What you are about to read is true. None of the names have been changed to protect the innocent. I swear.
Some of you may remember the cookie drama. I'm taking it as a good sign that it's been two months between posts on this, let's just say "unique" organization. Although, in the spirit of full disclosure, I have to say that I have not been the primary parent interacting with said group. I must acknowledge the possibility that if I were, I might have a lot more to write about. Ignorance is bliss (in this case).
For more than forty years, I have been angry at my mother for not letting me join. I've always thought it was her meanness or some sort of lingering resentment from her years of involvement with my sisters or something that was bad in me, that I didn't "deserve" to belong. I was shipped off to 4H (no, I didn't live on farm, or even in the country, and no I never raised an animal that was sold for meat). The official story is that that was what I wanted. My recollection is that I wanted to join the little green people, but wasn't allowed. So I asked to join the other little green people, the ones that were a little more butch (I now realize), just to find something I would be allowed to join. It didn't really go that well. I didn't stay in that long, though I still remember the pledge like it was yesterday (I'm like that).
And now, today, I am realizing something. Maybe I was like this--you know, THIS--when I was a kid. In fact, I am quite sure that I was. If that is the case then maybe, just maybe, I would have found membership....hmm...let's just say "challenging". And maybe my mom knew that. More hmm. (No, I can't ask my mom. She says that she never told me I couldn't join. One more trauma under the bridge.)
Today, it's about fabric. And badges (I love badges). And popsicles. And the interaction thereof. But more than anything, it is about the startling dearth of information that unfortunately feeds my trauma-based theory (see above) about secret societies.
Because you know, I have a reputation to uphold. I can find anything. On the web, I mean. Friends, neighbors, countrymen (okay, not the last one) contact me all the time. There are moments when I even think of making a career of it, a subject that is on my mind a lot these days since tomorrow is my last official day of full-time employment. But I'm getting off the subject. Anyhow, people ask me to find them stuff.
"Could you find me this song? I know three words from the middle verse. It goes "I am the..." That's all I know"
"I had this kindergarten teacher forty years ago that I just loved, and I keep wondering if she's still alive...could you find out?"
"Why do they call it Kleenex, anyway?"
I don't know if I'm better at it, or people are just lazy. What I am is unbelievably persistent (yeah, you can call it stubborn if you want) and determined. When it comes to the web, and a google search result of 41,900 hits can benefit from a little tenacity (and a little monkey-mindedness, so I'm all set there, too) and ambition. I have become useful in this way.
Which leads me to my point.
How is it that in 20,000 hits, there is not one post, anywhere on the web (go ahead, prove me wrong, I'd love you for it) that explains how to wash a girl scout vest that has patches on it. Like this.
You know. Washing instructions. Temperature. Agitation (come to think of it, I know enough about agitation, so scratch that). Drying. Ironing. Colors.
Oh sure, the vest itself has a tag. I think that's required by law. But that was before it had patches on it.
I tried. I really did. At least twenty different configurations of search terms. Synonyms R Us.
I even gave up, which is just so unlike me, and switched to simply finding out if the colors on girl scout badges bleed. I figured if I knew that, I could figure out the rest for myself. I'm sharp in the laundry department.
Nothing. Many configurations of that too. See for yourself. Put in "girl scout badges color bleed". That ought to cover it, right? What do I get? How to make your own patches (like I have time for that when I'm spending hours just trying to find out how to wash the ones I have). The history of girl scouts (a little bit yawn inducing though this picture
made my day and made me want to ditch this computer stuff and go make jewelry), and, of course, the first aid instructions for what to do if you should have an actual bleeding girl scout on your hands. (Ice. Compression. Elevation. There ya go.)
I don't know. I just find it so difficult to believe that my child is the first in 97 years to spill something on her vest (or sash, same diff, but in our house, we don't do sashes so thank god for vests). In this case it was a popsicle--one that was brought for snack at weekly meeting!
At this point, I am befuddled. Bewildered. (and bewitched and bothered too, but don't get me singing, I'll never stop) So I did what any rational person would do. I emailed the troop co-leaders. And being such good leaders, each with a looooong history in girl scouts (not to mention electronically savvy), they both answered me right away. Separately. So get this.
One of them said: "I probably wouldn't toss the whole thing in the washing machine, because it might come out in a funny shape. Try Shout wipes or the Tide pen, or just washing that part in the sink. If the patches get wet, they'll stay on because they are sewn"
And the other one said: "It should actually be washable. Take the pins off before you do so though".
Great, eh? It also sounds suspiciously as if they have never washed their own vests nor been asked this question before. Eww? They also mentioned that she should not bring her vest on the camping trip this weekend (which I am supposed to be packing for right this minute), because they don't want them to get dirty. Har!
I admit it. I have questions. I am a human being. Cut me and I will bleed.
Now for god's sake, and in the name of dearly departed Juliette whoever she is, COULD SOMEBODY PLEASE TELL ME IF GIRL SCOUT BADGES BLEED?
In the end, I can see that I'm on my own, kids. I'll let you know how it goes. And I'll ping the damn blog all over the world, so that someone, somewhere, will actually get an answer when they ask a search engine about washing girl scout accoutrements. Sheesh.
But before I do that, I'm heading off to the studio. I've already got a decoder ring project going (don't ask), and I'm thinking that I now have a second one to work on. Busy busy busy.
See what you did, Mom?