hippytowiki

The Joy of Lanyard

Damn Twitter...give me Gimp!

At the summer camp conference every year, I am mysteriously drawn to the lanyard displays.  I love the simplicity of plastic lace.  I adore the variety of colors.  (I especially like the sparkly metallic kind.)  Some colors are sold in rolls as big as my head. 

Toys now have buttons and batteries and noises and control wands and exhaustive assembly instructions and educational value.  Barbie has houses and cars and careers and Ken variations.  Stuffed animals now have birthdates and softwear and wardrobes.  But lanyard is still lanyard.  It can entertain and obliterate boredom.  It can be transformed from something simple to a creation that is useful and exotic.   It can be turned into friendship bracelets and given away as a sign of love and connection.  

Weaving with lanyard is also called boondogling or scoubidou.  (Little known fact:  It was invented in France and became a fad in the 1950's).

Perhaps adults should put down their PDAs and martinis and step away from their keyboards and car keys, and just sit down in the sun for a few hours each week and indulge in a few strands of gimp.  Perhaps we would all be more relaxed.  And we could give each other colorful gifts when we are grateful. 

The woman at the booth said they would be selling lanyard kits at the booth tomorrow for $1.  The kits even came with colorful charms and an idiot's guide to knotting.  For the price of one Starbucks latte I could have a dozen keychains and a few bracelets.  Hmmm...If I don't answer my cell phone next week, perhaps I'm boondoggling.  I promise I'll call you back eventually!

College Town

Can it really be?

Yes, it's been a whopping 33 years (more or less) since I graduated college.  I was visited my daughter at school this weekend, and got to spent two whole days on a campus.  I took a long walk on Sunday morning, and was blown away by how still it was. The suburbs wake up way earlier on the weekends, and town is buzzing with soccer moms and dads, middle-aged folk (like me) who can't sleep more than five hours, and, occasionally, people attending houses of worship. 

But the only praying that seemed to be going on this weekend was related to good grades on finals, a job after graduation, and rapid relief from hangovers. 

(As a side note, I was also fascinated by the fact that stores that sell bongs have stayed in business for these many years, as major retailers have crashed and burned). 

Do I miss my college years?  Damn straight, as we used to say.  In reflecting, however, I only miss certain things about them.  As I walked, I passed a guy complaining loudly to his frat brother how he had been mistreated the night before by a "girl."  I don't miss the drama.  Small packs of stressed-out kids sat in common areas, huddled around laptops as if the screens contained sacred answers to the meaning of life.  They looked too young to be so worried.  I don't miss exams, papers, and study groups.

I would, however,  still love to sit out on a quad in the middle of the day...go to late-night concerts...take classes like "One-Act Playwriting" and "Women in the Wilderness" (both of which are actually on my transcript)...have intense debates over trivial things (because I was so passionate about a particular cause).  Overall, however, age and wisdom don't really feel so bad most days. 

But sleeping late on a Sunday...that has real appeal!