Skip to main content

Tickets: Then and Now

My daughter made the transition from handmade tickets to mass-produced ones. This time last year, an elaborate ticket making project and movie afternoon took all day to create.



Saturday, my daughter spied an upgrade.  I completely understand.  I remember coveting the "real" waitress pads at the stationary store.  Having a "real" one would make playing restaurant so much more thrilling.

My daughter lobbied to get these tickets the other day at the Dollar Store.  She has plans to use them in many different ways.  They are a more official looking version for sure.  Now that she's almost 7, what she wants a ticket to resemble are changing.  I'm curious to see how they will re-appear and be utilised over the coming months and even years.  Right now, they haven't been used yet. They sit there, quietly dispensing an open invitation.  To which events is to be revealed in time.

Labels:

Comments

  1. introphoto3/21/2012 7:30 am

    I totally remember the allure of the 'real' thing. We had a stamp set, and there were a few stamps that may have been leftovers from an office or something. I loved stamping 'urgent' onto something. Not hand written, but the real URGENT. Also, stickers from the post office with air mail/par avion... I definitely relate to this desire to have a hand in the real and the imaginary at the same time.

    ReplyDelete
  2. MotherOfGooses3/21/2012 9:36 am

    Yes! Even just reading the word "urgent" in print gives me a little thrill (a cocktail of authenticity and possibility).

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Bringing her back

 As the first anniversary finally passed, I exhaled.  The sadness still nibbled away at the edges, but not clawing deep into my chest like it had been with varying degrees of ferocity in the twelve months previously.  She died in early summer, so I plunged into ocean and lakes and ate fruit straight from the plant.  The grief became softer, the folk songs carried me along in the potato patch we planted in therapy. But then, I started to miss her.  The deep grief kept her so close and now as the pressure eased, so did her presence.  I held my breath and decided to be really sad this morning just to see her face.  To sit in her prescence.  My breath became jagged as I cried for her, for us.   This Taylor Swift cover  by Marc Maron broke me right open this morning.  Here's to staying broken open enough to keep your loved ones close. And then, I walked into her garden. The garden she envisionied, planted over and over and still pre...
Post a Comment
Read more

A Small Craft

I accompanied my mother-in-law to an appointment this week. On the paper, preparing her for the appointment, it invited her bring along something to read or a small craft. As soon as I heard about this invitation to bring a small craft into an otherwise austere waiting area, my mind started to do bouncing somersaults in many different directions. Googly eyes? Glue gun? Feathers? Play clay? Friendship braclets?
4 comments
Read more

the words fell out

 Despite being an introvert, I do often process big life events (and many many small ones) out loud by verbally hashing out my thoughts with whoever will put up with me. But this morning when I woke up to the big red blotch on the U.S. map...all my /the words fell out.  They fell out unsaid, unformed. Got to work and probably , in another time, would have annoyed my co-workers, dominating the conversation with my verbal extrusions, but not today. I just mutely stared across at them and nodded. My dad came for lunch.  Normally, we relish a good political diatribe, especially when we feel sure of our perspective, but this time, all I could do was munch on fries and marvel at all the unarticulated thoughts that I was not even bothering to retrieve. The silence inside me was noticeable.  Social media was awash with reactions and I just looked away. I couldn't bear to read one word about it. I was not receptive to any reactions,  accusations, reflections,  words...
Post a Comment
Read more