Passing notes is super dope...sheesh.
I visited my parents at their home this past weekend. It is the home I grew up in. My parents are totally Type A kind of people(see previous post as to what the holy heck happened to me??). They are so organized that their collection of stuff kept in the garage over the past 40 plus years...is organized.
It is seriously amazing. I totes would like to protest that I didn't get at least 5% of that gene. My husband would settle for any of the laundry portion of the gene...
In an attempt to reduce and further organize, my parents have been cleaning out. Each time my brother or I visit, we are sent home with a box of stuff of ours they have saved up in the ridiculously tidy attic. This past weekend I was sent off with two boxes.
The most awesome thing in them...practically every note every given to me in high school.
Kid One was confused by what a "note" was and why I participated in such an archaic activity. First I had to remind him that I am old and that we didn't have cell phones and social media. We had scented markers and our imagination.
This is how we communicated, Kid! And we signed them "w/b or die" Bad. Asses.
He is still confused...
"So...like how long did it take for a note to be delivered?"
Oy.
It didn't get delivered. We passed them between classes...
Seriously...this idea is totally lost upon him.
"Wow. That is...weird. So you just had to wait every time?"
Yes. We waited...and it felt like Christmas when someone passed you a colorful, cleverly folded note that said "To: and From:"
Yeah...he still doesn't get it.
When he is old like me, and his dad and I are cleaning out our garage(it will totes NOT be organized), I'm betting that his collection of text messages will NOT be colorfully packed away in a box waiting for him to rediscover them.
Bummer. Old school is super dope.
It is seriously amazing. I totes would like to protest that I didn't get at least 5% of that gene. My husband would settle for any of the laundry portion of the gene...
In an attempt to reduce and further organize, my parents have been cleaning out. Each time my brother or I visit, we are sent home with a box of stuff of ours they have saved up in the ridiculously tidy attic. This past weekend I was sent off with two boxes.
The most awesome thing in them...practically every note every given to me in high school.
Kid One was confused by what a "note" was and why I participated in such an archaic activity. First I had to remind him that I am old and that we didn't have cell phones and social media. We had scented markers and our imagination.
This is how we communicated, Kid! And we signed them "w/b or die" Bad. Asses.
He is still confused...
"So...like how long did it take for a note to be delivered?"
Oy.
It didn't get delivered. We passed them between classes...
Seriously...this idea is totally lost upon him.
"Wow. That is...weird. So you just had to wait every time?"
Yes. We waited...and it felt like Christmas when someone passed you a colorful, cleverly folded note that said "To: and From:"
Yeah...he still doesn't get it.
When he is old like me, and his dad and I are cleaning out our garage(it will totes NOT be organized), I'm betting that his collection of text messages will NOT be colorfully packed away in a box waiting for him to rediscover them.
Bummer. Old school is super dope.
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| a note from Lori K. was epic. It was technicolor and it freaking rhymed! {bad ass} |
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