There have been some childhood stories fluttering back and forth this week.
Some rotten, some hilarious.
I think I was just misunderstood as a kid.
You see, from the get go, I was obsessed with treasure.
Loot.
Jewels.
Sparkly things.
I think it all began in the Pirate's of the Caribbean ride in Disneyland.
(Me and a goofy face in Disneyland)
Where you drift by these huge open treasure chests of gleaming goodness.
Gold and jewels pouring out.
Heaps of loot everywhere.
If only I could reach!
I would fantasize about going into the ride late at night and filling my back pack with treasure.
I think I wanted the treasure much more deeply than anyone could have imagined.
I thought to myself, when I grow up, I will have treasure!
Endless treasure, you wait and see!
(That was the retro kitchen of a red brick ginger bread house we lived in until I was 6/7, it had the most spooooky library, will tell you about it during ghost story time in October. Mom wishes they had never sold that house, it was on a great big hill (the only hill) in an idyllic neighborhood with lots of kids playing everywhere. Then we moved to the middle of nowhere, where I went on mine adventures by myself, eeeks!)
Maybe I'll even have a cave somewhere, like in the Goonies.
And stack my treasure all greedily in there.
Piling it higher and higher until I am lost forever.
In my glorious treasure!
These were my thoughts...
While other kids were dreaming of baby dolls and such.
I was literally scheming up plans for acquiring treasure.
I wore lots of rings and necklaces too.
Once, when I was 5 or 6, we were at a sea side pier and I begged for a ring.
You see, there was a man selling oysters and inside of each oyster was a pearl.
So you would fish out your own oyster, open it up, and find a pearl.
He would then set it in a 14k gold ring.
Of course, I needed this or I would stop breathing.
(I was a tad dramatic back then, so glad I grew out of that, hee hee)
So...
I begged my dad.
And then...
I got the ring.
Little rascal!
And I still have it.
After all these years, I am so happy it survived.
32 years?
My little pearl ring.
But wait!!
I veer!
I was going to tell tell you how, in the midst of treasure...
I found out about...
WIGS!
Glorious fluffy things!
I neeeeeeded one.
Or two, or ten!
:-)
I begged for a wig.
I needed a wig more than anything on earth, I was convinced.
I thought my life would end if I didn't have a wig.
I was 8.
On weekends we would sometimes go stay in a hotel in Tucson.
My parents would take us for fun.
We lived an hour away.
As you drove in through downtown Tucson there was a wig shop.
I begged, I pleaded for what felt like years.
But how long could it have been really, if I was only 8?
Finally, one day, angel voices sounded in my ears, as my parents agreed.
I was going to the Wig-o-Rama!!
I walked into the wig shop where there were endless fountains of hair streaming from here to there.
I looked around.
Carefully.
Quietly.
Amazed.
And then, I chose the one.
Did I choose long blonde locks of Rapunzel like hair?
Or, pink shiny tendrils of knee length curls?
Nope.
No way.
I chose...
Auburn, curly, shoulder length.
I always find that so funny.
With all those choices, that is what I felt I needed.
The shape was much like the gal in Flashdance, and I loved it.
When we got to the hotel I promptly filled the tub with hot water and a container of shampoo.
Bang bang bang on the door!
Vanessa, what are you doing in there?
Nothing!
Vanessa, open this door right now.
I was so annoyed.
All I wanted to do was wash my wig.
The banging on the door was really taking the Zen out of my wig washing.
I plopped it in the water and swished it all around.
Falalalala...
I was in bliss.
Bang Bang Bang on the door.
Vanessa, open this door! What in the heck are you doing in there??
All the other kids are out in the pool playing.
And you are in here doing God knows what with this ridiculous wig?
Huge sigh.
I was so serious about my wig.
It dried like a wet rat.
No more curl, no more shine.
Just dull and dry, with a smell like crusty old pasta sauce.
Faintly garlic like too.
Even so, my wig came in handy for me time and time again throughout my childhood.
With my costume obsession...
I wore it for a stint on our roof while my parents were out of town.
(the only place the nanny/housekeeper couldn't get to me)
I always hear the story of how my parents were driving back into town...
Looking at the house in the distance, and thinking, who the heck is on our roof?
With curly reddish hair??
It was me.
In my wig and a cape.
If I didn't amuse myself, who would, I ask you?
I began collecting little things back then too.
I would search out the gold mines around our property.
Not inside, as it was deadly dangerous.
But around the outsides.
I would take Slim Jims, canned Pringles and mini 7-ups into the desert with me.
Healthy sustenance.
Searching rock after rock.
Adding to my loot.
And...
To my wigs.
Quite sound and sensible things, I thought.
Yes yes, I grew into a collector of all manner of sound and sensible things.
For example...
About 9 years ago, when I was a business gal, I got a call on my phone.
That phone rang all day- morning, noon and night I tell ya.
It was a private builder who was one of my clients.
Vanessa, where are you? I need to talk to you about something with the house on blah blah blah street.
Oh well, I am at Annabelle's Attic, the antique store.
(I would shop in between appointments you see)
So, he said he would meet me there.
What are you doing here he asked, do you collect antiques?
Oh, just looking around I said.
I remember being really distracted by what he was saying because of a little faun boy head I spied in a glass case.
Can I see that, pointing at faun boy head, I asked the salesperson.
Sterling silver?
Ridiculously priced?
Faun boy head?
I'll take it.
I need it.
My client just looked at me.
You're buying that?
Why?
Me: I need it.
Just like I needed the little ring.
The auburn wig.
The endless loot.
He just shrugged his shoulders and kept talking.
But I was more than smitten with my little sterling silver faun boy head.
I think he needs a silver polish rag sometime soon :-)
Another time my parents were out of town I got into my mom's safe.
I put on gobs and gobs of her real gold stuff.
Diamonds and emeralds are what I chose.
Then I was picked up to go out for pizza with some friends and their parents.
Every adult was staring at me.
They must be amazed at my jewels I thought.
I was so proud of my sparkle.
The next day I hear the phone ring, then my mom scream...
Vanessssssssaaaaaaaaa, were you wearing my jewelry at Pizza Hut last night?
So and so told me they saw you all decked out in jewels not fit for a 10 year old?!!
Me:
Oh no mom, I would never do that.
Why would I ever do that?
No no, they are crazy.
Hee hee.
:-)
So, this brings me to today.
So many other stories lost along the way.
However.
It comes to how all those things create the person we become.
Define us in little and big ways.
Mold and form who we are.
Why my obsession with loot and mannequins and treasure and old things and rocks?
I just don't know.
It just stuck.
And so, now I am the girl with mannequins and wigs bursting out of her sheds.
So many mannequins, so little time.
Amongst drums and art and and and.
Somehow, along the way, Becky lost a few fingers.
Darn Becky, why can't you mind your fingers?!
No new wig for you.
:-)
Why am I telling you all of this, oh who knows.
Just stories brought up from the old memory banks I guess.
The point could be that...
I never got any buried pirate treasure.
But hey, it's never too late is it?
The closest I got so far is that up there.
I still have wigs.
But I don't look good in them so I put them on plastic women.
I still love loot.
I still love rocks.
I still sleep with paint all over me.
And chew too much bubble gum.
I also still have the same nightgown.
(I think I was taunting my sister with snacks I had in my lap)
I mean, a new version.
Which is pretty much identical, thank you Lanz of Salzburg!
And I still hunt for loot and run around all day dressed as such.
So, besides time and a little extra treasure.
I guess not much has changed, hahaha!
And all of a sudden, I have a massive urge to pop into an antique shop.
:-)
I would love to hear about your childhood antics?!
Anything that pops right into your mind?
Happy weekending!
Love, V
ps: I had straightish hair my whole childhood, up until I was in 5th grade and I got a perm.
After which my hair stayed over the top wavy, so now I have wavy hair with ringlets in humidity too.
Weird!
It straightens easy with the blow dryer and a brush, but ya, change-ed hair.
Unless it just changed with age?
Did that happen to any of you?
