Recommended wine for today’s entry: Celebration White from Equus Run Vineyards of Midway, KY. I chose a Kentucky wine today because with the banter back and forth on my blog comments regarding Green Acres, it makes me think of a sophisticate settling in quite nicely to a friendly, rural environment. And, according to a Kentucky Wines Web site, a journalist, Joel Stein, drank a bottle of wine from every state for an article published in the August, 2008 issue of Time magazine. This wine was one of only 12 that received an “excellent” rating. Apparently our soil and climate are good for horses, bourbon AND wine.
What character would you be from ‘70s television? Who would your friends say?
I’ve been mulling this over because there has been some blog comment chatter (similar to CB chatter, for those of you who have already entered 1970s mentality) about the characters on that beloved TV icon Green Acres. Yes, we’re talking about TV’s golden days, before Wife Swap and Jon and Kate Plus Eight.
For those of you who are gainfully employed and don’t have time to read the comments to this blog, a synopsis: Greg, a friend of ours who lives in Dallas (where we lived for 7 years), said that I remind him of a “much younger Doris Ziffel.” Thank you for the “much younger,” Greg. I’ll take what I can get, but WHAT YOU TALKIN’ ‘BOUT, WILLIS? (I am trying very hard to take you back in time, here.) Greg claimed to have made the connection based on our mutual love of animals; Doris was, after all, a doting mother to the amazing pig, Arnold.
Come on, I said, if I have to be someone on Green Acres, at least let me be Zsa Zsa Gabor. Although I think she’s dead, so I don’t want to be her right now. And she had 8, yes 8, husbands. Oh my!
Anyway, I told Greg that I guess I was lucky he didn’t think of Ralph (whose name I had wrong in the comments, but was soon corrected by Coltsfan). Coltsfan seems to think I COULD be like the androgynous Ralph, the woman/man who “wore overalls, liked cats and was probably from Kentucky.” PLEASE!
If truth be told, I always wanted to be Jan Brady. We both had middle child syndrome. My family called it a persecution complex, though. Marcia, Marcia, Marcia, I’d mutter, invisible in the backseat of the Cutlass as we drove home from my brother’s baseball games. Jan and I both had long, flowing blond hair, too. OK, hers wasn’t dirty-water blonde and hers did have natural body, without having to use a Toni home perm in the kitchen sink that made the whole house smell, according to my dad, “like the Russian army with gas.” We both had cute little mini skirts and go-go boots. But since my legs were roughly the shape and circumference of dowel rods, boys didn’t seem to find me sexy.
I wanted to BE Jan, but I wanted to be MARRIED to DAVID CASSIDY. Oh, man. I kissed his picture on the Partridge Family album day and night. Well, I kissed as close as I could without my two-inch thick photo-gray glasses getting in the way. If he’d only met me, answered my letters, …
Don’t tell me you didn’t relate to anyone. And you can see those characters in your friends and relatives. The first time I took my now-husband to Kentucky to meet my parents, there we sat in the giant dining room with the smoky mirrors at one end (all the rage in 1979), candelabra lit, my dark-haired mother at one end of the table and my giant, bald father at the other end. He leaned over to me and said, loudly enough for my fortunately-TV-ignorant father to hear, “Oh my God. You didn’t tell me we were dining with Uncle Fester and Morticia.”
They liked him anyway.
So who would you be? And for those of you loyal readers who are under 20, That ‘70s Show does not count, so don’t go for my current crush, Ashton Kutcher.
I look forward to hearing your comments. Come on, you can give this some introspection. It’s not that bad. Unless someone calls you Ralph.