The Lancer Boys… and the Barbies

Is this post about perfume? Not so much. I’m just killing time while waiting for the Chanels to get in so I can put up a post later today once I get a chance to sniff them. SQUEEE! Sorry, isn’t everyone just waiting to hear? So look for that hopefully by afternoon or early evening.

You get a story while we wait together. When I was a little girl, I loved my Barbies. Being of the poor sort of Kansas dirt farmers, we didn’t have a lot of Barbies or Barbie clothes or clothes or entertainment or money. My dad was a TV Tyrant. We could only watch TV when he wanted to watch something, which led to my deep appreciation of Lawrence Welk and Hee-Haw. Listen, Buck and Roy’s “that’s good” “No, that’s bad” bit about how things kept getting worse was a true classic. Sissy and Bobby’s dancing? Yeah, they’ve got your Dancin’ with the Stars right there.

Bonanza and Lancer were also a part of the White Family’s evening viewing. Both were westerns, but of the two, I loved Lancer — not just the hunky actors (this text is sandwiching the really handsome actors — hmm, I think the old guy is the best looking now) — but the stories were better, the characters were a little darker. Bonanza thrived in family hourwhere Lancer only had a season or two and was gone.

There was Johnny (the dark-haired one — how dreamy is he!?) and Scott (the fair-haired) and their dad, Murdoch. Well, what does this have to do with Barbies? Well, my Barbies were huge Lancer fans, they enacted parts of the show a couple of times a week, but inserting themselves as the love interest of the Lancer boys. Yes, it was too the Barbies, not me!

My imagination was pretty active and wild when I was a kid — well, okay, it’s lasted most of my life, but it was pretty much off in the outer realms until I was about 15 or 16. My brothers and sister liked to torture me generally when I was young because I far preferred to go off and make up pretend stories in my head and with my Barbies than to play “touch” football with them. They always “said” it would be just touch football, but they knew when I was getting tired of playing, and then they tackled me, and I would huff off in a snit.

One day I was sick, and my mom let me sleep in her bed because… I have no idea why, but I grabbed all my Barbies and headed in to spread out the Barbies and weave a wild fantasy involving the Lancer boys. Now, somewhere along the line, my brother Harry hid in the closet and my sister Shirley crawled under the bed in my mom and dad’s rooom and listened in on my play-acting with the Barbies, which included a lot of “Oh, Scott, Scott, come back!” and “No, Johnny, don’t leave me, I love you both” sort of thing. Whaaat? I couldn’t make up my mind which one I liked more the Barbies liked both Johnny and Scott. At some suitable moment, like when they couldn’t contain their laughter anymore, they both came rolling out of their hiding places. To this day, I have not lived down the “Oh, Scott, come back” comment whenever they want to use some shorthand way of saying I was a loon as a kid.

Gratuitous fragrance reference: Apres L’ondee pure Parfum…I am a really big idiot, this is better than the EDT, though they both are excellent. Serge Lutens Chene? Mucking around in the deep forest while wearing MKK. Is this a good thing? Not sure yet, but I’m pretty sure Johnny Lancer would have worn it.