Well, I’m sure I’m not alone when I say that it was tough to go back to work today, after a nice, long, holiday weekend. I spent my 4th of July in Candler with the family. Though our activities mostly involved eating, I was still able to learn lots of things on my trip home. I decided to blog about all the things I learned, each day. Here we go.
Thursday: In which I drive from Atlanta to Candler, eat at Mellow Mushroom with my brothers and go to a Jenny Lewis concert with my brother George.
I learned that…..
….Atlanta traffic is not that bad if you get to leave work at 1 p.m.
…..Ronde the cat is still impossibly cute
…..Tiki the cat is still rather grumpy when I am around
…..my brother William is starting to look and act eerily like my father.
…..waitresses who show up for their Mellow Mushroom shift directly after “gardening” are often too spacey to be very effective in serving.
…..the Mellow Mushroom in Asheville was out of nearly every local beer.
…..my brother William has some frightening sort of mojo or reverse psychology that can make me agree to eating Hawaiian pizza when I really want to eat White Pizza.
…….it’s better to just compromise and order two pizzas, particularly if one of the pizzas is a White pizza.
….short people who are pissy about having to stand behind taller people at a concert should get to the concert earlier
....the Heartless Bastards are a good opening band, and the lead singer of that band looks like a Muppet.
….a new stylish look, as worn by Jenny Lewis, is a cut-up white t-shirt with a black bra underneath.
….Tecate is a tasty beer suitable for performers, as evidenced by Jenny Lewis’s enthusiasm for it.
…..Jenny Lewis posters are nigh-impossible to get, as they sold out just before I was able to buy one for my brother, and none of the staff members were willing to get the one out of the locked marquee for us.
Friday: I ate coffee cake, cold cuts and chicken, went shopping with my parents and sat on the porch.
I learned that……
….Sara Lee coffee cake is delicious
…..I might be allergic to Ronde the kitten
….shopping for dishwashers is difficult
….dishwasher salesmen might be creepier than car salesmen
….trying on hats at antique stores is fun
….if Hardee’s is out of lids for their medium-sized cups, they will upgrade you to a large.
…..a large soda at Hardee’s is way more soda than any person has a right to drink
…..sitting out on the porch, in weather that was at least ten degrees cooler than Atlanta, is delightful.
….Ronde can climb trees
……my mom used to win roller-skating competitions and win a giant Hershey’s bar for her efforts
….if you let the boys cook, they will come up with something delicious, thus meaning that they should always cook while the ladies sip drinks on the proch
…3 adults can easily polish off 3 bottles of wine.
Saturday: A day to celebrate America by eating and watching things.
I learned that….
…..Tecate is more delicious than I remembered. Thanks for the tip, Jenny Lewis.
…..pierogies with spicy seasoning cooked on the grill are delicious
….how to make ribs from my brother’s father-in-law. Sorta.
…the renovated movie theater on Hendersonville road is awesome, because it has all these big comfy couches and footrests.
…The Hangover is an immensely funny movie
…..when you hear a rustling in trees near the house, it’s best to assume that it’s a bear.
…fireworks that emit a loud boom without also emitting any beautiful sparkles are awful fireworks and should not even be sold.
…..there was much I did not know about our nation’s first sixteen presidents, thanks to the History Channel’s marathon of “The Presidents.”
….the History Channel thinks that Jimmy Carter succeeded Abraham Lincoln in the presidency, if the way they ordered the episodes of “The Presidents” is any indication.
….I get too tired to stay up til 4 a.m. to watch the entirety of any television marathon, even if it is about the presidents.
Sunday: I ate some things, read some stuff, and drove back to Atlanta.
I learned that….
…..my mom can make a mean breakfast sandwich
….the show “Rome Reports” is a must if you like popes, and if you get that channel about Catholics, which my parents do.
….reading “Infinite Jest” while your parents watch the Wimbledon finals is kind of weird.
…ribs are delicious
…..it’s best to shower after you eat ribs
….though you may be expecting heavy traffic on the last day of a holiday weekend, it won’t come in the spots that you expect.
Showing posts with label events. Show all posts
Showing posts with label events. Show all posts
Monday, July 6, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
Book #9: The Brothers Karamazov
It’s commencement season, which means that pretty much every day there’s another picture of a celebrity or a dignitary getting a fake diploma and giving a speech. One day I hope to do something that gets me invited to speak at a graduation, even if it’s just a preschool graduation. I’m not picky.
Well, I had a graduation of sorts this week, but there were no fancy speakers for me. For the past seven weeks, I have been dutifully attending two classes at Emory at night. Not real classes, but personal enrichment or continuing ed or whatever they call it when nerds want to go back to school but not so badly that they go to graduate school. One of my classes was Introduction to Pilates, and the other was a literature class on “The Brothers Karamazov” by Fyodor Dostoevsky. The classes just came to a close, but rather than a diploma, I get slightly more toned abs and the satisfaction of having read a literary masterpiece. In this blog, I intend to discuss the latter.
Though I have made my way through epic Tolstoy books, reading Dostoevsky has always intimidated me, I guess because I see him as so much darker and twisty than Tolstoy. So I was very eager to take this class to be guided through the process. If you wonder why I haven’t blogged terribly much lately, it’s because reading such a long book in seven weeks takes up a lot of your spare time. Still, the class definitely helped me notice some things that I don’t know that I would have noticed otherwise.
This book, as you might guess, is about a family named Karamazov. The dad, Fyodor, is a real asshole. He has four sons by three women, if you count the son that is illegitimate and never fully claimed by Fyodor, which most people do. That illegitimate son was born to a mentally handicapped homeless woman who died after giving birth, which should tell you something about this guy’s character.
If you could made a line graph of the human psyche, with one side representing enlightenment and the other side representing meanness, with various degrees of selfishness and hopefulness in the middle, then each of the brothers would fall in various places. The “good” one is Alyosha, and our class spent a lot of time discussing him because the professor believed that he was the model by which people should strive to live their lives. He lives his best life, to borrow a term from Oprah, because he doesn’t judge, he doesn’t covet and he doesn’t destroy himself the way the others do. The rest are too blinded by their desires and their shortcomings.
We spent a lot of time discussing ego vs. real self, with real self being a somewhat perfect state of grace in which life could be peaceful, creative and whole, and the ego being seduced by illusions, alienation, fear, guilt and manipulation. I hesitate to write too much more about it, though, because I got the sense that this was the basis for our professor’s next book. I don’t want to get sued. The last time I wrote a book review the author commented on the blog, after all. While Dostoevsky might be dead, my professor isn't.
During the class, the professor kept talking so seriously about “good literature,” with the type of conviction that makes you believe good literature is so amazing and transformative that it could make a person give birth to a duck. Therefore, we spent a lot of time discussing what lessons Dostoevsky was trying to teach through his “good literature.” Still, for all our lectures on philosophy, psychology and religion, and the external vs. the internal, and morality and free will, and the nature of transformation, and everything else in the world that is “heavy,” this is a very enjoyable, readable book. As one of my classmates said, it reads like a soap opera, what with its love triangles, its murders and its poignant deathbed scenes.
Overall, I enjoyed this book and even though I was skeptical of my professor sometimes, I think it did make me into a better person, or at least one who notices more often which way the path to better personhood is pointed. In conclusion, I am glad I read this book in a class that was just for fun, as opposed to a class where I might have actually had to write a paper on it, because just writing this non-complex blog entry made my head hurt.
Well, I had a graduation of sorts this week, but there were no fancy speakers for me. For the past seven weeks, I have been dutifully attending two classes at Emory at night. Not real classes, but personal enrichment or continuing ed or whatever they call it when nerds want to go back to school but not so badly that they go to graduate school. One of my classes was Introduction to Pilates, and the other was a literature class on “The Brothers Karamazov” by Fyodor Dostoevsky. The classes just came to a close, but rather than a diploma, I get slightly more toned abs and the satisfaction of having read a literary masterpiece. In this blog, I intend to discuss the latter.
Though I have made my way through epic Tolstoy books, reading Dostoevsky has always intimidated me, I guess because I see him as so much darker and twisty than Tolstoy. So I was very eager to take this class to be guided through the process. If you wonder why I haven’t blogged terribly much lately, it’s because reading such a long book in seven weeks takes up a lot of your spare time. Still, the class definitely helped me notice some things that I don’t know that I would have noticed otherwise.
This book, as you might guess, is about a family named Karamazov. The dad, Fyodor, is a real asshole. He has four sons by three women, if you count the son that is illegitimate and never fully claimed by Fyodor, which most people do. That illegitimate son was born to a mentally handicapped homeless woman who died after giving birth, which should tell you something about this guy’s character.
If you could made a line graph of the human psyche, with one side representing enlightenment and the other side representing meanness, with various degrees of selfishness and hopefulness in the middle, then each of the brothers would fall in various places. The “good” one is Alyosha, and our class spent a lot of time discussing him because the professor believed that he was the model by which people should strive to live their lives. He lives his best life, to borrow a term from Oprah, because he doesn’t judge, he doesn’t covet and he doesn’t destroy himself the way the others do. The rest are too blinded by their desires and their shortcomings.
We spent a lot of time discussing ego vs. real self, with real self being a somewhat perfect state of grace in which life could be peaceful, creative and whole, and the ego being seduced by illusions, alienation, fear, guilt and manipulation. I hesitate to write too much more about it, though, because I got the sense that this was the basis for our professor’s next book. I don’t want to get sued. The last time I wrote a book review the author commented on the blog, after all. While Dostoevsky might be dead, my professor isn't.
During the class, the professor kept talking so seriously about “good literature,” with the type of conviction that makes you believe good literature is so amazing and transformative that it could make a person give birth to a duck. Therefore, we spent a lot of time discussing what lessons Dostoevsky was trying to teach through his “good literature.” Still, for all our lectures on philosophy, psychology and religion, and the external vs. the internal, and morality and free will, and the nature of transformation, and everything else in the world that is “heavy,” this is a very enjoyable, readable book. As one of my classmates said, it reads like a soap opera, what with its love triangles, its murders and its poignant deathbed scenes.
Overall, I enjoyed this book and even though I was skeptical of my professor sometimes, I think it did make me into a better person, or at least one who notices more often which way the path to better personhood is pointed. In conclusion, I am glad I read this book in a class that was just for fun, as opposed to a class where I might have actually had to write a paper on it, because just writing this non-complex blog entry made my head hurt.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
a night at the ballet
On Friday night, to celebrate Children’s Book Week, I headed off to see the Atlanta Ballet perform a literary-inspired work, Don Quixote. Well, it wasn’t only to celebrate Children’s Book Week; I’d had the tickets for weeks. But it felt like an apt way to observe the event, because there were a lot of children there, and it was literary inspired.
Though the ballet is called Don Quixote, the man himself plays a very minor role; while he does make a half-hearted dash at a windmill, he mostly sits on the sidelines and watches other people dance. My theory on this is that if he did dance, people would get all the songs from the musical “Man of La Mancha” stuck in their heads. Cause I for one know that I was subconsciously listening for songs from that fine film when the orchestra started playing.
So, Don Quixote doesn’t dance. He leaves that to the young whippersnappers Kitri and Basilio, who are madly in love and must express this emotion through DANCING. So dance they do, all through three acts. But sometimes their dancing is foiled by Gamache, described in my program as a wealthy fop, who, from my seat, somewhat resembled Austin Scarlett from Project Runway Season 1. Gamache is good comic relief, as was Sancho Panza, as were the little girls who were seated three rows in front of us who were clearly enjoying a night in their fancy dresses. There was one girl, wearing this green sparkly dress, and I wondered of her, if this is what she wears to the ballet when she’s 12, what will she wear to the prom when she’s 17? But I digress.
In the first act of this ballet, all the dancing takes place in a marketplace, which is a convenient setting because there’s lots of reasons why lots of people would wander through a marketplace and suddenly feel compelled to DANCE. In this act, I was somewhat uncomfortable watching the dancers who went up on their toes, and I kept thinking, “NO! You’ll ruin your feet, pretty girl! Please stop dancing like that!” but by the end of the ballet, I was more like, “Get up on your toes and dance for me, dancing monkey!”
After the marketplace, action moved to a gypsy camp, where Kitri and Basilio get the blessing of some gypsies who read their palms to get married, and they head off-stage to do some private dancing, one imagines. Don Quixote makes a feeble stab at a windmill which so immediately exhausts him that he must fall to sleep at once and have a beautiful dream of dryads and little cupids dancing.
When he wakes up, it’s time to go to the tavern where Kitri and Basilio manage to get rid of that Gamache through ingenious means and then they get married. Marriage is symbolized in ballet by a lot of beautiful dancing, to the point that I made a mental note that I must get ballerinas for my wedding. It would be ideal if I could get the girl who played Kitri cause she was amazing. Seriously, it was an immensely beautiful scene and if all the little children who were at the performance didn’t leave with a burning desire to read Don Quixote at once, then they at least left with the unrealistic dream that they should become ballerinas. Or maybe that was just me.
Well, while I haven’t seen a ton of ballets in my day, I must say that this was definitely the best one I’ve ever seen. The costumes were beautiful, the sets were amazing, the music was fantastic and all the tiny little dancers gave it their all. In the case of Basilio, I say that quite literally cause he was wearing nude tights at one point and you could definitely see everything.
Though the ballet is called Don Quixote, the man himself plays a very minor role; while he does make a half-hearted dash at a windmill, he mostly sits on the sidelines and watches other people dance. My theory on this is that if he did dance, people would get all the songs from the musical “Man of La Mancha” stuck in their heads. Cause I for one know that I was subconsciously listening for songs from that fine film when the orchestra started playing.
So, Don Quixote doesn’t dance. He leaves that to the young whippersnappers Kitri and Basilio, who are madly in love and must express this emotion through DANCING. So dance they do, all through three acts. But sometimes their dancing is foiled by Gamache, described in my program as a wealthy fop, who, from my seat, somewhat resembled Austin Scarlett from Project Runway Season 1. Gamache is good comic relief, as was Sancho Panza, as were the little girls who were seated three rows in front of us who were clearly enjoying a night in their fancy dresses. There was one girl, wearing this green sparkly dress, and I wondered of her, if this is what she wears to the ballet when she’s 12, what will she wear to the prom when she’s 17? But I digress.
In the first act of this ballet, all the dancing takes place in a marketplace, which is a convenient setting because there’s lots of reasons why lots of people would wander through a marketplace and suddenly feel compelled to DANCE. In this act, I was somewhat uncomfortable watching the dancers who went up on their toes, and I kept thinking, “NO! You’ll ruin your feet, pretty girl! Please stop dancing like that!” but by the end of the ballet, I was more like, “Get up on your toes and dance for me, dancing monkey!”
After the marketplace, action moved to a gypsy camp, where Kitri and Basilio get the blessing of some gypsies who read their palms to get married, and they head off-stage to do some private dancing, one imagines. Don Quixote makes a feeble stab at a windmill which so immediately exhausts him that he must fall to sleep at once and have a beautiful dream of dryads and little cupids dancing.
When he wakes up, it’s time to go to the tavern where Kitri and Basilio manage to get rid of that Gamache through ingenious means and then they get married. Marriage is symbolized in ballet by a lot of beautiful dancing, to the point that I made a mental note that I must get ballerinas for my wedding. It would be ideal if I could get the girl who played Kitri cause she was amazing. Seriously, it was an immensely beautiful scene and if all the little children who were at the performance didn’t leave with a burning desire to read Don Quixote at once, then they at least left with the unrealistic dream that they should become ballerinas. Or maybe that was just me.
Well, while I haven’t seen a ton of ballets in my day, I must say that this was definitely the best one I’ve ever seen. The costumes were beautiful, the sets were amazing, the music was fantastic and all the tiny little dancers gave it their all. In the case of Basilio, I say that quite literally cause he was wearing nude tights at one point and you could definitely see everything.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
crawl back under my stone
Last night I went to see Richard Thompson in concert at the Variety Playhouse. It was an absolutely stunning show…just the man and his guitar, playing some of my favorite songs. Recently my dad said that I had never been good at playing the piano because I couldn’t get the messages from my head to my fingers fast enough. Seemed particularly harsh, particularly since that was 10 years ago. But watching RT play, it’s hard not to be amazed at how fast his fingers move. It’s like the messages start down there or something. I don’t know. I don’t play guitar so I can’t say.
Watching the show, I marveled again at how lucky I am to live in Atlanta and have access to the Variety Playhouse, which is probably my favorite place to see a show. I could have never seen Richard Thompson in Seattle because he would have played someplace with jacked up Ticketmaster tickets. The Variety is a fun place with big-name acts that’s general admission. I’ve always been able to walk right in and get right up by the stage. It’s much more intimate than anywhere I ever went in Seattle and for less than what I would have paid there. But in thinking about that, I couldn’t help but realize that there are a lot of things in Seattle that don’t have equivalents in Atlanta that I really miss. Like:
The Seattle Public Library
I’ve waxed rhapsodic about this place before, I’m sure. And I don’t miss the books, because you can get books anywhere, and I don’t miss the movies, because I have Netflix now. But I sure do miss a library system that really invests in music. I heard so much good music by borrowing library cd’s in Seattle. That’s how I heard Richard Thompson, in fact. I feel like I can’t keep up with music as well without spending an arm and a leg here in Atlanta. Speaking of which….
Easy Street Records
This was a music store in my old neighborhood that I absolutely adored, particularly because they had so many indie, off the radar cds for cheap. Plus they had a ton of listening stations, and a pretty sweet rewards program. Even if I never bought much (since I also had the library at my disposal), it was an awesome place to while away a Saturday afternoon. As was:
Half-Price Books
Okay, this is a chain, but I love it. Talk about a good way to spend a Saturday afternoon…browsing bookshelves that have a better selection than Barnes & Noble but for half the price. Not to mention all the $1 and $2 mass market paperbacks. I mean, I don’t need any more books for the duration of my life. But that was a fun place to go for just looking at books.
Coffeeshops
This one is my fault, because I haven’t been trying very many new coffeeshops lately. And of course Seattle is the granddaddy of coffeeshops and you can’t duplicate that experience. But even the duddiest of coffeeshops there beats any of the ones I’ve tried here. But I will try more! That’s a new resolution.
Happy hour specials
I read somewhere recently that happy hour specials are technically illegal in Atlanta. And whether that’s true or not, it certainly feels that way. Gone are the days of $2 cocktails and $3 appetizers from 4-6 pm.
My gym
I always enjoyed going to my old gym. Affordable, good classes, nice equipment, DVD players on machines, right on the way home from work. Who would ever thought I’d miss a gym? But I do.
Riding the bus to work
I don’t always miss this. I love the convenience of driving to work and running errands on the way home if I need to. I certainly don’t miss being stuck on a slow bus or waiting for a bus that never seemed to come. But I do miss all that spare reading time.
Mountain and water scenery
Seattle was pretty.
And of course, the people I knew out there.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not itching to move back there all of a sudden. I could easily do a list of things Atlanta has that Seattle doesn’t, and I’m very happy here. All the same, I do miss these things, after about a year-and-a-half of being gone.
Watching the show, I marveled again at how lucky I am to live in Atlanta and have access to the Variety Playhouse, which is probably my favorite place to see a show. I could have never seen Richard Thompson in Seattle because he would have played someplace with jacked up Ticketmaster tickets. The Variety is a fun place with big-name acts that’s general admission. I’ve always been able to walk right in and get right up by the stage. It’s much more intimate than anywhere I ever went in Seattle and for less than what I would have paid there. But in thinking about that, I couldn’t help but realize that there are a lot of things in Seattle that don’t have equivalents in Atlanta that I really miss. Like:
The Seattle Public Library
I’ve waxed rhapsodic about this place before, I’m sure. And I don’t miss the books, because you can get books anywhere, and I don’t miss the movies, because I have Netflix now. But I sure do miss a library system that really invests in music. I heard so much good music by borrowing library cd’s in Seattle. That’s how I heard Richard Thompson, in fact. I feel like I can’t keep up with music as well without spending an arm and a leg here in Atlanta. Speaking of which….
Easy Street Records
This was a music store in my old neighborhood that I absolutely adored, particularly because they had so many indie, off the radar cds for cheap. Plus they had a ton of listening stations, and a pretty sweet rewards program. Even if I never bought much (since I also had the library at my disposal), it was an awesome place to while away a Saturday afternoon. As was:
Half-Price Books
Okay, this is a chain, but I love it. Talk about a good way to spend a Saturday afternoon…browsing bookshelves that have a better selection than Barnes & Noble but for half the price. Not to mention all the $1 and $2 mass market paperbacks. I mean, I don’t need any more books for the duration of my life. But that was a fun place to go for just looking at books.
Coffeeshops
This one is my fault, because I haven’t been trying very many new coffeeshops lately. And of course Seattle is the granddaddy of coffeeshops and you can’t duplicate that experience. But even the duddiest of coffeeshops there beats any of the ones I’ve tried here. But I will try more! That’s a new resolution.
Happy hour specials
I read somewhere recently that happy hour specials are technically illegal in Atlanta. And whether that’s true or not, it certainly feels that way. Gone are the days of $2 cocktails and $3 appetizers from 4-6 pm.
My gym
I always enjoyed going to my old gym. Affordable, good classes, nice equipment, DVD players on machines, right on the way home from work. Who would ever thought I’d miss a gym? But I do.
Riding the bus to work
I don’t always miss this. I love the convenience of driving to work and running errands on the way home if I need to. I certainly don’t miss being stuck on a slow bus or waiting for a bus that never seemed to come. But I do miss all that spare reading time.
Mountain and water scenery
Seattle was pretty.
And of course, the people I knew out there.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not itching to move back there all of a sudden. I could easily do a list of things Atlanta has that Seattle doesn’t, and I’m very happy here. All the same, I do miss these things, after about a year-and-a-half of being gone.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Technology: good or evil?
I haven’t blogged in a few days, as you may have noticed. It’s because I’ve been having a very hard time with technology as of late. My work computer basically exploded and I didn’t want to take any chances with my home computer. Plus, all I had to talk about was how much I hated technology, which seemed sort of awkward to discuss on a blog. Because blogs depend on technology.
But this weekend, my brother George and my sister-in-law Courtney came to visit me in Atlanta. I figured that George would provide a counterpoint to my technology emotions, because he recently bit the bullet and got a Blackberry and he loves it. In fact, he even told me at one point about how he might do a guest blog about how much he loves his Blackberry.
But after this weekend, that post might be a little longer in coming. George almost threw his Blackberry out the car window on Friday. In preparation for the drive down to Atlanta, they had put Mapquest directions on the device, and had done extensive Atlanta research about attractions. Having loaded the Blackberry with directions, ideas and their dreams, they headed off on Friday morning, hoping to be in Atlanta in time to go to the aquarium while I was at work.
However, only 20 minutes into the trip, they began to question the directions that the Internet had given them. Apparently the highway they were on had at least five names. An hour later, things were even more dire, when they pulled off to the side of the road and were utterly failed by technology. Neither Blackberry nor cell phone nor laptop loaded with Verizon Wireless card could give them directions. They questioned man’s dependence on technology, and they questioned whether they had it in them to avoid a homicide-suicide scenario. Perhaps you think I’m exaggerating, but I can’t tell you how many times George mentioned the words “homicide-suicide” later that night.
After driving for three hours yet barely making a dent on the map, they finally got pointed in the right direction, via the low-tech method of calling one’s parents. Shaken, they went to Burger King and Starbucks to recover. Important to note: though technology had screwed them over so badly, they still used a laptop and a Nintendo DS while replenishing themselves with iced coffees. So they are quick to forgive, probably a good trait for married people.
After seven hours on the road, they finally reached Atlanta, which is only about four hours away. They met me, and of course I was anti-technology. But the night’s events didn’t require any technology. We went to the Sweetwater Brewery and enjoyed many delicious hoppy and malty beverages, which have been around since time began, no fancy technology needed. Then we went to George’s, which has the most delicious hamburgers in Atlanta and doesn’t need no stinkin’ technology to make them. Then we went to bars, and drank, and didn’t need any internet advice on how to do that, though perhaps George and I should have reviewed some online rules about whether liquor or beer should be consumed first. We did watch some television, though I don’t think that can even be considered technology anymore, because it’s not like I have high-def or HD tv (though I am covered under the analog switch, thank God. George just went on a rant about those commercials. Commercials represent evil technology).
However, as the weekend went on, we couldn’t deny that we did rely on technology to have fun and receive useful information. For example, George took photos throughout the weekend which we uploaded to Facebook via his Blackberry, so that’s a nice little documentation of our time together. Additionally, we decided to eat at the most delicious Chinese restaurant the other night, which we never would have found without the help of online reviews supported by the ability to view menus online. That really facilitated the choice between Chinese and Japanese cuisine. We enjoyed electricity. We had philosophical conversation about what technology even means. We’re blogging. I have the luxury of writing this from my air mattress because of wireless internet. So perhaps we shouldn’t write off technology just yet. But just know, technology, that I have my eye on you.
But this weekend, my brother George and my sister-in-law Courtney came to visit me in Atlanta. I figured that George would provide a counterpoint to my technology emotions, because he recently bit the bullet and got a Blackberry and he loves it. In fact, he even told me at one point about how he might do a guest blog about how much he loves his Blackberry.
But after this weekend, that post might be a little longer in coming. George almost threw his Blackberry out the car window on Friday. In preparation for the drive down to Atlanta, they had put Mapquest directions on the device, and had done extensive Atlanta research about attractions. Having loaded the Blackberry with directions, ideas and their dreams, they headed off on Friday morning, hoping to be in Atlanta in time to go to the aquarium while I was at work.
However, only 20 minutes into the trip, they began to question the directions that the Internet had given them. Apparently the highway they were on had at least five names. An hour later, things were even more dire, when they pulled off to the side of the road and were utterly failed by technology. Neither Blackberry nor cell phone nor laptop loaded with Verizon Wireless card could give them directions. They questioned man’s dependence on technology, and they questioned whether they had it in them to avoid a homicide-suicide scenario. Perhaps you think I’m exaggerating, but I can’t tell you how many times George mentioned the words “homicide-suicide” later that night.
After driving for three hours yet barely making a dent on the map, they finally got pointed in the right direction, via the low-tech method of calling one’s parents. Shaken, they went to Burger King and Starbucks to recover. Important to note: though technology had screwed them over so badly, they still used a laptop and a Nintendo DS while replenishing themselves with iced coffees. So they are quick to forgive, probably a good trait for married people.
After seven hours on the road, they finally reached Atlanta, which is only about four hours away. They met me, and of course I was anti-technology. But the night’s events didn’t require any technology. We went to the Sweetwater Brewery and enjoyed many delicious hoppy and malty beverages, which have been around since time began, no fancy technology needed. Then we went to George’s, which has the most delicious hamburgers in Atlanta and doesn’t need no stinkin’ technology to make them. Then we went to bars, and drank, and didn’t need any internet advice on how to do that, though perhaps George and I should have reviewed some online rules about whether liquor or beer should be consumed first. We did watch some television, though I don’t think that can even be considered technology anymore, because it’s not like I have high-def or HD tv (though I am covered under the analog switch, thank God. George just went on a rant about those commercials. Commercials represent evil technology).
However, as the weekend went on, we couldn’t deny that we did rely on technology to have fun and receive useful information. For example, George took photos throughout the weekend which we uploaded to Facebook via his Blackberry, so that’s a nice little documentation of our time together. Additionally, we decided to eat at the most delicious Chinese restaurant the other night, which we never would have found without the help of online reviews supported by the ability to view menus online. That really facilitated the choice between Chinese and Japanese cuisine. We enjoyed electricity. We had philosophical conversation about what technology even means. We’re blogging. I have the luxury of writing this from my air mattress because of wireless internet. So perhaps we shouldn’t write off technology just yet. But just know, technology, that I have my eye on you.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
i could have danced all night
Man oh man. What an Inauguration Day. We got to take a little pause from work and watch the swearing-in and the speeches. People in the office broke into applause after Obama took the oath of office and then you could have heard a pin drop while Obama gave his speech. What a moment.
But now I am home and on the couch and watching all the commentators re-live the day. And the Obamas are going to TEN balls! I would be happy just to go to one ball in a big poofy dress but they are going to TEN! So I decided to make a list ten balls that I would like to go to:
1. Pope Ball
This would be a ball held in Vatican City. The Pope sits in a chair and watches everyone dance. All the males have to come dressed as their favorite pope. Or they get assigned a pope, because we don't want everyone coming as just John Paul II or something. Maybe it would be creepy to dance with a man dressed as a pope; after all, they are supposed to be celibate. But I think I would get over it. Requested attire: Big poofy dress of the type wore in the Renaissance.
2. Southern Belle Ball
By this I mean a ball that takes place in the south. I know I live in Atlanta, so it's not inconceivable that I could go to such a ball one day. But I'd like the ball to take place in pre-Civil War times, ideally. I am pretty much modeling this idea on a few scenes in Gone with the Wind. Requested attire: Big poofy dress of the type worn in the pre-war south.
3. Underwater Ball
I keep hearing about these snazzy restaurants where you eat in enclosed glass while fish swim all around you. This would be a ball like that. Where you dance in glass surrounded by fish. But only pretty fish. No scary fish. Nothing like eels or anything. Requested attire: Whatever dress you want.
4. Art Museum Ball
I was thinking of some awesome art museums in Europe that would be fun to have a party in. So just a ball where people get to run around in an art museum. Particularly one with sculpture all around. And you can say things like, "Darling, go get me a class of wine and I will wait for you by the Monet." Requested attire: an outfit that has actually been in a painting.
5. Castle Ball
I guess this is sort of obvious. But what would really make this ideal is if we still lived in the kind of world where there was really a chance of meeting a prince and becoming princess and have it mean something. If there was still really that stress of producing male heirs to continue the monarchy. I can't decide what time period I'd want, or even what monarchy I want to marry into. But basically a big ol' royalty ball.
6. North Pole Ball
This would be an outside ball. It would be all snowy, but not uncomfortably cold. There are a ton of elves, both male and female, so that you always have someone to dance with. Santa dances with all the ladies. You get presents at this ball. You arrive at this ball in a sleigh. I know these aren't Christmas per se, but if some adorable creatures could scamper around during the dancing, that would be ideal.
7. Cheese Ball
Picture a huge cheese wheel. Like the hugest cheese wheel you've ever seen. Now picture it 29384093840293840 percent bigger…so big that we could carve out the middle of it and have a circular cheese wall big enough for people to dance in. At the ball they would serve the cheese that was carved out of the middle, but it would also be encouraged to just take pieces of cheese from the wall. Cause the ball is not over until all of the cheese walls are eaten. Requested attire: a big poofy dress that is loose enough to accommodate you eating a lot of cheese.
8. Roller skating ball
You know how fun it is to wear a huge poofy dress? And you know how fun it is to roller skate? Well, COMBINE THE TWO and you have a roller skating ball.
9. Amusement Park Ball
You can dance all over the amusement park. OR YOU CAN RIDE ALL THE RIDES. Also all the concession stands are free during the ball so you can eat lots of hot dogs and funnel cakes.
10. White House Ball
But this isn't an inaugural ball. Oh no. This is a ball where all the dead presidents appear and dance with the living. You can chat them up about what they think about the country now and they try to offer you snacks that were typical of their time. Lincoln would be a total playa at this ball and would always be trying to show the ladies the Lincoln Bedroom.
But now I am home and on the couch and watching all the commentators re-live the day. And the Obamas are going to TEN balls! I would be happy just to go to one ball in a big poofy dress but they are going to TEN! So I decided to make a list ten balls that I would like to go to:
1. Pope Ball
This would be a ball held in Vatican City. The Pope sits in a chair and watches everyone dance. All the males have to come dressed as their favorite pope. Or they get assigned a pope, because we don't want everyone coming as just John Paul II or something. Maybe it would be creepy to dance with a man dressed as a pope; after all, they are supposed to be celibate. But I think I would get over it. Requested attire: Big poofy dress of the type wore in the Renaissance.
2. Southern Belle Ball
By this I mean a ball that takes place in the south. I know I live in Atlanta, so it's not inconceivable that I could go to such a ball one day. But I'd like the ball to take place in pre-Civil War times, ideally. I am pretty much modeling this idea on a few scenes in Gone with the Wind. Requested attire: Big poofy dress of the type worn in the pre-war south.
3. Underwater Ball
I keep hearing about these snazzy restaurants where you eat in enclosed glass while fish swim all around you. This would be a ball like that. Where you dance in glass surrounded by fish. But only pretty fish. No scary fish. Nothing like eels or anything. Requested attire: Whatever dress you want.
4. Art Museum Ball
I was thinking of some awesome art museums in Europe that would be fun to have a party in. So just a ball where people get to run around in an art museum. Particularly one with sculpture all around. And you can say things like, "Darling, go get me a class of wine and I will wait for you by the Monet." Requested attire: an outfit that has actually been in a painting.
5. Castle Ball
I guess this is sort of obvious. But what would really make this ideal is if we still lived in the kind of world where there was really a chance of meeting a prince and becoming princess and have it mean something. If there was still really that stress of producing male heirs to continue the monarchy. I can't decide what time period I'd want, or even what monarchy I want to marry into. But basically a big ol' royalty ball.
6. North Pole Ball
This would be an outside ball. It would be all snowy, but not uncomfortably cold. There are a ton of elves, both male and female, so that you always have someone to dance with. Santa dances with all the ladies. You get presents at this ball. You arrive at this ball in a sleigh. I know these aren't Christmas per se, but if some adorable creatures could scamper around during the dancing, that would be ideal.
7. Cheese Ball
Picture a huge cheese wheel. Like the hugest cheese wheel you've ever seen. Now picture it 29384093840293840 percent bigger…so big that we could carve out the middle of it and have a circular cheese wall big enough for people to dance in. At the ball they would serve the cheese that was carved out of the middle, but it would also be encouraged to just take pieces of cheese from the wall. Cause the ball is not over until all of the cheese walls are eaten. Requested attire: a big poofy dress that is loose enough to accommodate you eating a lot of cheese.
8. Roller skating ball
You know how fun it is to wear a huge poofy dress? And you know how fun it is to roller skate? Well, COMBINE THE TWO and you have a roller skating ball.
9. Amusement Park Ball
You can dance all over the amusement park. OR YOU CAN RIDE ALL THE RIDES. Also all the concession stands are free during the ball so you can eat lots of hot dogs and funnel cakes.
10. White House Ball
But this isn't an inaugural ball. Oh no. This is a ball where all the dead presidents appear and dance with the living. You can chat them up about what they think about the country now and they try to offer you snacks that were typical of their time. Lincoln would be a total playa at this ball and would always be trying to show the ladies the Lincoln Bedroom.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
get me to the church on time (because it will be very crowded)
If it’s true that we eat our feelings, then I guess I ate lots and lots of joy last weekend. That is when my cousin Mary Henry married my new cousin-in-law Brad at Kanuga. I am pretty happy about this arrangement, to the point that if anyone had objected during the ceremony, even as a joke (something I often daydream of doing), I would have fought that person right then and there. Especially if that person was my arch-nemesis.
Yes, I managed to acquire a new arch-nemesis at the wedding, even though the whole festivities only lasted a weekend. Hey. What can I say. You get on my bad side and you are dead to me. But let’s not dwell on the negative. Let’s dwell on the positive. The most positive thing was that Mary Henry and Brad got married.
The second most postive thing was that there was a TON of food. For the rehearsal dinner on Friday night, there were specialities from Buffalo, NY, which is where Brad’s family is from, including hot dogs, roast beef and wings. As well as two kinds of cake! Then, on Saturday morning, my side of the family had sausage biscuits from Bojangle’s because we couldn’t wait til 10 am for brunch. Then we had the just mentioned brunch; I had french toast with strawberry topping, sausage and egg bites and bacon, among other things.
Then a few hours later was the reception, where I feasted on spinach and artichoke dip, meatballs, ham biscuits, cheese straws, cheese and cake. I had more than one piece of cake at the reception, for which my first cousin once-removed Sophie chastised me, but I pointed out that she didn’t have much of a case because she was eating sugar straight from the packet at the time. I guess that was just a snack to tide her over before dinner, which included roast beef, chicken, potatoes, green beans, and salad..and that’s just what I remember. And poundcake with fruit for dessert.
Then the next day we had a breakfast that included eggs, biscuits with sausage gravy and also sausage on the side. There was a lot of sausage. And that’s not even including all the food there was in the hospitality suite, which is where my family hung out between mealtimes. In the hospitaly suite there were goodies including cookies, pretzels, M&Ms, cheese straws and spinach dip. As I said before, I ate lots and lots of joy this weekend.
But the wedding weekend wasn’t all about food, of course. It was also about drinking. My brother William showed up with his custom beer pong table, and many a good game was had, including one monumental game that had three overtimes. At one point my cousins and I ran upstairs to Brad’s family’s hospitality suite and took them on in a game of flip cup, which we won, thanks to a little bit of cheating. I would like to take this opportunity to say that I was not aware that I was cheating at the time. I was just unsure what the game was.
This was a multi-keg wedding, but that doesn’t mean that there weren’t wine and spirits as well. And the younger folks had lemonade and soda available, but what they really loved was water. That’s because they played water pong for most of the weekend. Stylistically, water pong is very similar to beer pong, but the scoring is much different, particularly if you play against a child. Children tend to give themselves half-points for a lot of things, such as being close and for cool throws. At one point I was down 7 ½ to nothing despite the fact that I had gotten several balls into cups and my opponent had gotten no balls into no cups. But such is life.
Other than eating and drinking, I guess there was the wedding itself. That was an extremely nice event that is too difficult to explain in blog format. But everyone looked wonderful and everyone in the whole chapel cried, but in a good way, and everyone was very happy to be there.
I’m trying to think if anything happened that didn’t involve eating or drinking or a wedding ceremony but I’m coming up with very few examples. I took a nap. My cousin Worth played music. I looked at the pictures my first cousin once removed Maggie drew. We all played with Baby Sarah. I conspired against my arch-nemesis. Mainly, though, I think I will remember the eating. And so will my waistline.
Yes, I managed to acquire a new arch-nemesis at the wedding, even though the whole festivities only lasted a weekend. Hey. What can I say. You get on my bad side and you are dead to me. But let’s not dwell on the negative. Let’s dwell on the positive. The most positive thing was that Mary Henry and Brad got married.
The second most postive thing was that there was a TON of food. For the rehearsal dinner on Friday night, there were specialities from Buffalo, NY, which is where Brad’s family is from, including hot dogs, roast beef and wings. As well as two kinds of cake! Then, on Saturday morning, my side of the family had sausage biscuits from Bojangle’s because we couldn’t wait til 10 am for brunch. Then we had the just mentioned brunch; I had french toast with strawberry topping, sausage and egg bites and bacon, among other things.
Then a few hours later was the reception, where I feasted on spinach and artichoke dip, meatballs, ham biscuits, cheese straws, cheese and cake. I had more than one piece of cake at the reception, for which my first cousin once-removed Sophie chastised me, but I pointed out that she didn’t have much of a case because she was eating sugar straight from the packet at the time. I guess that was just a snack to tide her over before dinner, which included roast beef, chicken, potatoes, green beans, and salad..and that’s just what I remember. And poundcake with fruit for dessert.
Then the next day we had a breakfast that included eggs, biscuits with sausage gravy and also sausage on the side. There was a lot of sausage. And that’s not even including all the food there was in the hospitality suite, which is where my family hung out between mealtimes. In the hospitaly suite there were goodies including cookies, pretzels, M&Ms, cheese straws and spinach dip. As I said before, I ate lots and lots of joy this weekend.
But the wedding weekend wasn’t all about food, of course. It was also about drinking. My brother William showed up with his custom beer pong table, and many a good game was had, including one monumental game that had three overtimes. At one point my cousins and I ran upstairs to Brad’s family’s hospitality suite and took them on in a game of flip cup, which we won, thanks to a little bit of cheating. I would like to take this opportunity to say that I was not aware that I was cheating at the time. I was just unsure what the game was.
This was a multi-keg wedding, but that doesn’t mean that there weren’t wine and spirits as well. And the younger folks had lemonade and soda available, but what they really loved was water. That’s because they played water pong for most of the weekend. Stylistically, water pong is very similar to beer pong, but the scoring is much different, particularly if you play against a child. Children tend to give themselves half-points for a lot of things, such as being close and for cool throws. At one point I was down 7 ½ to nothing despite the fact that I had gotten several balls into cups and my opponent had gotten no balls into no cups. But such is life.
Other than eating and drinking, I guess there was the wedding itself. That was an extremely nice event that is too difficult to explain in blog format. But everyone looked wonderful and everyone in the whole chapel cried, but in a good way, and everyone was very happy to be there.
I’m trying to think if anything happened that didn’t involve eating or drinking or a wedding ceremony but I’m coming up with very few examples. I took a nap. My cousin Worth played music. I looked at the pictures my first cousin once removed Maggie drew. We all played with Baby Sarah. I conspired against my arch-nemesis. Mainly, though, I think I will remember the eating. And so will my waistline.
Monday, December 29, 2008
a day in the life
One thing I sorta pride myself on is that my blog doesn't have too much diary-format stuff, as in "I did this, then I did this, and this person made me mad and here's what I did after that." That tends to get boring after awhile and I prefer to focus on weirder small parts of my life. I think everyone would quickly see how boring my everyday life is. But when you're going for a goal, you gotta try everything. So here is what my blog would be like if it was more about my real life:
Dear Diary,
Today I woke up at 5:55 a.m. Since the alarm was set for 6, I figured I'd snooze for five minutes but that was a bad idea because then I ended up pushing snooze three more times. I should have just gotten up when I woke up.
I pulled on my exercise clothes and went to the little apartment gym to exercise for an hour. I did the stationary bike and read Atlanta magazine and Rolling Stone magazine. I don't recall reading anything particularly earth-shaking. Then it was off to shower and get ready for work. I ended up wearing a black long-sleeved t-shirt with a magenta puffy vest. Since so many people are off this week for the holidays, I figured it didn't matter if I was uber casual at work.
For breakfast, I had waffles. I know I am always writing to you, Diary, about the waffles I eat, but it actually turns out that I haven't had them in quite awhile because they haven't been on sale at Kroger lately. It was good to have them again. I grabbed my stuff for work and left, which was kinda difficult because I haven't unpacked anything from Christmas break yet. I hope my mom doesn't read this diary entry, because she would probably frown on that!
I drove to work and the trip was pretty uneventful. I got there early, at like 8:30 a.m. I made some coffee with hot chocolate as is my wont and settled down to catch up on emails and blogs and to see where I was work-wise. As I predicted, not many people were in the office today so it was peaceful and quiet. My Monday morning meeting was canceled, which gave me an extra 30 minutes to work. I reviewed an earlier draft of an article I'm working on, then did a little bit of research, then wrote the last page of it. Then I started working on listing all the sources I used for the article. There were a lot!
By this time I was pretty hungry so I went to the break room to fix my lunch, which was chicken fried rice as prepared by the kind folks at Lean Cuisine. While the microwave worked its magic, I talked to a co-worker about how much I hate that Lexus commercial with the woman who gets a pony for Christmas then grows up to get a Lexus. My lunch was very hot so I had to wait a bit to eat it. Also I had a Cherry Coke Zero. They haven't been stocking Diet Cherry Coke lately which is my preference. As you know, Diary.
I sent the article to my editor, then I started researching my next article, which has to do with shipping pets. By late afternoon, all that researching had made me pretty hungry again, so I made a single-serving bag of popcorn. While the popcorn popped I talked to a coworker about hot air popcorn poppers and how they are better, but I probably should have listened more closely to the popcorn, because wouldn't you know, it burned! I smelled like burnt popcorn the rest of the day. Oh well.
I left work at 5 and the commute was super easy, because it is usually super easy if you leave the office before 5:15. I don't know why the commute gets worse as it gets darker. But it does. When I got home I called up a friend and chatted on the phone for awhile. Then I fixed another Lean Cuisine for dinner, which means boy oh boy did I get a lot of sodium today! I read some of "Middlemarch" and then changed clothes for yoga class.
I walked down to yoga and it was generally a good class. Apparently I am starting to do something weird with my knees in certain poses, where I just sink into the joint. In a bad way. So the teacher told me to watch that. After class the yoga teacher told us some anecdotes from her recent trip to India for the guru's birthday. It sounded nice.
Then I walked back home and took a shower. Yes, that puts the shower count at 2 today, but that means I will have less to do in the morning. Now I am writing this blog and listening to my Ipod. Right now the Beatles are playing. I have a cousin who knows Ringo. After I finish this blog entry I will probably draft up tomorrow's picture of the day and then maybe read some "Middlemarch." It was a very busy day, Diary, but a pretty productive one. I think these short work weeks with long holiday weekends agrees with me.
Talk to you tomorrow, Diary.
XOXO,
Molly
Dear Diary,
Today I woke up at 5:55 a.m. Since the alarm was set for 6, I figured I'd snooze for five minutes but that was a bad idea because then I ended up pushing snooze three more times. I should have just gotten up when I woke up.
I pulled on my exercise clothes and went to the little apartment gym to exercise for an hour. I did the stationary bike and read Atlanta magazine and Rolling Stone magazine. I don't recall reading anything particularly earth-shaking. Then it was off to shower and get ready for work. I ended up wearing a black long-sleeved t-shirt with a magenta puffy vest. Since so many people are off this week for the holidays, I figured it didn't matter if I was uber casual at work.
For breakfast, I had waffles. I know I am always writing to you, Diary, about the waffles I eat, but it actually turns out that I haven't had them in quite awhile because they haven't been on sale at Kroger lately. It was good to have them again. I grabbed my stuff for work and left, which was kinda difficult because I haven't unpacked anything from Christmas break yet. I hope my mom doesn't read this diary entry, because she would probably frown on that!
I drove to work and the trip was pretty uneventful. I got there early, at like 8:30 a.m. I made some coffee with hot chocolate as is my wont and settled down to catch up on emails and blogs and to see where I was work-wise. As I predicted, not many people were in the office today so it was peaceful and quiet. My Monday morning meeting was canceled, which gave me an extra 30 minutes to work. I reviewed an earlier draft of an article I'm working on, then did a little bit of research, then wrote the last page of it. Then I started working on listing all the sources I used for the article. There were a lot!
By this time I was pretty hungry so I went to the break room to fix my lunch, which was chicken fried rice as prepared by the kind folks at Lean Cuisine. While the microwave worked its magic, I talked to a co-worker about how much I hate that Lexus commercial with the woman who gets a pony for Christmas then grows up to get a Lexus. My lunch was very hot so I had to wait a bit to eat it. Also I had a Cherry Coke Zero. They haven't been stocking Diet Cherry Coke lately which is my preference. As you know, Diary.
I sent the article to my editor, then I started researching my next article, which has to do with shipping pets. By late afternoon, all that researching had made me pretty hungry again, so I made a single-serving bag of popcorn. While the popcorn popped I talked to a coworker about hot air popcorn poppers and how they are better, but I probably should have listened more closely to the popcorn, because wouldn't you know, it burned! I smelled like burnt popcorn the rest of the day. Oh well.
I left work at 5 and the commute was super easy, because it is usually super easy if you leave the office before 5:15. I don't know why the commute gets worse as it gets darker. But it does. When I got home I called up a friend and chatted on the phone for awhile. Then I fixed another Lean Cuisine for dinner, which means boy oh boy did I get a lot of sodium today! I read some of "Middlemarch" and then changed clothes for yoga class.
I walked down to yoga and it was generally a good class. Apparently I am starting to do something weird with my knees in certain poses, where I just sink into the joint. In a bad way. So the teacher told me to watch that. After class the yoga teacher told us some anecdotes from her recent trip to India for the guru's birthday. It sounded nice.
Then I walked back home and took a shower. Yes, that puts the shower count at 2 today, but that means I will have less to do in the morning. Now I am writing this blog and listening to my Ipod. Right now the Beatles are playing. I have a cousin who knows Ringo. After I finish this blog entry I will probably draft up tomorrow's picture of the day and then maybe read some "Middlemarch." It was a very busy day, Diary, but a pretty productive one. I think these short work weeks with long holiday weekends agrees with me.
Talk to you tomorrow, Diary.
XOXO,
Molly
Friday, December 26, 2008
Church Christmas Pageant: A Review
My family goes to church on Christmas eve. For the past few years, we’ve gone to the late service which starts at 10 pm, but you have to get there an hour beforehand. It is a lovely service but there has been some concern recently that the start time is a little late for some more elderly family members who would like to get home and go to bed. So this year we decided to go to the earlier service, at 4 pm, which doubles as the children’s Christmas pageant.
Now, I have to explain to you about me and this church Christmas pageant. When I was a little kid, I just delighted in the Christmas pageant. How it worked was this: one of the older kids read the Christmas story, while the other older kids went through the church and asked kids if they’d like to play a part. Then the kid got dressed right then and there and ran up and took his or her place in the Nativity scene. Of course, every little girl’s dream is to play the Virgin Mary, but there are many other good parts for girls, including angels and lambs. And truth be told, in a pinch, I would have played a Wise Man or a shepherd. For the baby Jesus. To me, the fun was in the surprise of not knowing if you would get picked, and then experiencing the thrill of getting picked.
Well, apparently the powers-that-be decided to do away with that thrill, and assign parts. I heard one reason was that parents were upset that children they dragged to church Sunday after Sunday didn’t get choice roles, while children who were just Christmas/Easter people were showing up and getting good parts. To this I say bah humbug, because imagine if you only went to church twice a year, and then one day you show up and a person says, here why don’t you do something? That would get me a lot more interested in a church, and perhaps persuade me to get my parents to bring me back, then showing up once a year and watching other kids do something without me.
But for whatever reason, I was not consulted on the decision, and I vowed to forever boycott the soul-sucking scene that was a pre-arranged Nativity play. Now years and years had gone by, and I decided to keep an open mind about it at this 4 pm service. I also decided to review the pageant for you, my dear readers.
Though I was not issued a press pass beforehand, I entered the room where the children were being assembled because I know people. There, I was threatened by Debbie that I better give this pageant a good review because she reads the blog and she knows my mother. Luckily, my journalistic integrity and objectivity is too great to be compromised by such threats.
My mother talked with another woman about her daughter’s smocked dress because at big premieres like this, it’s always important to find out what other people are wearing.
Then I was shown to my seat, which to tell the truth was only mediocre for a member of the working press. Small children sang songs, allegedly to get me into the Christmas spirit, but I did not find the songs very joyful. One song was about how all the little children should come to Bethlehem. On the one hand, that was not very inclusive because there were many adults there, and on the other hand, I don’t think small children should be wandering about the middle east on their own, for there is much violence in the area.
Then the service started. As usual with church services, there was a procession into the church, but because of the pageant, the characters processed also, wearing their costumes. I took the opportunity to note that the girl playing the Virgin Mary was wearing sparkling red Converse sneakers. Interesting choice. Following the Holy Family was an angel carrying a doll. This angel, instead of being filled with heavenly joy at carrying the Christ Child, spent the procession shooting dirty, dirty looks at the shepherd that was also accompanying the couple, perhaps because the shepherd was playing a little fast and loose with his staff.
Now, in my day, the Christmas pageant seemed to be read more or less directly from the Bible, and as source materials go, I think that’s a pretty good one. However, for this performance, the powers-that-be decided to go with an adaptation by one Jerome Berryman, who is an Episcopal priest who developed this entire Sunday School curriculum. Well, Godly Play wasn’t developed til after my time so I can’t vouch for its success in Sunday School. But I must tell you, this Christmas pageant was found lacking, script-wise, in this reviewer’s opinion.
The story at the heart of any Nativity scene is a simple and beautiful one. Yet Jerome Berryman, apparently never having seen the Charlie Brown Christmas special that celebrated the simplicity, decided to spice it up a little bit with flowery language and superfluous, speculative details. Berryman goes to great lengths to describe the town of Bethlehem, including a lot of information of animals. We are told that “donkeys chew their barley and broken straw while weary cows lean and rest at the end of the day. Sheep nearby are almost asleep. Doves coo in the rafters.” Then, after those lines, Berryman insists, “All is still and quiet in the little town.” BUT WHAT ABOUT THE DOVES COOING AND THE DONKEYS CHEWING ON WHATEVER THEY CAN GET THEIR PAWS ON, JEROME???? HOW CAN IT BE STILL AND QUIET IF THAT IS GOING ON????
I feel the narrator of the pageant was hindered by these lines. At one point, she was supposed to say, “They are Joseph and Mary from Nazareth!” but she really didn’t sell me on that exclamation mark, apparently because she knew that she had more crazy crap to plow through. Mary and Joseph decide to sleep in the stables, represented by a simple stage. To this reviewer, Joseph looked a little too smug for a guy whose wife was carrying a baby not his own and Mary looked a little too perky for a young woman about to give birth in a stable.
This play included an odd dramatization of childbirth. After the lines that tell us that Mary had already wrapped the baby up and put it into the “feed box” (I guess Berryman found “manger” too complicated a concept), an angel came up the aisle to deliver the baby to the couple. The angel, freed from the company of that crazy shepherd, was no less surly.
More and more children made their way to the scene in a midst of ridiculous lines. Animals were there; I thought one boy was playing a chicken but my brother told me later it was supposed to be a dove. “Shepherds watching their shadowy sheep” came, even though I’m not quite sure how the sheep were shadowy in the dark. The wise kings came, “following the wild star, the destiny they had never seen before, and they are following it.” That’s a real line. I didn’t change it at all. But it wasn’t my favorite description of the wise men, which was this: “Their restlessness rests at last.”
As I observed the children find their spots, I thought they looked a bit bored. They were playing roles they knew they were going to play for weeks, and if they were spontaneously picked, it’s possible they might have looked a little bit more freaked out, which I think is probably how most people were that night. It’s a more “Method” way of doing things.
But then something happened that warmed my heart a little bit and converted me on this concept ever so slightly (not Berryman’s script, just the concept). At the end of the play, the narrator says some psychobabble about how the children should bring their gifts of stars to the Christ Child. And then, there were these golden stars on sticks that were handed out to all the children in the congregation who wanted one. And all those children with their stars surrounding the Nativity scene was in fact very beautiful.
So, the Nativity play was, in some ways, like it used to be, because everyone got to participate by holding a star. And maybe it’s okay if you know beforehand whether you’ll play Mary or an angel or a wise man, so you don’t freak out too much over your part or worry you’ll be passed over. But all I know is that the Nativity play needs a new script, and I have verbal contracts with the children and youth directors as well as the priest to write a new one.
Sadly, I probably won’t ever see my script performed, as my family and I decided that the Christmas pageant was something to be experienced only every couple of years. It’s just far too loud in comparison to the later service, which is more dignified and elegant. Still, I am glad I went to this one, and I give the children and staff behind Nativity 2008 credit for overcoming the ridiculous script. Again, I should note it’s only the silly script I found ridiculous, not the actual biblical story of the event. Don’t mess with a winner is all I’m saying.
Now, I have to explain to you about me and this church Christmas pageant. When I was a little kid, I just delighted in the Christmas pageant. How it worked was this: one of the older kids read the Christmas story, while the other older kids went through the church and asked kids if they’d like to play a part. Then the kid got dressed right then and there and ran up and took his or her place in the Nativity scene. Of course, every little girl’s dream is to play the Virgin Mary, but there are many other good parts for girls, including angels and lambs. And truth be told, in a pinch, I would have played a Wise Man or a shepherd. For the baby Jesus. To me, the fun was in the surprise of not knowing if you would get picked, and then experiencing the thrill of getting picked.
Well, apparently the powers-that-be decided to do away with that thrill, and assign parts. I heard one reason was that parents were upset that children they dragged to church Sunday after Sunday didn’t get choice roles, while children who were just Christmas/Easter people were showing up and getting good parts. To this I say bah humbug, because imagine if you only went to church twice a year, and then one day you show up and a person says, here why don’t you do something? That would get me a lot more interested in a church, and perhaps persuade me to get my parents to bring me back, then showing up once a year and watching other kids do something without me.
But for whatever reason, I was not consulted on the decision, and I vowed to forever boycott the soul-sucking scene that was a pre-arranged Nativity play. Now years and years had gone by, and I decided to keep an open mind about it at this 4 pm service. I also decided to review the pageant for you, my dear readers.
Though I was not issued a press pass beforehand, I entered the room where the children were being assembled because I know people. There, I was threatened by Debbie that I better give this pageant a good review because she reads the blog and she knows my mother. Luckily, my journalistic integrity and objectivity is too great to be compromised by such threats.
My mother talked with another woman about her daughter’s smocked dress because at big premieres like this, it’s always important to find out what other people are wearing.
Then I was shown to my seat, which to tell the truth was only mediocre for a member of the working press. Small children sang songs, allegedly to get me into the Christmas spirit, but I did not find the songs very joyful. One song was about how all the little children should come to Bethlehem. On the one hand, that was not very inclusive because there were many adults there, and on the other hand, I don’t think small children should be wandering about the middle east on their own, for there is much violence in the area.
Then the service started. As usual with church services, there was a procession into the church, but because of the pageant, the characters processed also, wearing their costumes. I took the opportunity to note that the girl playing the Virgin Mary was wearing sparkling red Converse sneakers. Interesting choice. Following the Holy Family was an angel carrying a doll. This angel, instead of being filled with heavenly joy at carrying the Christ Child, spent the procession shooting dirty, dirty looks at the shepherd that was also accompanying the couple, perhaps because the shepherd was playing a little fast and loose with his staff.
Now, in my day, the Christmas pageant seemed to be read more or less directly from the Bible, and as source materials go, I think that’s a pretty good one. However, for this performance, the powers-that-be decided to go with an adaptation by one Jerome Berryman, who is an Episcopal priest who developed this entire Sunday School curriculum. Well, Godly Play wasn’t developed til after my time so I can’t vouch for its success in Sunday School. But I must tell you, this Christmas pageant was found lacking, script-wise, in this reviewer’s opinion.
The story at the heart of any Nativity scene is a simple and beautiful one. Yet Jerome Berryman, apparently never having seen the Charlie Brown Christmas special that celebrated the simplicity, decided to spice it up a little bit with flowery language and superfluous, speculative details. Berryman goes to great lengths to describe the town of Bethlehem, including a lot of information of animals. We are told that “donkeys chew their barley and broken straw while weary cows lean and rest at the end of the day. Sheep nearby are almost asleep. Doves coo in the rafters.” Then, after those lines, Berryman insists, “All is still and quiet in the little town.” BUT WHAT ABOUT THE DOVES COOING AND THE DONKEYS CHEWING ON WHATEVER THEY CAN GET THEIR PAWS ON, JEROME???? HOW CAN IT BE STILL AND QUIET IF THAT IS GOING ON????
I feel the narrator of the pageant was hindered by these lines. At one point, she was supposed to say, “They are Joseph and Mary from Nazareth!” but she really didn’t sell me on that exclamation mark, apparently because she knew that she had more crazy crap to plow through. Mary and Joseph decide to sleep in the stables, represented by a simple stage. To this reviewer, Joseph looked a little too smug for a guy whose wife was carrying a baby not his own and Mary looked a little too perky for a young woman about to give birth in a stable.
This play included an odd dramatization of childbirth. After the lines that tell us that Mary had already wrapped the baby up and put it into the “feed box” (I guess Berryman found “manger” too complicated a concept), an angel came up the aisle to deliver the baby to the couple. The angel, freed from the company of that crazy shepherd, was no less surly.
More and more children made their way to the scene in a midst of ridiculous lines. Animals were there; I thought one boy was playing a chicken but my brother told me later it was supposed to be a dove. “Shepherds watching their shadowy sheep” came, even though I’m not quite sure how the sheep were shadowy in the dark. The wise kings came, “following the wild star, the destiny they had never seen before, and they are following it.” That’s a real line. I didn’t change it at all. But it wasn’t my favorite description of the wise men, which was this: “Their restlessness rests at last.”
As I observed the children find their spots, I thought they looked a bit bored. They were playing roles they knew they were going to play for weeks, and if they were spontaneously picked, it’s possible they might have looked a little bit more freaked out, which I think is probably how most people were that night. It’s a more “Method” way of doing things.
But then something happened that warmed my heart a little bit and converted me on this concept ever so slightly (not Berryman’s script, just the concept). At the end of the play, the narrator says some psychobabble about how the children should bring their gifts of stars to the Christ Child. And then, there were these golden stars on sticks that were handed out to all the children in the congregation who wanted one. And all those children with their stars surrounding the Nativity scene was in fact very beautiful.
So, the Nativity play was, in some ways, like it used to be, because everyone got to participate by holding a star. And maybe it’s okay if you know beforehand whether you’ll play Mary or an angel or a wise man, so you don’t freak out too much over your part or worry you’ll be passed over. But all I know is that the Nativity play needs a new script, and I have verbal contracts with the children and youth directors as well as the priest to write a new one.
Sadly, I probably won’t ever see my script performed, as my family and I decided that the Christmas pageant was something to be experienced only every couple of years. It’s just far too loud in comparison to the later service, which is more dignified and elegant. Still, I am glad I went to this one, and I give the children and staff behind Nativity 2008 credit for overcoming the ridiculous script. Again, I should note it’s only the silly script I found ridiculous, not the actual biblical story of the event. Don’t mess with a winner is all I’m saying.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Well, I have to find a new job now.
Argh. Posting a photo of the magic phone did not work as a warning the way I'd hoped. What I wanted was that phone to remind me that I should not get too drunk, so that Santa and my elementary school teachers and the Baby Jesus would not be disappointed in me. Also so I would not embarrass myself in front of my coworkers. Unfortunately posting that picture did not work AT ALL. And now I can't go back to work on Monday because too many people know what I look like when I throw up. Woe is me.
On the plus side, the chances are now much smaller that I will embarrass myself at the company Christmas party, because surely it will be another four months before I'm ready to drink alcohol again. That is a positive development, because even though all the ladies magazines say not to get too drunk at the company holiday party, and even though I always that was over-obvious advice, I still managed to do that at two office holiday parties. But that is a story for another blog.
Today's Picture of the Day is of a food item that I will never eat again. Trader Joe's Spring Onion Rice Noodle Soup Bowl. I ate this last night for dinner, and I enjoyed it, even though it had too much sodium. But I did not enjoy it when it came back up. Without getting too graphic, let's just say that at one point I thought, Jesus Christ, why did I eat something with so many tiny little noodles? And that's kind of impressive, because it's not like I was having that many coherent thoughts.
Now I will try to clean my apartment. I will scrub and scrub, yet I will be unable to remove the shame.
On the plus side, the chances are now much smaller that I will embarrass myself at the company Christmas party, because surely it will be another four months before I'm ready to drink alcohol again. That is a positive development, because even though all the ladies magazines say not to get too drunk at the company holiday party, and even though I always that was over-obvious advice, I still managed to do that at two office holiday parties. But that is a story for another blog.
Today's Picture of the Day is of a food item that I will never eat again. Trader Joe's Spring Onion Rice Noodle Soup Bowl. I ate this last night for dinner, and I enjoyed it, even though it had too much sodium. But I did not enjoy it when it came back up. Without getting too graphic, let's just say that at one point I thought, Jesus Christ, why did I eat something with so many tiny little noodles? And that's kind of impressive, because it's not like I was having that many coherent thoughts.
Now I will try to clean my apartment. I will scrub and scrub, yet I will be unable to remove the shame.Monday, December 1, 2008
the man responsible for half my genes
Friday November 28 was my dad's birthday! So while my brothers tried to grill some meat so that it wasn't bleeding (it took more attempts than usual), I sat down to interview my father about the mysteries of life:
Molly: How old are you today?
Dad: 59.
Molly: How does that make you feel?
Dad: Feels good.
Molly: What did you today?
Dad: I took the cat to the vet, then did a little bit of shopping. Had a fun time with my family.
Molly: What was your best birthday ever?
Dad: Except for taking the cat to the vet, this was a pretty good one.
Molly: What was your worst birthday?
Dad: My 11th birthday, no doubt about it. My brother broke my football, blew up my football too much, threw me on the ground and spit on me.
Molly: Did you retaliate?
Dad: No, he was too big.
Molly: Do you think he tries to compensate now by sending you excess presents? (Molly's note: earlier in the evening, we all watched while Dad opened up present after present from our uncle, which made the one present each that we got him look kind of puny. But the presents were awesome)
Dad: I don't know. You'll have to talk to his psychiatrist.
Molly: What is your favorite birthday dessert?
Dad: Pie or cake.
Molly: I'm going to have to ask you to be more specific?
Dad: Well, usually chocolate cake but I wanted shoofly pie for this birthday.
Molly: Can you explain the appeal of shoofly pie? It seems kind of gross to me.
Dad: I have good memories of eating shoofly pie. And I haven't had it now in like, 30 years.
(Molly's note: At this point in the interview, Mom and Dad discuss just how long it might have been since Dad ate shoofly pie. I say that I remember eating shoofly pie at some point at my grandmother's, so I don't think it's been 30 years. Then there's a discussion of how this pie might differ from my grandmother's. There's a bit of discussion of whether the white stuff (basically sugar and flour) looks right. Dad thinks that if I made him a shoofly pie then maybe I will make him Indian pudding for Christmas but I tell him that we've just gotta take things one step at a time.)
Molly: For my next question, I'd like to test your short-term memory in light of your advancing age. Can you tell me what we did one year ago today?
Dad: Watched a football game?
Molly: Nope
(the guessing goes on for quite awhile)
Molly: You had to work. Then we went to Applebee's with the people from your office for lunch (I was living at home at the time and working at the office). Then we went shopping. Then we went to O'Charley's for dinner because you wanted prime rib, but they only serve prime rib on Sunday nights, and it wasn't a Sunday.
Dad: Sounds like a pretty good birthday!
Molly: Okay, next question about the possibility of your memory loss. What was the picture on the birthday card that I gave you last year?
Dad: Hillary Clinton? George Bush?
Molly: here's a hint: I hand-drew the card.
Dad: I don't remember.
Molly: It was a life jacket.
Dad: Oh.
Molly: How do you feel about losing your memory, as evidenced by the last two questions?
Dad: I don’t look at it as losing my memory. I can remember the overall good experience of the birthday. I was with my family and I had a good time.
Molly: What was your favorite birthday of mine?
Dad: When you were one, we would ask you how old you were and you would hold up one finger. You had no hair and all day long you wore a yellow shirt that said, "Today I am this many" and it had one finger on it too. You wore it with red pants. I thought it was so cute to see you hold up that one finger.
Molly: I am going to write down your response as, "I was amazed at how gifted you were."
Molly: Tell me another cute story about myself.
Dad: One birthday I remember we got you a Rainbow Brite cake.
(Molly's note: At this point there is some parental discussion about where that cake came from. Who made it? It's a mystery. But I sure did love Rainbow Brite)
Molly: What is your favorite food and why?
Dad: That's hard. I'd say, a really good hamburger. Really good steak. Homemade French Fries. A well-done loaded baked potato. (Then Dad sang a song to the tune of "My Favorite Things" from The Sound of Music that went something like, "When the burger sizzles, when the steak comes, when the fries are through…I simply remember my favorite foods and then I don't feel…so hungry!")
Molly's note: At this point I told Dad that we had four questions to go so that we could get to an even 20 questions. Dad suggested we do 21 questions because he likes things in multiples of seven. So much so that whenever he microwaves something, he does it in multiples of seven, like 56 seconds instead of a minute or 28 seconds instead of 30. He says that much past 56 he has problems figuring out the time. We agree to 21 questions.
Molly: What did you think you would be when you grew up when you were 5 years old?
Dad: A baseball player
Molly: What was your best vacation?
Dad: Probably when we all went to Italy. In second place I would put our trip to Montreal and Quebec.
Molly: What is your favorite place to eat lunch?
Dad: Fuddrucker's. I like their bison burger and their chicken sandwich. I have very common tastes. I'm a man of the people.
Molly: If you are such a man of the people, how come you did not support Barack Obama in his race for president?
Dad: I'm for the little guy who's toiling, not the guy who wants a free ride. The guy who pays his mortgage.
(Molly's note: Okay, I swear that this isn't some partisan controversy, but at this point, I can't read my handwriting in my little notebook anymore. I know that Dad talked some about the American dream and how America rewards hard work but I just can't read it! I’m sorry! It's not meant as a Republican vs. Democrat thing. At one point, though, he did say "Barack Hussein Obama" and I reminded him that most of my blog readers were liberals and he just said that he wished Barack Obama luck)
Molly: Last question. Who is your favorite child?
Dad: I don't have a favorite child.
Molly: Good, that was a test. Here's the real question: What is the best television show and why?
Dad: I'd say Seinfeld. Because it's one of the few shows I really like without liking any of the characters. Like, if I don't like the characters in a movie, then I'm not going to like that movie. I just won't care what happens to them. But I really like that show, even though I don't like those characters as people.
Molly: Interesting. Follow-up question: Who's your favorite child?
Dad: I have three favorite children.
Molly: This doesn’t count as one of the official 21 questions, but do you have a message for my blog readers on your 59th birthday?
Dad: Party on, Wayne.
Molly: How old are you today?
Dad: 59.
Molly: How does that make you feel?
Dad: Feels good.
Molly: What did you today?
Dad: I took the cat to the vet, then did a little bit of shopping. Had a fun time with my family.
Molly: What was your best birthday ever?
Dad: Except for taking the cat to the vet, this was a pretty good one.
Molly: What was your worst birthday?
Dad: My 11th birthday, no doubt about it. My brother broke my football, blew up my football too much, threw me on the ground and spit on me.
Molly: Did you retaliate?
Dad: No, he was too big.
Molly: Do you think he tries to compensate now by sending you excess presents? (Molly's note: earlier in the evening, we all watched while Dad opened up present after present from our uncle, which made the one present each that we got him look kind of puny. But the presents were awesome)
Dad: I don't know. You'll have to talk to his psychiatrist.
Molly: What is your favorite birthday dessert?
Dad: Pie or cake.
Molly: I'm going to have to ask you to be more specific?
Dad: Well, usually chocolate cake but I wanted shoofly pie for this birthday.
Molly: Can you explain the appeal of shoofly pie? It seems kind of gross to me.
Dad: I have good memories of eating shoofly pie. And I haven't had it now in like, 30 years.
(Molly's note: At this point in the interview, Mom and Dad discuss just how long it might have been since Dad ate shoofly pie. I say that I remember eating shoofly pie at some point at my grandmother's, so I don't think it's been 30 years. Then there's a discussion of how this pie might differ from my grandmother's. There's a bit of discussion of whether the white stuff (basically sugar and flour) looks right. Dad thinks that if I made him a shoofly pie then maybe I will make him Indian pudding for Christmas but I tell him that we've just gotta take things one step at a time.)
Molly: For my next question, I'd like to test your short-term memory in light of your advancing age. Can you tell me what we did one year ago today?
Dad: Watched a football game?
Molly: Nope
(the guessing goes on for quite awhile)
Molly: You had to work. Then we went to Applebee's with the people from your office for lunch (I was living at home at the time and working at the office). Then we went shopping. Then we went to O'Charley's for dinner because you wanted prime rib, but they only serve prime rib on Sunday nights, and it wasn't a Sunday.
Dad: Sounds like a pretty good birthday!
Molly: Okay, next question about the possibility of your memory loss. What was the picture on the birthday card that I gave you last year?
Dad: Hillary Clinton? George Bush?
Molly: here's a hint: I hand-drew the card.
Dad: I don't remember.
Molly: It was a life jacket.
Dad: Oh.
Molly: How do you feel about losing your memory, as evidenced by the last two questions?
Dad: I don’t look at it as losing my memory. I can remember the overall good experience of the birthday. I was with my family and I had a good time.
Molly: What was your favorite birthday of mine?
Dad: When you were one, we would ask you how old you were and you would hold up one finger. You had no hair and all day long you wore a yellow shirt that said, "Today I am this many" and it had one finger on it too. You wore it with red pants. I thought it was so cute to see you hold up that one finger.
Molly: I am going to write down your response as, "I was amazed at how gifted you were."
Molly: Tell me another cute story about myself.
Dad: One birthday I remember we got you a Rainbow Brite cake.
(Molly's note: At this point there is some parental discussion about where that cake came from. Who made it? It's a mystery. But I sure did love Rainbow Brite)
Molly: What is your favorite food and why?
Dad: That's hard. I'd say, a really good hamburger. Really good steak. Homemade French Fries. A well-done loaded baked potato. (Then Dad sang a song to the tune of "My Favorite Things" from The Sound of Music that went something like, "When the burger sizzles, when the steak comes, when the fries are through…I simply remember my favorite foods and then I don't feel…so hungry!")
Molly's note: At this point I told Dad that we had four questions to go so that we could get to an even 20 questions. Dad suggested we do 21 questions because he likes things in multiples of seven. So much so that whenever he microwaves something, he does it in multiples of seven, like 56 seconds instead of a minute or 28 seconds instead of 30. He says that much past 56 he has problems figuring out the time. We agree to 21 questions.
Molly: What did you think you would be when you grew up when you were 5 years old?
Dad: A baseball player
Molly: What was your best vacation?
Dad: Probably when we all went to Italy. In second place I would put our trip to Montreal and Quebec.
Molly: What is your favorite place to eat lunch?
Dad: Fuddrucker's. I like their bison burger and their chicken sandwich. I have very common tastes. I'm a man of the people.
Molly: If you are such a man of the people, how come you did not support Barack Obama in his race for president?
Dad: I'm for the little guy who's toiling, not the guy who wants a free ride. The guy who pays his mortgage.
(Molly's note: Okay, I swear that this isn't some partisan controversy, but at this point, I can't read my handwriting in my little notebook anymore. I know that Dad talked some about the American dream and how America rewards hard work but I just can't read it! I’m sorry! It's not meant as a Republican vs. Democrat thing. At one point, though, he did say "Barack Hussein Obama" and I reminded him that most of my blog readers were liberals and he just said that he wished Barack Obama luck)
Molly: Last question. Who is your favorite child?
Dad: I don't have a favorite child.
Molly: Good, that was a test. Here's the real question: What is the best television show and why?
Dad: I'd say Seinfeld. Because it's one of the few shows I really like without liking any of the characters. Like, if I don't like the characters in a movie, then I'm not going to like that movie. I just won't care what happens to them. But I really like that show, even though I don't like those characters as people.
Molly: Interesting. Follow-up question: Who's your favorite child?
Dad: I have three favorite children.
Molly: This doesn’t count as one of the official 21 questions, but do you have a message for my blog readers on your 59th birthday?
Dad: Party on, Wayne.
Monday, November 3, 2008
We now return to our regularly scheduled programming
Well, it took me two weeks, but I finished my cousin-related blogs. But life didn't stop while I wrote those! So here are the top 7 things that happened in the last two weeks that deserve a blog mention. Normally I might put them all in separate posts but based on how long these last blogs took me it might be a week-and-a-half before I finished. And who knows what will happen in that time?!?
1. I learned that the brush that is behind my sink is used for cleaning dishes! Previously I thought the device was just a sort of decorative accessory, much like my canister of spatulas and the like. But I learned that some people actually use it to do things when my parents came to visit me. We went to the UVA vs. Georgia Tech football game. Luckily UVA won or it would have been sad.
2. I also learned about centerpieces and candles when my parents came to visit. On my kitchen table I have these flower candlesticks, and on my kitchen counter I have these brightly colored candles. But my mom says I have to put all those things away because they are too spring- and summer-like. Now I have to have an autumnal centerpiece and autumnal candles. My autumnal centerpiece has gourds! After autumn is over, I have to put up a Christmas centerpiece and Christmas candles. Then I think I have to put up a Martin Luther King Jr. centerpiece. Keeping track of centerpieces is really hard but luckily I have my mom nearby to help!
3. I learned that a certain mall in the Atlanta area that shall remain nameless is going to have a service where pictures can be taken with Santa. But not for children. FOR PETS. If you need a picture of your pet taken with Santa, then let me know and I can hook you up. But you have to understand that something like this is the kind of thing that makes me hate people with pets and I will judge you. Though I am pondering taking my fish Alvin in for a picture in the hopes that the mall might see how ridiculous their idea is.
4. I learned that Samantha Parkington will be retired as an American Girl doll. This particularly stings as Samantha was the American Girl doll I had when I was little. Why oh why is someone crapping on my childhood? How will the girls of tomorrow ever thrive without this sweet orphan living with her relatives in 1904? Who teaches poor girls that live next door how to read? Why should they be deprived of buying the absolutely adorable school dress that I wish to God I could have worn to school? Or deprived of reenacting what happened when Uncle Gard brought Cornelia home for the holidays? How will they ever learn what a petit four is?
5. Someone is trying to communicate with me via Amazon emails. While I try not to talk about work on my blog, I will tell you that I've had a few unhappy days lately. And on one of the days that was most frustrating, I get an email from Amazon.com with the suggestion that I might enjoy Herman Melville's "Bartleby the Scrivener." This is the classic tale of a man that just starts saying that he prefers not to do work that's assigned to him. Is this some message from God about what I am supposed to do?!?!
6. A sad lesson was learned: video games trump literature. Here's what happened. For the Halloween office party I dressed up as the Ghost of John Steinbeck, using a white sheet and my John Steinbeck shirt. I carried around some grapes and threw them at people. But despite only four people entering the costume contest, I did not win. I lost to a girl who dressed up as Mario. Of Mario and Luigi fame. So don't bother reading, kids. You will not win office costume contests that way. Just play video games.
7. Finally, last Monday I was stopped at a red light and saw two guys having a fight. IT WAS SO EXCITING! I think it would be awesome if the City of Atlanta could install unhappy people at every long light because then we would have some entertainment while we waited and maybe people would not run red lights and cause accidents. The particular fight I witnessed involved two males fighting. Apparently they have had a turbulent past because one of them had a restraining order on the other. But the very guy who took out the restraining order was trying to see the other one. And the other one was not happy, because he could have gone to jail if they were seen. So he kept saying, "If you really love me, just leave. If you really love me, just walk away. Because if you don't walk away, I'll go to jail. Please, please leave if you love me." Did the other guy leave? I DON'T KNOW! The light turned green and I had to go! Never have I been so sad about a green light!
1. I learned that the brush that is behind my sink is used for cleaning dishes! Previously I thought the device was just a sort of decorative accessory, much like my canister of spatulas and the like. But I learned that some people actually use it to do things when my parents came to visit me. We went to the UVA vs. Georgia Tech football game. Luckily UVA won or it would have been sad.
2. I also learned about centerpieces and candles when my parents came to visit. On my kitchen table I have these flower candlesticks, and on my kitchen counter I have these brightly colored candles. But my mom says I have to put all those things away because they are too spring- and summer-like. Now I have to have an autumnal centerpiece and autumnal candles. My autumnal centerpiece has gourds! After autumn is over, I have to put up a Christmas centerpiece and Christmas candles. Then I think I have to put up a Martin Luther King Jr. centerpiece. Keeping track of centerpieces is really hard but luckily I have my mom nearby to help!
3. I learned that a certain mall in the Atlanta area that shall remain nameless is going to have a service where pictures can be taken with Santa. But not for children. FOR PETS. If you need a picture of your pet taken with Santa, then let me know and I can hook you up. But you have to understand that something like this is the kind of thing that makes me hate people with pets and I will judge you. Though I am pondering taking my fish Alvin in for a picture in the hopes that the mall might see how ridiculous their idea is.
4. I learned that Samantha Parkington will be retired as an American Girl doll. This particularly stings as Samantha was the American Girl doll I had when I was little. Why oh why is someone crapping on my childhood? How will the girls of tomorrow ever thrive without this sweet orphan living with her relatives in 1904? Who teaches poor girls that live next door how to read? Why should they be deprived of buying the absolutely adorable school dress that I wish to God I could have worn to school? Or deprived of reenacting what happened when Uncle Gard brought Cornelia home for the holidays? How will they ever learn what a petit four is?
5. Someone is trying to communicate with me via Amazon emails. While I try not to talk about work on my blog, I will tell you that I've had a few unhappy days lately. And on one of the days that was most frustrating, I get an email from Amazon.com with the suggestion that I might enjoy Herman Melville's "Bartleby the Scrivener." This is the classic tale of a man that just starts saying that he prefers not to do work that's assigned to him. Is this some message from God about what I am supposed to do?!?!
6. A sad lesson was learned: video games trump literature. Here's what happened. For the Halloween office party I dressed up as the Ghost of John Steinbeck, using a white sheet and my John Steinbeck shirt. I carried around some grapes and threw them at people. But despite only four people entering the costume contest, I did not win. I lost to a girl who dressed up as Mario. Of Mario and Luigi fame. So don't bother reading, kids. You will not win office costume contests that way. Just play video games.
7. Finally, last Monday I was stopped at a red light and saw two guys having a fight. IT WAS SO EXCITING! I think it would be awesome if the City of Atlanta could install unhappy people at every long light because then we would have some entertainment while we waited and maybe people would not run red lights and cause accidents. The particular fight I witnessed involved two males fighting. Apparently they have had a turbulent past because one of them had a restraining order on the other. But the very guy who took out the restraining order was trying to see the other one. And the other one was not happy, because he could have gone to jail if they were seen. So he kept saying, "If you really love me, just leave. If you really love me, just walk away. Because if you don't walk away, I'll go to jail. Please, please leave if you love me." Did the other guy leave? I DON'T KNOW! The light turned green and I had to go! Never have I been so sad about a green light!
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
a room with a view
In the vice-presidential debate, Joe Biden told a sad story about a man who didn't know how much it cost to fill up his gas tank because he never had enough money to do it. But do you know what's even sadder? Not being able to fill up your gas taken because there's not enough gas. And that's been the situation in the southeast for awhile now. We have no gas, no gas at all.
But my company has turned a negative into a positive by allowing me to work from home for three days a week for two weeks. Last week was the first week and I can tell you that working from home is awesome. If you stay out too late at the Jenny Lewis concert, like I did, you can sleep in, because you don't have to drive to work! You can sit near a window instead of inside a sunlight-free cubicle! You can wear whatever! And I happen to get loads more work done because I can pace around and think, or stretch out on the floor while I research and write. I love working from home.
If I had to work from home all the time, I think I'd get sad because I'd be lonely. But last week I met a few coworkers for lunch and I had the extra special benefit of having my editor Katie come over to my apartment to use my internet. Now Katie has been in two blog entries in a row! And she is inspiring content, because after living in my world for three days, here are the things she thought I should blog about:
1. Halloween costumes.
Katie has a real problem with my past Halloween costumes. Like one year, I wore a black dress and sunglasses and pinned a piece of paper reading "June 14" to the dress. I was a blind date. Get it? So hilarious…to me. No one else that night really liked it and neither did Katie. Katie also didn't like the idea of my costume in which I wore a pink sweatsuit and tied a shoe to my clothes. That costume was gum under a shoe. I never actually did this next one, but I want to sometime: I would wear a black sweatsuit and attach cars to it. I would put a yellow piece down the center of myself and be the highway. Katie thinks that idea sucks also. She looked at me with pity in her eyes, so I tried to redeem myself by saying, "Well, what about a sexy highway?" Cause if you're a girl, just make your Halloween costume sexy and you're totally fine. I think that was my mistake with gum under the shoe. Not sexy enough.
2. Grocery lists
Katie happened to look inside my refrigerator, as well as see a few grocery lists on my fridge---
Grocery list #1 read: pretzels, butter, 3 boxes of waffles.
Grocery list #2 read: pretzels, bread, soda, frozen food, waffles (lots)
Katie wants to submit these lists to that artist who creates characters based on shopping lists that she finds. She wants to find out what the artist would make of someone who eats so many waffles. I just love toaster waffles, okay? I wish my fridge was bigger just so I could fit more boxes of waffles in there! I eat waffles almost every meal!
Now my secret is out. I eat too many waffles. And the only other thing in my fridge is beer.
3. More mundane blogs; treat my blog like more of a friend.
Those were Katie's tips on how I should be writing this blog. For example, we went to lunch and I had this chocolate cupcake with raspberry icing. I was just raving about this cupcake and here's how Katie said the blog should go:
"Dear Diary. Today I had a cupcake with raspberry icing. It was delicious. Talk to you tomorrow, Diary."
Here was another entry she thought I should write:
"Dear Diary. Today I wore a hooded sweatshirt. It was comfy. Well, see you around, Diary."
I don't know if this helps, but you have to imagine the entries read in a really high-pitched voice. A high-pitched voice reading extremely mundane details, in combination with both a greeting and a farewell to the diary. Katie believes this would be more enjoyable as well as increase the number of posts that I make. And she is a professional editor. But sometimes I don't take all her edits. Ha ha! Editors love it when you make jokes like that!
But my company has turned a negative into a positive by allowing me to work from home for three days a week for two weeks. Last week was the first week and I can tell you that working from home is awesome. If you stay out too late at the Jenny Lewis concert, like I did, you can sleep in, because you don't have to drive to work! You can sit near a window instead of inside a sunlight-free cubicle! You can wear whatever! And I happen to get loads more work done because I can pace around and think, or stretch out on the floor while I research and write. I love working from home.
If I had to work from home all the time, I think I'd get sad because I'd be lonely. But last week I met a few coworkers for lunch and I had the extra special benefit of having my editor Katie come over to my apartment to use my internet. Now Katie has been in two blog entries in a row! And she is inspiring content, because after living in my world for three days, here are the things she thought I should blog about:
1. Halloween costumes.
Katie has a real problem with my past Halloween costumes. Like one year, I wore a black dress and sunglasses and pinned a piece of paper reading "June 14" to the dress. I was a blind date. Get it? So hilarious…to me. No one else that night really liked it and neither did Katie. Katie also didn't like the idea of my costume in which I wore a pink sweatsuit and tied a shoe to my clothes. That costume was gum under a shoe. I never actually did this next one, but I want to sometime: I would wear a black sweatsuit and attach cars to it. I would put a yellow piece down the center of myself and be the highway. Katie thinks that idea sucks also. She looked at me with pity in her eyes, so I tried to redeem myself by saying, "Well, what about a sexy highway?" Cause if you're a girl, just make your Halloween costume sexy and you're totally fine. I think that was my mistake with gum under the shoe. Not sexy enough.
2. Grocery lists
Katie happened to look inside my refrigerator, as well as see a few grocery lists on my fridge---
Grocery list #1 read: pretzels, butter, 3 boxes of waffles.
Grocery list #2 read: pretzels, bread, soda, frozen food, waffles (lots)
Katie wants to submit these lists to that artist who creates characters based on shopping lists that she finds. She wants to find out what the artist would make of someone who eats so many waffles. I just love toaster waffles, okay? I wish my fridge was bigger just so I could fit more boxes of waffles in there! I eat waffles almost every meal!
Now my secret is out. I eat too many waffles. And the only other thing in my fridge is beer.
3. More mundane blogs; treat my blog like more of a friend.
Those were Katie's tips on how I should be writing this blog. For example, we went to lunch and I had this chocolate cupcake with raspberry icing. I was just raving about this cupcake and here's how Katie said the blog should go:
"Dear Diary. Today I had a cupcake with raspberry icing. It was delicious. Talk to you tomorrow, Diary."
Here was another entry she thought I should write:
"Dear Diary. Today I wore a hooded sweatshirt. It was comfy. Well, see you around, Diary."
I don't know if this helps, but you have to imagine the entries read in a really high-pitched voice. A high-pitched voice reading extremely mundane details, in combination with both a greeting and a farewell to the diary. Katie believes this would be more enjoyable as well as increase the number of posts that I make. And she is a professional editor. But sometimes I don't take all her edits. Ha ha! Editors love it when you make jokes like that!
Sunday, October 5, 2008
a perfect day in D.C.
Not this week that just ended, but the week before, I was up at the University of Maryland for a conference, learning about things to help me do my job better. It was very exciting for me to go to a work-related conference that involved flying, because at my previous job, work-related trips were limited to driving a cargo van to various Seattle neighborhoods and suburbs. I can tell you, getting to fly somewhere and stay in a Marriott is much, much better.
My editor and friend Katie also went to this conference, and we made our travel arrangements so that we could have an extra day in D.C. before heading back to ATL. After the conference ended, we headed by cab into the city, and we were delivered a devastating blow: the Smithsonian Museum of American History was closed for renovation. It had, in fact, been closed for two years. How could this be? The airlines should give you a little pop-up window when you buy tickets to D.C. that says something like, "Just so you know, the Museum of American History is closed." And then when planes actually land in D.C., there should be another announcement that goes, "Just in case you got your hopes up during our flight, we wanted to remind you that the Museum of American History is closed." Do people come to D.C. for things besides that museum?
Since I had really been looking forward to going to that museum and seeing some first lady gowns, I was initially crushed. What oh what could we possibly find that would replace such wonder? I started to feel a little better though when I got to the hotel and saw that above my bed was a gorgeous photograph of Abraham Lincoln, the stone version that sits in the Lincoln Memorial. Then I took a nap and felt a lot better. I think Abe affected my dreams, and I also think that I was just really tired.
When Katie and I awoke from our naps, we showered and headed to a restaurant that had been recommended by a guy who went to the conference with us. It was called Brasserie Beck and it was an amazing meal. If only I had studied the subject of writing in college, and if only I wrote things down for a living, then maybe I could tell you how good that meal was. But words are inadequate.
For an appetizer, I had an onion and shallot soup that ruined me for all other onion soups, while Katie had some oysters. I tried one and those were also delicious. Then, we had a cheese course. Then, I had duck almondine, and that was a quacking good time, while Katie had a lamb shank. At first, Katie was upset they didn't bring her a knife for the lamb shank, but then she realized that little lamb was so tender that it just fell off the fork. "Melts in your mouth like candy," as my parents used to describe meat when they were trying to make us eat it as kids. But this meat really did. Adding to the enjoyment of the meal for me was a beer that is only available in America at that very restaurant. And it was an amazing beer. I feel sorry for the rest of you that you will never have this beer, unless you go to Brasserie Beck. It was everything a beer should be. Rarely do I eat a meal so fancy and wonderful.
It was during the first course that Katie and I realized that we had the potential to have the greatest 24 hours in a row known to man. That's how good the meal was, and we were determined to not let this meal down. So after dinner we headed off to Georgetown to meet up with a person we met at the conference. We went to Martin's Tavern, which had a wonderful little handout letting me know that every president since Harry Truman had enjoyed a meal or a beverage at this establishment. And if I counted the tables correctly, we sat in the Nixon Booth, where Richard Nixon used to eat meatloaf. And that put us just one booth over from the booth in which JFK proposed to Jackie. This is when I finally got over the pain of the American History museum's closure. Why just look at something that a president has touched when you can sit somewhere that a president's ass has touched? I was in heaven.
By then it was the wee hours of the morning so we skipped off to bed and I again had sweet dreams because I had Abraham Lincoln standing guard above my bed.
The next day proved to be nice as well as the rain predicted by forecasters did not fall. We headed out to see sights that weren't closed. I did make one wrong turn in navigating Katie around the city which resulted in a bum yelling random obscenities at us that I shall not repeat here. But that was a temporary blight because we came across the most wonderful sandwich shop. How did we have such good luck finding food? I think it was the spirit of Abraham Lincoln guiding us. We walked by the White House and I used my powerful mind meld to will the next inhabitant to be Barack Obama.
Then we went to the Corcoran, a lovely little art museum. The big draw was an exhibit of the work of Richard Avedon. It was called "Portraits of Power," and I think every school picture photographer should attend this exhibit. I think it would provide some very interesting ideas about how to make yearbooks infinitely more entertaining.
Here were the portraits of power I liked the best:
-Dwight D. Eisenhower
-Charlie Chaplin
-Adlai Stevenson
-Rudolf Nureyov (he was naked!)
-Bob Dylan
-W.H. Auden
-Malcolm X
-George Wallace
-Billy Graham
-a leper
-Joseph Brodsky
-Salman Rushdie
-Ronald Reagan
-Barry Goldwater
-Barack Obama
I don't know what that grouping says about me, but those were the ones I wrote down at the time. And here were the paintings I liked so much at the Corcoran that I wrote down something about them in my little notebook:
-a bunch of dead buffalo
-Niagara Falls
-a clown
-horses fighting over a trough of water
-a series of Dutch landscapes
-a fisherman
-a homestead by the sea
-a monastery
-some weary wayfarers, one of whom might have been a ghost
I did NOT like any painting that involved people washing something. You try to stick the women of the village down by the river washing clothes in there, and I am guaranteed not to like your painting. I don't know why.
After a few hours of art, Katie and I headed down to see some monuments. We stopped by the new WWII memorial, which was very nice although a bit confusing because there was some weird photoshoot going on that involved a girl in a gigantic orange dress. Katie thinks it was her quinceanera.
But then we went to the best monument of all, the Lincoln Memorial. I was glad to find that Abe was there, because I bet sometimes he likes to wonder around D.C. and look at stuff and observe people. But as if he knew I was having the perfect day, he stuck around and sat stoically. I think he winked at me, but I have a tendency to think most presidents are winking at me. That should not, however, be seen as any sort of endorsement of the winkings of Sarah Palin.
Then, as if God or Abraham Lincoln or the entire city of D.C. knew that Katie and I were there, a rainbow appeared over the Washington Monument. A rainbow over the Washington Monument!!!!! Are you kidding me?
Then we went to the airport, and thus ended the perfect day in D.C.
My editor and friend Katie also went to this conference, and we made our travel arrangements so that we could have an extra day in D.C. before heading back to ATL. After the conference ended, we headed by cab into the city, and we were delivered a devastating blow: the Smithsonian Museum of American History was closed for renovation. It had, in fact, been closed for two years. How could this be? The airlines should give you a little pop-up window when you buy tickets to D.C. that says something like, "Just so you know, the Museum of American History is closed." And then when planes actually land in D.C., there should be another announcement that goes, "Just in case you got your hopes up during our flight, we wanted to remind you that the Museum of American History is closed." Do people come to D.C. for things besides that museum?
Since I had really been looking forward to going to that museum and seeing some first lady gowns, I was initially crushed. What oh what could we possibly find that would replace such wonder? I started to feel a little better though when I got to the hotel and saw that above my bed was a gorgeous photograph of Abraham Lincoln, the stone version that sits in the Lincoln Memorial. Then I took a nap and felt a lot better. I think Abe affected my dreams, and I also think that I was just really tired.
When Katie and I awoke from our naps, we showered and headed to a restaurant that had been recommended by a guy who went to the conference with us. It was called Brasserie Beck and it was an amazing meal. If only I had studied the subject of writing in college, and if only I wrote things down for a living, then maybe I could tell you how good that meal was. But words are inadequate.
For an appetizer, I had an onion and shallot soup that ruined me for all other onion soups, while Katie had some oysters. I tried one and those were also delicious. Then, we had a cheese course. Then, I had duck almondine, and that was a quacking good time, while Katie had a lamb shank. At first, Katie was upset they didn't bring her a knife for the lamb shank, but then she realized that little lamb was so tender that it just fell off the fork. "Melts in your mouth like candy," as my parents used to describe meat when they were trying to make us eat it as kids. But this meat really did. Adding to the enjoyment of the meal for me was a beer that is only available in America at that very restaurant. And it was an amazing beer. I feel sorry for the rest of you that you will never have this beer, unless you go to Brasserie Beck. It was everything a beer should be. Rarely do I eat a meal so fancy and wonderful.
It was during the first course that Katie and I realized that we had the potential to have the greatest 24 hours in a row known to man. That's how good the meal was, and we were determined to not let this meal down. So after dinner we headed off to Georgetown to meet up with a person we met at the conference. We went to Martin's Tavern, which had a wonderful little handout letting me know that every president since Harry Truman had enjoyed a meal or a beverage at this establishment. And if I counted the tables correctly, we sat in the Nixon Booth, where Richard Nixon used to eat meatloaf. And that put us just one booth over from the booth in which JFK proposed to Jackie. This is when I finally got over the pain of the American History museum's closure. Why just look at something that a president has touched when you can sit somewhere that a president's ass has touched? I was in heaven.
By then it was the wee hours of the morning so we skipped off to bed and I again had sweet dreams because I had Abraham Lincoln standing guard above my bed.
The next day proved to be nice as well as the rain predicted by forecasters did not fall. We headed out to see sights that weren't closed. I did make one wrong turn in navigating Katie around the city which resulted in a bum yelling random obscenities at us that I shall not repeat here. But that was a temporary blight because we came across the most wonderful sandwich shop. How did we have such good luck finding food? I think it was the spirit of Abraham Lincoln guiding us. We walked by the White House and I used my powerful mind meld to will the next inhabitant to be Barack Obama.
Then we went to the Corcoran, a lovely little art museum. The big draw was an exhibit of the work of Richard Avedon. It was called "Portraits of Power," and I think every school picture photographer should attend this exhibit. I think it would provide some very interesting ideas about how to make yearbooks infinitely more entertaining.
Here were the portraits of power I liked the best:
-Dwight D. Eisenhower
-Charlie Chaplin
-Adlai Stevenson
-Rudolf Nureyov (he was naked!)
-Bob Dylan
-W.H. Auden
-Malcolm X
-George Wallace
-Billy Graham
-a leper
-Joseph Brodsky
-Salman Rushdie
-Ronald Reagan
-Barry Goldwater
-Barack Obama
I don't know what that grouping says about me, but those were the ones I wrote down at the time. And here were the paintings I liked so much at the Corcoran that I wrote down something about them in my little notebook:
-a bunch of dead buffalo
-Niagara Falls
-a clown
-horses fighting over a trough of water
-a series of Dutch landscapes
-a fisherman
-a homestead by the sea
-a monastery
-some weary wayfarers, one of whom might have been a ghost
I did NOT like any painting that involved people washing something. You try to stick the women of the village down by the river washing clothes in there, and I am guaranteed not to like your painting. I don't know why.
After a few hours of art, Katie and I headed down to see some monuments. We stopped by the new WWII memorial, which was very nice although a bit confusing because there was some weird photoshoot going on that involved a girl in a gigantic orange dress. Katie thinks it was her quinceanera.
But then we went to the best monument of all, the Lincoln Memorial. I was glad to find that Abe was there, because I bet sometimes he likes to wonder around D.C. and look at stuff and observe people. But as if he knew I was having the perfect day, he stuck around and sat stoically. I think he winked at me, but I have a tendency to think most presidents are winking at me. That should not, however, be seen as any sort of endorsement of the winkings of Sarah Palin.
Then, as if God or Abraham Lincoln or the entire city of D.C. knew that Katie and I were there, a rainbow appeared over the Washington Monument. A rainbow over the Washington Monument!!!!! Are you kidding me?
Then we went to the airport, and thus ended the perfect day in D.C.
Friday, September 26, 2008
9/20/08, by George
Molly's note: Well, here we are at the 100th blog entry of 2008, and somehow it's only appropriate that this entry is by a SPECIAL GUEST BLOGGER, my brother George. George is often the unsung hero behind this blog, because he pushes me to write when I don't want to, he gives me ideas when I feel that nothing is blog-worthy and he assures me that at least one person will always read these ramblings of mine. (I'm assuming that one person is him but perhaps that's presumptuous).
Anyways, George's entry is the last in our three-part series examining the marvel and majesty that is the Asheville tradition of Brewgrass. I believed I used the adjective "Tarantino-esque" to describe what I thought he was doing, but I might have overlooked the fact that George has taken to walking around in huge sunglasses and a shotgun. Without further ado, I give you the gonzo world of my brother.
-------------------------------------------
Fear and Loathing at Brewgrass
-A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream.
We were somewhere in Asheville on the edge of downtown when the beer began to take hold….
I found myself on a baseball field littered with people, tents, kegs, and pretzels. There must have been 40 breweries, 48 portable toilets, 7 police officers, 2 security guards, 5 musical acts, 100 different types of beers, and 8 different food tents. But the only thing that worried me was the toilets. There is nothing more horrible than having to use a port-a-potty. Nothing… That’s why this journey starts out at the church...
I had been given the assignment to cover the 12th annual Brewgrass festival, a gathering of breweries, music, and food for a blog I do some project work for. I had gotten the call from my editor earlier when I was in Atlanta drinking Flying Dog in the middle of the afternoon. The blog’s editor in chief had given me the tasks to write a blog on the upcoming beer festival ….
What I found was a joyous celebration of the making of BEER. Beer is one of the world's oldest and most consumed tasty beverages. It’s fucking from the 6th millennium BCE and is recorded in the written history of Egypt and Mesopotamia (thanks Wikipedia). Hooray Beer!!!
Pilsners, Ales, Weizenbocks, Wits, Stouts, Wheats, Barley wines, oh my. This joyous festival provided me with beers of different taste, color, style, alcohol percentage (fuck you Great Divide, when I say “brewers’ choice”, I don’t want the shit no one has been asking for all day, 10.5%, fuck off!). Not only was this festival a showcase of a great tasty beverage, it’s a gathering of people who REALLY like beer. Who turns out, are my type of people. Very friendly. Very opinionated. Very drunk. And sometimes very creepy.
HOLY SHIT is that a pretzel necklace!!! Did I say that? Or just think it? Was I talking? Did they hear me? Not only were these people wearing pretzels around their necks, there were Oktoberfest hats, beer bottle shaped glasses, and bags of kettle corn the size of garbage bags (the BIG kind of garbage bags, not those 1 gallon bathroom size)…
As the beer/water ratio became a little weighted… I found my thoughts wondering to the broken levies, terrorists, rising gas prices, recessions, Russia (which you can’t see from Asheville, NC), low funding for stem cell research, John McCain, childhood obesity, and rising food prices. However, when people come to enjoy their fruits of their labor and put pride in the beer they are making (not looking at you Great Divide) it just all seems a little bit better. Beer is what was able to bring people together today. Beer drinkers are friendly people who surprisingly don’t read Steinbeck novels.
As our arrangements were made to get home to a dinner of turkey cutlets, we left Brewgrass with a little more beer knowledge, a little less hydration, and a sense of a hopeful future. However, we were given another assignment after being picked up: find a gas station in the Asheville/Enka-Candler area that has gas.
And with that, we re-entered a strange world, a different world…. a world without gas, rice, or enough pretzel necklaces. While we are preparing to fight a lady over waiting in line to get gas, I remember a better time and realize that Brewgrass is not just a festival, it’s a state of mind. I am looking forward to Brewgrass 2009. I’ll be the one wearing the pretzel necklace…
Anyways, George's entry is the last in our three-part series examining the marvel and majesty that is the Asheville tradition of Brewgrass. I believed I used the adjective "Tarantino-esque" to describe what I thought he was doing, but I might have overlooked the fact that George has taken to walking around in huge sunglasses and a shotgun. Without further ado, I give you the gonzo world of my brother.
-------------------------------------------
Fear and Loathing at Brewgrass
-A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream.
We were somewhere in Asheville on the edge of downtown when the beer began to take hold….
I found myself on a baseball field littered with people, tents, kegs, and pretzels. There must have been 40 breweries, 48 portable toilets, 7 police officers, 2 security guards, 5 musical acts, 100 different types of beers, and 8 different food tents. But the only thing that worried me was the toilets. There is nothing more horrible than having to use a port-a-potty. Nothing… That’s why this journey starts out at the church...
I had been given the assignment to cover the 12th annual Brewgrass festival, a gathering of breweries, music, and food for a blog I do some project work for. I had gotten the call from my editor earlier when I was in Atlanta drinking Flying Dog in the middle of the afternoon. The blog’s editor in chief had given me the tasks to write a blog on the upcoming beer festival ….
What I found was a joyous celebration of the making of BEER. Beer is one of the world's oldest and most consumed tasty beverages. It’s fucking from the 6th millennium BCE and is recorded in the written history of Egypt and Mesopotamia (thanks Wikipedia). Hooray Beer!!!
Pilsners, Ales, Weizenbocks, Wits, Stouts, Wheats, Barley wines, oh my. This joyous festival provided me with beers of different taste, color, style, alcohol percentage (fuck you Great Divide, when I say “brewers’ choice”, I don’t want the shit no one has been asking for all day, 10.5%, fuck off!). Not only was this festival a showcase of a great tasty beverage, it’s a gathering of people who REALLY like beer. Who turns out, are my type of people. Very friendly. Very opinionated. Very drunk. And sometimes very creepy.
HOLY SHIT is that a pretzel necklace!!! Did I say that? Or just think it? Was I talking? Did they hear me? Not only were these people wearing pretzels around their necks, there were Oktoberfest hats, beer bottle shaped glasses, and bags of kettle corn the size of garbage bags (the BIG kind of garbage bags, not those 1 gallon bathroom size)…
As the beer/water ratio became a little weighted… I found my thoughts wondering to the broken levies, terrorists, rising gas prices, recessions, Russia (which you can’t see from Asheville, NC), low funding for stem cell research, John McCain, childhood obesity, and rising food prices. However, when people come to enjoy their fruits of their labor and put pride in the beer they are making (not looking at you Great Divide) it just all seems a little bit better. Beer is what was able to bring people together today. Beer drinkers are friendly people who surprisingly don’t read Steinbeck novels.
As our arrangements were made to get home to a dinner of turkey cutlets, we left Brewgrass with a little more beer knowledge, a little less hydration, and a sense of a hopeful future. However, we were given another assignment after being picked up: find a gas station in the Asheville/Enka-Candler area that has gas.
And with that, we re-entered a strange world, a different world…. a world without gas, rice, or enough pretzel necklaces. While we are preparing to fight a lady over waiting in line to get gas, I remember a better time and realize that Brewgrass is not just a festival, it’s a state of mind. I am looking forward to Brewgrass 2009. I’ll be the one wearing the pretzel necklace…
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
9/20/08, by William
Molly's note: In order to present Brewgrass from all angles, I’ve asked my brothers for their takes. Also, I need more entries this month. That means it’s time for SPECIAL GUEST BLOGGER!!!! My brother George is a bit of a slacker because he still hasn't written his entry yet, though I guess it might take extra time because he used the phrase "Tarantino-esque" to describe what he was going for.
But never you fear about the delay, because we will now hear from a brand-new SPECIAL GUEST BLOGGER, my youngest brother William. William is 21 years old, though he has been drinking like a 21-year-old for years and years. He's a student at Appalachian State University in Boone, NC, which apparently has quite the football team. He enjoys barbeque, country music and long walks on the beach. Here is a picture of the two of us at Brewgrass:
Let's hear his version of the events that transpired on September 20, 2008, shall we?
-----------------------
Molly has invited me to be a guest blogger alongside George to share my experience at the 12th Annual Great Smokies Craft Brewers Brewgrass Festival at MLK Park in Asheville, NC. The experience started much like that of any major holiday at the plantation. In this case Molly very enthusiastically came in to my bedroom, jumped on my back and asked me “Guess what day it is?” I straggled out of bed and took my position on the top stair so dad could take our picture, a holiday tradition. I sat there for a minute and realized today is not the day for celebrating the birth of Christ. Today is the day we celebrate the birth of delicious nectar we all enjoy… BEER!
Going into the day we realized substance was a very important factor in the festivities that would be taking place. So keeping with family traditions we took the Blue Ridge Parkway to our favorite Saturday lunch spot, Chick-Fil- A. A quick 8 pack of nuggets and some fries would be my only meal going into a 7 hour “beer tasting.”
While dining, George and I realized some last minute necessities were needed to make it through the festival. We traveled up to the Big K-mart in search of sunscreen and sunglasses. Protection from the sun while drinking can make the act of consuming beverages a much more pleasurable experience. Being almost fall, it was difficult to find spf 30 to protect the nose and neck from the heat of the day. Now, I don’t know if many of you are aware that I spent a summer unloading 18-wheelers and stocking shelves at the big red K, but this was about 2 years ago this past summer. We walked into Kmart with mom, we being 3 of only 12 people in the store including employees. I happened to run into an employee who worked at this particular store that I had worked with at another store. After saying hello, I asked her where the items we needed to make our beer festival a better experience might be. She looked at me with a disappointing look almost expecting me to know where I had stocked something 2 years ago. Like they never change store layouts at the worst retail store on the planet. A quick purchase and we were on our way to MLK Park to enjoy beers from 40 brewers around the area.
Now growing up we always had to rush home from whatever trip we may have been on in order for George to heed the call of nature. George can only heed the call of nature in bathrooms that he’s familiar and comfortable with. So it should have been no surprise that ON THE WAY to the event nature would call George’s name. So to deter our trip even more we had to beeline it to our church, which was in the vicinity, in order for George to make room for beer. After this pit stop we were officially on our way to the festival.
Tickets in hand we were dropped off at the side entrance to the field. We snapped a quick pic and made our way to the line of fellow beer aficionados. Our tickets were scanned, a glass was grabbed and eyes went wide. Imagine Charlie getting that golden ticket to the factory, that’s how I felt but my ticket was a glass and the factory was a field full of breweries.
I know there has been a lot of anticipation leading up to my account of the actual festival, but I’m not going to go into all 40 beers I tried. Now our glass could only hold 4 ounces so I didn’t consume 40 beers, however, medical staff was on standby. I would probably be in some sort of made up Olympic event Molly likes to sponsor like “interesting names for presidents.” You would be very surprised how drunk a bunch of little beers can get you in a 6 hour period. We started in left field and worked our way all the way around the perimeter of the field to home plate. We worked our way farther and farther away from any food to compensate the amount of alcohol we had consumed. Finally we decided it would be a good idea to get some food. As a group we settled on kettle corn. Kettle corn was probably not the best idea but it had the shortest line. Other than randomly opening up our bag of corn we spent most of our time waiting in line to get a beer only to wait in line again. We enjoyed getting different beers at each brewery and sharing both what we had and how we felt about it.
I’ve decided to share my top five favorite beers with the fans of “I Wiggle it just a little bit.” I recommend these beers if you can find them at your local beer supplier.
1. Pisgah Brewing (NC)- Endless Summer
2. Asheville Brewing (NC)- Shiva IPA
3. Depot Street Brewing (TN)-Whistlestop Wit
4. Ham’s Brewhaus (NC)- Tiki’s California Gold
5. Natty Greene’s Brewing (NC) Southern Ale
The Brewgrass festival was a great experience and I could not have asked for a better time or better company. This is my first blogging experience so I hope it was up to par for Molly. I guess if I make the cut, I will feel I have accomplished something more than what I could have out on that field full of beer drinkers and their one true passion.
Special thanks to:
Whoever made our Kettle Corn?
Johnny on the Spot
Mom and Dad
But never you fear about the delay, because we will now hear from a brand-new SPECIAL GUEST BLOGGER, my youngest brother William. William is 21 years old, though he has been drinking like a 21-year-old for years and years. He's a student at Appalachian State University in Boone, NC, which apparently has quite the football team. He enjoys barbeque, country music and long walks on the beach. Here is a picture of the two of us at Brewgrass:
Let's hear his version of the events that transpired on September 20, 2008, shall we?
-----------------------
Molly has invited me to be a guest blogger alongside George to share my experience at the 12th Annual Great Smokies Craft Brewers Brewgrass Festival at MLK Park in Asheville, NC. The experience started much like that of any major holiday at the plantation. In this case Molly very enthusiastically came in to my bedroom, jumped on my back and asked me “Guess what day it is?” I straggled out of bed and took my position on the top stair so dad could take our picture, a holiday tradition. I sat there for a minute and realized today is not the day for celebrating the birth of Christ. Today is the day we celebrate the birth of delicious nectar we all enjoy… BEER!
Going into the day we realized substance was a very important factor in the festivities that would be taking place. So keeping with family traditions we took the Blue Ridge Parkway to our favorite Saturday lunch spot, Chick-Fil- A. A quick 8 pack of nuggets and some fries would be my only meal going into a 7 hour “beer tasting.”
While dining, George and I realized some last minute necessities were needed to make it through the festival. We traveled up to the Big K-mart in search of sunscreen and sunglasses. Protection from the sun while drinking can make the act of consuming beverages a much more pleasurable experience. Being almost fall, it was difficult to find spf 30 to protect the nose and neck from the heat of the day. Now, I don’t know if many of you are aware that I spent a summer unloading 18-wheelers and stocking shelves at the big red K, but this was about 2 years ago this past summer. We walked into Kmart with mom, we being 3 of only 12 people in the store including employees. I happened to run into an employee who worked at this particular store that I had worked with at another store. After saying hello, I asked her where the items we needed to make our beer festival a better experience might be. She looked at me with a disappointing look almost expecting me to know where I had stocked something 2 years ago. Like they never change store layouts at the worst retail store on the planet. A quick purchase and we were on our way to MLK Park to enjoy beers from 40 brewers around the area.
Now growing up we always had to rush home from whatever trip we may have been on in order for George to heed the call of nature. George can only heed the call of nature in bathrooms that he’s familiar and comfortable with. So it should have been no surprise that ON THE WAY to the event nature would call George’s name. So to deter our trip even more we had to beeline it to our church, which was in the vicinity, in order for George to make room for beer. After this pit stop we were officially on our way to the festival.
Tickets in hand we were dropped off at the side entrance to the field. We snapped a quick pic and made our way to the line of fellow beer aficionados. Our tickets were scanned, a glass was grabbed and eyes went wide. Imagine Charlie getting that golden ticket to the factory, that’s how I felt but my ticket was a glass and the factory was a field full of breweries.
I know there has been a lot of anticipation leading up to my account of the actual festival, but I’m not going to go into all 40 beers I tried. Now our glass could only hold 4 ounces so I didn’t consume 40 beers, however, medical staff was on standby. I would probably be in some sort of made up Olympic event Molly likes to sponsor like “interesting names for presidents.” You would be very surprised how drunk a bunch of little beers can get you in a 6 hour period. We started in left field and worked our way all the way around the perimeter of the field to home plate. We worked our way farther and farther away from any food to compensate the amount of alcohol we had consumed. Finally we decided it would be a good idea to get some food. As a group we settled on kettle corn. Kettle corn was probably not the best idea but it had the shortest line. Other than randomly opening up our bag of corn we spent most of our time waiting in line to get a beer only to wait in line again. We enjoyed getting different beers at each brewery and sharing both what we had and how we felt about it.
I’ve decided to share my top five favorite beers with the fans of “I Wiggle it just a little bit.” I recommend these beers if you can find them at your local beer supplier.
1. Pisgah Brewing (NC)- Endless Summer
2. Asheville Brewing (NC)- Shiva IPA
3. Depot Street Brewing (TN)-Whistlestop Wit
4. Ham’s Brewhaus (NC)- Tiki’s California Gold
5. Natty Greene’s Brewing (NC) Southern Ale
The Brewgrass festival was a great experience and I could not have asked for a better time or better company. This is my first blogging experience so I hope it was up to par for Molly. I guess if I make the cut, I will feel I have accomplished something more than what I could have out on that field full of beer drinkers and their one true passion.
Special thanks to:
Whoever made our Kettle Corn?
Johnny on the Spot
Mom and Dad
9/20/08, by Molly
The weather was beautiful in Asheville, NC on Saturday, which was good because I was there to go to the Brewgrass Festival with my two brothers, George and William. Brewgrass had about 40 breweries serving between 2 and 6 of their beers, and bluegrass music played at the same time. I thought it was a pretty clever name.
Going to this festival was sort of like going to Disney World, if instead of rides Disney World served beer. Basically, you get in line for a few minutes, and then you’re rewarded with a little bit of beer. Then you get in line again. If I could do two things over, one of them would be that I would wear gloves to the event, because your glass gets really sticky. Also, I would thread pretzels onto string, and wear a pretzel necklace, as I saw other people doing. When you saw people wearing a pretzel necklace, you knew they were pretty experienced at beer festivals, because they had a means of both cleansing their palates and getting a little snack.
So, we just drank and drank for hours. We had some good beers, we had some bad beers (Great Divide and Tommyknocker breweries, I’m looking at you regarding that second one. I don’t care if you are from Colorado.). The boys drank more than I did, but they have more places to put it. But here’s another thing you should know about going to a beer festival, in addition to the tips about gloves and pretzel necklaces: you should probably wear a plain t-shirt. Don’t wear a t-shirt with anything else on it.
Now, maybe other people would disagree with me on this. My brother George wore a Virginia Tech t-shirt and my brother William wore an Appalachian State t-shirt. Both of them had lots of people yelling out encouraging things about those schools’ sports teams. I guess it can be a good way to meet people. But I wore my John Steinbeck t-shirt, which I have mentioned several times on this blog, and it brought me nothing but trouble. First off, people were asking me if I’d read books that I hadn’t read--the obscure John Steinbeck books. And I hadn’t, so that made me feel unaccomplished. Eventually I got so drunk that I answered all questions about books with, “Of course I read it! I loved it! Changed my life!” but I don’t want to live life that way. So I can’t wear that shirt again until I complete the entire Steinbeck catalogue.
The second unfortunate thing was that some guy tried to use this shirt as a means of hitting on me, except he thought that all the titles on the back of the shirt were song lyrics and not books. So I was not impressed with him. I tried to give him the stink-eye as I waited for my two brothers to come over and defend my honor, but apparently brothers are no good at defending honor when they’ve had 15 beers. Then some brewer apparently mistook me for my brother William’s girlfriend and he nearly barfed. Those were some low points of the day for me. One of the high points, just to reverse these negative aspects, was that we ate kettle corn.
The festival was held on a softball field. My dad played softball there when we were younger, and one time he hit a home run out of that park. I remember talking about that a lot. We tried to re-live our childhood a little bit by sitting together in the dugout, as we used to do when Dad was playing. George and William went out to get another beer and told me they’d be back in a few minutes. When they didn’t return for almost 20 minutes I got a little concerned that they’d left me there. Then I realized I didn’t care because I was so drunk and they’d left me the bag of kettle corn. It was kind of a nice feeling.
At one point I was trying to keep notes about the beers I tried, but they all seem meaningless to me now. The only really constructive thing I wrote was that Triangle Brewing of North Carolina had an Xtra Pale Ale that was the “Sprite of Beers” and I meant that in the nicest way possible. It must have been fizzy and light. The last thing I learned on Saturday was that if you drink for 5 or 6 hours in the hot sun, then you will go to bed promptly at 8:30 p.m.
And now some pictures!
Here we are at the beginning of the festival:
And here we are pretty close to the end of the festival:
And here I am with some local celebrities:
Going to this festival was sort of like going to Disney World, if instead of rides Disney World served beer. Basically, you get in line for a few minutes, and then you’re rewarded with a little bit of beer. Then you get in line again. If I could do two things over, one of them would be that I would wear gloves to the event, because your glass gets really sticky. Also, I would thread pretzels onto string, and wear a pretzel necklace, as I saw other people doing. When you saw people wearing a pretzel necklace, you knew they were pretty experienced at beer festivals, because they had a means of both cleansing their palates and getting a little snack.
So, we just drank and drank for hours. We had some good beers, we had some bad beers (Great Divide and Tommyknocker breweries, I’m looking at you regarding that second one. I don’t care if you are from Colorado.). The boys drank more than I did, but they have more places to put it. But here’s another thing you should know about going to a beer festival, in addition to the tips about gloves and pretzel necklaces: you should probably wear a plain t-shirt. Don’t wear a t-shirt with anything else on it.
Now, maybe other people would disagree with me on this. My brother George wore a Virginia Tech t-shirt and my brother William wore an Appalachian State t-shirt. Both of them had lots of people yelling out encouraging things about those schools’ sports teams. I guess it can be a good way to meet people. But I wore my John Steinbeck t-shirt, which I have mentioned several times on this blog, and it brought me nothing but trouble. First off, people were asking me if I’d read books that I hadn’t read--the obscure John Steinbeck books. And I hadn’t, so that made me feel unaccomplished. Eventually I got so drunk that I answered all questions about books with, “Of course I read it! I loved it! Changed my life!” but I don’t want to live life that way. So I can’t wear that shirt again until I complete the entire Steinbeck catalogue.
The second unfortunate thing was that some guy tried to use this shirt as a means of hitting on me, except he thought that all the titles on the back of the shirt were song lyrics and not books. So I was not impressed with him. I tried to give him the stink-eye as I waited for my two brothers to come over and defend my honor, but apparently brothers are no good at defending honor when they’ve had 15 beers. Then some brewer apparently mistook me for my brother William’s girlfriend and he nearly barfed. Those were some low points of the day for me. One of the high points, just to reverse these negative aspects, was that we ate kettle corn.
The festival was held on a softball field. My dad played softball there when we were younger, and one time he hit a home run out of that park. I remember talking about that a lot. We tried to re-live our childhood a little bit by sitting together in the dugout, as we used to do when Dad was playing. George and William went out to get another beer and told me they’d be back in a few minutes. When they didn’t return for almost 20 minutes I got a little concerned that they’d left me there. Then I realized I didn’t care because I was so drunk and they’d left me the bag of kettle corn. It was kind of a nice feeling.
At one point I was trying to keep notes about the beers I tried, but they all seem meaningless to me now. The only really constructive thing I wrote was that Triangle Brewing of North Carolina had an Xtra Pale Ale that was the “Sprite of Beers” and I meant that in the nicest way possible. It must have been fizzy and light. The last thing I learned on Saturday was that if you drink for 5 or 6 hours in the hot sun, then you will go to bed promptly at 8:30 p.m.
And now some pictures!
Here we are at the beginning of the festival:
And here we are pretty close to the end of the festival:
And here I am with some local celebrities:
Monday, September 15, 2008
not every idea is a winner
Sometimes I have ideas for blog entries that don’t always make it to the blog for one reason or another. Sometimes they exist better as ideas and nebulous concepts, so I abandon them, or sometimes I get too lazy and I abandon them. Here are some recent ideas that did not make it to the blog in full post form, but seem sorta worth mentioning:
Idea 1: Passive-aggressive notes to myself
Last week at work, we had a burst of excitement when people started leaving passive-aggressive notes in the ladies bathroom about the use of air freshener. The office was abuzz. Who was left the note? Then the counter-notes started appearing. It was so funny. Passive-aggressiveness in the workplaces is one of my favorite things ever. I found it so funny, in fact, that I thought a good blog entry would be writing passive-aggressive notes to myself, and then leaving them around my apartment, and then taking pictures to show how funny passive-aggressive notes can be. I wrote up a few, but then I realized that pictures of passive-aggressive notes written to myself wouldn’t look very funny. It would look, in fact, like I had a mental illness.
Idea 2: More Olympics Stuff
I actually had a ton of Olympics blog ideas that I never got around to because time slipped away from me, and next thing I knew, the Olympics were over. But here’s one that I started a little bit…I was going to give Olympic medals to some people and things other than athletes. So far, I had come up with this:
Interestingly Named Presidents
Gold – Abraham Lincoln
Silver – Millard Fillmore
Bronze – Grover Cleveland, Rutherford B. Hayes (tie)
Handsomest Vice-Presidents
Gold – Thomas Hendricks
Silver – Levi Morton
Bronze – Charles Dawes
Breakfast Meats
Gold – Sausage
Silver – Bacon
Bronze - Fried chicken
Features of Microsoft Word that have the tendency to annoy me
Gold – Bullets, when they get all funky
Silver – That little paragraph symbol that puts all the dots between the words
Bronze – When letters get automatically capitalized or rearranged in a way I don’t want
That didn’t really seem like enough to post in and of itself, and then the Olympics were over, and that file lay dormant until now.
Idea 3: Cooking without Colanders
I tried to make some spaghetti, but I forgot that I gave my old colander to Goodwill before I moved to Atlanta, and I never bought another one. I was going to write about my misadventures realizing halfway through the spaghetti process that I was sans colander. I came up with the line, “my emotions were drained like I wish my spaghetti would be,” and “I feel like my heart is the thing that went through the sieve,” but that’s about all I had. And as it turns out, the process didn’t end up all that bad. The spaghetti was a little watery but probably not worth its own entry.
Idea 4: Hurricanes
I was going to write something about how they name hurricanes. When I was a little kid, I always wanted there to be a Hurricane Molly going through somewhere. But I got particularly upset about the name of Hurricane Ike, because it made me think of our beloved 34th president, Dwight D. Eisenhower. Whenever I saw a headline like, “Ike ravages coast” or whatever, I just got confused and offended on behalf of the Eisenhower estate. It seemed like the headlines were reporting major foreign policy fiascos of the 1950s, such as the headline, “Ike gives Cuba final kick and moves on.” But I didn’t end up writing this, except in this very shortened form, because once Ike started doing serious damage, it seemed too flippant.
Idea 1: Passive-aggressive notes to myself
Last week at work, we had a burst of excitement when people started leaving passive-aggressive notes in the ladies bathroom about the use of air freshener. The office was abuzz. Who was left the note? Then the counter-notes started appearing. It was so funny. Passive-aggressiveness in the workplaces is one of my favorite things ever. I found it so funny, in fact, that I thought a good blog entry would be writing passive-aggressive notes to myself, and then leaving them around my apartment, and then taking pictures to show how funny passive-aggressive notes can be. I wrote up a few, but then I realized that pictures of passive-aggressive notes written to myself wouldn’t look very funny. It would look, in fact, like I had a mental illness.
Idea 2: More Olympics Stuff
I actually had a ton of Olympics blog ideas that I never got around to because time slipped away from me, and next thing I knew, the Olympics were over. But here’s one that I started a little bit…I was going to give Olympic medals to some people and things other than athletes. So far, I had come up with this:
Interestingly Named Presidents
Gold – Abraham Lincoln
Silver – Millard Fillmore
Bronze – Grover Cleveland, Rutherford B. Hayes (tie)
Handsomest Vice-Presidents
Gold – Thomas Hendricks
Silver – Levi Morton
Bronze – Charles Dawes
Breakfast Meats
Gold – Sausage
Silver – Bacon
Bronze - Fried chicken
Features of Microsoft Word that have the tendency to annoy me
Gold – Bullets, when they get all funky
Silver – That little paragraph symbol that puts all the dots between the words
Bronze – When letters get automatically capitalized or rearranged in a way I don’t want
That didn’t really seem like enough to post in and of itself, and then the Olympics were over, and that file lay dormant until now.
Idea 3: Cooking without Colanders
I tried to make some spaghetti, but I forgot that I gave my old colander to Goodwill before I moved to Atlanta, and I never bought another one. I was going to write about my misadventures realizing halfway through the spaghetti process that I was sans colander. I came up with the line, “my emotions were drained like I wish my spaghetti would be,” and “I feel like my heart is the thing that went through the sieve,” but that’s about all I had. And as it turns out, the process didn’t end up all that bad. The spaghetti was a little watery but probably not worth its own entry.
Idea 4: Hurricanes
I was going to write something about how they name hurricanes. When I was a little kid, I always wanted there to be a Hurricane Molly going through somewhere. But I got particularly upset about the name of Hurricane Ike, because it made me think of our beloved 34th president, Dwight D. Eisenhower. Whenever I saw a headline like, “Ike ravages coast” or whatever, I just got confused and offended on behalf of the Eisenhower estate. It seemed like the headlines were reporting major foreign policy fiascos of the 1950s, such as the headline, “Ike gives Cuba final kick and moves on.” But I didn’t end up writing this, except in this very shortened form, because once Ike started doing serious damage, it seemed too flippant.
Monday, September 8, 2008
voices carry
It was a good weekend for live music, though frankly, results are mixed on whether it was a good weekend for anything else, as I’ve only accomplished about 4.7 percent of what I set out to do. But as for live music, I was pretty successful.
First up was Aimee Mann on Friday night. She had adorable opening act called The Submarines. The girl in the Submarines managed to smile the entire time she was singing, which was a good counterbalance to Aimee Mann who smiled few times while she was singing. Right before Aimee Mann started, a guy wedged himself between me and this other girl, holding up his camera by way of excuse. This has happened to me before, and usually it means that the guy is press or works for the venue, and he’s going to just take a few pictures and be gone. If only that had happened in this instance.
First off, the camera guy started asking the people in front of me if they could see the set list (I was pretty close to the stage). This is one of my major concert pet peeves, because I do not want to know what is going to be played. If I wanted predictability, I would play the CD. But I figured it was just so he would know what song was first so he could label the pictures appropriately. Then everyone else around me started asking the guy at the stage what else was on the set list. I tried to focus on something else.
Focusing on something else was super easy, and the thing I focused on was trying not to throw up, because, you see, the man with the cameras smelled like ass. To be more specific, the camera guy smelled like he had slept in mothballs for 15 years, then awakened to take a swim in a pool full of sweat and urine. He had one scruffy little piece of Kleenex that he used to both wipe the sweat off his face and blow his nose. And then at one particularly horrifying moment he opened his mouth, inserted said scruffy piece of Kleenex, and wiped his teeth with it. He looked kind of like I imagine Billy Joel will look in 20 years.
Now, as I said, usually guys who claim to be using cameras for professional purposes disappear after just a song or two, but this guy stayed around for quite a while. I think I am pretty lucky I did not throw up during Aimee Mann. That would have been uncool. Also uncool was the guy behind me, who laughed like Woody Woodpecker. That’s not a bad thing in and of itself but he laughed like that a lot, at things that weren’t really funny. He laughed when Aimee Mann was talking about how frogs fly from the sky during the movie “Magnolia,” and then he loudly yelled, “That was so funny!” and did his woodpecker laugh again just in case we didn’t believe him. I wanted to turn around and say, “haven’t you noticed Aimee Mann doesn’t smile? That is an indication that we should be solemn and serious and too cool for school!” But I didn’t. If I opened my mouth I might have thrown up.
Anyways, one of the few times Aimee Mann did smile was when she brought a robot onstage to sing a song with her. That was fun, and the music was really good as well. The night improved when sweaty camera guy left.
I did not see sweaty camera guy the following night, when I returned to the same venue to see Teddy Thompson and Tift Merritt. Despite both those singers being fairly young, they attracted a very middle-aged audience, and for awhile it looked like I would be the youngest person there. I didn’t mind; I have known for awhile that I like things that old people like and as I people-watched, I grew increasingly confident about being middle-aged, when I might actually have some peers in my preferences. I tried to pick out which middle-aged woman might most accurately represent Future Molly. Was it:
a) the very short woman with the very tall husband? (probably not, as I would have to shrink a lot to have a husband that much taller than me)
b) the woman inappropriately dressed in a halter top and four-inch heels and hitting on a bald man?
c) the woman who was wearing a cute skirt but was hanging all over a guy who really seemed to be gay? Hanging all over him in a way that implied that she was married to a homosexual?
Okay, so I didn’t see Future Molly at all. But I did see Past Molly! By which I mean I saw a little girl, about 10 years old, who was at the concert with her dad. That’s how I grew up, going to concerts with my dad. We would always get there ridiculously early and talk about what songs we wanted to hear. I stood really close to this father-daughter duo so I could enjoy the moment, which I hope did not freak them out.
There was enough to distract them, though. Both Teddy and Tift put on a great show. Teddy Thompson is English, so his banter between songs was adorably cute, just by default of the accent. It would put me in a really good mood, which was then off-set by the terribly sad songs he sang. It was a roller coaster of emotion. When Tift Merritt came on I got a little too distracted by how high her heels were. When she walked around onstage it looked like those high heels would get caught in wires and she might fall. I tried to develop a plan for how I might help Tift Merritt if she did fall on stage but I couldn’t think of anything helpful. But Tift Merritt is definitely a singer that it pays to see live. That girl plays instruments with an intensity that you don’t pick up just by listening to the CDs. She also sang two songs on the edge of the stage with no microphone, which was one of the most beautiful concert moments I’ve seen in awhile.
Teddy Thompson and Tift Merritt did one duet together, and I thought about blogging a rumor that they were dating, because I think they would be a cute couple. Plus Teddy Thompson himself is evidence of what good can come out of a marriage between songwriters, though I guess that didn’t end enormously well for his parents. But I read on the internet that Tift Merritt is engaged to her drummer so I guess there’s no chance of this rumor coming true. So there is no rumor. Oh well.
First up was Aimee Mann on Friday night. She had adorable opening act called The Submarines. The girl in the Submarines managed to smile the entire time she was singing, which was a good counterbalance to Aimee Mann who smiled few times while she was singing. Right before Aimee Mann started, a guy wedged himself between me and this other girl, holding up his camera by way of excuse. This has happened to me before, and usually it means that the guy is press or works for the venue, and he’s going to just take a few pictures and be gone. If only that had happened in this instance.
First off, the camera guy started asking the people in front of me if they could see the set list (I was pretty close to the stage). This is one of my major concert pet peeves, because I do not want to know what is going to be played. If I wanted predictability, I would play the CD. But I figured it was just so he would know what song was first so he could label the pictures appropriately. Then everyone else around me started asking the guy at the stage what else was on the set list. I tried to focus on something else.
Focusing on something else was super easy, and the thing I focused on was trying not to throw up, because, you see, the man with the cameras smelled like ass. To be more specific, the camera guy smelled like he had slept in mothballs for 15 years, then awakened to take a swim in a pool full of sweat and urine. He had one scruffy little piece of Kleenex that he used to both wipe the sweat off his face and blow his nose. And then at one particularly horrifying moment he opened his mouth, inserted said scruffy piece of Kleenex, and wiped his teeth with it. He looked kind of like I imagine Billy Joel will look in 20 years.
Now, as I said, usually guys who claim to be using cameras for professional purposes disappear after just a song or two, but this guy stayed around for quite a while. I think I am pretty lucky I did not throw up during Aimee Mann. That would have been uncool. Also uncool was the guy behind me, who laughed like Woody Woodpecker. That’s not a bad thing in and of itself but he laughed like that a lot, at things that weren’t really funny. He laughed when Aimee Mann was talking about how frogs fly from the sky during the movie “Magnolia,” and then he loudly yelled, “That was so funny!” and did his woodpecker laugh again just in case we didn’t believe him. I wanted to turn around and say, “haven’t you noticed Aimee Mann doesn’t smile? That is an indication that we should be solemn and serious and too cool for school!” But I didn’t. If I opened my mouth I might have thrown up.
Anyways, one of the few times Aimee Mann did smile was when she brought a robot onstage to sing a song with her. That was fun, and the music was really good as well. The night improved when sweaty camera guy left.
I did not see sweaty camera guy the following night, when I returned to the same venue to see Teddy Thompson and Tift Merritt. Despite both those singers being fairly young, they attracted a very middle-aged audience, and for awhile it looked like I would be the youngest person there. I didn’t mind; I have known for awhile that I like things that old people like and as I people-watched, I grew increasingly confident about being middle-aged, when I might actually have some peers in my preferences. I tried to pick out which middle-aged woman might most accurately represent Future Molly. Was it:
a) the very short woman with the very tall husband? (probably not, as I would have to shrink a lot to have a husband that much taller than me)
b) the woman inappropriately dressed in a halter top and four-inch heels and hitting on a bald man?
c) the woman who was wearing a cute skirt but was hanging all over a guy who really seemed to be gay? Hanging all over him in a way that implied that she was married to a homosexual?
Okay, so I didn’t see Future Molly at all. But I did see Past Molly! By which I mean I saw a little girl, about 10 years old, who was at the concert with her dad. That’s how I grew up, going to concerts with my dad. We would always get there ridiculously early and talk about what songs we wanted to hear. I stood really close to this father-daughter duo so I could enjoy the moment, which I hope did not freak them out.
There was enough to distract them, though. Both Teddy and Tift put on a great show. Teddy Thompson is English, so his banter between songs was adorably cute, just by default of the accent. It would put me in a really good mood, which was then off-set by the terribly sad songs he sang. It was a roller coaster of emotion. When Tift Merritt came on I got a little too distracted by how high her heels were. When she walked around onstage it looked like those high heels would get caught in wires and she might fall. I tried to develop a plan for how I might help Tift Merritt if she did fall on stage but I couldn’t think of anything helpful. But Tift Merritt is definitely a singer that it pays to see live. That girl plays instruments with an intensity that you don’t pick up just by listening to the CDs. She also sang two songs on the edge of the stage with no microphone, which was one of the most beautiful concert moments I’ve seen in awhile.
Teddy Thompson and Tift Merritt did one duet together, and I thought about blogging a rumor that they were dating, because I think they would be a cute couple. Plus Teddy Thompson himself is evidence of what good can come out of a marriage between songwriters, though I guess that didn’t end enormously well for his parents. But I read on the internet that Tift Merritt is engaged to her drummer so I guess there’s no chance of this rumor coming true. So there is no rumor. Oh well.
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