Jazz

I’m a little bit really excited to be a level leader at girl’s camp this summer.  I get to pal around with the first year gals who get to represent The Jazz Age (1920s-30s) for our camp theme:  “A Gospel For All Time.”  The other eras represented are the 50’s, 60’s and 80’s.

To prove just how excited I am, I got a deco hair cut, you know because hair removal reveals that sort of thing – excitement.   This ad from a 1920s magazine slays me:

Ha ha ha.  “If you must do it, show this to your barber.”  But, I didn’t need to show my barber anything – She’s an artist and if she touches your hair with a razor your hair is blessed.  You’ll see a picture of her later.  So, here’s my hair on my head:

And here’s my hair in my hand.  Have you ever held your own hair in your hand?  It’s a weird experience.  Almost gives you the heebie jeebies.

So she crafted and we talked about deep and important things in life (because there is something about having someone remove hair from your head that makes you open up, you know?  Have you experienced that?  I think it’s real…)  She also helped me with my munitions, which I am so grateful for – I’m not a girly girly and I need help sometimes.

Anyway, here is my barber/artist/munitions expert extraordinaire (sporting one of my flapper headbands):

Thanks Chrissy, you rock my socks right off.  Wait, I mean, you’re the cat’s meow.  Attagirl.

So here I am with my fantastic cut and in my glad rags. 

                  

And here’s the mood board for our time period.

My mom found a picture of this barn burner below with some of my grandmother’s photos.  She is of yet unidentified, but is now the face of our Jazz Age camp experience.  Here’s to my ancestors.  

And here are Nick’s Grandmothers.

This picture above is the berries.  (I might be murdering this jazz age slang here… who knows…)  And here’s another choice bit of Calico:

Here are my baby vamp youth leaders: 

Aren’t they the bee’s knees?  The one on the right had come from a track meet and still rocked it.  She’s got moxy.  And do you see that fur on the left?  Yeah, she knows her onions.

So I sort of went a little crazy and made headbands for every girl.  Here are just a few:

 

Yeah, I sort of went crazy, and I know it – you can see a wee bit of the craze creeping in there in that last picture.  But I had fun watching Thoroughly Modern Mille and other period films while I worked.  Have you seen Enchanted April?  Totally Charming.  But I’ll admit that I kind of suffered though the old Robert Redford Great Gatsby.  Great costumes, but totally a downer.  It was also toward the final end of my twenty headbands and my fingers were just kinda sore since I burn myself and poke myself a lot. 

But it was soooooooo worth it to see my little first years wondering around with their headbands on.  So. Worth. It.  I mean, look at this cutie.  And how.

Some Jazz Age Slang for you:

And how! - I strongly agree!

Attagirl! - You go, girlfriend!

Baby vamp - a hot young woman

Baloney - nonsense!

Barn burner - a classy, stylish woman

Bearcat - a hot-blooded, fiery girl

Beat one's gums - idle chatter

Beef - a complaint or to complain

Bee's Knees - the ultimate

Berries - attractive or pleasing

Cat's meow - great

Choice bit of calico - attractive gal, usually young

Daddy-o - way to address anyone

Get Hot! Get Hot! - encouragement for a dancer

Glad rags - ' out on the town' clothes

Heavy sugar - a lot of money

Heebie-Jeebies - The jitters

Jake –- Great: "Everything's Jake."

Know one's onions - know what you talk about

Lollapalooza - a really special thing

Munitions - face powder

Peachy keen - super-fine and amazing

Real McCoy - a genuine item

Ritzy - Glam, good, special. "Putting on the Ritz."

Sand, grit, moxy - good stuff; gumption.

Swell - wonderful

Wet Blanket - a solemn person, a killjoy

You slay me! - That's funny!

Art

We’re enthusiastic about art around here, as evidenced by this picture below:

I like to join in if I can, though I’ve noticed that if I start to get into the artistic action my paper becomes the most interesting thing in the world and I can 1. never finish my own stuff and 2. they don’t do their own stuff.  But from time to time I am able to work uninterrupted and it usually turns out something like this:

or this:

and if I’m trying to teach them something it looks like this:

I’m not the only random one around here.  Nick is just as adept at the random:

My family and unicorns love me!?  Wow!

Okay and I just have to put this photo up of Roz and her milk bubbles:

The Spring Chicken Again

The Spring Chicken was back again this year.    As I said last year: “Have you ever wondered where a big bunny that calls himself ‘Easter’ gets all those chicken eggs?  He gets them from the Spring Chicken.”  In order to entice her to your home you must make an offering of colored eggs, which we did on Sunday.  Are you wondering why the Easter bunny comes to your house and not the Spring Chicken?  I can’t answer that.  Maybe it has to do with faith.

Notice my fantastically clean and clothed children.  I like to stay on top of things like that.

Whenever it rains our yard turns into a slurping mud pit.  It’s a grand time if you’re under four.    Nick is wisely staying clear of the mess.

Here are our eggs soaking  in their nice colored baths.  You’ll notice the empty bowl on the top right, and the crying child in the picture below.  The two are related.  I told him he couldn’t dump out the dye, because then we wouldn’t have anything to color the eggs in. = Meltdown.

Rosalyn was unfazed by the ruckus and continued with her methodical mixing.

Which one is your favorite?  Mine is the dark blue-green by the light pink one.  Would that more things could be that color.

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So after our Easter Sunday, Monday the Spring Chicken finally came.  Nick took the kids on a scenic trip to the local landfill to say goodbye to two failed vacuums, and when they all returned they a found a chalk message leading to a letter which sent them on a scavenger hunt to find their baskets.

The kids were going pretty fast and therefore I didn’t get the greatest shot of the discovery of the baskets.

Soon, however the contents were enthusiastically emptied and the egg search had begun.

Compare to last year:

 

 

 

 

 

 

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As we came inside and the kids started into their overflowing egg baskets I began to wonder “what was that Spring Chicken thinking – leaving so many eggs full of candy?”

The kids were not wondering the same thing.

They were trying to ascertain just how many pieces of candy could be consumed in under a minute.

and oreos…

and cheet-o carrots?

The Spring Chicken is a Junk food Junkie!  Maybe I’ll write her a letter about health food next year.

Nick moves in to remove some of the temptation from the kids.  He’s helpful guy.

I mean, really, what had that spring Chicken been thinking?