I have heard “Glory Days” no fewer than five times in the past two days.  Is it a sign?  Perhaps the universe is saying something about my impending 20 year high school reunion.  Should I start reliving those glory days?  Perhaps don a baby doll dress to wear with army boots?  Spiral perm my hair?  Wear bright red lipstick and get all excited about quadratic equations?  Perfect my Southern accent so I can portray Amanda Wingfield in the school play?

Glory days indeed.  It occurred to me today that I have never seen a single episode of The Littlest Hobo or The Beachcombers.  I wonder if that’s enough to get my Canadian citizenship revoked.  I can only recall regularly watching three television shows when I was a child: The Muppet Show (and later, Fraggle Rock), The Smurfs, and Lorne Greene’s New Wilderness.  I loved Lorne Greene’s New Wilderness.  I can still recall being devastated by the episode about Canada geese, and the widowed goose who would now live out the remainder of her life alone and mateless.  The poor, poor goose.

Speaking of popular culture on television, Season Five of Mad Men is now on Netflix and I have been voraciously re-watching it in anticipation of the Season Six opener on Saturday.  I’m really enjoying this since I seem to have forgotten all the plot lines.  Peggy, and her vague disillusionment with her job.  Megan, following her dream to become a lady of the theatre.  Betty, attending Weight Watchers meetings.  I’m almost at the episode where – spoiler alert! – Lane is FOUND IN HIS OFFICE and damn, I forgot how great this show is.  Also I am coveting Megan’s entire wardrobe which is a strange thing to covet.  “I should get a dress like that for next year’s Christmas party!” I say to my husband on a near-nightly basis, who looks alarmed at the very idea of me wearing a dress with a six inch skirt to his conservative office party. 

The children were the thrilled recipients of clock radios last weekend.  We are all early birds in this house; waking the kids up for school is not something that actually happens here.  We are all up and raring to go hours before school begins, but my husband and I thought the clocks would be a good idea for the weekend.  The children are only allowed to play video games on the weekend, so they have taken to waking up extra early on Saturdays so as to maximize their game-playing time.  There are worse problems, but I like being able to sleep until the crazy hour of 6:45 or 7:00 on the weekend, and so we have installed clocks in their rooms as a “please don’t wake Mom and Dad up until 6:45” measure.  So far it’s worked but the most fun thing about it is how the kids will retire to their rooms during the day just to listen to the radio.  It’s like we’ve been transported back to the sixties.  THOSE KIDS AND THEIR ROCK AND ROLL MUSIC. 

Clock radios!  I wonder if they are boasting about them at school.  They are so thrilled with them, I would not be surprised.  Are clock radios an actual status symbol, or are my children just deprived little pseudo-Kazhakstanis?  “I get window from glass, he must get window from glass.  I get step, he gets step.  I get clock radio.  He cannot afford!”  Hopefully none of their little friends will break into our house late at night.  Say goodbye to your clock radio.