A friend of mine gets the St. Louis Review. I've never heard of it before, probably because I'm not Catholic and thus completely unfamiliar with the weekly paper of the St. Louis Archdiocese. In this newspaper they review movies. Also learned about the USCCB - United States Conference of Catholic Bishops' Office - which has its own Film & Broadcasting rating system.
I find this fascinating. My friend made a copy of this week's review of "Little Miss Sunshine." The one sentence in the entire review that I agreed with compared the movie's Hoover family to a "pyschological Munster family with the one normal kid." I actually laughed out loud. Great comparison. Very true. To be fair, the review wasn't bad. I can see their points. I wouldn't take an ten-year old to see it. Course, the R rating by the secular film rating system identifies it properly, without the Catholic paper chiming in with their two cents.
Unfortunately "LIttle Miss Sunshine" was not rated by the Bishops, only a film reviewer on staff. However, they did rate other movies ... and their ratings start at "general patronage" for movies like "Cars;" to "adults/adolescents" for "The Devil Wears Prada."
Things get slightly more racy with the label "limited adult audience," which is reserved for films whose content "many adults would find troubling". Current movies that fit this bill include "Accepted," "Night Listener," and "Talladega Nights."
Topping the charts like a category five on the Safir-Simpson Hurricane Scale is drum roll please, "morally offensive." Yes, this is the equivalent of X-rated to ye of little faith. Now showing at a theatre near you, are such morally offensives as: "Miami Vice," "Snakes on a Plane," and "Beerfest" - all tainted by an "O" rating by those wild and crazy bishops.
To check it out yourself, click here. They also have television ratings, top ten movies by year, and the Vatican Top 45 movies list. Who knew?
While I'm not an organized religion type gal and never have been/never will be Catholic, I must confess that if I had kids I just might check out these reviews before allowing a kid loose at the cinema. I am embarrassed to admit this (and hope I'd find something similar that wasn't tied to a faith), but they certainly outline all of the potentially objectionable aspects that a parent might like to know up front ... From advance warning of the "menacing sequence that may be scary for very young children" in "Ant Bully" to "sexual elements including brief footage of an orgy with partial nudity" in "Night Listener."
I remember seeing "Creepshow" and "Down & Out in Beverly Hills" with my parents as a pre-teen/young teen. Both were "R". My Dad had no clue of their rating till we were in the show. I still can't believe that my mom endorsed it. "Creepshow" was my first taste of horror (and enhanced my repugnance of cock roaches and increased the frequency of nightmares). "Down & Out" was my first glimpse of sex ed, front and center, on the big screen. I died a little during the sex scene ... not something you want to see with your parents. Betting my dad died a little too...
Monday, August 28, 2006
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Whoops ...
Well, thank heavens today ended better than it started. Two nights in a row I schlepped a pile of work home and didn't do it. Each morning as I careen to work (tardy, as usual, with sunroof open to blow dry my hair en route), I feel a little guilt about it and then rationalize that having to carry it across the highway into work is punishment enough.
In addition to today's morning of guilt and typical late arrival to work, I speed walked across the parking lot. Halfway up the hill, I heard someone call my name. I looked back to see my car no longer in its parking spot. My car was in the middle of the aisle, in fact.
Luckily it had stopped coasting and had not hit anything. Being late and having to park in the flat section was actually a blessing today! (I can rationalize anything apparently...)
For some reason I walked back to the car ever so slowly, at a much slower pace than my departure. Why I didn't feel a sense of urgency, who knows. It was certainly shocking.
I threw my pile of files and papers onto the sloping blacktop, slid into the car, rolled it back into its parking spot and put on the parking brake. This time. Always a good thing to do in a stick shift, but for some reason I broke habit today.
Of course a few other wonky things happened while walking into work but no major catastrophes, just close calls.
I'm not normally superstitious, but today I was.
And now I'm home. The car brake is on. Nothing's burning. My smoke alarms have new batteries. The gate is closed. The dog's in for the night. The doors are locked.
Phew.
In addition to today's morning of guilt and typical late arrival to work, I speed walked across the parking lot. Halfway up the hill, I heard someone call my name. I looked back to see my car no longer in its parking spot. My car was in the middle of the aisle, in fact.
Luckily it had stopped coasting and had not hit anything. Being late and having to park in the flat section was actually a blessing today! (I can rationalize anything apparently...)
For some reason I walked back to the car ever so slowly, at a much slower pace than my departure. Why I didn't feel a sense of urgency, who knows. It was certainly shocking.
I threw my pile of files and papers onto the sloping blacktop, slid into the car, rolled it back into its parking spot and put on the parking brake. This time. Always a good thing to do in a stick shift, but for some reason I broke habit today.
Of course a few other wonky things happened while walking into work but no major catastrophes, just close calls.
I'm not normally superstitious, but today I was.
And now I'm home. The car brake is on. Nothing's burning. My smoke alarms have new batteries. The gate is closed. The dog's in for the night. The doors are locked.
Phew.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Men Only?
You've got to be kidding me.
I'm working on my essay submission for writers group and took a moment to check the headlines. Nothing out of the ordinary, really, but one headline just hit me.
I should probably start by saying that the essay I'm writing is about a mix of things - one of which concerns the ugandously insipid topic of religion. It goes without saying that this is a very personal topic, with a deluge of different interpretations and beliefs.
But (rant begins here), one thing I struggle with is intolerance. Intolerance of other people's beliefs in particular and the dangerous reaction when mixed with a so-called literal interpretation of the Bible or any other work that forms the basis of a religion.
One key objection I have to certain organized religions concerns gender. When the leaders of a religion must be male and only male, when females are not given the same opportunities, my normally tranquil feminist attitudes fly off the handle.
Here's the latest absurdity Sunday School Teacher Dumped for Being Female.
Basically this woman has been a Sunday School teacher for the past 50+ years and suddenly the obviously infallible (not) leader - whatever his title (reverend, preacher, or master of his domain) has decided this is no longer appropriate.
Equally troubling is the fact that he is also in local government ... which reinforces my anxiety when it comes to the ever-dwindling separation of church and state.
On a personal note, a friend encountered such discrimination. Granted, this does not mean the entire religion is flawed, but demonstrates how important balance is within leadership of any organization (religious or other) is. Raised as Jehovah Witness, my friend J married someone in the religion, as recommended. When her husband suddenly left her, the elders in her church (who happened to all be male), judged her. Until her ex-husband admitted to adultery, she was the sinner in the eyes of her congregation - to a certain extent. She was treated differently, judged, and at risk for being excommunicated/disfellowshiped. Basically her support system - family, friends and spiritual foundation - were in jeopardy. Once her ex came forward, she was forgiven though it left an indelible mark on her faith. Understandably so. Granted this is second-hand and biased, but such incidents make me indignant. They reinforce my harsh impressions of most organized religions and my reluctance to get back into a church-going ritual ... ever.
I could go on & on about religion and women's rights, but I'd much rather hear from you. Any thoughts, opinions, comments welcome.
In the meantime, now that there is color in my cheeks and an increase in beats per minute, I'm going to focus this fervor into my essay which is due in nearly 48 hours ... and needs much more work!
I'm working on my essay submission for writers group and took a moment to check the headlines. Nothing out of the ordinary, really, but one headline just hit me.
I should probably start by saying that the essay I'm writing is about a mix of things - one of which concerns the ugandously insipid topic of religion. It goes without saying that this is a very personal topic, with a deluge of different interpretations and beliefs.
But (rant begins here), one thing I struggle with is intolerance. Intolerance of other people's beliefs in particular and the dangerous reaction when mixed with a so-called literal interpretation of the Bible or any other work that forms the basis of a religion.
One key objection I have to certain organized religions concerns gender. When the leaders of a religion must be male and only male, when females are not given the same opportunities, my normally tranquil feminist attitudes fly off the handle.
Here's the latest absurdity Sunday School Teacher Dumped for Being Female.
Basically this woman has been a Sunday School teacher for the past 50+ years and suddenly the obviously infallible (not) leader - whatever his title (reverend, preacher, or master of his domain) has decided this is no longer appropriate.
Equally troubling is the fact that he is also in local government ... which reinforces my anxiety when it comes to the ever-dwindling separation of church and state.
On a personal note, a friend encountered such discrimination. Granted, this does not mean the entire religion is flawed, but demonstrates how important balance is within leadership of any organization (religious or other) is. Raised as Jehovah Witness, my friend J married someone in the religion, as recommended. When her husband suddenly left her, the elders in her church (who happened to all be male), judged her. Until her ex-husband admitted to adultery, she was the sinner in the eyes of her congregation - to a certain extent. She was treated differently, judged, and at risk for being excommunicated/disfellowshiped. Basically her support system - family, friends and spiritual foundation - were in jeopardy. Once her ex came forward, she was forgiven though it left an indelible mark on her faith. Understandably so. Granted this is second-hand and biased, but such incidents make me indignant. They reinforce my harsh impressions of most organized religions and my reluctance to get back into a church-going ritual ... ever.
I could go on & on about religion and women's rights, but I'd much rather hear from you. Any thoughts, opinions, comments welcome.
In the meantime, now that there is color in my cheeks and an increase in beats per minute, I'm going to focus this fervor into my essay which is due in nearly 48 hours ... and needs much more work!
Yo Ho Ho ... and a Bottle o' Rum
I just finished Treasure Island. First time ever. It's particularly interesting after seeing Johnny Depp channel Keith Richards in two Pirates of the Caribbean movies, not to mention reading the preface and how so much of the pirate lore we know today is based on Stevenson's novel. Long John Silver and Jim Hawkins are products of this novel.
I can't say I would've ever picked up this book had it not been for J-bo recommending it. I've always considered it a young adult, or rather, young boy, story that would not appeal to me. On the contrary, I really enjoyed it. It's written in bite-sized chapters, each chapter making you want to read the next, and the next, before dozing off.
Also in the past year I have read another classic by Robert Louis Stevenson, equally entertaining and a little creepy ... The Strange Case of Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde. I would highly recommend - I liked it much better than Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, though not sure I can pinpoint the reason. thus raising my expectations ... kind of like hearing all of the early reviews/hype for a movie and then feeling let down once actually seeing it. Perhaps?
Needless to say, all of these suspenseful, strange classics take you out of ordinary life or add a bit of spice to everyday life. These works get me to thinking about my own writing and future creations.
There's something very intriguing about a world different than your own - particularly ones involving hidden treasure, marooned pirates, or scientific experiments gone awry. The fascination and curiosities that result and transport you to other time periods and/or fairly improbable situations (though credible enough so that you wonder what if ...)
I can't say I would've ever picked up this book had it not been for J-bo recommending it. I've always considered it a young adult, or rather, young boy, story that would not appeal to me. On the contrary, I really enjoyed it. It's written in bite-sized chapters, each chapter making you want to read the next, and the next, before dozing off.
Also in the past year I have read another classic by Robert Louis Stevenson, equally entertaining and a little creepy ... The Strange Case of Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde. I would highly recommend - I liked it much better than Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, though not sure I can pinpoint the reason. thus raising my expectations ... kind of like hearing all of the early reviews/hype for a movie and then feeling let down once actually seeing it. Perhaps?
Needless to say, all of these suspenseful, strange classics take you out of ordinary life or add a bit of spice to everyday life. These works get me to thinking about my own writing and future creations.
There's something very intriguing about a world different than your own - particularly ones involving hidden treasure, marooned pirates, or scientific experiments gone awry. The fascination and curiosities that result and transport you to other time periods and/or fairly improbable situations (though credible enough so that you wonder what if ...)
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Aaaaahhhh
Very nice weekend. It felt like it was longer than two days, which was excellent. My buddy Jbo was in town so hung out with her - brunch, shopping, drinks out, etc. Also had really great dates with SDG.
This week MJ comes for a visit, so it's a month of UF reunions. Quality time with some of my dearest friends can't be beat.
Saw "Little Miss Sunshine" - I highly recommend it. Great cast, funny and quirky as hell. It manages that fine balance of addressing serious themes, spiked with large amounts of humor. Plus you can't not love the character Olive and Alan Arkin is great as the grandfather. It reminded me a bit of "The Royal Tenenbaums" in that it's about a dysfunctional family, has some great music, and an ensemble of actors/characters all muddling their way through life. I can't say there are many other parallels but to a certain degree, in spirit, they are similar. And, I'd be interested in seeing both again (and again, eventually).
Also started reading "Treasure Island" by Robert Louis Stevenson for the first time. I'm really enjoying it. After reading a few contemporary books back-to-back about dysfunctional families, societal issues and rather heavy themes ("Geek Love," "Running with Scissors," and "Random Family"), reading about pirates, rum, tropical islands and hidden treasure provides a welcome respite. Although I've had some very odd, vivid dreams after reading a chapter before dozing off. The blind pirate in particular made a rapid leap from the page to my dreams. Creepy dude.
And now it's time to do the practical weekend stuff - laundry, some groceries, etc. Back to the grind manana.
Ta ta.
This week MJ comes for a visit, so it's a month of UF reunions. Quality time with some of my dearest friends can't be beat.
Saw "Little Miss Sunshine" - I highly recommend it. Great cast, funny and quirky as hell. It manages that fine balance of addressing serious themes, spiked with large amounts of humor. Plus you can't not love the character Olive and Alan Arkin is great as the grandfather. It reminded me a bit of "The Royal Tenenbaums" in that it's about a dysfunctional family, has some great music, and an ensemble of actors/characters all muddling their way through life. I can't say there are many other parallels but to a certain degree, in spirit, they are similar. And, I'd be interested in seeing both again (and again, eventually).
Also started reading "Treasure Island" by Robert Louis Stevenson for the first time. I'm really enjoying it. After reading a few contemporary books back-to-back about dysfunctional families, societal issues and rather heavy themes ("Geek Love," "Running with Scissors," and "Random Family"), reading about pirates, rum, tropical islands and hidden treasure provides a welcome respite. Although I've had some very odd, vivid dreams after reading a chapter before dozing off. The blind pirate in particular made a rapid leap from the page to my dreams. Creepy dude.
And now it's time to do the practical weekend stuff - laundry, some groceries, etc. Back to the grind manana.
Ta ta.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Creativity
Last weekend I went to a reception at a local gallery. It was out in commie land but a great venue so worth the trek.
While there, I spoke with one of the artists about her process. She said that she comes up with the title of the painting first, and then paints it. So it's a concept, a witty title, then a creation.
As I flounder around with the art of writing, her process intrigued me. I struggle with the title - it's usually one of the last things I do before submitting it. More like an afterthought than an integral part of the creation. Which made her order all the more intriguing.
Her titles were witty, a bit tongue-in-cheek, and the paintings themselves were humorous commentaries on life.
Obviously there is more than one way to create, and what works for one person may not work for another, but I appreciated gaining a little insight into her process, routine, and seeing the fruits of her labor.
While there, I spoke with one of the artists about her process. She said that she comes up with the title of the painting first, and then paints it. So it's a concept, a witty title, then a creation.
As I flounder around with the art of writing, her process intrigued me. I struggle with the title - it's usually one of the last things I do before submitting it. More like an afterthought than an integral part of the creation. Which made her order all the more intriguing.
Her titles were witty, a bit tongue-in-cheek, and the paintings themselves were humorous commentaries on life.
Obviously there is more than one way to create, and what works for one person may not work for another, but I appreciated gaining a little insight into her process, routine, and seeing the fruits of her labor.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Movies and Votes, Votes and Movies
Just a little political endorsement one week prior to our next local elections.
First of all, please vote in the primaries. Your vote matters!
Secondly, please consider placing your vote for Jeff Smith, Democrat for Senate.
I've known Jeff for years, our fathers are long-time friends. As a kid, Jeff was high-energy - an excellent trait that he's harnessed to power his political campaigns. In 2004, Jeff came a close second to Russ Carnahan. Quite the feat for a 20-something guy with no previous political connections.
His campaigns are grassroots. He's frequently canvassing, door to door, sleeves rolled up and beaming. Leaving Forest Park a few weeks ago on a Saturday afternoon, I saw Jeff canvassing the big homes on Lindell.
He's managed to persuade a self-proclaimed Republican (my father) to support him, because of his beliefs and integrity, not because my Dad has known him since he was a kid.
Anyway, just a little endorsement and background information from yours truly. Please look at Jeff's website and think about voting for him on August 8th.
PS - There's also a documentary on his 2004 run called "Can Mr. Smith Get To Washington Anymore?" at the Tivoli through August 10th.
First of all, please vote in the primaries. Your vote matters!
Secondly, please consider placing your vote for Jeff Smith, Democrat for Senate.
I've known Jeff for years, our fathers are long-time friends. As a kid, Jeff was high-energy - an excellent trait that he's harnessed to power his political campaigns. In 2004, Jeff came a close second to Russ Carnahan. Quite the feat for a 20-something guy with no previous political connections.
His campaigns are grassroots. He's frequently canvassing, door to door, sleeves rolled up and beaming. Leaving Forest Park a few weeks ago on a Saturday afternoon, I saw Jeff canvassing the big homes on Lindell.
He's managed to persuade a self-proclaimed Republican (my father) to support him, because of his beliefs and integrity, not because my Dad has known him since he was a kid.
Anyway, just a little endorsement and background information from yours truly. Please look at Jeff's website and think about voting for him on August 8th.
PS - There's also a documentary on his 2004 run called "Can Mr. Smith Get To Washington Anymore?" at the Tivoli through August 10th.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Truthiness
Quotes of the Week, uttered by VP at Henry's:
"Think how much time we'd waste if we told the truth all the time."
and Steven Colbert:
"I love Wikipedia. Any site that's got a longer entry on 'truthiness' than on Lutherans has its priorities straight."
"Think how much time we'd waste if we told the truth all the time."
and Steven Colbert:
"I love Wikipedia. Any site that's got a longer entry on 'truthiness' than on Lutherans has its priorities straight."
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Message to Class F Drivers
If you drive an earth destroying SUV and cannot efficiently navigate parking lots, for hell's sake please downsize.
It's a win-win all around, trust me.
It's a win-win all around, trust me.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Depends, on the Dog
So I'm dating this new guy. And my pooch, very much accustomed to being the center of attention, is adapting. Several times we've (me and the dog) gone over to his house to visit.
In some ways she's been great - no growling, barking or biting - but in other ways she's expressed a certain level of, let's just say, dissatisfaction.
The first time we were over he couldn't understand why I wouldn't leave Ru (the dog) alone in his house. "What could she do," SDG asked, "it's a bachelor pad?"
I couldn't form the words for a proper response. So Ru responded, 30 minutes into the visit, by squatting on his brand new carpet. Carpet that has never felt canine paws before that night, much less hot liquid sinking into the fibers.
I hadn't expected she would show her disdain by becoming The Urinator. As a deaf-mute, I stood there in disbelief. Right in front of me she had peed. My (allegedly) perfect dog, with that sweet face and calm disposition. My dog, a spoiled dog-child deprived of attention for an entire half hour.
I let her outside to give her the opportunity to void any other materials and then resumed the visit. By the way, SDG was great about it. Not sure I would be as cool if the roles were reversed.
Like clockwork, 30 minutes later, was a repeat performance. This time I managed to utter some words before putting her outside. The Resolve bottle came back out along with the paper towels. My head was about to explode as the two beings I most wanted to get along were striking a few discordant notes.
Fortunately that ended Ru's silent strike on SDG's home. For that visit.
The second visit lasted three whole hours before she wet the carpet. So, it's an improvement and perhaps now it's simply a training phase.
I think we're finally getting it under control. Last week during the power outage we camped out over there in the air conditioning and never needed the Resolve.
Phew. Didn't want to have to choose between dog and man ...
In some ways she's been great - no growling, barking or biting - but in other ways she's expressed a certain level of, let's just say, dissatisfaction.
The first time we were over he couldn't understand why I wouldn't leave Ru (the dog) alone in his house. "What could she do," SDG asked, "it's a bachelor pad?"
I couldn't form the words for a proper response. So Ru responded, 30 minutes into the visit, by squatting on his brand new carpet. Carpet that has never felt canine paws before that night, much less hot liquid sinking into the fibers.
I hadn't expected she would show her disdain by becoming The Urinator. As a deaf-mute, I stood there in disbelief. Right in front of me she had peed. My (allegedly) perfect dog, with that sweet face and calm disposition. My dog, a spoiled dog-child deprived of attention for an entire half hour.
I let her outside to give her the opportunity to void any other materials and then resumed the visit. By the way, SDG was great about it. Not sure I would be as cool if the roles were reversed.
Like clockwork, 30 minutes later, was a repeat performance. This time I managed to utter some words before putting her outside. The Resolve bottle came back out along with the paper towels. My head was about to explode as the two beings I most wanted to get along were striking a few discordant notes.
Fortunately that ended Ru's silent strike on SDG's home. For that visit.
The second visit lasted three whole hours before she wet the carpet. So, it's an improvement and perhaps now it's simply a training phase.
I think we're finally getting it under control. Last week during the power outage we camped out over there in the air conditioning and never needed the Resolve.
Phew. Didn't want to have to choose between dog and man ...
Monday, July 24, 2006
Memoirs
I'm struggling with the blurry line between fiction and non-fiction when it comes to memoirs.
I just read "Running with Scissors." Overall the book was an easy read. I knew the basic plot so the first fifty pages were gripping because I wanted to understand how and why his mother's psychiatrist became his legal guardian. Of course there was plenty of shock value in some of the circumstances but after awhile (perhaps 2/3 of the way into the book) the ridiculousness of his childhood seemed almost mundane. Throwing the hotel bed and tv out the window? Not surprising. Showering with a whole turkey defrosting in bathtub? Mind-numbingly normal.
Today I googled the author. Apparently he's being sued by the Finch family with whom he spent a large part of his childhood. The lawsuit is a bit reminiscent of James Frey, but probably not nearly as controversial or fictitious, I guess.
In my writers group we've talked about writing from personal experience and that fine line with "storying up" life experiences into something more interesting.
I suppose Burroughs did this exact same thing. However he's getting sued and some items, such as the frequent references to how roach-infested filthy the Finch household was (or wasn't) are in contention. Apparently a journalist who visited the Finch home said it wasn't disgustingly dirty. And of course there are bigger allegations that are being scrutinized. Just think it's fascinating. Click here to read an article on the lawsuit.
What I also find interesting is that some of the details in our writing, which stick out like sore thumbs in how ludicrous and unrealistic they seem, are the true, real-life tidbits which were dropped in, as is. Just reinforces the adage that truth is stranger than fiction.
Anyway, I welcome input and comments on fiction vs. non-fiction, and just how accurate memoirs should be. After all, memoire (the French word) means memory, and if it's as you remember it, it can be a helluva lot different than another's recollection...
And in the dictionary, memoir is defined as:
1 - An account of the personal experiences of an author.
2 - An autobiography. Often used in the plural.
3 - A biography or biographical sketch.
I just read "Running with Scissors." Overall the book was an easy read. I knew the basic plot so the first fifty pages were gripping because I wanted to understand how and why his mother's psychiatrist became his legal guardian. Of course there was plenty of shock value in some of the circumstances but after awhile (perhaps 2/3 of the way into the book) the ridiculousness of his childhood seemed almost mundane. Throwing the hotel bed and tv out the window? Not surprising. Showering with a whole turkey defrosting in bathtub? Mind-numbingly normal.
Today I googled the author. Apparently he's being sued by the Finch family with whom he spent a large part of his childhood. The lawsuit is a bit reminiscent of James Frey, but probably not nearly as controversial or fictitious, I guess.
In my writers group we've talked about writing from personal experience and that fine line with "storying up" life experiences into something more interesting.
I suppose Burroughs did this exact same thing. However he's getting sued and some items, such as the frequent references to how roach-infested filthy the Finch household was (or wasn't) are in contention. Apparently a journalist who visited the Finch home said it wasn't disgustingly dirty. And of course there are bigger allegations that are being scrutinized. Just think it's fascinating. Click here to read an article on the lawsuit.
What I also find interesting is that some of the details in our writing, which stick out like sore thumbs in how ludicrous and unrealistic they seem, are the true, real-life tidbits which were dropped in, as is. Just reinforces the adage that truth is stranger than fiction.
Anyway, I welcome input and comments on fiction vs. non-fiction, and just how accurate memoirs should be. After all, memoire (the French word) means memory, and if it's as you remember it, it can be a helluva lot different than another's recollection...
And in the dictionary, memoir is defined as:
1 - An account of the personal experiences of an author.
2 - An autobiography. Often used in the plural.
3 - A biography or biographical sketch.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Summer Storm
So last night we had a big summer storm. Half million homes in St Louis are without power, homes north of interstate 70 are under boil order, and my office, for the first time in 20 years, is closed. Yipee for that though my home has no air co either.
My little old house stayed pretty cool last night - under 80 - and the pooch and I slept well. This afternoon I stopped by again and it's over 80 inside but the old tree and bricks (despite poor insulation) are keeping it fairly cool. Thank heavens I have some dear friends, who have air conditioning - welcoming me & the canine into their homes. This afternoon I'm over at SAB's and we're half-watching some very bad 70s tv on the Game Show Network. My dog has stopped growling/sniffing at her dogs so it's a chillfest for the moment.
Driving around the area last night and today has been interesting. There are huge trees down in my neighborhood - luckily not my old black walnut. Many, many of the stoplights are dark, not even flashing red, traffic is slow going everywhere and trees/branches are down everywhere. It's amazing how short the storm was, but how powerful.
My little old house stayed pretty cool last night - under 80 - and the pooch and I slept well. This afternoon I stopped by again and it's over 80 inside but the old tree and bricks (despite poor insulation) are keeping it fairly cool. Thank heavens I have some dear friends, who have air conditioning - welcoming me & the canine into their homes. This afternoon I'm over at SAB's and we're half-watching some very bad 70s tv on the Game Show Network. My dog has stopped growling/sniffing at her dogs so it's a chillfest for the moment.
Driving around the area last night and today has been interesting. There are huge trees down in my neighborhood - luckily not my old black walnut. Many, many of the stoplights are dark, not even flashing red, traffic is slow going everywhere and trees/branches are down everywhere. It's amazing how short the storm was, but how powerful.
Monday, July 17, 2006
Ode to Poons
It's funny how everyone has their own personal thesaurus of nonsensical nicknames for everyday things.
Of course, there are the terribly common and rather horrid references to private parts, oft used by parents to their kids. These terms are heard, loud and clear, in many a public place. 'Woo woo', 'hoo ha' and 'keester' echo throughout the food aisle at Dierbergs or public restroom at Target, making the non-believer in such tomfoolery cringe.
I like to believe that people graduate from these juvenile repetitions (don't forget 'bo bo'), though many never do. Fortunately my mom started early with the training of the proper references. Granted, I occasionally forgot these terms, but mainly because the birds & bees talk flew over my head and caused me great anguish. For a long time I wouldn't eat eggs for fear of getting pregnant. As a young kid, I knew that I was not yet ready to graduate from caring for my poodle (in a rather haphazard way) to taking on a baby. The egg making a baby visual just left me reeling and my new vocabulary was momentarily lost.
Now, what I think much more interesting are the quietly kept monikers of adults. Those not uttered outside an elite group, hush-hush, and purely goofy. Rarely do these see the light of day to reach outsiders.
For instance, R&J, who are trying to conceive, call their future fetus "Peanut." This slipped out in a conversation so now I'm in on their little joke.
Another friend, while chatting on the phone today, mentioned that she was buying a case of poons online. Her favorite type was no longer available in stores so she was going to stockpile.
Now what is a 'poon'? Is it something found in a Dr. Seuss book? Or insider slang for harpoon?
Well, in addition to being a southern Asian tree (which I just learned), it is slang for a tampon in M's family. Something oh-so-very-original that her father coined, living in a household with four menstrual women.
In my own world, I have seemed to refer to bras as 'arbs' for 25 years. But only to myself - using this when making shopping lists, but never in conversation. Writing this out, I wonder why I did this ... I think because, in those awkward pre-teen years, poons and arbs seemed less embarrassing when referred to in code.
Of course, there are the terribly common and rather horrid references to private parts, oft used by parents to their kids. These terms are heard, loud and clear, in many a public place. 'Woo woo', 'hoo ha' and 'keester' echo throughout the food aisle at Dierbergs or public restroom at Target, making the non-believer in such tomfoolery cringe.
I like to believe that people graduate from these juvenile repetitions (don't forget 'bo bo'), though many never do. Fortunately my mom started early with the training of the proper references. Granted, I occasionally forgot these terms, but mainly because the birds & bees talk flew over my head and caused me great anguish. For a long time I wouldn't eat eggs for fear of getting pregnant. As a young kid, I knew that I was not yet ready to graduate from caring for my poodle (in a rather haphazard way) to taking on a baby. The egg making a baby visual just left me reeling and my new vocabulary was momentarily lost.
Now, what I think much more interesting are the quietly kept monikers of adults. Those not uttered outside an elite group, hush-hush, and purely goofy. Rarely do these see the light of day to reach outsiders.
For instance, R&J, who are trying to conceive, call their future fetus "Peanut." This slipped out in a conversation so now I'm in on their little joke.
Another friend, while chatting on the phone today, mentioned that she was buying a case of poons online. Her favorite type was no longer available in stores so she was going to stockpile.
Now what is a 'poon'? Is it something found in a Dr. Seuss book? Or insider slang for harpoon?
Well, in addition to being a southern Asian tree (which I just learned), it is slang for a tampon in M's family. Something oh-so-very-original that her father coined, living in a household with four menstrual women.
In my own world, I have seemed to refer to bras as 'arbs' for 25 years. But only to myself - using this when making shopping lists, but never in conversation. Writing this out, I wonder why I did this ... I think because, in those awkward pre-teen years, poons and arbs seemed less embarrassing when referred to in code.
Hildy Sighting
Just last week I saw the real Hildy. This was probably the 3rd sighting ever.
This time Hildy was talking to a neighbor and had her gas mask off; it was hanging around her neck. Prostrate.
If I hadn't been a passenger in a car headed somewhere, I would have doubled back. Maybe even parked and passed by on foot. Just for a longer look, an opportunity to soak in the physical being which inspired my conjured up creation.
This time Hildy was talking to a neighbor and had her gas mask off; it was hanging around her neck. Prostrate.
If I hadn't been a passenger in a car headed somewhere, I would have doubled back. Maybe even parked and passed by on foot. Just for a longer look, an opportunity to soak in the physical being which inspired my conjured up creation.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
The Me in We
"Hi. It's me. Call me back."
Simple enough message, very often heard and uttered.
And yet not so much.
Let's just say it's been awhile since I've heard it from someone other than a friend or my father. I think the last male "me" - that lasted beyond a one-off date or two - was involved in the Moby Dick incident of 2002. And as a result of said incident, all ties were severed and the crazy roller coaster relationship fell off the tracks. Which was a good thing. I've never regretted it.
Recently I've dipped my toes into "we-ness" once more and am getting those simple messages again by a Y-chromosomed caller. No other identifier, no proper name.
I could get used to this again.
I think I already am.
Simple enough message, very often heard and uttered.
And yet not so much.
Let's just say it's been awhile since I've heard it from someone other than a friend or my father. I think the last male "me" - that lasted beyond a one-off date or two - was involved in the Moby Dick incident of 2002. And as a result of said incident, all ties were severed and the crazy roller coaster relationship fell off the tracks. Which was a good thing. I've never regretted it.
Recently I've dipped my toes into "we-ness" once more and am getting those simple messages again by a Y-chromosomed caller. No other identifier, no proper name.
I could get used to this again.
I think I already am.
In the Year 2000 (and one)
Five years ago, I had just turned 30 and was:
-single (oh wait, I still am);
-struggling with an undiagnosed and untreated disease that made me feel, at times, 100 years old;
-traveling to Europe a handful of times each year, eating fabulous food and seeing amazing places;
-less "curvy" (aka thinner);
-just starting to get to know the urban family.
-single (oh wait, I still am);
-struggling with an undiagnosed and untreated disease that made me feel, at times, 100 years old;
-traveling to Europe a handful of times each year, eating fabulous food and seeing amazing places;
-less "curvy" (aka thinner);
-just starting to get to know the urban family.
Hiss Hiss
So my friend V is gallivanting around Europe on vacation for two weeks and I've offered to check in on her cat.
I've never been a fan of cats but I've grown to have a healthy respect for the creatures, although I prefer dogs. They're less finicky and fickle compared to their feline friends. My tendency to treat cats like dogs more often than not gets me clawed or nipped.
Anyway, this is the end of week one of trying to keep the cat company. I'm learning - or rather the cat is conditioning my behavior. I haven't been scratched since the first visit, which I consider a measure of success.
My goal for week two is to have the cat sit on my lap. V told me where the 'sweet spot' is on the couch and I've been sitting in it and feeding her cat treats. Just trying to be pals and get the cat to warm up to me. (Boy, this sounds like I really need a life - I'm blogging about my goal and it's about a CAT!)
Anyway, back to the cat. Either she's desperate for some human interaction and decided that I'll just have to suffice, or I'm growing on her. Guessing it's the former, she's just tolerating me as a temporary replacement and reserving the right to be aloof and cranky at any time.
Which is why I have my unconditional canine.
Dogs rule.
I've never been a fan of cats but I've grown to have a healthy respect for the creatures, although I prefer dogs. They're less finicky and fickle compared to their feline friends. My tendency to treat cats like dogs more often than not gets me clawed or nipped.
Anyway, this is the end of week one of trying to keep the cat company. I'm learning - or rather the cat is conditioning my behavior. I haven't been scratched since the first visit, which I consider a measure of success.
My goal for week two is to have the cat sit on my lap. V told me where the 'sweet spot' is on the couch and I've been sitting in it and feeding her cat treats. Just trying to be pals and get the cat to warm up to me. (Boy, this sounds like I really need a life - I'm blogging about my goal and it's about a CAT!)
Anyway, back to the cat. Either she's desperate for some human interaction and decided that I'll just have to suffice, or I'm growing on her. Guessing it's the former, she's just tolerating me as a temporary replacement and reserving the right to be aloof and cranky at any time.
Which is why I have my unconditional canine.
Dogs rule.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
A Small, Good Thing
Tonight at the DG meeting we discussed two stories by Raymond Carver. I'd never read his work before but am now a big fan of his writing. In fact I think we all were impressed with his concise, powerful tales.
One thing that really resonated with me during our conversation tonight about these two stories was said by CoE ... that in moments of loss, of losing a loved one, often the best comfort comes from an unlikely source. It's not from your parents, your family, your relatives or closest friends but instead a random connection with a stranger that often soothes the soul.
Maybe it's just that universal sense of loss mixed with meeting someone new - at the right time, right place - that makes all the difference. . . along with the fact that you probably will never see them again, may not even know their first name, that makes it so powerful.
One thing that really resonated with me during our conversation tonight about these two stories was said by CoE ... that in moments of loss, of losing a loved one, often the best comfort comes from an unlikely source. It's not from your parents, your family, your relatives or closest friends but instead a random connection with a stranger that often soothes the soul.
Maybe it's just that universal sense of loss mixed with meeting someone new - at the right time, right place - that makes all the difference. . . along with the fact that you probably will never see them again, may not even know their first name, that makes it so powerful.
Geek Love
I've recently started another voracious book reading cycle. I've had a break the past few months, instead reading random magazines and short stories. But now I seem to be back on the wagon - reading before I go to bed and sometimes trying to sneak in another chapter before work. The latest book, which was nominated for a National Book Award in the 1980s, was Geek Love.
It was on loan from my friend R who let me borrow it a year or two ago. It's been a bit of a challenge as when she offered it up last year she mentioned that I'd declined it in the past. So of course I decided to take another stab at it and these past two weeks have been engrossed in the book.
I think that I expected it to be a cross between Pretty in Pink and Less Than Zero.
It's not.
It's odd. A bit like watching a horrible accident and the aftermath. But pretty much a page turner.
Did you know that the word "geek" originates from the carnival world? I didn't. Apparently it's the person who does gross things like biting off chicken heads as entertainment. I guess you could say the "geek" is the precursor to Ozzy Osbourne's live bat gig on stage. . .
I like how the author deals with very common themes - family issues - but in a very unique way. The parents are 'norms' who willingly abuse alcohol, drugs and other toxic substances to breed the next generation of carny performers. The offspring and the family dynamics form the core of the story in such a bizarre way. It's horrible, but inventive.
I can't say I loved it. And I do think at times the author changed perspectives and lost me a little as to who was narrating at the time.
But if nothing else, it was certainly original. It left an impression. I'm glad I don't know anyone like Arty but would've liked to have known Chick.
If anyone else comes across this post and has read it - please share your comments. I'm very curious to hear other's impressions and to discuss further.
It was on loan from my friend R who let me borrow it a year or two ago. It's been a bit of a challenge as when she offered it up last year she mentioned that I'd declined it in the past. So of course I decided to take another stab at it and these past two weeks have been engrossed in the book.
I think that I expected it to be a cross between Pretty in Pink and Less Than Zero.
It's not.
It's odd. A bit like watching a horrible accident and the aftermath. But pretty much a page turner.
Did you know that the word "geek" originates from the carnival world? I didn't. Apparently it's the person who does gross things like biting off chicken heads as entertainment. I guess you could say the "geek" is the precursor to Ozzy Osbourne's live bat gig on stage. . .
I like how the author deals with very common themes - family issues - but in a very unique way. The parents are 'norms' who willingly abuse alcohol, drugs and other toxic substances to breed the next generation of carny performers. The offspring and the family dynamics form the core of the story in such a bizarre way. It's horrible, but inventive.
I can't say I loved it. And I do think at times the author changed perspectives and lost me a little as to who was narrating at the time.
But if nothing else, it was certainly original. It left an impression. I'm glad I don't know anyone like Arty but would've liked to have known Chick.
If anyone else comes across this post and has read it - please share your comments. I'm very curious to hear other's impressions and to discuss further.
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