Uncle Richard’s 70th birthday party was today. It was…very loud lol. I mean, even with earplugs in, I’d have a splitting migraine if I’d left them out. They went to Kelsey’s, which…the easiest way to summarize Kelsey’s is every single one of their salads has meat in it, or you can substitute with like…a different kind of meat.
I’m not a vegetarian & I don’t object to meat on moral grounds or anything, but I do have sensory issues which extend to food, and of those a sudden texture change in meat sets off my gag reflex faster and more reliably than just about anything else in the world, so I tend to eat a lot less meat than most people I know, and then usually only where I’ve tried something before and found it acceptable (hence the bona fide B12 deficiency). So anyway, knowing the menu situation mum & I went to lunch as normal beforehand (I got the last flatbread at Apple Annie’s lol – today it was apples, walnuts, cranberries and brie instead of mixed veg and garlic/lemon hummus). So at Kelsey’s, I ended up ordering…a side of rice and a side of steamed vegetables lol. “The cooks are gonna think they have a monk out here,” I said. It was plain, unaccompanied white rice, too…not like fried rice, which was kinda surprising given the general atmosphere. Really nice, though. Veggies were broccoli, zucchini and carrots.
Cousin Kristina didn’t make it from…wherever the hell she lives now, Kitchener? But aunt Judy and uncle John did. At one point Judy was handing out business cards, which was momentarily very confusing (“Ummmm we’ve met?”) but they were Kristina’s cards; last I saw her she’d started attempting like…appliquéd quilts and things. So now she’s apparently opened some kind of business/shop (maybe an etsy store? idk I didn’t see the card very well) selling organic baby…things.
“Ok but what does ‘organic’ mean exactly?” uncle John asked her.
“It means people will pay a shit-ton of money for it,” was apparently the gist of her reply.
They were fortunately a ways off down the table so they didn’t notice me absolutely killing myself laughing as this was all loudly relayed to us; mum wondered why I was suddenly hysterical. “It’s just a very neat summary, don’t you think? Krissy starts sewing in earnest and opens a business – I start sewing in earnest and what am I doing? Making a wrestling-themed party dress.”
Uncle John continued to relate that she’s been churning out ~organic~ cloth baby diapers and selling them for over sixty bucks a piece; at this point I really lost it and mum had her head resting in her arms on the table, shaking with laughter. “Some of the dress is gonna be glittery,” I said earnestly.
I see this kind of comment all the time. Nostalgia for the “good old days.” And I wonder how infuriating this must be for pretty much any marginalized group.
Segregation, racism and sexism without consequence, and a perma-closet for most queer folks. The list is quite extensive.
Sooo innocent.
Plus even during the actual 1950s, there were things like The Man In the Gray Flannel Suit (1956) about how a seemingly happy and successful middle-class dad is just barely keeping the lid on his WWII PTSD. Like, people need to look at stuff from the ‘fifties *other* than just the cheery vintage ads.
Mooncustafer 