And we’re back. And it’s the 90’s! Can you think of anything more fun and tacky than Christmas in the 90’s? If you’re wondering why I am exposing an embarrassing yearly tradition featuring my family, you can catch up here and here. But let’s get to the good stuff.
Card #7 – 1991
Moving on up! That’s right folks- no more photo shoots on rocking chairs in the living room in front a curtain. This was the year we finally moved out of our tiny two-bedroom condo and into our own house. Though you probably couldn’t see it due to my mother’s hair obstructing the view. Another thing you may not be able to see are our festive Christmas sweatshirts with cross-stitched moose wearing wreaths. If that doesn’t scream New Hampshire, I don’t know what does. This was also the first (and last) card photo featuring my beloved cat Tiger (RIP!) who like my sister, was not to keen on being forced to be in the picture. She lucked out, because unlike the cat, we did not put her on a leash when attempting this. Despite the new house, sweatshirts, Santa hat, children and cat, we needed just one more prop, and that’s where the inflatable candy cane came in. Why we even had an inflatable candy cane is beyond me, but it obviously completed the photo.
Card #8 – 1992
I told you- you can’t escape the Christmas background! That’s not the only hand me down in this picture, as my sister is wearing the same dress I sported in Card #4. Always a bridesmaid, those younger siblings. Not only did I get a new dress, I am also rocking a sweet oversized satin bow and I obviously got my hands on makeup for the first time. I don’t know why someone wouldn’t have stopped a second grader from smearing blue eyeshadow halfway up her face, but hey, it takes some of us years to grow into our fabulousness. And let’s face it, the saggy nylons are certainly not speeding up the process.
Card #9 – 1993
Oh, man. Where do I even start? Now you have to love my mother for dreaming up a card concept in September, but it would have been nice to have at least one of these pictures with snow in it. Instead we were forced to sweat in our winter attire and pretend that Christmas was just around the corner. And I’m all for warmth, especially growing up in New England, but I don’t see why puffer jackets ever had to look like this. C’mon, my sister looks like a miniature body builder and I look like that chubby purple girl in that children’s movie I still haven’t seen. Also, can we talk about my pants? Steve and I certainly did.
Me: These are the ugliest pants in the history of the world. I don’t think a worse pair of pants have ever existed.
Steve: Um, I believe you tried to buy those exact pants at J.Crew last week, and I told you they were hideous. So who are you trying to fool?
Up next- the unintentionally offensive Christmas card.
~L
I’m sure that after the first Christmas card post yesterday you have been left with so many lingering questions. Like… would little Lindsay ever grow up and wear anything other than pajamas? Did her parents ever buy her new socks? I can’t promise answers to those questions in the this round. But I can promise… even more awkward photos. So let’s continue.
Card #4 – 1988
Ladies and gentlemen, I am officially a grown up. I started wearing tights and appropriate footwear. This look to me says, “pajamas are so beneath a three and a half year old. Velour is where it’s at.” I had clearly had enough of standing on that death trap, and since I had been an only child for so long, I took to just sitting on my rocking chair like the royalty I was, primed to receive the commoners when they came a calling. Also this is when I think my mullet really started to take place. Probably because I highlighted it with headbands. Okay, so maybe it’s not really a mullet, but it’s definitely mullet adjacent. Poor girl. She has no idea this is her last year as the star of the Christmas card. Life would never be the same.
Card #5 – 1989
As you will see later, this is the first appearance of many by the Christmas background. Oh I’m sorry- did I ruin the magic? Were you thinking that we were just hanging out in front of an actual fireplace and perfectly placed holiday garland? Sorry to burst your bubble, but it is all a lie. Except for my bangs. Those are horrifyingly real. Also have you ever seen a more uncomfortable infant? I had to hold onto her like that to keep her sleeves from catching a light breeze and carrying her away.
Card #6 – 1990
What did I tell you about that background?! Also please note the matching pinafore dresses made by our grandmother- I believe those collars featured some very festive holiday geese traipsing around. I don’t understand how amongst all that Christmas cheer my sister could dare to sport a look that says, “I’ve been kidnapped. Send help.” Who wouldn’t want to be a part of this?!
Up next: The 90’s called, and they want all of their hair and clothes back. See you tomorrow!
~L
The holiday season is all about traditions. For some people, it’s baking cookies made from your grandmother’s family recipe. For others, it’s watching classics like White Christmas and Miracle on 34th street, snuggled under a flannel blanket with a steaming cup of cocoa. And for some, it’s spending an exorbitant amount of time cutting down a Christmas tree that will never, not even in a million years, ever be appropriate for your 700 sq. foot apartment. Oh wait, is that just me?
In my family, we have our own Christmas tradition that has taken place every year for over twenty five years. The Scalera’s don’t claim to be good at many things (unless you count being awesome at trivia games and making school projects mere hours before they are due), but there is one thing that every year, pulls us all together for a common cause.
The. Family. Christmas. Card.
Did you think I was going to say something charitable? Pssssh! Forget the poor and the downtrodden, there are almost a hundred families out there waiting for our Christmas card! Priorities, people! But seriously, Christmas cards are a big effing deal at my house. It started the year my parents got engaged, with a lovely sit down photo featuring a them and their cats. I know, nothing crazy, right? Except we have continued that tradition every year, making this year twenty nine I believe.
Back in the day, the card was just a nice photo that was a picture of me, then my sister and I and occasionally my parents would make an appearance. But over the years, this card has turned into an all-consuming thing that my mom starts preparing for in August. I swear, if we were more together she would have a story board and conference calls devoted to planning that year’s theme. Now it’s a mad dash that can only be coordinated if the four of us happen to be together at some point in November to agree on the theme and plan the execution of the photos. There is always a photo. If you ever get a store bought card from Doreen with an illustrated picture of a tree or something, call the police. She’s been abducted.
So in honor of Christmas being just about a week away, I wanted to share our years of holiday spirit with you and yours. Some of you reading may have received a few of these over the years, and to you I say, you’re welcome. Every day I will be revealing another group of these beauties on the blog, leading up to this year’s card. If you need help containing your excitement, well then… there’s something wrong with you.
Disclaimer: Some of these I am missing the actual card. I know, but you try keeping track of almost thirty years of Christmas joy in paper form. Some of these are just photos, and while a part of me slightly regrets not knowing what the witty accompanying message was, I think these pictures say enough.
Card #1 – 1985
So to be fair, this technically isn’t Card #1 for the Scalera’s. I know, this whole thing is now a sham. As I said before, the first was my parent’s engagement photo. Card #2 was their wedding picture. I chose to start with this adorable photo because this is when the card finally gets interesting. Because it’s MEEEEEEEEEE! That’s right. You have a baby and suddenly you’re not even on your card anymore. Because who can resist a baby in a Christmas dress on a Hunter green felt backdrop? Note the date in the corner- this picture was taken in October. Despite being a new mother, Doreen was still on.top.of.it. I’m not sure why I look so surprised, but I’m guessing it’s because I just realized what I was in for… for the rest of my life.
Card #2 – 1986
Is it just me, or should my parents have bought me a new pair of socks by now? Also I love how the danger of having a one and a half year old standing on a rocking chair is being overlooked for the sake of a quality Christmas card photo. I mean, it’s not like I’m Lily on Modern Family in a Diana Ross wig, but imagine if I had hurt myself? I’m sure no one at the local emergency room would have believed my parents when they told them it was an “accident” during a “Christmas card photo shoot.” But as we have learned, my parents will not be stopped when it comes to taking adorable holiday photos.
Card #3 – 1987
Okay, I swear I didn’t spend my entire childhood in pajamas. Although, it certainly would explain a lot now. Once again, I want to say that I’m standing on a chair. Also I have finally grown out of those Christmas socks and have moved on to Hush Puppies slippers. I think this is probably when my parents started thinking about having another kid because clearly, they were running out of ideas for a single child.
Look for the next round of pics tomorrow. Two children= double the options for photo ideas.
~L
Well, here we are. Or should I say, here I am. My 100th post. You see, it may seem like I only started blogging once a certain forest creature invaded my apartment just a year ago. What many of you may not know is that I actually started this blog all the way back in 2008. And when I say “blogging,” I mean I registered on Blogger and wrote a single post about a one Miss Britney Spears and didn’t return for five months. If you’d like to see how it all began you can catch up here.
But to understand how this really began, we have to go back. Way back to the days before blogs and Twitter and the Internets. Okay, only one of those is true. But other than having a Live and/or Dead Journal, I had never heard of blogging or knew anyone who did it when I was in college. I had always loved to write, and once I transferred to a school that actually had a functioning newspaper, I knew I wanted to be involved. The problem was that I really only wanted to write about one thing: student government.
I’m totally kidding. Obviously it was celebrities.
Looking back, I’m not even sure how I convinced anyone to let me write about this, let alone allow me to have a weekly column. But it was with The Clock that I finally found something that I cared about and a group of people that were totally okay with me being ridiculous. That’s huge when you’re a transfer student and also hot mess.
It took some searching, but I finally found my first ever Lindsay’s Look:
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| remember these two? ah, those were the days. |
As you can see, it was originally titled “Lindsay’s Look at All Things Celebrity.” I remember that I loved that title and I was so pissed at that time when one of the layout people changed it without my knowledge, and that it would forever more be “Lindsay’s Look at Celebrity Scandal.” Or at least until I graduated.
That’s right. Reality is a cruel, cruel mistress. You get so comfortable and jaded in your little campus bubble, taking classes just because they “sounded interesting” and working for $5.50 an hour and being totally cool with it. With graduation day looming, people asked me what was to become of Lindsay’s Look. I had no idea, because I never imagined that I wouldn’t spend the rest of my days writing about the trials and tribulations of Tinsletown’s biggest disasters. My roommate and fellow editor Erin told me that I should continue my column in blog form. It seemed like a good idea, but I was too busy imagining my fabulous post-grad life (and applying for jobs to hopefully help me achieve that) to really buckle down and do it.
Until almost a year later, when I decided I missed my creative outlet. I obviously didn’t miss it that much, because after that one post, I only composed two others in the following year. And the next year, one more. In two years, I wrote four blog posts and two of them were about Britney Spears. I know, this is shocking information.
Then, in 2011, about six months after I got married, things started to get more interesting. Slightly. After all the hubbub of wedding planning was over and I settled in being married and working everyday like a normal adult, I found myself kinda bored and completely unsatisfied creatively. I got back into the swing of things, mainly commenting on reality stars and whatever was happening on Glee. It wasn’t until the end of the year that I finally started to write about anything that actually had to do with, well, me. And weirdly enough? Those first Christmas tree posts ended up being my most read ever. For some reason it seemed weird to me that anyone would be interesting in listening to me talk about myself or my life or the food that Steve cooks for me.
And that’s kind of where we’ve been going since then. I say we meaning me and those of you that for some reason choose to read this. There may not be many of you now, but I hope to continue to grow my readership beyond just the people that happen to click on my links via Facebook. Getting to know everyone through Boston Bloggers and attending the first Blog Better Boston conference were huge sources of inspiration for me. I love reading any and all comments, and lots of times there are only two of them, or none at all. But I like to respond to every one because I just want everyone to know how much it means to me that you took a moment to read something I wrote. I know I personally read like a hundred blogs on a daily basis and if I didn’t have to work or shower I would comment on all of them.
So nothing crazy to say here. I know a lot of you are expecting the 2012 Christmas tree story (which I promise is coming) or some other witty commentary on someone famous being ridiculous somewhere, but for now I just wanted to reflect on this. It only took me four years to get to one hundred, which I guess is kinda sad if you think about how many days that is, but it’s still a milestone.
But in case you need some reminding as to why you came here in the first place, take a look back at some of my personal favorite posts:
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…
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| why, santa, why? |
…I’m a moron.
There’s obviously a story as to how we got to this place (again). As usual, I’m going to need a little time to compose myself. If you’re new around these parts or just want to relive a good old fashioned Christmas nightmare, you can do so here, here and here.
If you’re looking for me, I’ll be the girl crying on the floor, covered in pine needles.
~L
Today, at age twenty seven, I took my first real train ride. And no, the Commuter Rail doesn’t count. Sorry, MBTA.
I haven’t been to New York City in over three years. so when I found out that my surrogate little brother landed the male lead in my favorite musical (I’ll give you one guess of what that could be), I knew I had to be there. Unfortunately, I would have to take this trip solo as it was the same weekend as the biannual Christmas recital, and Steve plays the very important role of sound engineer. Or Caroler #2, I forget.
But hey, it’s 2012, and if a gal can’t take a train by herself… wait, that actually sounds more like 1912. Whatevs.
I would describe the feeling as nervous excitement. Kinda like how I felt in anticipation of the season premiere of Glee this year. Like you want so bad for it to be good but you have this slight fear that it won’t.
Of course my dreams were dashed when upon arrival at the Providence Amtrak station, there was not a parking spot in sight. In my spirit of independence, I assured Steve that I could walk into the station and find the train myself. I’m assuming it looked like a large steel contraption on top of a track, and that perhaps there would even be a sign dictating: “train-> this way.”
“No,” he said firmly. “I am not just going to leave you here,” as if I was on the edge of a cliff and not at the world’s smallest transportation center. I couldn’t decide if I was flattered that he wanted to spend every last second with me before I departed for the weekend or if I was offended that he didn’t trust that I could find the one train heading to New York in a station that boasted a facility with only five tracks.
After almost breaking my thumb with the car door, I raced into the station expecting to see a scene from an old movie. Since I’ve never been on a train before, I can only rely on what information I have retained from pop culture. And let me tell you, this was no “Some Like It Hot” scenario. Despite it being all of 7:15 pm, the place was practically shut down. Not knowing what to do with myself, I went to the ticket counter, figuring I would need an actual ticket and not the crappy piece of paper that I almost forgot to print.
“No ma’am, that’s your ticket,” said the counter guy. “They scan it on the train.”
This?! This was my ticket? I was expecting at least the density of a movie stub. And who was he referring to as “ma’am?!” I slunk into one of the booths next to twenty five other people whose faces read “if you speak to me , I will steal your tiny pink suitcase and beat you with it.” Ok so it wasn’t that intense, but these other travelers were obviously in a far less indulgent train experience fantasy than I.
Steve somehow found a spot and dashed inside to bid me adieu. I think everyone thought we were star crossed lovers, clinging to each other knowing this would be the last time we ever saw each other. Or I just concocted that scenario in my head and no one gave it a second thought that we even existed.
At the platform I began to wonder what awaited me on this magical ride.
Me: Is it going to look like those trains on Hell on Wheels?
Steve: What?! No. Nobody used steam locomotives anymore.
Me: Do you think there will be more or less impromptu singing than in “White Christmas?” Because I really don’t have anything prepared.
Steve: You are embarrassing.
I quickly discovered getting on a train is no fun because you have to play the “can I sit with you, pretty please?” game with a whole bunch of strangers who have no idea what a blast you really are. It’s like not getting picked in gym class over and over and over again. How is it that adults that spend an entire ride simultaneously using their iPhones/iPad/laptops/old fashioned paper reading devices need to act so horribly inconvenienced by your presence? I’m sorry that Amtrak didn’t half sell the seats so your pea coat and water bottle could have their own spot. And let me tell you, you could do a lot worse than me for a seat buddy, because I don’t smell and I bring extra magazines.
After nearing the end of the car and fearing the embarrassment of having to turn back and beg for a spot next to someone that had already given me the stink eye, I zeroed in on a girl that looked exactly like me. To my delight, she let me sit and we spent the rest of ride in polite silence, except when I offered to get her something from the cafe car, because I figured it would be a good incentive for her not to steal any of my stuff.
After chowing down on a $6 microwave Digiorno personal pan pizza minus the pan (unless your pans are made out of cardboard), I settled in and tried not to fall asleep. I don’t know what I was more afraid of- missing the stop and taking an accidental train ride to Florida (if that is even possible) or someone snatching up all my earthly possessions- i.e. my iPhone, new Entertainment Weekly and a pair of techno texting gloves.
All in all, my experience on the train was lackluster at best, if only because there was so little entertainment. I mean, where’s Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon in drag when you need them?!
Stay tuned for what I’m sure will be hilarious tales of my NYC weekend adventure. Because if I had this much to say about a single train ride, imagine what it will be like when I actually have something to do.
-L
It may only be days after Halloween but it certainly feels like pre-winter. Which I guess is really fall. But seriously, it’s like everything just chilled overnight. And that means… sweater weather!
Typically, I have always thought of sweaters as being sort of bulky and hideous. But all these chicks on Pinterest and in the blogosphere are all of a sudden making sweaters look chic despite being super slouchy. I don’t know how this is possible, but obviously I see it and I want it. It may have something to do with the fact that these girls underneath the sweaters are waif-like to begin with. My inspiration comes courtesy of Song of Style, which I discovered from following {av}’s quest for giving Pinterest credit where credit is due. After some Google Imaging I found the original source of the photo, which led me to this blog.
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| sweater/skirt/tights/shoes/bag |
About two months ago I traveled north to my New Hampshire homeland to photograph back to back weddings with my dad. I’ve been my dad’s assistant since I was ten years old, and although that’s probably against every child labor law in all fifty states, it has been a great experience for me.
Now that I’m older and started to branch out a little bit more on my own, it’s nice to go back to my roots every once in a while and be the sidekick. The nice thing about assisting is that while the main photog is doing all the serious stuff, you get to do more of the fun casual shots. Details are my particular favorites, as you’ll see below. It helped the bride came ready with all sorts of little ideas, from her charming ampersand to her “I Do” on her shoes.
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| 1992? |
That’s right- those are matching cross-stitched pumpkin sweaters. You can’t see mine, but trust me, it’s there.
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| amok amok amok. |
So I will leave you with this. A picture from my very first Halloween. Steve once saw this picture at my house and tried to indite my parents for child endangerment. I say that this means that your parents love you extra because they wanted to make your first Halloween so special. Or according to my mother, “when you have your first child you just think that there are certain things you’re supposed to do.”
Get Snappy
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