Tales from Vintage Cookbooks: School Lunch Edition

Measuring 13.5" x 10", this cookbook from 1963 is one of the biggest I've found in a thrift store. It's too big to even fit in the scanner.

Before I became a Dad, I'd skip the "Children's Food" section without thinking twice. Now it's where I go right after "Meats".

Let's zoom in:

After looking at the sandwich selection on the opposite page, I can all but guarantee a depressing moment for any kid whose mom read this cookbook.

Except for the bacon sandwich (bacon!), if I opened my school lunch box and found any of the other sandwiches I would have slammed the lid down and fled the gym in terror. Just check out these sandwich descriptions.

Oh man, nothing says "you'll sit at the end of the table by yourself" than "salmon salad". And I almost choked on mine when I saw "tongue on whole wheat". That's not a lunch, it's a punishment. You'd have to sit next to the girl who smelled like liverwurst.

Then there's the baked bean sandwich. Not only does that sound horrible, it would be a mess to try to eat. By the second bite I would've had the filling in my lap and a new, terrible nickname to boot. "Smooth move, Bean Crotch!"

When I was in elementary school, the worst things served at lunch were wet, hairy plums. I can still hear the whispered warning from the kid sitting next to me, "Don't eat those. They're cow balls..." But after reading this cookbook, I consider myself lucky.

"More cow balls, please."

Thrift Store Show and Tell: Enter the CED Edition

Whenever our schedule allows, Daphne signs Charlotte up for a preschooler class at the zoo. Each 45 minute lesson includes a story, a snack, an art project, and the class gets to meet an animal, too. You should have seen Daphne's eyes the time they pulled a snake out for the kids to enjoy...

I didn't go to class with Daphne and Char last weekend because I was running a mild fever. Instead, I dropped the girls off at the zoo and went to a nearby flea market. After a half hour of shopping I thought I was going home empty handed, but then I spotted this movie.

If you don't recognize this as a movie, I don't blame you. Not too many people remember RCA's Capacitance Electronic Discs (CEDs). A lot of times when I find these in thrift stores they're misplaced in the records stacks. And that makes sense because in a way, that's what they are. 

Incredible as it sounds, CEDs are movies (sounds and images) that are recorded onto a vinyl record. This is what the movie looks like when you slide it out of the CED's caddy.

See, it looks just like a record. 

This technology has been around since the 60's, but RCA didn't get around to selling CED players and movies to the public until 1981. Since the CED players couldn't record TV broadcasts like VHS and Beta players, sales never took off. RCA stopped making players in 1984, and two years later the last movie on CED was released (Jewel of the Nile). After only five years, the CED became a dead format.

That's not a surprise. The image quality of a CED might be better than a VHS tape, but halfway through the movie you have to get up and manually flip the movie over to side two. In a world of Netflix and 7.1 sound there is absolutely no real reason to own a CED player. 

So why do I own two? It's simple. They're pretty neat.

Show somebody your new Blu-ray player and they might stifle a yawn. Show them a movie that's been hidden in the murky depths of black vinyl, and you're probably going to be answering some questions. It's fun to see people's reactions when the machine grabs the movie from your hand and then spits the empty caddy out like it's sticking its tongue at you.

Check it out:

No, I don't buy every CED movie I see. My CED collection is more about quality than quantity. If I'm going to get my lazy butt off the couch to flip over to the second side, the movie's got to be worth it.

Bruce Lee is worth it.

Don't Worry, You Can Open Your Other Presents in the E.R.

In 1981, my dad pulled into the driveway on July 2 with this used mini bike sticking out of the trunk of his car. It was my 12th birthday, and I was ecstatic. I had no idea I was going to get something with a motor! 

And what a motor it was. That's a five horse Briggs and Stratton engine, and although the mini bike didn't have a speedometer, I could easily pass mopeds that were going 25 mph. 

Look at that happy guy. 

(Those socks are longer than your shorts, nerd.)

Besides the speedo, the mini bike didn't have shock absorbers, a horn, and there weren't any lights, either. Plus take a look at the handlebars. Do you notice what's missing? There aren't any brake handles. Do you know why?

 It didn't have brakes. 

Seriously. Can you imagine giving a kid a vehicle that was capable of going over 30 mph, but wasn't capable of stopping? What was my dad thinking?

For a while, I didn't care. I'd just let up on the throttle, and slam my tennis shoes on the pavement when it was time to slow down. Those Four Stripe Adidas (AKA Scats) didn't last long. In one week I wore down the soles until holes appeared and I burned the bottoms my feet. By the time I went through a second pair of shoes, I started asking some questions.

When Dad bought the mini bike from a local farmer, the guy threw in three extra wheels, and one of the wheels had a sprocket and drum brake already mounted to the rim, "Dad? Why can't we use that one?" Although he never explained why, Dad assured me that wheel wouldn't work.

So, I did what I always do when I have a mechanical problem. I went to the public library. There I found a book like this.

The book had photos and a description of a "friction" or "scrub" brake. A scrub brake is a bent bar with a metal flap that is attached to the bike's frame. Basically, it's a lever.

The bend on the left is the brake "pedal", and stepping down on it forces the plate to rub against the tread on the back tire. That's pretty primitive, but it's better than looking like Fred Flintstone. Here's a mini bike frame with a scrub brake installed.

When I showed the scrub brake plans to my dad, he screwed his face into a wince and growled, "We can't afford that! What you have is fine!" Whenever he reacted like that, I knew better than ask again. I simply returned the book and put on another pair of shoes.

For those who are about to die, we salute you.

(These really are my shoes. I keep them at school for the retro theme day during homecoming.)

The next summer the mini bike was stored at my Grandpa's farm, and I terrorized his milking cows when we'd visit. By the time I could legally drive a moped, the mini bike was sold for its engine, and the brake-less frame was scrapped. I remember being a little sad when I heard it was gone. That was like saying goodbye to the dangerous kid who always got you in trouble, but was so much fun to hang out with. 

I know hindsight is 20/20, and I've tried to put myself into my dad's head at that time. But as a father myself, I still don't know what he was thinking. That bike was a death trap. I have no clue how I avoided hitting anyone or anything.

But maybe when Charlotte is grown up, and she sees this video of herself running around inside the Hy-Vee beer cooler, she'll have some questions for me.

I hope I'm still around to defend myself...

[Okay, since I am here, let me explain. 

During a screaming hot summer day last year, we stopped at a gas station so Charlotte could use their bathroom. Later, as she ran towards the exit, she passed the store's beer cooler. Her body triggered the motion detector doors, and the noise startled her, as did the blast of cold air. But then, with a broad smile, she shouted, "Cold room!" and ran inside. For three gleeful minutes she flew around the cooler, basking in the chill. Now anytime we're at a gas station or a grocery store, no matter the temperature outside, Char's looking to burn off some energy in their "cold room".]

Thrift Store Show and Tell: Ear Worm Edition

The last time I was in Goodwill I walked by the record crates, and I noticed this Seals & Crofts LP in the front of one stack.

Although the album's cover registered with me, I walked by without a second glance. I was on the hunt for a new to me t-shirt. But then the title track, "Diamond Girl",  jumped out of the crate, ran down the isle, and leaped into my head.

Diamond girl... dum dum...
You sure do shine... dum dum...

That's all of the lyrics I could remember, and my mental soundtrack had those two lines set on "repeat". It was so frustrating. I couldn't even concentrate on the t-shirts I was paging through.

Diamond girl... dum dum...
You sure do shine... dum dum...   

Diamond girl... dum dum...
You sure do shine... dum dum...

Diamond girl... dum dum...
You sure do shine... dum dum...

Curse you both, Seals and Crofts! I had to abandon the shirts and go back to check the condition of that vinyl. It looked to be in good shape, so I walked out of the store with my billfold 79 cents lighter and my hand heavy with 70's mellow gold.

Check it out: link

Thrift Store Show and Tell: Head Games Edition

When I shop thrift stores, I have two voices in my head. One is 44-year-old Brent, and the other is 14-year-old Brent.

Both Brents agree thrift store shopping is fun. 44-year-old Brent believes a thrift store is a great place to find projects to work on, and he understands you need to limit how much junk you should own. 14-year-old Brent is obsessed with movies, music, funky t-shirts, skateboards, old bikes, vintage stereo equipment, and classic video game systems. 14-year-old Brent knows no limits.

Last December I was at the Hope Ministries thrift store looking for funny stocking-stuffers when I spotted this on a shelf.

14-year-old Brent: Sweet! A Game Boy! Grab it! Grab it!
44-year-old Brent: Hold on. I don't need another Game Boy. I've got a shoebox full of them in the basement.
14: Who cares? It's a Game Boy! And this one looks perfect!
I opened the case, and sure enough, this Game Boy was in very nice condition.

14: Dude! It's the clear edition. You don't have a clear one!

44: Okay, I agree that it's almost perfect for it's age, and I don't have a clear one, but I don't need a clear Game Boy Color. Besides, this is priced $10. That's too much, and you know it.
14: But look! There's a game in it already. That means you get a free game!

44: Yes, it would be a free game, but it's a Pokemon game. I have never Pokemoned anything, and I'm not about to start.
14: Ha ha! You said, "Poke"!
44: I'm putting this down. It's time to go.
14: No, wait! Wait! Check to see if it has batteries.

14: Now check to see if they're new.

44: Okay, they're new. So what?
14: Do the math! You're getting a Game Boy, a case, a game, and batteries! If you bought all that stuff separately it would be waaay more than ten bucks! This thing is practically free! It's like they're giving it away. Besides, for all you know, that Pokemon game is rare and worth some bucks. 
44: Well, the clear case is pretty cool...

And so it goes.

As you can guess from the photos taken in my kitchen, 14-year-old Brent won the argument. And he was right about the game, for once. According to Amazon, the Silver Version of this Pokemon game is a bit rare:

Asking $149.99 for this game is insane, but maybe I could get $20 for it on Craigslist.

14: Ha ha! You said "but"!

I Guess It Sounds Foreign

Like a lot of people, I get emails from Groupon offering me deals on all kinds of services. I can eat discounted meals at local restaurants, get relaxing massage at half-price, or even buy "Groupon Getaways" to exciting foreign destinations.

Look what I found waiting for me in my email's inbox this afternoon:

There are so many possibilities. I can "Stay at Castles and See the Irish Countryside" or enjoy an "All-Inclusive Beachfront Caribbean Resort". We could travel to New York City and stay at a "4-Star Boutique Hotel in Times Square" or fly to Scotland and take "Sightseeing Tours in Edinburgh and St. Andrews." I can even visit...

Wait for it...

Osceola, Iowa. Insert the sound of a record being scratched here.

That is awesome! Look at all the great sights that await my family and I in glorious Osceola:

Heck, Groupon will even throw in two free dinner buffets at the casino!

"Pack your bags, honey! We're gonna take a trip!"

Rob's a Good Neighbor, But Fred and Daphne Aren't

I'd watch more commercials if more commercials were spin offs of classic Scooby Doo episodes.

Because my buddy Rob gave me this Xmas ornament, Charlotte wanted to see the "Jeepers, It's the Creeper" cartoon. It's now Charlotte's favorite Scooby Doo episode (she loves the blue pig), and I get to pretend I'm the Creeper when we play chase around the house. 

"Creeeper! Creeeeper!"

Check out this link to the the Creeper cartoon. Daphne, my wife, pointed out how none of the gang help Velma find her glasses, they just stand around while she's groping on the ground. And then when the Creeper shows up, they just throw Velma under the bus: Daydreamin'

Limited Time Only!

I had Charlotte all to myself on Monday. Char's "pink eye" was much better, but on Sunday night she still had a fever. Daphne was going to be busy with her Monday morning jazz band practice and the preparations for her Monday night band concert. So, I called in for an emergency sick day.

Char had me up at 7:02, and her temperature was spot on at 98.4. Since she wasn't technically sick anymore, we discussed the possibilities for our day over a breakfast of milk and mini waffles.

"We could go to the library when it opens."
"Uh uh."
"We could drive to the H store to see if they have any new stuff to play with."
"Nooo. I have enough toys." (Yes, she actually said that.)
"Since your temperature wasn't over 100 yesterday, you could go to Good Time Gang. Would you like that?"
"No!'
"You don't want to go to Good Time Gang and play with your friends?"
"Daaaaad! I just want to stay home and play with you!"

That settled that.

We watched Peg + Cat, and then played their games on the PBS website. We watched the dogs of Paw Patrol play frisbee, and then we played catch with our Beamo in basement.

We also played hide the Beamo, roll the Beamo, and throw Beamo down the steps. Ring the Charlotte with the Beamo is fun, too. After eating octopus for lunch (spaghetti and hotdog pieces),

we solved five puzzles on the floor and pushed away our cats who kept trying to dismantle our efforts. 

Daphne was home by the time Char awoke from her afternoon nap (I slept 45 minutes myself). And I snuck out to get some stuff for dinner. We told Mom goodbye at 5:30 while we ate a dinner of SpaghettiOs and string cheese.

After dinner it was movie time! Char was pretty excited when she spotted the Cinderella III: A Twist in Time DVD on her shelf of movies. She's too young to know that sequels usually stink.

We've watched the original Cinderella several times, but I was a bit leery of this one. I had forgotten we owned the movie, and I hadn't previewed it. But she was so pumped that she had discovered it by herself, and since the movie was rated G, I thought we could give it a spin. So how did it go?

Home run!

For once, one or both parents didn't die in the beginning (a Disney staple); the Fairy Godmother was only turned to stone. As we watched the terrible Stepmother work her stolen magic, Maggie (our 95 pound dog), and our cats Earl and Bo joined us on the couch. We had a full house. 

About every five minutes Charlotte would see a scene she wanted to see "AGAIN!", and because of that I think Char would give A Twist in Time five stars. Considering my low expectations, I'll echo her review. There's some good character development, a theme that true love is stronger than magic, and at 65 minutes it's a perfect length.

When it was all over Char exclaimed, "Let's dance like Cinderella!" 

"Don't you need a prince for that?"

Charlotte laughed, "No, Dad! I only need YOU!" and she leapt off the couch.

We've done this before, and I know exactly how to catch her under her arms when she makes such a jump. 

Here's our routine: after the catch, I swing her towards the ceiling as I spin us around with her knees pressed against my chest. As we wind down, she slides down my front, and once her feet touch the floor, we awkwardly dance around the room. After a few poorly timed kicks, I start spinning us in a tight circle until her feet leave the ground. 

As we spin hand in hand, looking just like a Kodak commercial, Charlotte giggles and cries out "Daddy stop!" because she's getting dizzy.

I do stop, but I don't want to. I know there are only so many days left for my daughter to want to choose me over a classroom of Good Time friends. And soon enough I won't be princely enough to fill the spot as her dancing partner.

It's so true:

Last Monday wasn't a sick day. It was a treasure.

I Feel Like Pinterest

Daphne found this page her mom had torn out of a '79 Woman's Day magazine.

The muffin tin idea grabbed Daph's attention.

Hey, any reason to go to a thrift store is a good reason to me. 79 cents later...

... and we're on our way. This should be a fun project for the kitchen.

Update. 12 muffins; 12 months. One pic from each month.

And four hearts just for fun.

... and then out come the bellbottoms.

As I've already indicated, I don't mind spending an entire weekend at home every once in awhile, but when last weekend's weather kept us home bound for a four day stretch, I started to go a little stir crazy. My favorite time-killers started to bore me, and when it's 20 below zero I can't work in the garage.

Then Daphne found a stack of her mom's women's magazines from the 70's, and that was just the distraction I needed. I don't think the articles are interesting, but I'm fascinated with the advertisements.

Here's what I wrote after I spotted this ad in the December 1975 issue of Woman's Day. To be honest, it's a bit sad that I spent so much time thinking about it.

Hey look, it's an old George Forman Gri... what?

The "Mirro-Matic WHIZ-GRID Speed Grill" came out 20 years before the "George Foreman Mean Lean Fat-Reducing Grilling Machine" was introduced in 1994. Except for the tilt of the cooking surface (the grease drips out the back instead of the front), the basic design and function of each product is the same.

But if the designs are so similar, then why didn't Mirro-Matic also sell 100 million units like the George Foreman Grill has? Why aren't there countless WHIZ-GRID Speed Grills filling up landfills and thrift stores? What could M-M done differently? I can only guess.

1. Maybe instead of inventing a new word that no one was ever going to use,

they should have found a celebrity to endorse their WHIZ-GRID Speed Grill?

In 1975, Fred Lynn was the first player to win the Rookie of the Year award and MVP in the same season, and the Associated Press named him Male Athlete of the Year. 

Mr. Lynn would have been great choice for an athlete endorsement. What's more American than baseball, beef, and BBQ? 

2. Instead of offering the ever popular colors of gold, avocado, or poppy, they could have jumped on the '76 Bicentennial bandwagon and gone with good 'ol red, white and blue:

3. Drop the meaningless and awkward name, "WHIZ-GRID". Who wants to walk into a department store and ask the clerk, "May I take a look at your WHIZ?" 

4. Instead, play up the versatility of the grill with a baseball reference. "You can grill steaks, brats, and sandwiches, too! You'll make a triple play!"

5. Call it "Fred Lynn's Triple Play Speed Grill!" Now that's catchy! (Get it?)

6. I even made a logo:

sigh. (shakes head, repeats over and over: I need a life...)

See, I told you it was sad. No offense, Mr. Lynn.

But do you know what's sadder than spending more than an hour contemplating a kitchen tool that died 40 years ago? 

I started to want one. 

Seriously, as I was pacing from room to room to fridge to basement to bedroom to fridge I began thinking about owning a Mirro-Matic WHIZ-GRID Speed Grill. 

That always happens to me when I don't get out of the house enough. My world becomes smaller, and my weird ideas become bigger. Soon, these thoughts stop sounding weird, and they seem to start making sense. That's when thinking about something I absolutely do not need becomes wanting something I absolutely do not need.

It's actually kinda cool in goofy sort of way.

That grill would look sweet sitting on the counter next to the antique tins Lori gave me.

It'd be funny if I put on my bellbottom jeans and made dinner on the 'whiz while we watched Brady Bunch reruns.

Since the cover opens flat, it would be easier to clean than our Foreman.

Everyone and their brother has a Foreman grill. I should stop being such a conformist. I should start cooking on a Whiz-Grid.

Then that dangerous thought rears its ugly head: Ebay! You can solve this problem!

And then comes the worst thought of all: Actually, $64.95 isn't that bad of a deal.

But just before I hit that "Buy It Now" button, the sun began to shine. And as the temperature began to rise, so did the garage door. Daphne got all of us into the car, and as we drove towards the mall in search of the Play Place, 1975 receded from my mind into a gentle, avocado tinted haze. 

Thank goodness that nonsense was all over, and for once I've dodged the "buyer's remorse" bullet!

Until I see A Whiz-Grid in a thrift store...

Tampax + the Iditarod = Happiness?

From the "We Couldn't Make This Up Department", and as seen in Woman's Day, December, 1975:

I'm teaching the book "Call of the Wild" to one of my classes this week, but I'm not going to mention this ad to them.

Good House [arrest] keeping

Not only did the recent polar vortex cause school to be canceled for the past two days, it kept Charlotte from leaving our house for 72 hours straight. That's a lot of games of "Chase me!", "Where's Charlotte?", and "C'mon, dance with me!" Every puzzle in the house was solved twice, and every picture book was read three times. By Tuesday afternoon I was getting punchy, and this old magazine that Daphne found among her mother's things made me giggle waaaay more than it should.

Let's see how low I was willing to stoop for entertainment:

Uh oh, looks like Grandpa Windfield has been visiting again.

Mary's a homewrecker. 

Daphne is so relieved this shirt isn't still available, because I really want to wear this while jogging (nice coupon, by the way).

You can see from her grimace that his wife just kicked him under the table for pun embarrassment. 

And kids today think their texting abbreviations are so cutting edge.

What is Canada selling here? And who's that guy?

True.

I'd like to think this model thought she was working at a Pfizer Company photo shoot, and the resulting ad for Preparation H was a complete surprise to her. If not, then I'd love to hear the photographer explain what her motivation was for this shot.

Okay, enough with the sarcasm. Let's end this on a positive note. Charlotte will be 3 1/2 years old in ten days, and I think I might replicate this ad.

Thanks for the idea, Crayola.