How many toothpicks?

Rain Man: Toothpicks

The Boyfriend is a bit of a savant when it comes to Things Automotive. What others have to study and work to memorize, just comes naturally to him. Need a chart to figure an accurate bore dimension? No, all he needs is a caliper reading and the Pythagorean theorem. And a few seconds to calculate. Care to hear a list of the differences between a ’39 Ford De Luxe and a ’40 Ford standard? He can rattle those off in his sleep. Thankfully, he doesn’t. Or I sleep through it. Just last week, he had me pause a DVD we were watching so he could explain that the steering wheel shown in a Car: Interior scene could not possibly be from the car our characters were just shown getting in to in the previous Exterior shot. When he does things like this, which is frequently, I mutter “246. 246 toothpicks.” It’s in reference to the scene from Rain Man, linked above, in which Raymond is able to calculate at a glance precisely how many toothpicks had been knocked out of a box.

Fire King “Candle Glow” (1967-72) casserole dish with lid. This particular example is currently available from VintageLoveJunk

In the kitchen last night while I was serving dinner, The Boyfriend said that he liked the dish I’d put the mashed potatoes in. Without glancing over (because I knew what dish I’d used), I said “Thanks. It’s Fire King. The pattern is called Candle Glow.”

To which he replied, “How many toothpicks?”

To Chris From Velda

I’m not a Valentine’s Day person. For one thing, I have about a 30/70 history of being with a Significant Other on any given year. To date, my most memorable Valentine’s Day gift was the single rose given to me by a college friend who was giving out roses to all of his single friends so we didn’t feel so left out. When I was with The Last Guy, we skipped V-Day altogether and instead celebrated our adoration for each other on Presidents’ Day (typically the same weekend, it was kind of our little joke). But I like hearts. And things that are red. So I wind up with stuff like this.

I honestly don’t recall how I wound up with this assortment of vintage valentines, other than knowing that I didn’t acquire them all at once. I am, however, sharing them all at once, and in as close to chronological order as I can suss out. Enjoy!

Armored tanks and love. They go together like…um…I’m at a loss.

Tank
on back: Chris .H. from Velda

You can’t beat me as a valentine! The bear’s arm (and eyes) shift back and forth. The message is obscured from every angle, but the type is great.

Drummer Bear
on back: Grandma from Ruth (in very tidy penmanship)

I’m a sucker for cats, and puns, so this one may be my favorite. You’re so purr-ty!

Purrty
on back: To Chris from (illegible)

Jumping ahead to—I’m pretty sure—the ’60s, we have this jaunty-capped painter.

Painter

When was the last time you heard “woolgathering” used in conversation? (For my younger readers: it’s akin to daydreaming.) Yes, it’s a pink ram. Why not?

Woolgathering

A lion “cuddles” a pair of lads. Um, okay.

Roar

The valentine writers are wearing a bit thin in the pun department.

Gift

The writers have now given up entirely. And the awkward, paper-saving die cut emphasizes how cheap these sentiments are getting.

Sitting Pretty

Looking very Cindy-Lou Who, this angel is cute…but wouldn’t a robot or alien (née Martian) have been more appropriate?

Angel

That’s all I have, kids. If you want to print one of these for your sweetie, click on the image to see a larger version.

Nothing Like The Last Minute

New Year shenanigans running the gamut from glamorous to goofy, 2007–8.

Because I have pretty, dress-up clothes that I used to wear regularly.

Because I don’t think my champagne flutes have been used since the Coopers moved to OKC.

Because the Significant Other received a family-sized ham from his employer for Christmas, and it’s taking up not inconsiderable space in the fridge.

Because the last time I had people over was in July.

Because I was absent from my friends’ Christmas party due to caring for Significant Other during his 18-hour bout of food poisoning.

Because I miss my friends.

Morning, Dec. 26th (via text): “Do we have plans for New Year’s Eve? Should I invite some friends over?”

No response.

Evening, Dec. 26th (in person): “So, do we have plans for New Year’s Eve that I don’t know or have forgotten about?”
“Yeah, stay in and safely away from all the crazies out there.”
“I like that plan. Should we invite some of our friends over to ‘stay in’ with us?”
“Maybe. We’ll see.”

So, to any of my friends who would typically get invited to my our place for NYE—and you know who you are—if you don’t already have other plans, well, you may still not. But feel free to give me a holler on Monday and maybe, you know, swing by. There’s this ham, see.