Fashion Friday: Red Plaid Forever

It's another experiment in time travel because that's one of the magic powers of the Infinite Garage. Here is my mom summertime lounging in our old backyard (not the current house).



Here I am in the same dress. I pulled it straight off the racks of the garage this morning. Unfortunately, it smells like an old garage. 

I Can See The Floor Finally

I had few pieces of furniture moved out of the garage and I can now see the floor! Not that I couldn't see if before like Hoarders: Buried Alive style, but it was cramped in there.

I now have a large empty space in the middle. All my work over the past few months has paid off!

Friends ask how I'm doing and I let out a big sigh. The project does feel infinite. When they come over they can't tell if I've made a dent. But trust me, I have! My trips to the Goodwill, the Veteran's pick ups every week, and the Etsy-ing have been cathartic. Something is happening. I can see light at the end of the tunnel, or better yet, the windows in the back of the garage!

Pitchers from Numero Uno and an LA snowman.
Thank you friends for supporting the blog. And thanks for listening to my complaints and endless karaoke.


Answer to Mystery Object #4

Mystery Object #4 (aka the Suede Thing) isn't rabbit ears, suede pants, a shiatsu massager from Brookstone, an elaborate doorstop, or even this:

"an old fashioned arm/leg rest for 1970s muscle cars that had 'humps' running through the center of the cabin. The two legs would go over the hump. It was heavy so it would stay put."

All great guesses but thanks goes out to Patrick Lee (no relation, but he did grow up down the street from me), who informed me that it's a rabbit ear rear bag used for shooting.

You rest the back of your rifle on it to steady your snipe, like these guys. 

My dad was an avid skeet shooter, beretta owner, and NRA member so I figured it had to do with guns.

Thanks for playing and helping me unravel the garage! 

Mary Had A Little Lamb on Super 8

Being very dad-like, my dad collected electronics, gadgetry, and cameras. Because that's what dad's do, record the moment. He had SLR Nikons and lenses a plenty, Yashikas, Canons, and a few super 8s.

This one still has the film inside.  

My mom would recall that on our trip to New York I sang "Mary Had A Little Lamb" with my friend Mary. She said dad recorded it. The footage could be inside this camera. What's the lifespan of undeveloped super 8 film? I hope the answer is thirty years. 

Here I am mic hogging in my pre-karaoke days.


The Recurring Summer Sweater

Ok, so my mom had tons of sweaters-- theme sweaters, panda sweaters, and diamond ring sweaters. You'd think wooly winter sweaters were her thing but her mind was wide open. She had a collection of summer sweaters, short sleeved cotton knits that could be worn from California spring into the fall. My mom was the year round sweater lady.


My mom in the sweater polo at Numero Uno. She's also wearing a giant button that says "Have A Close Encounter." With pizza? Interesting. Here I am in the same sweater in yellow and green. 

OMG, new with tags!

I know I could open a vintage store with all my goods but really, I could open the first strictly sweaters boutique. Sweaters for every climate and occasion! I've sold a few summer sweaters (such as the lovely Birds of Paradise and the Reverse Knit Blue) but I just keep finding more. Infinite Sweater collection is in my Etsy store! Go get yourself a piece of infinity!

The Diagonal Sherbet Sweater.

Canary Yellow Sweater on yellow me.

The Frogger Sweater. Cross the pastel road!

I wear this one every other day. It's just a drapey one pocket sweater.

The summer sweaters aren't as wild in theme as the winter ones but then again few things are. 


Pizza Pasta & More

I was sifting through filing cabinets that hadn't been touched since my dad was around. The dig revealed real estate license study guides, staple removers, rolls of fax papers, and binders with the recipes to Numero Uno Pizza! I've harped on about my parents being the proprietors of a Numero Uno. It was a big Southern California pizza franchise in the 80s. Corporate was strict about how they executed the brand so all owners had manuals on how to run a Numero Uno. The books have everything from how to arrange the salad bar to what the waitress duties are. Now I know for when I open Infinite Garage Pizza! 

The Kurt Vonnugut Pizza, their famous Slaughterhouse 5!
Pizza Pasta & Mas! Spanish recipe book. 
This is how pepperoni should be distributed. 
What crazy sandwich is filled with potato salad and romaine? Looks like deformed Pac Man throwing up. 
I still use Numero Uno aprons when I cook. I have lots!  
The tagline next to the teethmarks reads, "One bite and we gotcha!" I was never old enough to work at Numero Uno but this is what I would have looked like as a waitress. 

I still have spatulas, pizza cutters, a giant whisk, and plenty of casserole dishes from Numero Uno. It's time for Infinite Pizza!

ADDENDUM: My aunt is getting on my case to take this post down because she is convinced Numero Uno will sue me. If you're reading this Numero Uno, I don't have the recipe books. They were burned in a fire. I was kidding about opening a competitor! 

Ten-Four Babe Keychains

These novelty keychains are from the short lived gift shop my parents owned in the early 80s, the same one the Sex Plug came from. Based on these items, I've been asked if it was a Spencer Gifts, the dubious mall store known for Fundies (underwear with four leg holes). Actually, they owned your average gift shop that sold mini patinaed windmills and greeting cards. It's just gifts during the Three's Company era were a bit racier.   

My mom and I used the "Sexy" keychain for our house key for when we'd walk the dog. It was big and therefore hard to lose. We had at least four "Babe" keychains at one point. I gave "Hot Stuff" to an ex, which I now regret.

Babe is for sale. Makes a great gift for your honey or booty call. It's a compliment to either.


Myth Making

I scanned this photograph before it could crumble any further. It's scratched out like a lotto ticket. Looks like a mug shot. It's a passport photo on the way out of Hawaii, as I can guess from the patterned shirt. 

The farther away I get from the last time saw my parents, the more gaps I'll have to fill in about what they were really like. It becomes harder to remember what's real and what I've imagined. Did they eat ice cream? Yes. Liked staying up late? Think so. Were they rebellious teenagers? Not sure. I'm just making up stories as I go along. 

The longer they are gone, the more I'm adding to their myth. They are compliant in my vision of them. They coddle me, are fun-loving and spontaneous. They dress up in stylish clothes and travel the world. They are always young and good looking. The act of remembering becomes inventing.  

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