If you were a kid in the 60s like me, as well as an admitted Geek like me, you'll recognize the image above. The ad that could be found at the back of every comic book... for recruitment into the J.S.C.A.! It sounded very official.

Wow! Not the J.S.C.A.!

Yep. The Junior Sales Club of America.

Oh. THAT J.S.C.A.... um, what was it exactly?


Jeepers! Your Free Membership to the J.S.C.A. made you eligible to earn money or win Other Grand Prizes!!! Who wouldn't want that??

Yes, upon further reading of the small print, kids were told "it's easy and loads of fun" to earn a whole 55 cents for every box of lovely All Occasion Greeting Cards you guilted er, sold to relatives, neighbors and friends! Or you could win valuable PRIZES from their Big Prize Catalog.

Cool stuff like Cadet Sleeping Bags, an Instant Load Flash Camera Outfit, a Tyco HO Train with Power Pack, a Portable Electric Mixer (??), a Deluxe 3 Speed Hi-Riser Bike (with Click Stick Shift!), or even this fashionable "Poodle Dog Radio" (although this particular model looks more like a "Poo Radio" to me):




Or how about these ultra-keen "Intercom Telephones"!!! Can you imagine being able to phone someone from anywhere in your home? Well, that is from anywhere close enough to plug them in, that is.

It was enticing alright.

And just look at those fresh faces... the girl with the bow in her hair, the clean-cut boy; both smiling at the fact that they could actually WIN a College Scholarship! Wouldn't your parents be so proud!

Yes, those were the early days of the J.S.C.A.

Then came the 70's and the J.S.C.A. wasn't so cool anymore. If they wanted to keep kids hooked, they had to change with the times.

It seems the clean-cut freckle-faced kids were replaced by Partridge-Family clones. The boy's hair lengthened, the sweater is gone, replaced by bell bottoms and a guitar. The girl is decked out in knee high boots and psychedelic duds. No more hair bow.

Surprisingly, the "prizes" didn't change all that much... except for something noticeably absent.

The J.S.C.A. no longer offered College Scholarships.

Reflecting the era of " Turn On, Tune In, and Drop Out ", no doubt.

*Sigh*

I never did join the J.S.C.A.

But I did want that groovy bike with the banana seat and high rise handlebars.

If you add melted butter to Extra Buttery Popcorn, does that make it:

a) Extra-Extra Buttery Popcorn

b) Extra-Squared Buttery Popcorn

c) Extra-Scrumptious Buttery Popcorn

or

d) Extra-Workout Buttery Popcorn ?

Then again, maybe I don't want to know. What I DO know is:

I devoured it Extra-Extra fast.

Today is a special day… I am no longer legally responsible for the kid. Crap, I guess I can’t call her that anymore.

Yes, my baby girl turns 18 today (which in Canada, means you’re an adult and can now legally drink – which basically takes most of the fun out of it).

In preparation for this momentous occasion, I made a card, bought and wrapped her gift, arranged for dinner out tonight and will be cooking and cleaning for the next two days before the family comes by for another celebration.

I also wanted to surprise Daughter this morning with 18 balloons piled high on her bathroom vanity with birthday greetings written all over the mirror in dry erase markers. But we had no balloons, so I delegated one job to The Hubster.

Me: “Can you pick up 20 balloons?”

The Hubster: “20?”

Me: “Yes. I need 18 to put in her bathroom Thursday morning. Two are extras in case some break.”

The Hubster: “Okay.”

So yesterday, as I was cleaning up at the end of the workday, my phone rings. I notice it’s Hubster’s cell number, so I decide to pick up (and don’t even TRY to tell me you don’t screen work calls two minutes before you leave).

Me: “Hello?”

The Hubster: “Hi. I’m at the store.”

Me: “Good….”

The Hubster: “Yeah, I’m standing here in front of the balloons.”

Me: “Um, that’s good too.”

The Hubster: “Okay, but there are different kinds of balloons.”

Me: “Just pick up enough to ensure we have 20. If they come in packs of 10 or 12, get two packs.” Duh.

The Hubster: “Oh. Here are some plain ones; ten per package.”

Me: “Get two of those.” Glances at clock which is now past 3:30. Dammit.

The Hubster: “But there are also packages of 10 with “Happy Birthday” written on them!”

Me: “Okay, get THOSE.”

The Hubster: “They cost more.”

Me: “That’s okay, get the best quality ones.”

The Hubster: “Yeah, good idea. Ohhh! Look! I just found a BIG package! A quarter pound of balloons!”

Me: “I don’t think we can…”

The Hubster: “They come in all different shapes!”

Me: “Just get 20 balloons. I don’t care which ones.” Crap. I could be well on my way home by now.

The Hubster: “Okay. I’ll get a variety.”

Me: “Alrighty then.”
* Sob. *

I love the guy, but I now fully realize why I am the decision-maker in the family. At least for things a tad more important than balloons.

"So Sam… how about another trip to America at the end of June?"

What?

"You know… a road trip to Minneapolis; just us gals again. Like the one we did in March.

Didn’t you have fun then?"

Oh yes. I remember. Good times...





Playing hide and seek at IKEA was fun.


Relaxing at Starbucks was fun.


Shopping at Victoria Secret was fun.


Meeting Jeff from View From The Cloud was very fun.


Eating at IHOP was fun too!

But may I suggest that we skip Underwater Adventures at the Mall of America this time.

That…


Wasn’t so much fun.

K? Thx.

It's a unique place to work, to say the least.

I'm surrounded by doctors, nurses and secretaries possessing a whole range of personalities and educational levels. And each one seeks me out when they have some sort of "technical" crisis with any piece of electronic equipment. Computer or not.

Apparently unbeknownst to me, the first page in our Policies and Procedures Manual reads:

"If you plug it in and it doesn't work, immediately call Maureen, our Computer Applications Specialist. Ensure the use of your best frantic tone to fully communicate it is a life or death situation. Especially when it clearly is not."

What amazes me the most are the calls from the Cardiologists and Surgeons... you know; those incredible individuals who have successfully completed decades of intense schooling so they can literally open people up and repair their hearts. Without gagging.

Yet the simplest of tasks befuddles them.

"Arrrrgggghhhhhh!!!! My printer suddenly stopped working!!!!"

Yes. I can see that. After careful analysis (ie. at first glance), I can confidently concur it may have something to do with that huge wad of paper jammed, accordion-style, inside. You know, that white stuff you obviously tried unsuccessfully, may I add, to remove since the edge has been torn and shredded, with pieces of it strewn, blizzard-like all over your desk.


"GAHHH!!!!! The AV projector won't display my PowerPoint presentation!!!!!"

You might try actually turning ON the computer. Even with the incredible advances in technology, the projector still can't read your mind, or your memory stick, without power.

At times I even have to resort to standing right behind them to watch exactly what they are doing. Take for example, the many, many times unexpected errors occur and I am summoned posthaste.

"Have you rebooted lately?" I always ask.

"Of course I have! Just this morning... multiple times!" I always hear.

I never take their word for it any more. So I drop what I am doing, trudge to their office and ask them to please do it again while I watch.

And inevitably, they simply LOG OFF.

"No. Please re-boot. Shut down." I patiently ask once more.

"Oh! Okay."

They LOG OFF again.

Sigh.

"No, please go to 'Start'. Select 'Shut Down'. Select 'Shut Down' again from the drop down box and hit 'OK'. The computer will power right off so we can clear the memory and turn it on again."

"Oh! Oh I NEVER do that!"

Duh! Yeah, I can tell. Miraculously, their programs work and all is right with the world once more.

* Sob. *

Well, at least I can rest easy knowing that WHEN I drop of a massive stress-induced MI, there are trained personnel close at hand to save me.

Unless someone forgets to turn on the damn defibrillator that is.

Yes, a day that will forever be known as the "Day The Christmas Lights Were Extinguished".

It's true I tell you!

When I emerged from my home this morning, I was met with an unbelievable sight before me... my heart burst with joy at the realization that the neighbor had finally turned off and taken down their Christmas lights yesterday.

I blinked back tears.

No more neon blue glowing beacons that had marked Christmas Day.

Then New Year's Day.

Valentine's Day.

St. Patrick's Day.

Easter Sunday.

May Day.

But poor Cinco de Mayo. It had no neon blue lights to celebrate May 5th.

Nope.

The lights were finally extinguished after being turned on

every day
and night
since last fall.

So I am enjoying the respite while I can... because in a few short months, I just KNOW they'll be back to burn my retinas once again.

Unless you are a Star Wars geek er, "fan", you probably didn't know that May 4th is Star Wars Day.

Crap. I didn't even get a day off for it.

I should have. After all, I am an Uber-Fan.

Er, at least I was... until 2005 when regretfully I suffered a severe case of SWBO (Star Wars Burn-Out).

I succumbed shortly after I experienced the ultimate Star Wars trip - an invitation to George Lucas' Skywalker Ranch in California. I mean, what more could a science fiction nerd wish for? It was the culmination of years of dedicated fandom... nothing I would ever do again would top that.

Then I had to step back. Like a drug, it had taken over my life.

It had taken over my basement.

It had taken over my wardrobe.

It had taken over everything I did...

Don't believe me? Then check out this part of my old Star Wars website, which has been online since 1997:

Maureen Geeking Out at Star Wars Conventions

I can't believe it's been 10 years since that first Star Wars Celebration in Denver.

Yep, I not only watched Star Wars, I LIVED it. I worked for Rebelscum.com, spoke at conferences, worked with the stars, appeared on television, international radio and in the newspaper. I amassed a collection of over 7,000 items, all of which are still on display in my basement.

Even though I am not totally immersed in that Universe any longer, Star Wars will always hold a special place in my heart.

So Happy Star Wars Day. May the "Fourth" be with you, forever.