On a trip to the Lincoln Park Zoo, one of my kids spotted a "Mold-A-Rama" machine. I am usually quick to turn down requests for useless junk but something about the machine intrigued me. For only $2 and thirty seconds, we could take home a green gorilla made of stinky plastic. I don't understand why but there is something about it that I just love.
Most, if not all, of the Mold-A-Rama machines you find today were originally made between 1960 and 1965. The man who invented it did so out of necessity. In the early '50s, he wanted to replace a piece of a nativity set but stores did not sell individual figurines. Not wanting to buy an entire set, he set out to make his own.
The first machine was installed at the Seattle World's Fair in 1962 and produced a wax replica of the Space Needle for twenty-five cents. A few changes have occurred since then. The wax would eventually be replaced with a more durable plastic (polyethylene). Air is now blown into the figure making it hollow as opposed to solid. Obviously, the price has gone up.
The fun has never changed. Even at my age, it's fun to watch the inner workings of a machine produce a toy so fast. Then there's the heat. The plastic melts at 225 degrees and even though a coolant is used to bring that temperature down before being dispensed, it is definitely hot to hold for the first few minutes. There's a fun in that somehow.
From what I've read, the molds get changed from time to time. The Lincoln Park Zoo had a yellow lion until earlier this year but they replaced it with the green gorilla. That might explain why when I checked eBay, some people will pay a lot more than a few dollars for certain figurines.
Yesterday at the Field Museum, we located the Mold-A-Rama machines on the bottom floor. There were four of them: red t-rex, blue triceratops, green apatosaurus, and orange stegosaurus. Oh, how I wanted all four but that would just be crazy. We voted on the stegosaurus and it now sits next to the gorilla. They are displayed on the mantle like two priceless vases. "Go, go and get us more friends." I know that's what they'd say if they could. Don't worry, I'm already planning a trip to the Science and Industry Museum. I hear they have a space robot.
They don't look as perfect as store bought cakes but I love the challenge of making a cake. Some of them have turned out really well. Some of them not.
I don't know who chose the chandelier in my kitchen. I bet it was not the builder. I never would have chosen it. What's with all the glass balls? Do I change them out with ornaments at Christmas? If I give it a spin, will disco music start playing somewhere in the background? Dusting this thing will be fun.
We've been in this house now for a month and each time I look at the light fixture, I pause. Hmm... Do I like it or not? I suppose the answer does not matter since we won't be replacing it but I have decided to like it. I've made a conscious decision to just like the dang thing. Here's my reasoning:
Our neighborhood is nice but like so many others, it is a land of beige boxes. I've seen worse but it really is a boring street. Inside the house, the carpet is tan, the walls are neutral, the woodwork is white, and the window treatments are uninteresting. In my life, I own a lot of khaki, wear very little makeup, and keep my hair in a ponytail most days. My children have traditional names spelled the traditional ways. I always come to a complete stop and try not to exceed the speed limit. Boring. Boring. Boring.
I'm not really complaining. Most of these are choices I have made or have agreed to live with. I wasn't always boring. In our first house, I painted one of the bathrooms orange. The paint chip was called "papaya" and I loved it. I even painted the ceiling that color. Ten years and three kids later, I've learned to make beige choices. Beige is safe. Orange is crazy.
I'm going to let this one light fixture be my reminder that sometimes I need to dare to make unexpected choices. It's not papaya but it's something and I like it.
