Love for a Lava lamp, and the box it came in, too.

Even as a kid, I had an eye for beauty and sophistication.

When I began to notice the decorative Lava lamps appearing in shop window displays and such back in the latter half of the 1960's, I remember hoping that one day I'd be cool enough to own one.

That my parents didn't recognize the allure led me to believe I was on the right track, but I agreed with them that I wasn't yet ready for a Lava lamp.

I'd wait till I was a grown-up.
I could put it in the swingin' bachelor pad I'd surely have - -
- - near the beaded curtain, the Zenith *color* TV with the big
'Space Command' remote control, and the shelf where I'd keep my 'Hai Karate' aftershave.

In the next few years, my resolve was only strengthened when I'd be 'over to play' at some friend's house, and see that they were lucky enough to have a Lava lamp in their own home.

"Cool!!" I'd say, "Turn it on, let's check it out!"

"Naah..." was invariably the response. "It's boring. And besides, it takes, like, forever for the gunk inside to heat up and start doing stuff."

Occasionally their reason would be that it didn't work right anymore, from that one time when it got left on for a week. "See? It's all messed up and cloudy..."

'That settles it', I'd say to myself. 'These fools are taking their Lava lamps for granted. They don't get it, and they can't even take proper care of it.'

'I'll have one some day, and treasure it and care for it like the exquisite showpiece it is.'

I never quite forgot about it, but as the '70's wore on, there were certainly other distractions.

By the end of the decade, Lava lamps were 'out'. They were relics.
That didn't bother me, but as I began to think that maybe I was finally ready, I noticed that it seemed you couldn't find them anywhere.
Such is life, or so I thought...

Cut to the early '80's. I'm fresh out of high school, working, I'm making my own money.

For some reason I find myself one day in a tiny, cramped neighborhood hardware store in the Richmond district of San Francisco.
Honestly, I can't remember what brought me in or what I was looking for.

What I did find on a dusty shelf was an old Lava lamp, still in the carton, looking just like I remembered as a kid.

My time had finally arrived.

According to Oozing Goo, The Lava Lamps Syndicate website, what I'd found was an original Century model 102 (Red lava, yellowish liquid, gold base). Nothing exotic, but rather the classic standard, in production beginning in 1963.

As it turned out, my Lava lamp purchase seemed to occur about five minutes before they began to make a comeback as a kitschy 'retro' item. ('Remember those '70's?')
The comeback also meant that lots of new designs and colors and 'knockoffs' were appearing, which made me all the happier that I wound up with the exact style I'd remembered so fondly.

My Lava lamp has been proudly on display ever since.
(No Zenith, no 'Hai Karate', no beaded curtain - - yet.)

It operates every day, on a timer, thank you very much, for about six hours or so (no overheating), and is still going strong, 20+ years later.

Comes on around the dinner hour, is in full swing by mid-evening, clicks off when it's about time for bed. Perfect.
It makes me feel cool, even if I'm still not quite yet a grown-up.

Came across its carton the other day. (Of course I still have it. Why wouldn't I? What better to store it in if I should move?)

(click on images to ENLARGE)

The graphic design on the box is pretty special.

I love the exotic 'Arabic' font.

- - And yes, the motion inside the lamp does indeed soothe, intrigue, fascinate and entertain.

Of course, the best has to be the practical images showing common uses for the lamp...

(see detail below)

- Executives know that it adds a bit of style to the decor of a busy office.
Very 'feng shui'.

- The perfect device to pacify a client in the dentist's chair. Bring on the root canal!

- The lonely days seem to fly by now that Grandma has her lamp to keep her company.

- And what better to put young lovers in the mood than basking in the wet glow of the undulating goo?

But seriously - - Regarding these original Lava lamps, this is an instance where time, fashion and circumstance never swayed my opinion. It was cool when I first spotted one close to forty years ago, and it's cool now.

Fashions come and go - - and then come back again, but elegance and beauty never go out of style.

Some Road Candy, or 'Horehounds On My Trail'

Last Saturday I was passing through Shoshone, Idaho and stopped for bruncheon at the Manhattan Cafe.

While settling up the bill, I was entranced by the spin rack of colorful candy treats near the counter by the register.


I was already familiar with the Idaho Spud brand. My Dad had grown up in north-eastern Oregon, and the Idaho Spud bar was part of the tapestry of my summertime childhood vacations, riding in the statiion wagon up 101 from the bay area to visit my Grandparents near the beautiful southern Oregon coast.

Dad had his own childhood story of free sample spud bars being given to him by a man wearing a sandwich board at a county fair in the mid-1920's.

As my siblings and I grew to adulthood, any one of us having the rare encounter with a place that sold spud bars would grab a few for the the others. The fact that everyone else we knew HATED them only made it more fun.

Since my big move to the land of the spud bar, the various offerings from the Idaho Candy Company have perhaps lost some of their exotic mystique. (Though they're each special in their own way. I'm particularly fond of the 'Old Faithful', and the Butter Toffee is just plain evil)

- - But here were treats I'd not seen before, at least not previously affiliated with the name Idaho Spud.

I brought home the ones that intrigued me the most. With one notable exception they all seemed fairly straightforward to me, despite being blessed with names that lend themselves to whimsy.

It was certainly the Horehound Lumps that I was most curious about, and thus far the only one of the batch I've actually been moved to sample.

First, I had to educate myself a bit about this mysterious Horehound, a name that was new to me.

That out of the way, it was on to the ingredients, which stated that the lumps contained 'genuine organic horehound tea'.
Fair enough, and so on to my report:

Horehound Lumps taste like a surprisingly bitter lemon drop and are very similar in texture.

I think more accurately the flavor is something akin to chugging Dr. Pepper whilst simultaneously eating lots of celery sticks.

We'll call it 'an acquired taste', but it's all in the name of scientific advancement...

I saved a wrinkly old bag

(Click on image to ENLARGE)

I think I'd wandered into this old 'respectable' men's clothing store looking for a dress shirt to go with the tux I'd rented for my high school graduation.

I wasn't terribly excited by that shirt, but I sure loved the bag it went into when I bought it. I think the store had been around since the early 1960's at least, and was closed by the mid-'80's, if memory serves.

I'm still kind of mesmerized by the repeating graphic, trying to find its boundaries...

Deceptive Packaging

(Click on image to see inside the box)

I don't know its origins, but I came upon this little wind-up toy probably around the first half of the '90's, sitting by itself on a shelf at the astonishing Kimono My House in Emeryville, CA.

I haven't been there in several years (I recommend you make the pilgrimage, if you haven't been), but it used to be that along with all their fabulous anime- and kaiju-related toys you'd occasionally find such oddball items. My guess was that amidst the usual stuff on buying trips to Japan there would be bits and pieces of old warehouse stock that'd been languishing for some time.

I have to think that there was some repackaging involved in whatever marketing had gone into this toy. It had been one idea, it became another. It makes me wonder what was motivating the choices, who made them, and why.

It doesn't keep me up at night, but it's kinda - - y'know - - curious.