Can I book my kid's birthday party?

Like many Americans opening their laptop, or quaintly, their newspaper, this week you may have wondered about the pictured field trip to an interactive kid-friendly museum.  Can you book this glowing orb place for a birthday party? You had the Critter Lady for last year's birthday party, and the bouncy house the year before that. Kroger could make a glowing global sheet cake, easy. Maybe the museum hosts overnight lock-in slumber parties for preteen scouts and church groups.

© 2013-2017 Nancy L. Ruder

OJ with Fritzi

Smile

On special Sunday mornings we would beg our mom, Fritzi, to use her "roly poly" glasses for our orange juice. I have the few surviving roly polies in my cupboard, and they still put a smile on my face, with or without vitamin C.

Roly poly on the counter

A Thursday car chase news flash involving a possibly stolen orange juice-colored Chevrolet naturally reminded me of the OJ Bronco chase.

OJ

In other orange juice smile news, I'll be breakfasting at Frontier Restaurant across from the UNM campus later this summer. The Frontier squeezes the best orange juice on the planet. I will lift my glass to toast Fritzi and smile.


© 2013-2017 Nancy L. Ruder

Marty McFly in a power necktie?

• Skateboard? Check
• Using iPhone? Check
• Whipping and gliding around the corner and down the street in front of my old-timey Buick? Check
• GQ model hair? Check
• Dress shirt, slacks, and necktie? Check
• Orange shoes? Check
• Reducing ozone-forming emissions? Check

 

Tomorrow will be an orange air quality day, so Arlo the armadillo is warning us about ozone and skateboarding and texting while commuting.suggesting alternate transportation modes. In his dreams Arlo is Marty McFly's grandson 

In my dreams I'm home already after a clogless commute, flipping through the pages of AARP magazine past Michael J. Fox to the crossword puzzle. The library just received the book: AgeProof: Living Longer Without Running Out of Money or Breaking a Hip. Why isn't this a graphic novel? I thought it was by Roz Chast, but it's by Jean Chatzky.

If you must commute tomorrow, B. Goode.

© 2013-2017 Nancy L. Ruder

Orange library bizarre

Glanced at the Harper's Bazaar issue on the cart of recent periodicals every time I walked up the stairs and thought (in a sherbet-colored bubble) "Orange Julius." Every trip down the stairs my glance registered as "peeling carrots." Being "old enough to peel the carrots for supper" was a developmental milestone out there on the prairie. It was a primitive time, indeed, and few remember when carrots were a root vegetable that did not come in a ready-to munch-bag.

As the last kid on earth to taste an Orange Julius at the Westroads Mall in big city Omaha, I was mortified to be so terribly delayed in popular culture. Now hopelessly estranged from popular culture, and happily, it took me many flights of stairs to notice the name of the model on the Harper's Bazaar cover -- Kendall Jenner. That added another layer of orange and confusion to my glances! No consumption of carrots will improve my vision enough to comprehend the Jenner-Kardashian phenomenon. And that's a good thing!

Sometimes pausing at the top of the stairs I have an odd flashback to watching a Houston Astros game on tv in an Irish tavern on Dodge Street in Omaha. The Astros were wearing their orange Jello parfait uniforms. I was in love with my husband. We were young, poor, and enjoying life.



© 2013-2017 Nancy L. Ruder