s, and probably best recognized in the 1950s and 60s. You can always have your own private cocktail hour. You come home from work, a glass full of goody liquid, and a relaxing chair, perhaps some music in the background. Think:
“Honey, I’m hoooome.”
“Oh, dear, how was your day? Here’s your scotch on the rocks. I think I’ll have a Tom Collins.”
The above scenario could be envisioned either the man is coming home or the woman, and is greeted by their significant other at the door with a drink. How come people don’t do this anymore? (Not as many alcoholics?)
that this candy tasted chalky, and it did. That was the best part of it! Would you believe that they peddle these as candy sticks now? Perhaps children would be more inclined to smoke later on in life because of candy cigarettes, but what are the statistics on children who became vampires from eating and playing with waxed fangs? I make light, seriously kids, don’t smoke, it’s gross. In fact, you can still get authentic candy cigarettes online from several different sites. (Sidenote: They also kind of remind me of the disk-like candy that tasted like Pepto-Bismal. I don’t remember the name of it, but I remember always wanting one of the small bags of them when I would go to the grocery store with my Mom. Anyone remember what those were called and if you can still get them?)
illustrated in this blog, I can be quite a dork, so this should come as no surprise.
I don’t watch a lot of TV, but most of the shows I do enjoy are older shows. Probably my favorite is The Golden Girls. I remember watching this show when I was growing up, right after we would come home from church. I even remember our priest at the time loving the show, making jokes and references in relation to it, and teasing how he would keep his sermon short so everyone could make it home in time for The Golden Girls.
I have been called a “purist” many times, and when it comes to books, there’s no exception. My love of books goes back to when I could first grasp one in my hands. As a child, I remember carrying stacks of books around the house, and sitting while flipping through them long before I could actually read the words. I not only enjoyed the pictures, there was more to it than that. I enjoyed the look and feel of the book, the sheen of the pages and gliding my hand across each to feel the softness of the paper.
Lovely Shades of Nostalgia 