Brunson Burner

Quinta Brunson's mom wanted her to be a teacher.  But Quinta wanted to be an entertainer.  So it's only fitting that Quinta ended up entertaining us about education.  I'm, of course, talking about the Emmy-winning smash hit Abbott Elementary, which Quinta created and stars in.  And although Quinta's memoir She Memes Well came out before the show, there are plenty of Abbott Easter eggs hidden within its pages.  Which may not make sense chronologically.  But I'm willing to say that it's a chicken and (Easter) egg thing if you are, so here it goes.

Now that I've read the book, I can't help but wonder if kindergarten teacher Barbara (Sheryl Lee Ralph), who serves as Janine's (Quinta Brunson's) prim and proper mentor, was modeled after Quinta's mom.  Because it turns out that Mrs. Brunson was a by-the-book kindergarten teacher too.

Quinta's favorite sitcom is The Office, which came as no surprise to me because Abbott has always reminded me of that show.  There's the documentary style, the crazy boss (Janelle James), and the awkward yet sweet Jim-and-Pam-esque romance between Janine and Gregory (Tyler James Williams).  Janine even starts the series with a boyfriend that rivals Roy in the doofus department.  Yet what ties it all together is the wry, relatable humor illustrating all the weirdness that comes with the workplace -- and also the heart.   That said, Abbott Elementary is in no way, shape, or form an offshoot of the Office.  For one thing, no one in it is trying to sell paper.  For another, it's about a bigger-picture issue, namely the struggles of teachers in underserved areas.  And although I'm not a teacher (and thank goodness because I'd be terrible), from everything I've heard, its portrayal of that world is spot on.

That's all well and good, you may be thinking.  But you already said that this book isn't about Abbott Elementary, so what the heck is it about?!  So glad you asked!  It's about Quinta's childhood and family and the culture shock of moving from Philly to LA, a city of women who expect their dogs to be able to operate iPads.  But it's also about how Quinta got to where she is today, and that's by making memes.  Now, this took me by surprise.  And it shouldn't have considering the title of her memoir!  I thought it was just a clever-but-not-literal pun.  But no.  Quinta was obsessed with the Internet as a kid and ended up going viral on Instagram with a meme called "He Got Money!".  It's about a girl who's never been on a real date, so every time a guy buys her popcorn at the movies or orders dessert at a restaurant, her character is so overcome that she enthusiastically cries this catchphrase.  It was so popular that Quinta made appearances at events just so people could hear her say "He Got Money!" in person.  As someone who spends a lot (too much?) time online, I love this.  The idea that a lifetime (if a lifetime can be measured by one's twenties) of blood, sweat, and creative tears could culminate and explode in a platform accessible to everyone is very exciting. 

But that meme was just the beginning.  Through a series of hilarious anecdotes, Quinta takes us on her professional and personal journey of making her comedic dreams come true.  She's decidedly saltier than her salt-of-the-earth Abbott alter-ego Janine, a topic that she gamely riffed about last night when hosting SNL.  Indeed, in Memes she tells us that she was popular, both a cheerleader and a prom queen.  That's about as far from Janine as it gets, which means just one thing: Quinta's one heck of an actress. 

Shine bright, Brunson burner, shine bright. 

Purple Reign: Wistful for Wisteria

No, I'm not talking about the decades-old drama of Desperate Housewives.  Although maybe I should be, because that was a great show.  I'm talking about this wisteria vine that I saw wrapped around a telephone pole wire on Mother's Day.  Spring flowers being what they are, it's probably long gone by now.  But the sight of it and its spirit stay with me.  I love it when something that's supposed to be frail stakes its claim somewhere it was told it shouldn't be.

Huh.  Maybe I'm talking about housewives (and women) after all.    

That said, don't get me started on pansies.

All in the Family: A Heart Day at Home

Even a quarantine queen like me breaks out for a Valentine's party.  Every year, my immediate family celebrates with festive food, decorations, and gifts for the kids.  This is the first year since the pandemic that we're doing it again, and I must say I'm excited.  

If you're a fan of The Goldbergs, then you may be thinking, hey, wait a minute, isn't that a little like the Schwartzes?  If you don't know what I'm talking about, then here's the skinny.  On this season's V-day episode, siblings Erica and Barry were horrified to find out that their significant others, Geoff and Joanne (who are also, in this sitcomiest of sitcoms, siblings) celebrate Valentine's Day with each other and their parents.  The notoriously non-mushy Goldberg kids couldn't believe that the Schwartzes liked each other enough to willingly spend a nonfamily holiday together.  I could relate -- with Geoff and Joanne, that is.  (Except for the part where they peck each other on the lips.  Sorry not sorry, Schwartzes, but that's just icky.)  Because it's nice to get together with your nearest and dearest and laugh, even if -- especially if -- the rest of the world is laughing at you.

Not that Erica and Barry stayed snarky for long.  In the space of thirty minutes (or more like twenty, with commercials), they reversed their initial affection rejection and learned to appreciate each other.  Was it weird that this epiphany dawned during a romantic horse-drawn carriage ride?  For sure.  Then again, anyone willing to endure the smell of an equine's backside is in it for the long haul.  Brother/sister, boyfriend/girlfriend, oldster/paid companion, whatevs.  

So, this Valentine's Day, I hope you get to hang with someone you love -- or, even better yet, someone you like.                         

And that you laugh so hard it hurts and burns the calories from all of that chocolate. 

Animal Print Stint: A Very Merry Unbirthday to Me

Tights: Xhilaration, Target

As you know, I hit the big 4-Oh in the beginning of the month.  But the family party (okay, get-together, as there were a pod-approved nine of us) took place last weekend -- which gave me an excuse to celebrate all over again.  And if Alice and animal print don't say happy birthday month -- or merry unbirthday, to quote that wonderfully wacky Alice in Wonderland ditty -- then I don't know what does.

Socks, ? (they were a Christmas gift :) 

Skirt: Bubblegum, Macy's

Boots: Jessica Simpson Collection, Amazon

Sweater: Bar III, Macy's

Bag: Betsey Johnson, Macy's

My parents pulled out all the stops, decking their house with pink decorations.  It was the best bash I could've hoped for, with all of my favorite people.  At one point we were covered in streamers, but I decided not to post any pictures of that.  I respect the privacy of others, if not my own.  

Anyway, it's a good thing we partied down last weekend, because this is what it's like out today:

There's fifteen inches of the white stuff here at the Jersey shore.  As always, I took it in from inside my window.  And then promptly hit the couch to watch TV, this time the pilot of ABC's new vineyard-set drama, Promised Land.  It's good; I raise a glass to it.

Even if what's in my glass is cinnamon apple tea.

Quiz Show Bow: Magnificent Mayim

Jacket: Material Girl, Macy's; Top: A New Day, Target; Skirt: Dolls Kill; Shoes: Shoe Carnival; Bag: Xhilaration, Target; Sunglasses: Amazon

For the last two weeks, I've so enjoyed watching Mayim Bialik guest host Jeopardy!.  From her  prettily professorial garb to her well-timed witticisms to her banter when interviewing contestants, she's the total package and the only guest host to date who reminds me of the late great Alex Trebek.  After all, who but an accomplished actress-slash-neuroscientist could deliver the kind of cerebral star quality worthy of Jeopardy!?  What's more, Bialik's charity of choice for Jeopardy's! donation match of the winnings is the National Alliance on Mental Illness.  Advocacy for mental illness, which affects so many, has never been more important.  There couldn't be a more fitting cause for a show all about braininess.  If Bialik's sitcom Call Me Kat hadn't gotten picked up for a second season, then I'd be keeping my fingers crossed that she be crowned host for keeps.   

That said, what's up with this outfit?  Well, watching Bialik made me think of blazers, which reminded me that I have this cherry-print one and that it had to come out of hiding!  So, one if-not-professorial-then-schoolgirl skirt later, I put together an ensemble including my newest necklace.   

Real Teal Necklace

Strung with stars in a subtle salute to our stellar scene-stealer, this Real Teal Necklace is simpatico with "What is, celestial."

Maybe I'll wear it when I tune in tonight to watch Bialik go out with a bang.

Hair Wear Flair: Knots Banding

Left to right: Ella & Elly, Zulily; So, Kohl's; Lady Arya, Zulily

If you were around in the '80s, then you know all about the super squad quad of nighttime soaps that included Dynasty, Falcon Crest, Dallas, and Knots Landing.  My parents were fans of all four, so their theme songs, along with the ones for Sesame Street and Mister Rogers, are firmly lodged in my mind.  To me, that music always meant drama, glamour, and, above all else, big shoulder pads and much bigger hair.  And what better way to tamp down or amp up a bitchin' bouffant than with a happenin' headband?

Ah, headbands, those timeless comrades of the cranium.  In the early '90s, I remember soft headwraps accented with knots as being a thing.  I had one in mustard that anchored my teased bangs during many a mall crawl and math class.  So when knot-topped hard headbands recently came into style, I thought, hey, I know you.  More sculptural than their pliable predecessors, these twisty finishing touches add the kind of oomph that can come from only a tiny yet towering turban.  I quickly acquired a trio (above), two striped and one rainbow metallic.  Wearing them makes me feel happy, nostalgic and trendsetting all at once.  

So the next time I'm watching The Undoing or A Million Little Things, I'll reminisce about how my love of stories and accessories started.

To paraphrase one of my favorite songs from the '80s:

"Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth?  Ooh, Heaven is a place on earth."

You know.  If heaven were a hair doodad that didn't feel like it was squeezing your skull.  

Sweatshirt Alert: JCP on TV

Last Wednesday, I was watching American Housewife when Taylor (Meg Donnelly) entered the Otto kitchen wearing a retro gray, purple, and turquoise color block Arizona Jeans sweatshirt from JCPenney.  "Hey, that's my shirt!" I exclaimed.  The husband looked up from his phone dubiously.  "If you don't believe me, I'll show you!" I sputtered with all the righteous indignation of a third-grader in the '90s whose Yo! MTV Raps trading card collection is being called into question.  ("You don't have LL Cool J and Dr. Dre!"  "Do too!")  Then I raced upstairs to grab the sweatshirt.  When I returned, the husband nodded, then restarted the show, paused it, and took this pic without me even having to ask.  I've said it before, and I'll say it again.  The husband is a prince among men.

This isn't the first time I've seen one of my garments on the small screen.  The Middle's Sue Heck had a pair of my Target pajamas, and The Goldbergs' Erica wore my L'Amour by Nannette Lepore crop top, also from JCPenney.  I guess ABC likes JCP, that mecca for middle class shoppers, even when it's on life support.  Later during the Housewife episode, Greg (Diedrich Bader) took the thread a step further when chiding wife Katie (Katy Mixon) about one of her stunts:

"I had to take all those tops back to JCPenney and explain why there were no tags and why they smelled like deodorant."

It wasn't so long ago that Mixon was doing JCP commercials with Splitting Up Together's Jenna Fischer, then after that show got cancelled, Single Parents' Leighton Meester.  Then Parents was canned too.  Will Housewife, which has bounced around timeslots for years and was, this season, forced to recast spooky and snarky youngest child Anna-Kat (easily my favorite Otto), fare better than these sacked sitcoms and their preferred yet doomed department store?

Only time and ratings will tell.  In the meantime, I'm going to wear this sweatshirt like it's 1990-something.  And reminisce about my troll collection.

Because I never owned a single Yo! MTV Raps card.  That was the neighborhood kids and my sister.

The Color Khaki: Game Show Bow

Bag: Dolls Kill; Shoes: Chase & Chloe, Zulily; Yellow shell bangle: Later Operator, Etsy; Pink bracelet: Amrita Singh, Zulily; Yellow bangles: B Fabulous; Blue bangle: Kohl's; Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon

Dress: POPSUGAR, Kohl's

Last Wednesday, while waiting for The Goldbergs to come on, I caught the tail end of Wheel of Fortune.  The final puzzle was "What are you wearing?" and the answer was, of all things, "Beige slacks."  Which was weird for a show named after a wheel so colorful they make clocks in its image:  

Clock: Fred Flare

You'd think that Vanna would stricken words signifying the shade of stale biscuits from her glittering, green goddess stage.  Because colors are important -- not just in outfits, but in identities and stories.  Sure, whenever someone utters, "Oh, he's a colorful character," you may think of a Hawaiian shirt-wearing weenie who belts out "Escape (The Pina Colada Song)" every happy hour at a bar where they don't have karaoke.  Yet I guarantee that you want to hear about that guy more than khaki-clad Uncle Stu, whose biggest claim to fame is the homemade Miracle-Gro he feeds his prized begonias.  

But enough about Wheel of Fortune (for now).  When it comes to the color wheel, blue, yellow, and red are the primary colors, or, as we currently say, essential workers.  And this Fabulous Felt Bow Barrette Brooch has color all tied up.  Okay, so it's blue, yellow, and pink instead of blue, yellow, and red.  But everyone knows that pink is just red in mood lighting.  

Fabulous Felt Bow Barrette Brooch

Speaking of bows, I remember one Wheel contestant, years ago, who wore a big black bow in her hair.  It set off her yellow top perfectly and had such a fresh, vintage feel.  Then there was another player, also a woman, who wore a sparkly tuxedo top complete with bowtie.  And although I didn't know them, just knowing that they were out there, strutting their sartorial stuff on national TV when most people wore something safe, made me happy.

By the way, last Wednesday's player solved that putty-hued puzzle and went home with a boatload of cash.  So sometimes beige slacks are a win.

I hope she uses the loot to buy the pot of gold attached to her personal rainbow.

Toilet Paper Caper

These days, caper doesn't mean what it used to.  Just as excitement over toilet paper no longer means "decorating" your neighbor's house.  Now it's all about snagging some Charmin before your next bathroom incident.  And everyone's in on the search and the success stories.  On a recent episode of "Jimmy Kimmel Live!," Kimmel's three-year-old son burst through a fortress of heard-won rolls.  On Jim Gaffigan's YouTube channel, Gaffigan's head pops up from a sea of two-ply.  Finally, my Pinterest feed is, ahem, clogged with products boasting "I survived the toilet paper crisis of 2020!".  Well, I'm not Jimmy Kimmel or Jim Gaffigan.  But I am a person.  And I'm thrilled to share my own tp coup (while, for some reason, dressed like backwoods Barbie).  This is how it unraveled. 

I was trolling Walmart.com for essentials (i.e. another half dozen boxes of Nature Valley almond butter bars), when I pessimistically typed "toilet paper" into the search box.  I was expecting to see the usual toilet paper roll stands (such a tease!).  So, when Northern appeared on my screen, I couldn't believe it.  Northern, a brand I never even buy, suddenly seemed like the most beautiful word in the world.  It made me think of idyllic Scandinavian fishing villages, the northern lights, and, of course, not having to delve into my party paper napkin supply for intimate use.  I wasted no time adding two 12-packs to my cart; I'd been foiled before by waiting even a minute too long on the likes of Target.com.  Yet even after I completed the order, I had my doubts.  In this age of mass shortages, it was entirely possible that I'd get one of those sorry-not-sorry emails informing me that my Northern order had, well, gone south.  I'd been there before, you see (I'm talking to you Target), and like a jilted lover, I'd hardened my heart.  But no such email arrived and then, just two days after the estimated delivery date, the Northern landed on my doorstep with all the unlikely magic of a unicorn. 

More than anything, this hysteria over toilet paper shows that the COVID-19 pandemic has been something of an equalizer.  When even celebrities are clamoring to maintain personal hygiene normalcy, it makes you realize that we really are all in this together.  And that we all put our pants on one leg at a time.

And now, thanks to Northern (and Walmart!), my legs can be blessedly clean.

Pumped for Stump: Black and White and Read All Over

Fabulous Felt Desert Barrette

Fabulous Felt Black and White Roses Barrette

Over the Rain-blow Necklace

If I can (nearly) recycle this post title, then I can recycle this necklace (and these barrettes) too.  Also, the joke is on newspapers because I never read them.

I don't read comic books (excuse me, graphic novels) either, but this last dress kind of makes me want to.  Why is it that kitschy comic prints always feature romance instead of sci-fi?  Don't get me wrong; I prefer the romance.  But heroes and bad guys and death rays are a dime a dozen in the genre, and I can't think of a single such story that centers around amour.  I know what you're thinking.  Tote Trove lady, these pop art prints aren't based on comic books or even newspapers.  They're based on the work of renowned pop artist Lichtenstein. Touché dear readers, touché.  Still, would it kill Marvel to do something about star-crossed lovers?  Maybe a Romeo and Juliet style intergalactic battle.  Or at the very least, a prom where the punch bowl explodes. 

Girly biases aside, there is a graphic novel-inspired thing that I like, and not just because it weaves a little romance in with its intrigue.  "Stumptown" is the quirkiest show about Portland since, well, "Portlandia."  It's about the adventures of rough-around-the-edges, Marine-turned-PI Dex Parios (Cobie Smulders), who has a dark past and a heart of gold (aw).  She's one of those take-no-prisoners broads who lives on the edge but always does what's right, especially for her younger brother Ansel, who has Down syndrome.  She also has two dudes in her life: buttoned-up detective Miles Hoffman (Michael Ealy) and ex con-come-bar-owner Grey McConnell (Jake Johnson).  Watching her waver between them (and also some ladies; it's complicated) while solving mysteries only adds to the fun.  Will she pick squeaky clean Miles and right her self-destructive ways?  Or will she steer into the skid and choose fellow trainwreck Grey?  There's less suspense here than one might think because, as Dex indelicately quips to her suitors while staging a sting operation, both of them have "already been inside her."

Oh, Dex.

The artistic touches in this show are cool, too.  Dex drives a beat-up old car with a radio that spontaneously bursts into '70s and '80s pop hits.  She wears a navy satin bomber jacket with a retro orange and yellow sunburst.  And the first scene of each episode freezes into a comic book page just before "Stumptown" splashes across the screen.  Best of all, Dex is witty and ballsy and always gets the last laugh.  I don't usually watch crime shows and didn't think that I'd like this one, but its style and substance won me over.

So, if I have to gulp down my comic book bites with heaping spoonfuls of small screen sugar, then so be it.

I'd rather get cavities than court Comic-con. 

Bittersweet Treat: One Last Helping of Hecks

 Fabulous Felt Strawberry Banana Custard Barrette

Fabulous Felt Ice Cream Sundae Barrette 

 Fabulous Felt Orange Vanilla Custard Barrette

Sweater: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's
Shorts: Merona, Target
Bag: Modcloth
Shoes: Delicious, Zulily
Sunglasses: Michaels

"We all love ice cream.  That doesn't mean we have to wear it."  So said Sue's bestie Brad to her on "The Middle" when Sue was trying to dress more grown-up to impress Sean Donahue of the perfect-Donahue-next-door-neighbors fame.  "But I like wearing things that are a little different," Sue protested.

Me too, Sue.  Me too.

The series finale of "The Middle" aired this past Tuesday.  So, in honor of it and Sue and all things quirky and different, I made these ice cream barrettes.  The sundae one is very similar to a barrette I made years ago (see below), only better.  I guess I learned something in my nine years of working with felt.  Just like I learned something watching nine seasons of "The Middle."

What can I say about this show that I haven't already said?  That it's about a lower middle class family trying to get by in middle America?  That it never got the attention it deserved because it's about ordinary, salt-of-the-earth Midwesterners instead of shiny Californians or jaded New Yorkers?  That it's as hilarious as it is heartwarming?  All of these things are true, but none of them capture the essence of this show or how much it means to me.

So the best I can say is that it ended the way it was supposed to.

Warning: There are spoilers ahead.  Not unlike all-star appetite spoiler ice cream.

Every character's story wraps happily, although not easily, which is fitting for the hard luck Hecks.  The focus of the hour-long episode is Axl's (Charlie McDermott) move to Denver to start a new job.  Frankie (Patricia Heaton) is beside herself about losing her oldest child (we know it's serious when she breaks into her nightstand cookies) but hides behind forced cheerfulness.  And she almost makes it, even on the long family road trip to deliver Axl to the Mile High City.  But then the kids start bickering about being without their cell phones (Frankie told them to power down when she found out that they'd blown through their data plan), and Axl says that they can take him off the family plan because his new job comes with a phone.  And Frankie snaps.  She makes Mike (Neil Flynn) stop the car, they all get out, and she goes on a rant about phones and family plans and how the plans keep the families together.  Then she says that it's the end of an era and that nothing will ever be the same, all against the backdrop of Indiana's wide, open spaces and, of course, that old road less traveled.  And  Mike hugs her and says, in his simple, wise way, that that's the way it's supposed to be.

Another show might have had Axl change his mind and stay in Orson.  (I'm talking to you, "Full House," using Michelle to guilt Uncle Jesse and Aunt Becky into abandoning their newlywed move to hole up, refuge style, in the Tanner family attic).  And another, entirely different kind of show, might have had him never return to Orson at all.  But neither of these scenarios would be right for the Hecks.  Which is why the flash forward sequence that comes next seems so seamless.

Years later, Axl is living in Orson again, and he has three shirtless, wild-haired, sullen sons just like him.  Brick (Atticus Schaffer) is a famous author of young adult novels that feature a magical backpack based on the one he used to call his best friend.  It's a dream come true for every awkward, book-loving outsider out there and gently reminds us that Frankie was right a couple of episodes back when she finally made peace with not being able to fix her weird kid.  Because now he's a weird adult who makes weird kids feel less alone in their weirdness.  After several false starts, Sue (Eden Sher) finally marries Sean, literal boy next door, doctor, and Axl's Mr. Nice Guy best friend.  This is her fairy tale ending, even if she had to go through being the almost-fiance of Axl's other best friend, the well-meaning but doofusy Darrin, to get it.  Who's officiating the ceremony?  None other than guitar-strumming, it's-hard-being-a-teen-singing Reverend TimTom, of course.  And as Frankie tells us, in this way, the Hecks finally get to be Donahues.   

The episode wraps back from the future to the kids arguing in the car, nothing but blue sky and open road ahead.  It's the kind of everyday, happy white noise that slices through the sadness of a good thing coming to an end.  Finally, Brick says that this was why he didn't want to sit in the middle (seat, that is; seat pecking order was a real bone of contention earlier on), then does his echo thing and whispers "the middle" as the car rolls on into the cornfields.

So.  What did I learn from the Hecks?  That happy lives are messy lives and that the only real things are the people who love you.  And that you should always, always pack a backup snack bag in case you leave yours on the highway.  I like to think that I already knew those things, but the truth is that I know them better now.

I guess that's what they mean when they say that the truth lies somewhere in the middle.

Thank You for Being on Trend: Golden Oldies Then and Now

Go for the Golden Girl Necklace

Top (a dress!): Modcloth

Skirt: Celebrity Pink, Macy's

Shoes: B.A.I.T., Zulily

Bag: Marshalls

Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon

Sunglasses: Mudd, Kohl's

Picture it.  Jenkintown, 1980-something.  A classic beloved '80s sitcom is featured on a current beloved sitcom that's set in the '80s.  That's right.  "The Goldbergs" yukked it up for "The Golden Girls" in a recent episode.  Now, this is the part where I ask myself, self, should I take a beat here to explain "The Golden Girls" and "The Goldbergs"?  Probably not.  I mean, it's not like you live under a rock or something.  But just in case there are any rock dwellers out there who just happen to have internet access, here it goes:  The Golden Girls are/were eccentric ladies living together in Miami, and the Goldbergs are an eccentric family living in a suburb of Philadelphia.  

Now that that's out of the way, we can get back to our regularly scheduled programming.  

In this episode, the Goldberg clan becomes smitten with the four feisty Floridians, humming along with the theme song (yes, even crotchety Murray [Jeff Garlin]!) and picking out their favorites.  Beverly (Wendi McLendon-Covey) is particularly taken with the idea of having gal pals to laugh with once her schmoopies are grown and gone.  So, as part of her Bevolution, which is her self-improvement plan (and yes, that's what she really calls it), she launches a mission to forge lifelong friendships stat, an ill-starred effort that involves strong-arming her fellow PTAers into bedazzling sweaters and answering to belittling nicknames.  Confrontations are made, heart-to-hearts are had, and hilarity ensues, all to the tune of a cover of the Golden Girls theme song.  Also, there's sledding on lunch trays (a failed ski trip somehow factors in).  Betty White does not make a cameo.  The only thing that could have made it more iconic would be Shaq doing commercials for Gold Bond (because of the gold, not the Shaq, as he's clearly '90s territory).  Well, that and a Betty White cameo.

So.  To celebrate this turduckan of cultural Culture Club-era camp, I made this gold Go for the Golden Girl Necklace.  Or rather, as I say in its Etsy listing, "gold-tone."  (This is The Tote Trove, not Tiffany's.)  

Ah, gold.  The Big G.  What a winner.  It's the color of Beverly's big, bouffant hair, and the shade of the Miami sun.  Also of liquid gold Velveeta shells and cheese, which is something that domestic divas Beverly Goldberg and Sophia Petrillo (Estelle Getty) would never dream of serving to family.  Those two would get along, I think, what with their big mouths and manipulatively matriachal ways.  Or maybe they'd destroy each other, just like the dinosaurs.  (What?  The dinosaurs didn't destroy each other?  T-Rex ghost, you've been lying to me.)  But there's no need for a face-off.  Because . . . (sing it with me, now!), you make new (TV) friends but keep the old; one is silver and the other's gold(en).  Unlike the dinosaurs, "The Golden Girls" and "The Goldbergs" will never die, living on forever in syndication.

Sounds like a reason to gorge on shrimp parm and cheesecake to me.

A Star is Mourned: Rayna's Reign Rains Down on Nashville

 Wild West Wynonna Necklace

Top: Bongo, Sears

Skirt (a dress!): Kohl's

Boots: 2 Lips Too, DSW

Bag: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Belt: Sheplers

Sunglasses: Relic, Kohl's

Fabulous Felt Cowgirl Cutie Necklace

Top (another dress!): Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

Skirt: ROSS Dress for Less

Boots: Charles Albert, Alloy

Bag: Nine West, ROSS Dress for Less

Belt: Gifted

Sunglasses: Relic, Kohl's

"Give boredom the boot with this Fabulous Felt Cowgirl Cutie Necklace and her sassy sidekick, Wild West Wynonna . . ." is what I'd say if I were listing these necklaces on Etsy instead of keeping them for myself.  But these days I want to hold on to every little bit of country I can.  I'm referring, of course, to the recent bombshell dropped on beloved TV drama "Nashville."  

The last time I blogged about "Nashville," ABC had cancelled it, and the last episode featured everyone living happily ever after except for Juliette (Hayden Panettiere), who may or may not have been killed in a plane crash.  Although I was sad to see the series, which was one of my favorites, go, I was comforted that no more havoc could be wreaked on the lives and loves of Music City's brightest.  Then, in a plot twist that no one (okay, everyone) saw coming, "Nashville" got picked up by CMT.  Naturally, I was elated, scrambling to see if my cable plan included Country Music Television.  It didn't, and one argument with the Comcast lady later, I was happily signed up for Hulu, where I could watch my old pals plus plenty of new ones for a mere $7.99 a month.  Come January, I eagerly tuned in to Season 5.  And discovered that, land sakes, Juliette was alive!  Paralyzed from the waist down and touched by an angel and all of that jazz (or maybe I should say bluegrass), but back to driving everyone crazy.  As for the rest of the show, it seemed folksier and lighter than before, with an unmistakably fresh, down-home feel.

Or so I thought.  Before long it reverted to its red alert, hot mess roots, with Scarlett (Clare Bowen) forsaking Gunnar (Sam Palladio) to hop into bed with her edgy but verbally abusive new music video director, the aptly named Damien, and Rayna (Connie Britton) being held at knifepoint by a stalker only to (MAJOR SPOILER ALERTS FROM HERE ON OUT) fall victim to yet another major car accident.  One second she's on the phone with Deacon (Charles Esten), then smash! -- the next, something plows into her.  It was so abrupt, so jarring, I jumped.

Rayna spends the next episode in the hospital.  At first, recovery seems in the cards.  Deacon asks her what she wants, and she glibly says, "A cheeseburger."  Ever the knight in shining armor, Deacon obliges, soon returning with the tasty treat.  But Rayna's fate is sealed when her dead mother appears in her hospital room and gently tells her to stop struggling with her new song because "maybe the song is finished."  Deacon is visibly shaken, pulling Rayna's doc aside to ask if it's normal for her to be seeing visions.  "Perfectly," she assures him, "it's just a side effect of the medication."  But Deacon knows different, and, it seems, so does Rayna.

For the rest of the hour, Rayna focuses on imparting wisdom to her nearest and dearest and saying goodbye, not only to them, but to us.  Rayna is the soul of "Nashville," and her life has touched the life of every other character, as evidenced by her full hospital room.  All too soon it's just Deacon, Maddie (Lennon Stella), and Daphne (Maisy Stella), singing the sweetly heartbreaking "A Life That's Good."  Rayna flutters her eyes . . . then closes them forever.

As character deaths go, this one was as sad as any country song worth its margarita.  A Google search confirmed the rumors that Connie Britton wanted to leave "Nashville," and that Rayna dying was the only way to make that happen and do Rayna justice.  Although it's perhaps unfair to attribute symbolism to a character's death when you know that said death was motivated by the actress's plans to leave the show, I couldn't help but think that Rayna James and Juliette Barnes traded places.  As in, Rayna's life was sacrificed so that Juliette's life could be saved.  And that Juliette, with all her Phoenix-rising-from-the-ashes insights, would one day flower into a full-fledged (albeit snarkier) Rayna.  

After all, the show must go on, even without its leading lady.  As showrunner Marshall Herskovitz pointed out in an interview with Entertainment Weekly, "Nashville" is, at its core, an ensemble story:

". . . the show of Nashville is a world, it's not about one person.  As great as Connie is and Rayna was, it was never just one person.  What people will find as they process their feelings -- and maybe fans will be angry at us or at her for this happening -- but they'll find the fabric of the show more than holds.  It's still this vibrant passionate creative world of people who live their lives in a way that has a fire beneath it."

Well put.  Nevertheless, "Nashville" won't be the same without Rayna's unique brand of guts, class, and grace.  

I'm just glad she got that cheeseburger.

Country Club Kitsch: In Favor of Parties and Nice Knowing You, Nashville

Gibson Girl Necklace

Tee: Merona, Target

Skirt: Marshalls

Boots: 2 Lips Too, DSW

Bag: Worthington, JCPenney

Hat: The husband's closet

Belt: Gifted

Sunglasses: Brigantine beach shop

Sunsational Sunglasses Necklace

Tee: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Skirt: Xhilaration, Target

Boots: Charles Albert, Alloy

Bag: Betsey Johnson, Macy's

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's

Gibson Girl Barrette

Leopard top: Macy's

Striped top: Wet Seal

Jeans: l.e.i, JCPenney

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: Candie's, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Relic, Kohl's

This week's projects have one thing in common -- and it's not that I made them from stuff from the dollar store (although that's true too).  It's that I made all three from party favors!  Indeed, the kawaii-tastic guitars in this Gibson Girl necklace and barrette proudly proclaim, "party like a rock star" (lest you forget and wear them to the library or a church rummage sale).  As for the moniker Gibson Girl, it's meant to be a little bit leather and a little bit lace.  In other words, a new spin on a little bit country, a little bit rock and roll, which, dang it all, would've been the perfect phrase to trot out for this post, so much so that I wish I hadn't maxed it out in recent weeks.  Because the leather and lace thing is a little clunky, conjuring up images of 1980s hair bands, which is not what I was going for.  No, the sweet spot is an ever so slightly edgy brand of country.  Kind of like the kind they portray and play on ABC's "Nashville."

If you watch, then you know that the series finale aired this past Wednesday to the tune of almost zero fanfare.  The last preview had sneakily slipped in the announcement, "Next week, on the series finale of "Nashville," . . .," confirming month-long rumors that this ratings bubble of a show had finally popped.  Fans are outraged and saddened by the untimely cancellation, myself included.  Which should come as no surprise considering this fan fashion I made two years ago:

Juliette in the Southern Starlet Necklace

Scarlett and Gunnar in the Southern Sweethearts Necklace

Although I've never been into country music, "Nashville" is one of my favorite shows.  I watched it from the beginning, and as the weeks rolled on, I was surprised to find that I looked forward to not  just the story, but the music, which had a sort of modern, alt-rock, folksy sound I hadn't before associated with country.  From the first episode, I was drawn into the characters' lives as they strove to either break into the biz or maintain shaky stardom while balancing family and romance.  I loved rehashing the episodes on the phone with my mother and sister, often becoming so animated that the husband asked if we were discussing real people.

Still, it may not yet be time to give up the ghost.  The Interwebs are buzzing with the commentary of diehard fans who insist that it isn't curtains for the country music drama, ever hopeful that it'll be picked up by a cable network or even Netflix or Hulu (hey, it worked for "Conan" and "The Mindy Project").  According to this camp, "Nashville" shot two series finales: one tying up every character's story neatly and one allowing the fate of Hayden Panettiere's Juliette Barnes to hang in the balance.  It was the second version that aired, leading many to believe that the show will go on.

So, where do I stand on this issue?  At the crossroads of ambivalence.  On one hand, it was downright haunting to watch Juliette grow so much and come so close to winning back Avery (Jonathan Jackson) only to maybe (spoiler alert!) be killed in a plane crash, meeting the same tragic end as The Big Bopper, Buddy Holly, John Denver, and three-fourths of Lynyrd Skynyrd.  Was it a case of a spoiled star finally getting what she deserved?  Or of a hard-living artist having an epiphany about what's important and then simply reaching the end of the road?  I'm not sure, but the English major in me appreciates that there are possibilities in this last call for a series that detractors have long disparaged as nothing more than an ABC ad vehicle.  I will say this: I was happily relieved to see Gunnar (Sam Palladio) and Scarlett (Clare Bowen) finally reunite after four seasons of will-they-won't-they and would surely hate to see them pulled asunder just to keep a new storyline spinning.  (Ditto for Deacon and Rayna.)  Although abrupt and a little clumsily executed, the plot that leads to their reconciliation (I'm talking to you, icky Autumn and Gunnar fling), makes a lot of sense.  Amid the confusion, Scarlett has the epiphany (epiphanies being key in this finale) that she's in love with Gunnar, despite him accusing her of being afraid of becoming involved with him only two weeks earlier. Yet as obtuse as he is during most of this episode, Gunnar's not entirely clueless.  Scarlett has always let her fears limit her, first by refusing Gunnar's marriage proposal at the end of season one and finally by hooking up with safe choice love interest Dr. Caleb Rand in season three.  So when she decides to take the leap and pursue a relationship with Gunnar in earnest, we know it's for real.  And when Gunnar finally wakes from Autumn's evil spell to grab Scarlett for a kiss during what is meant to be their farewell performance, we know that this is how their story should end, a sentiment verbalized by their manager who contentedly comments, "Looks like they're still a duo."

Although life after ABC may mean a more nuanced, multifaceted format free from the pressure to pander to corporate sponsors, I vote to end "Nashville" while most of its denizens have what they want (Juliette's possible trip to that Grand Ole Opry in the sky notwithstanding).  Because in a world where a tired old tune reigns supreme, happy endings await on the B side.