Fun fact: I can sing the entire Golden Girls theme from start to finish.
When Dad died at the end of March, I went to stay with my mom for about a week. Grief kept us wide awake at night and utterly exhausted. So we started watching reruns of The Golden Girls until we just couldn’t keep our eyes open a second longer. Some nights it worked, and some nights it didn’t. But Dorothy, Blanche, Rose, and (especially) Sophia made us laugh when we desperately needed a little break from being sad.
When I went back home, I found out I could stream the show on Hulu, and I’ve been falling asleep to it every night since. It’s become something of a ritual. I’m almost scared to try sleeping without it. I know that’s a bit ridiculous, but sometimes you don’t pick the things that bring you comfort—the things that bring you comfort pick you.
I casually mentioned to Dan that it would be great if Funko Pop! made a Golden Girls set of figures, and he was like, “I’m pretty sure they do.” He sent me a couple of links the next day, and I mentioned on Twitter that it was a good thing he didn’t show them to me the night before when I had taken an edible and was more likely to spend money we didn’t have.
Next thing I know, a Twitter friend was asking for my address. “You deserve a happy,” she told me. And then a couple of days later, I was the proud owner of the Girls in their bowling best. Thanks, Liz!
Look. At. Them. I’ve long admired Funko Pop! figures, but I’ve never been a collector because: cancer. The excessively practical side of me was just like, “Emily, you do not need toys with giant heads. Even if they’re adorable caricatures of your favorite things. Even if they are wearing bowling shirts.
When I was young my parents were on a couples’ bowling league in our small town, and I used to love running around the bowling alley with the other kids, buying candy at the concessions counter, and watching the older kids play video games. There was a point for a little while that my dad was in so many leagues that he was at Posey Lanes four nights a week. When we went through his stuff in the basement, we even found a couple of kitschy plaques and trophies.
Anyway, bowling makes me think of my dad. The Golden Girls make me think of my mom. I guess that explains that.
Incidentally, my brother sent me the Deadpool Bob Ross Bobblehead Funko a while back, and it was my first and only full-sized Pop! until the Golden Girls arrived. (The keychain version came with the DVD copy of Deadpool 2. At least I think it was Deadpool 2. My memory can be hit or miss.)
I took him out of the box and filmed this short clip just so you all could enjoy the bobble too. It’s delightful!
That’s all I’ve got for you today. Just comforting stuff. I still haven’t heard any more from the doctors about starting Temodar again, but I kind of don’t want to call and ask where we stand on that. It gives me more time to prepare for things financially as well as get some stuff done around the house that needs tending to. If you’d like to help by contributing to my GoFundMe, I am grateful for your help. And if you have already donated or shared the link on social media, thank you for being a friend!
I’m so glad you got a small, lovely happy! I haven’t been keeping up well (I’m trying to figure out how to get back to reading my friends’ blogs and writing my own on the regular) and I’m sorry about your dad. Grief is HARD.
Thanks, Dava. <3 I struggle to keep up too, so I totally get it. Most of my blabbering on Twitter hits the main points.
What a wonderful treat and act of kindness!
Wasn’t it? š I adore them.
Itās the details and the little things where the joy in life is found. We concern ourselves with monstrously huge issues all the time with cancer that when something as simple and fun as bobble heads make us smileā¦why not.
I have this pair of tiny hands that fit like puppets on one of your fingers. I saw a woman some time ago using them to creep out her kids. I laughed so hard because I knew Craig would hate them I asked if I could buy them – she insisted I have them. The little kindnesses of strangers always brings me so much joy.
They work like a champ. I pull my shirt down around the finger holding his dinner the tiny āhand puppetsā or I pet Simon wit him and he squeals like a baby – put those away your creeping me out. Then I stroke his face tenderly and I laugh until incontinence sets in. But itās wort the panty change!
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I love it! š I can picture what you are talking about and may have even had some years ago (if the picture in my head is accurate). When the little joys are big enough to distract us from the giant hurts, it’s a total win.