When I was a wee thing, my parents moved out the the Highly dubious condo in East Palo Alto and into a relatively nice suburban neighborhood, into a house immediately across the street from my new elementary school. Immediate, as in, less than 40 feet from the traffic circle. Mom would wave at me from the driveway sometimes while I was in class. This should have made getting me to and from school easy, but there was an issue:
I still had to cross the street, and because I was living in the over-caffeinated heart of silicon valley at the time, that meant dodging the local commuters barreling through the school zone at upwards of 40 miles per hour with no regard for the stop signs.
The flashing “School Zone” signs were ignored. The city refused to put in speed bumps or devote extra patrol cars. One of my classmates grandmother’s volunteered as crossing guard, and some jackass in a BMW ran over her foot on the first day.
Now, mom declared as we drove Mrs. Manchez to the hospital her foot in a beer cooler full of ice, Would be a good time to take the law into my own hands.
So after dropping Mrs. Manchez off at the hospital, we drove to the thrift store, where my mom found a navy blazer, aviator sunglasses, a pilot’s cap and an old, clunky-looking hair dryer.
The next morning, mom went out to the sidewalk in her new “uniform”, with the hair dryer and a legal pad so she could write down the grocery list. Every time a car would come roaring down the road, Mom would look up, point the hairdryer at them, and, and write something down.
I remember listening to brakes squeal all day the first time she tried it, Mercedes and BMWs screeching to a crawl as they passed the school, glaring at her. By that afternoon, cars were creeping along at an over-cautious 10mph, and I was able to get home without taking my life into my hands.
After that, Mom went out “in uniform” every couple of days, because intermittent re-enforcement is what REALLY gets a change in behavior going, and point the hair dryer at anyone speeding through the school zone, usually while writing down grocery lists or short stories, or drawing unflattering caricatures of the other PTA moms.
Eventually, however, one of the cars that came through was a patrol car, and he slowly pulled to a halt in front of mom, glaring at her though his own reflective glasses.
She smiled an waved the hair dryer. “Good afternoon!”
“…What’re you doing?” he groaned, 3 in the afternoon entirely too early for this shit.
“Writin’ a grocery list.” She beamed, and when that failed to satisfy him, she explained about the speeding problem and that if they couldn’t send a partol car out here to ticket people regularly, she figured that a hair dryer would be the next best thing. Working like a charm so far. They didn’t even notice the little airplanes on the Pilot’s hat.
The officer stared at her for a moment longer before his face broke out into a slow grin. “Y’know, when we’re out of a car, we usually wear visibility vests. So more people see you and your… Phaser.”
And that’s the story of how Mom and Officer Brown met and started the neighborhood watch program.
An Ohio mother is sharing a magical surprise her teenage son planned for his younger sister.
Christina Angel said her 13-year-old son asked her to get him a Prince
Charming costume so that he could do something special for his
5-year-old sister and best friend.
told ABC 7 Chicago her son suffers from depression and his sister has
become his biggest cheerleader, so he wanted to thank her with a
princess photo shoot.
Angel bought the costume and her son found a
pair of black dress shoes at a thrift store. He wanted to get the
details perfect, she said, even shining the shoes the old-fashioned way
with polish and a rag.
When they were ready, the mother and son surprised the little girl with a brand-new Snow White dress.
The proud mom said her little girl loved every second of her photo shoot with her “favorite boy in the world.” And it shows!
Okay so here’s the lowdown. I found 4 sets of medium format negatives while I was thrift shop hunting a few weeks ago. They were sitting in a box of old vintage photographs in these plastic sleeves, and from what I could tell, they had been taken sometime in the 50’s. So obviously I brought them home, and today finally had them scanned in, and holy wow they are beautiful!!
NOW this is where I need the Internet’s help. I would absolutely love to find the women in these photographs/the photographer who took them. The only info I have is that the negatives were found in a thrift store on Hull St in Richmond, VA. They are medium format, and judging by the style of dress, made in 1940-1950. The owner of the thrift store had no idea where they came from. I’m posting the best/clearest scans of the images, so if y'all could reblog the shit out of this, I’m hoping we can find the owners of these amazing images.
Hi, dollface! I’m your CSSV and had so much fun writing this for you. I’ve enjoyed our little chats over the last few weeks and I hope you enjoy the story. I tried to put as many little touches of you in it as I could.
The knock came at 2:05. It was tentative, barely pulling Killian
out of a dreamless sleep and for a moment, he thought he’d imagined it.
Fuzzy-brained, he was a second away from chalking it up to a rattling pipe or
noise from the street when another knock came, this one more insistent.
Tossing the covers off and cursing as he kicked his feet
free from the tangled sheet, he padded through the living room, throwing the
deadbolt and dramatically pulling the door open, ready to give his untimely
visitor hell while wearing nothing more than a pair of boxer briefs and a
The piss and vinegar was short-lived when his eyes fell onto
the figure standing in the hallway.
Her face was red and blotchy with strands of blonde hair
sticking to tear tracks. A cheap diaper bag, stretched to the limits and
overflowing, was slung over her shoulder, one of those infant car seats
designed for carrying at her feet, the baby inside asleep.
Chin lifting just enough to convey some measure of pride, her eyes wouldn’t rise enough meet his. When she spoke it was to the dog
tags resting on his chest.