1943 Postum
1943 Postum ad from Ladies’ Home Journal. Art by Saul Steinberg.
ETA: Uhh… that was supposed to go to the
1943 Postum ad from Ladies’ Home Journal. Art by Saul Steinberg.
ETA: Uhh… that was supposed to go to the
For a break from orange hats, I thought I’d see how some of my handdyed yarn knit up. Not bad!
I was a little reluctant to go outside and photograph this, as I was stung by a wasp earlier today. That sting is one effective countermeasure – it definitely discouraged me from going anywhere near the wasp’s nest. Unfortunately, the nest in one of the clothesline poles, so once the weather turns sunny again, we’ll have to work out a solution. And in the war of wasps versus humans, I have the advantage of being a tool-using animal.
Danny Kaye, you know I love you. But what the HELL do you have on your feet? It’s a joke right? Wait, it’s not?
I was unaware of the world of custom molded shoes before now. While this started out as an “OMGWTF” post, the more I looked at the shoes, the more I think that maybe that aqua one with the cutouts might be a good way to show off the right pair of hand-knitted socks. It also seems that manly man Steve McQueen wore them, much as it mortified his first wife. Plus the old building seems to have some musical history associated with it.
So there you go. That’s what I learned today. If nothing else, when I’m asked about Danny Kaye’s 40 pairs of custom footwear on Jeopardy, I’ll be ready.
I’m considering joining the YMCA.
Okay, done singing the song? Moving on!
My preferred form of exercise is running. However, it’s a billionty-eleven degrees outside, give or take a degree. My internal thermostat has always been a little wonky, and it hasn’t gotten any better now that I have an insulating layer of blubber to protect me in arctic waters. When I go running and it’s over, say 80 degrees Fahrenheit, I walk away from it feeling drained, which is the opposite of what usually happens.
The Harris Y has an indoor track and isn’t that far from my house. Plus they have a really great set of indoor pools which would be nice to bring Em to on those days when it’s sweltering or the ozone is bad, which is most days so far this summer. It also has outdoor tracks and pools, good workout facilities, and a range of classes in case I go insane one day and decide I need to learn how to dance hip-hop.
(Note: I will not be taking a hip-hop class. It doesn’t sound fun and I would look like an electrified frog.)
That would also get me membership at the Harris Y Express, a smaller branch that is closer to my house. No indoor track, but a treadmill would do in a pinch.
Local folks, anybody got any experience with the Harris Y, positive or negative? I’ll take answers online or in person when I run into you. Thanks!
Wikipedia says that the Gold Dust twins didn’t make their first appearance as a soap mascot until 1897, but I found this in a Sept 1892 Ladies’ Home Journal. The timeline looks right if the original Gold Dust twins started their act when William Curry was 8 in 1891. Of course, it’s always possible that they had these two kids as a mascot and then later dubbed them the Gold Dust Twins.
I could be wrong. I mean, here I’ve been paying 12 cents a pound for powdered soap like a crazy woman.
I guess I hadn’t really thought much about wildlife being a menace in combat, but after uploading a 1943 Flit insecticide ad the other day, I found this.
Vietnam vet posts pic of bagged tiger, with accompanying poem.
Hope you weren’t eating.
Leaving aside issues like “moist heat,” if nothing else, we’ve come a long way in naming products.
Looks good, doesn’t it? From the top side, there’s still a little green. So now I am left with a dilemma. Do I pick it now, before it’s 100% ripe? Or do I wait?
We live near the woods, and our varmints are particularly efficient at destroying produce. They have, in the past, gotten to the vegetables that I let go for one more day. It’s like they’re waiting just at the edge of the woods, their beady eyes locked onto the plants, judging color, watching for just the perfect moment. Last year some little creature took one bite out of each individual tomato. ONE BITE! That’s just being wasteful.
I don’t mind sharing, but I’m no St. Francis. I want me some ‘maters!
Decisions, decisions. I throw it open to the crowd.
This mascot creeps me out just a little. I think it’s the eyes. Also the threatening, “she’ll be back…”
In the latter part of the 20th century this product became Chore Boy.