Whimsicaliness

I stole my post title from my whimsical friend, Cheryl.  She is one of the most creative, funny, smart people I know. She has tons of whimsy (and was the inspiration for starting this blog.)  But it got me thinking...where does whimsy come from?  Let's be honest...not everyone has it.  So, is it something you either have or don't have?  Does everyone start with whimsy and some lose it along the way? Can you catch it from someone else? Are you born with it?  Can I look at my family tree and trace it back to my great aunt Harriet?

Yesterday, I talked about my partner in (whimsy)crime...but we have an older sister, Pat, that overflowed with whimsy.  She was 18 years older than me and had children close to my age...she frequently felt like  a second mom.  She saw whimsy and joy in almost every situation.  Many whimsical memories come to mind. Like the time that she made my niece, nephew and I, join hands with her and sing, "O, Tannebaum" around the Christmas tree before she took it down.  There is the time she decided I would look good with a shag and cut my hair...right there and then.  (I'm not sure if my hair ever got over that!)  When I graduated from high school, she made a huge deal out of it.  Every morning during my last week of school, she gave me a small gift or token.  Before I got married, both her and Jackie worked tirelessly on decorations and showers and all that wedding stuff, to make their little sister's wedding beautiful.

For my 16th birthday, Pat had a "Sweet 16" corsage delivered to me so I could wear it to church.  I'm sure when she was 16...all of the cool girls got one.  Not so much when I was 16. I guess back in her day, sugar cubes were put in the corsage to symbolize the "sweet" part.  Well, my corsage had 2 inch blocks of styrofoam in it...yep...big, huge, faux sugar cubes. I think some of my friends were slightly jealous that I had a corsage (because what girl doesn't love flowers).  And even though I spent most of my day explaining over and over again why there was  styrofoam with my pink flowers, my whimsical sister made me feel very special.

She passed away much too young at the age of 44.  But she left behind a rich legacy of whimsy.  When I look at her children and grandchildren...I see her whimsy in all of them. That made me realize that whimsy is a gift.  Whether it is a gift (or talent) from God or a gift from a friend or relative...it is a gift.  One that is meant to be passed on or shared with others...so if you have a little extra whimsy, please share it.  You might make someone feel very special.

Pat with Jackie's husband...
not sure what kind of shenanigans
were going on.

Christmas 1972
I think Pat gave my niece the same
hair cut she gave me.  (BTW, I
really love that wallpaper...really!)

Wacky and the Butts

My life isn't totally void of whimsy...there have been some pockets of whimsy (sort of like pockets full of posies...) 


Last November, my sister, Jackie, took me with her to LA. She went for a conference...I went for FUN! It was my first time in California. We stayed downtown in JW Marriott at LA Live...it is right next to the Nokia Theater and there was always something outrageous going on. The good news is Jackie is my partner in (whimsy)crime. She gets me...she gets my need for whimsy...and she is always willing to go along with it, even if others give us strange looks and shake their head in disbelief as they walk away.   (Don't judge those people...you will also be shaking your head in disbelief by the time you finish reading this.)  

Wacky and me

I think to really excel at whimsy, you need someone like my sister.  Each of us has some whimsy on our own (her daughters call her Wacky, if that tells you anything) but together, we have whimsy synergy. For example, I don't think either one of us would have done a photo like this alone...but together...let's just say we had to fight each other for the pink hair. (I let her have the Elton John glasses.)

That trip had many whimsical moments. But the one I want focus on is our study in butts. It all started with an event at her conference.  This guy stood right in front of me most of the evening, and well, all I could see was his backside. I became quite fascinated with his navy blue-trimmed pockets, and as you can see, I had to have a picture to commemorate the night. And that was the humble beginnings of our LA butts pictorial. You have no idea how hard it is to get these shots without being caught. Hence the need for a partner in (whimsy)crime...imagine if someone saw me (by myself) taking pictures of behinds! If we had to pick a favorite butt...I think it would be this guy's. I know he looks like a sad, homeless guy...but really...he was just a guy that couldn't keep his pants up...need I say more?

So, if you are going to join me in my quest for whimsy...you have to start out by finding yourself a Wacky. (You can't have mine, sorry!)  And one more thing, if you see my sister, don't tell her I put her picture in my blog...she hates when I post pictures of her.