Growing Up Skipper

Earlier this week in one of our team meetings, we got a little distracted talking about toys we had as kids and as you would expect in a room of five women, the conversation eventually drifted around to Barbie. Most of us had been into Mattel's star creation in some way, and we compared notes on our experiences. Jess noted that she chopped off Barbie's hair and eventually just popped her head off "to see how she was put together". Albee also remembered "Darci", Kenner's answer to Mattel's blonde heroine.

I always really wanted my Barbie to have boyfriend, but I never did acquire a Ken doll, so she was destined to remain an independent woman, cruising around in her pink Corvette and taking the occasional road trip with the girls in the orange RV with the pop-out side canopy. One year Barbie got a dog for Christmas (an Afghan with long flowing hair just like his mistress) and another year, she got a horse. Her assigned profession evolved over time from a lawyer to an actress to a professional barrel racer (the latter being short-lived and only spurred by the arrival of the horse and a pretty hot wardrobe of rodeo wear).

In an attempt to introduce Mr. Right into the scene, my next door neighbour would occasionally bring over his GI Joe's, but that never really went very well. Joe didn't have much of a wardrobe and Barbie got bored pretty quickly with his army fatigues. He also refused to ride in the Corvette (lest he look like a sissy when the other Joe's spotted him cruising down the carpeted hallway in a pink convertible), so he and Barbie didn't go out that much. He never brought his own wheels with him either and Barbie started to wonder if he was really just a wee bit of a dead beat. Ultimately Barbie and Joe drifted completely apart and went their separate ways. (We think he continued to pursue an armed forces career for quite some time.)

As we were reminiscing about Barbie and the ever present controversy that surrounds her and her Jessica Rabbit bodily proportions, a couple of us remembered also having a Skipper doll who was meant to be Barbie's younger, prepubescent sister. Skipper was about an inch and a half shorter than Barbie and her feet were molded so that she could only wear flat shoes and boots (compared to Barbie whose permanently arched feet just invited the presence of sexy stilettos.)

(As an aside, it just occurred to me that Barbie is probably the key reason I have always walked on my tip toes when I don't have shoes on... )

But back to Skipper.... I piped up and said "Oh yeah, and remember how you could turn her arm in its socket and she would grow about an inch in height and she would suddenly "develop" in the chest area?"

The rest of the room looked at me blankly and then burst out laughing: "What kind of dolls did you HAVE in Canada??"

Skipper was first introduced in the mid-60's to address the "sex symbol" controversy that surrounded Barbie. There were a number of Skipper concepts introduced to market, including: Bendable Leg Skipper, Twist & Turn Skipper, Sunset Malibu Skipper and even Japanese Skipper. (Barbie's family must have adopted Japanese Skipper.)

Then in 1975, Mattel introduced "Growing Up Skipper" and THIS was the very Skipper that made her way into my toy box and into the makeshift Barbie condo that I created on my Dad's pool table. The packaging said "Make her grow from a young girl to a teenager in seconds!" and sure enough, when you rotated one of her arms, she did exactly that.

I don't remember having any negative or confused reactions to Skipper's changeable body proportions (I was more disappointed that she didn't fit into Barbie's clothes and that she couldn't wear high heels), but Mattel sure took a beating in the press for introducing a doll that visibly went through puberty just with the twist of an arm. But honestly, is that really any worse than the dolls you can feed and they will "make doody" in their dolly daipers?

From Me to You at 37,000 ft

At this very moment, I am hurtling through the air at 500 mph+ speeds in little more than a giant tin can with about 200 other weary travelers just like I've done countless times before. The key difference on this trip, however, is that I am finally on a flight with in-flight internet access. Sweet!

So, while I'm cruising along somewhere over Ohio, I really have nothing significant to share except for the fact that I am, well, cruising along somewhere over Ohio. While blogging. (And emailing and twittering etc etc etc.)

There seemed to be a tinge of sadistic glee in our flight attendant's voice when she announced back in New York that the flight to San Francisco would be six and a half hours. SIX AND A HALF HOURS. (That after an hour of quality time with the JFK tarmac and de-icing crew.) It was only 4 hours and 40 minutes to fly TO New York on Saturday, so these nasty head winds are just downright cruel. I could have flown to London instead! Blimey!

But here I am on AA #177 taking the blogosphere to a whole other level.

Momofuku Ssam Bar

Dinner at Momofuku Ssam Bar in the East Village on Saturday night:

-- Steamed Buns (pork belly, hoisin, cucumber, scallions)

-- Edwards' Wigwam Country Ham

-- Satur Farm's Fried Brussel Sprouts (with mint, scallions, and fish sauce vinaigrette)

-- Pumpkin Chawanmushi (Grana Padano, kelp, pepita)

-- Sichuan Beef Tendon (with green mango and peanuts)

-- Spicy Pork Sausage & Rice Cakes (with Chinese broccoli, crispy shallots)

And as if that wasn't enough, after dinner we went next door to Momofuku Bakery & Milk Bar and proceeded to test out almost every dessert on the menu, including Strawberry-flavored milk which was unbelievable. (Next time, I want to try the Cereal-flavored milk -- it's meant to taste like the milk that's leftover at the bottom of the bowl once the cereal has all been eaten.)

All Before 7 a.m. on a Saturday

My alarm went off long before the sun came up this past Saturday morning to kick-start my day of traveling to NYC. I threw my stuff into the car and headed up to the airport before the birds were even stirring.

It all started in the terminal at SFO. I had just purchased a bottle of water for the flight and was making my way out of the newsstand store when I heard “Excuse me, miss!” I stopped and turned, thinking maybe I had dropped something. Instead I was greeted by a guy with a slicked back pony tail, bolo tie and Sherpa vest. In a very zen-like way, he explained “There is a higher power that tells me that when I see a stranger twice within a few minutes, I must go and introduce myself to them.” I could barely refrain from responding, “Well, then airports must be an absolute field day for you then, huh?”

I smiled politely (I think) as he peeled one of his cards from the stack in his palm and said “I saw you in the security line and was going to give you a card then, but you were busy”.

Now let’s just stop here for a second.

He was going to give me a card back in the security line when he FIRST saw me? Wouldn’t that have been in violation of his Higher Power’s recommendation that he wait until the second time? Honestly, please think your pick-up lines through fully before releasing them on the unsuspecting public. I watched every episode of Matlock growing up and I can spot those inconsistencies a mile away. If he were a movie, that would have been a jarring continuity issue.

But not wanting to risk further conversation and engagement, I thanked Rico Suave and proceeded to my gate. 15 minutes later, they are doing the final call for a Dallas flight and he sprints over to where I am sitting, thrusts out his hand to shake mine and says “It was so great to meet you! I hope to see you again!”

A few of the people sitting around me in the waiting area smirked knowingly as they subtly glanced up from their newspapers and cell phones.

Rico dashed off to his gate and was the last to board before they closed the doors. I suppose I should be flattered that he almost missed his flight just so he could come and say good-bye to me, but mostly I just think he’s a little bit dim for taking that chance.

Once on the plane, I was blessed with two screaming children directly in front of me. They were screaming when they boarded, fought against their parents as said parents attempted to secure them in seatbelts, continued to scream and throw themselves against their seats, the floor and any other object unfortunate enough to be in their orbit for the next 4.5 hours. (Damn, those kids had some stamina. I thought for sure they’d wear themselves out an hour or two in.) Not only did they continue to cry and carry on, but they also began coughing in every single direction – one of those raspy, phlegmy kinds of coughs that you know has its roots in some nasty bug. I scrambled for my Airborne (and more importantly, some Tylenol PM for the little darlings.)

And finally, to complete the trifecta of randomness, the woman seated next to me pulled out her cell phone as soon as she sat down and remained on a call the entire time we were at the gate, crying and cussing and telling someone on the other line “he lied to me!” and then “he’s 42! He should know better!” and then “it’s like I’m a doormat with no feelings!”. But within the space of about 10 minutes she had changed her tune (but was still bawling) and now was seemingly defending the lying 42-year old scumbag with “that’s not fair! He didn’t mean that! He’s not that bad!”

American Airlines flight 24 to JFK. My own personal Twilight Zone. How much can one person really take before the sun has even come up?

Cyber Shop 'Til You Drop

It's that time of year again. The holidays are in full swing and it's at this point in the season when my heart goes out to USPS mail carriers who not only have to carry their weight in shiny, glossy catalogs, but who also have to schlep around ten times the normal volume of boxes and packages as the internet generation (and then some) does much of its Christmas shopping online.

I enjoy shopping as much as the next girl, but at this time of year, I'm quite happy to peruse virtual store aisles instead of battling harried shoppers in the real world. At home with my laptop, I can be in my pajamas (or not), with a glass of wine (or two) armed with nothing more than a mouse and a credit card and I can literally have the bulk of my shopping done without ever leaving the house.

I am, however, encountering a few snafus this year which are derailing my uber-efficient virtual St. Nick persona ever so slightly.

As I settled into my little home office on the evening of Cyber Monday to take advantage of all sorts of great deals and coupons, I landed on Banana Republic's site, having been lured there by promises of 40% discounts AND an additional 10% Cyber Monday discount. Many of the price cuts on the site were only good for Cyber Monday and would expire at midnight. Now, I will admit that at Banana, I wasn't strictly limiting myself to looking for gifts for others... I was quite open to the possibility that as I looked for a cozy sweater for Special K, that I might (just might) find a pair of shoes (or two) that I really needed to add to my closet.

And indeed I did. I added said pairs of shoes to my shopping cart and continued to browse. Much to my shock and dismay, all of the items in my shopping cart reverted to their original (and NOT on sale) prices at exactly 9:00 pm PST. 12:00 am EST. Darn it! Cyber Monday should end in the time zone within which you are actually shopping, not a time zone that is 3000 miles away! I'm sure I could have called BR's customer support and they would have honored the sale prices, but I figured there was probably a bigger message here that was something like "Serves you right! You should be shopping for OTHERS right now!" (But I will still monitor those shoes and snap them up the second they go on sale again!)

Then tonight, I was attempting to order something for my mom and dad, but from a Canadian retailer so that I could have it shipped directly to them without having to worry about duty and customs. This Canadian retailer would not allow me to use a US billing address online. I tried calling their 1-800 number because by now, I was pretty committed to the purchase, having researched the item, read the reviews and even watched a video about it. TigerDirect.ca made the fatal error of putting me on hold and leaving me there for minutes (WAY too many minutes) and I finally hung up, still gift-less and with my credit card feeling nakedly inadequate for international commerce.

Big sigh. I think I'm going to have to don the body armor and shields and head out into the war zone that is otherwise known as The Mall.

God Bless Elizabeth White

We received this email in our "advertising" alias inbox at work. God Bless Elizabeth White -- now I don't have to wonder where I'm going to generate next year's revenue!


Dearly Beloved -

My name is Mrs. Elizabeth White; I am a dying woman who has decided to donate what i have to you/church. I am 69 years old and i was diagnosed with cancer immediately after the death of my husband 2 years ago, who has left me everything he worked for and because the doctors told me i will not live longer than some weeks because of my health, i decided toWILL/donate the sum of $5,850,000.00 (Five Million Eight Hundred FiftyThousand US Dollars) to you for the good work of humanity, and also tohelp the motherless and less privilege and also for the assistance of the widows.

I wish you all the best and may the good Lord bless you abundantly, and please use the funds well and always extend the good work to others. Contact my lawyer:

Mislata Law Firm
Abogado De Justicia
Calle Embajadores, 106.2, Madrid, Spain
Legal Practitioner & Solicitor David Hanson
Phone/Fax: +34-63-417-7834
Email: abogadodhan@gmail.com

And tell him that i have WILLED ($5,850,000.00 US Dollars) to you and ihave also notified him. I know i don't know you but i have been directedto do this. Thanks and God bless. I will appreciate your utmost confidentiality in this matter until thetask is accomplished as i don't want anything that will jeopardize my last wish.

God bless you,
Mrs. Elizabeth White

My Home and Native Land

I'm just back from a few days north of the 49th where I escaped for a bit of a break over the Thanksgiving holiday and used the time to catch up with both family and friends. The more I go back to Canada (and hence the longer I've been gone), the more I appreciate what a unique and special place it is. I love being reminded of all the little cultural nuances that are newly fresh to me after having been in the US for so many years now.

Here's a sampling:

-- I ordered a sandwich and was asked "white bread or brown bread"? I'd forgotten that we say "brown bread" instead of "wheat" or "whole wheat".

-- We put our windows on "opposite ends" in the warmer months when it starts to rain outside. The double-paned storm windows can be opened so that fresh air can snake its way inside, but the rain won't. I've never once heard this expression in the US. Come to think of it, I've never seen the same kind of windows that can accommodate "opposite ends" either.

-- We park in a "parkade", not in a "parking garage" or "parking structure". (Honestly, my American friends, please adopt "parkade" -- it's so much shorter and easier!)

-- Canadian hockey announcers use words like "chippy" to describe a team that's hitting particularly hard and often.

-- Everyone knew what I meant when I referred to my "runners"!

-- [Almost] everyone is uber polite and friendly whether it's the hotel concierge, the cashier at the drugstore, the waiter at The Keg or just random people in shops and on the streets. I never hear "pardon me", "excuse me" and "sorry" as much down south. (And in Canada, it's more like "so-rry" instead of "saw-ry".)

O Canada --The True North strong and free!