Cranky Yellow is often described as a Grandma’s attic on acid. We goof around with the idea and take the awkward compliment to heart. Can you imagine your average Midwestern grandmother on psychedelic drugs?! Crazy. Simply put.
Most of the die-hard grannys, the kind that are bundled up out in the country, re-living their era and surviving, are badass. Witty, smart around the house, and killer crafty. Living peacefully among their relics (knicky-knackys collected over time) and keeping amazing skills alive (like canning, darning, etc).
Add in that sometimes trashy Midwestern flair for booze and there is a whole spectrum of vintage toting, casual slurring grandma’s hauling around with abilities worth learning. How is that not something to appreciate? Love your Grand’s if they’re still alive. I bet they’re crazy, weird and awesome.
Cranky Yellow has been in the public light a bit more now than usual. Hugs to all our new fans! We certainly attract the craziest people alive. Earlier today I received a strange phone call. It’s not unusual for us to be pranked; farting noises on the answering machine is the usual, but this was different. I honestly can’t tell if it’s a joke.
The woman on the line gasped: “Are you selling that Flamingo Lamp”, then a grumble “I saw it on Facebook.”
“Yes” I said. Not surprised. I had just posted photo of a newish lamp we received with the caption ‘Gawd-ugly Florida Flamingo lamp with a strobe light inside. Grandma’s having a rave!!’
“I bought that same lamp for my mother a few years ago. That lamp is NOT ugly and My mother does not use drugs.” she snapped.
I listened… a little disbelief arose.
“Why would you even assume a Grandmother would want something associated with a rave? That’s offensive. I don’t think making fun of grandmothers is really a good way to promote a healthy brand following. That’s all.” she was trailing off.
Oh geez, I thought; this has to be a prank or we unearthed a real crazy.
Perhaps she didn’t realize it was a joke, or that we don’t really care, or that she just woke up on the wrong side of the bed with a marketing degree. She sat, waiting for a reply:
“I dunno. I love grandmas.” I said.
It was a little dumbfounded because I was a bit shocked from the tone of her voice. I paused, then added “Grandmas are cool, I suppose, that’s all I really mean to say.”
She asked me how much we were selling the lamp for.
“Maybe $60 or something once it’s fixed” —
She hung up on me after blurting something I didn’t understand.
So, it is either a joke or something poignant just happened. Either way, it’s hilarious. That’s just another day of work at Cranky Yellow. Grandma’s attic on acid, or so it has been said. Huh, right.
Guess I’m qualified to comment as I’m a central MO grandma… I am only offended by raves if I’m not invited. I am only offended by Gawd-Ugly lamps if the wiring is bad and I get electrocuted. The only way you’d likely be able to offend me would be if you held a gun to my gray head and forced me to get on a bus to Branson.
Yes, I knit and bake cookies and have far too many cats. And make really effed-up art (see website). My attic may possibly BE on acid– or maybe it’s just squirrels. You little sweeties just keep right on doing what you’re doing because you’re doing it reallyreally well. Just sayin’.
Love, Lynn