Titles and other bits

I love titles. If I have a good title, I can write with confidence.

Here's one I may write sometime:

NOVOCAINE DATING: When You Just Don't Want To Feel Anything


Others include:


Whatever We Do, Someone's Going to be Wicked Pissed
The Optimistic Mailbox
Headed for Alfred Dunner
Sex Ruins Everything


My friend Christine and I come up with dozens of these and I can't remember all of them. A good title will make me pick up a book and sometimes a title will keep me from picking it up. Louise Wener's GOODNIGHT STEVE MCQUEEN almost didn't get read by me because I am not a fan of SM the late movie star.

Right now I am writing a secret document. I will report on it Monday.

Apropos to nothing: I went into Old Navy recently and was appalled. To my eye it looks as though dirty clothes have been pulled out of the hamper all wadded up and gross, and then hung up on hangers for sale. Yuck.

Filene's has turned into Macy's, a sad occurrence. You can really tell as you walk through the store. Lower quality all the way around. Still, I will shop there because I refuse to drive all the way to Natick Mall or some such outpost. If they don't have it at Solomon Pond, I don't need it.

Last day of August is very sad. But it's been a great summer.

A bientot
becky

Writing Ideas

I'm still more or less floundering around on my next project. Yesterday I wrote the start of something which I liked, but I think now I only liked the opening scene, where a man comes to the door of a woman's house to beg her to come back to him but she is busy gathering items for toxic waste day at the dump.

Romance-ey.

Then I started one thing with the words, "This is a pretty sad story, especially since I am mostly a cheerful person."

Brother. I don't think readers are storming the bookstores for things like that. HEY!! I'M DYING TO READ A DOWNBEAT SAD STORY. YA GOT ANYTHING?

Maybe I'm just not in the mood.

I'll tell you when the ideas will attack me. Right when I don't have the time to deal with them.

I have my rabbit story. It's pretty funny too, about a rabbit in a pet store who doesn't want to get sold. But somehow I don't think I could sustain a novel-length narrative about that one.

I love Louise Wener, author of GOODNIGHT STEVE MCQUEEN, which had me laughing helplessly. I want to write a book like that. YEAH OKAY, GO AHEAD. BOOT UP YOUR WORD DOCUMENT, GIRL, AND START.

All right, then, I will.

Back later.
Life is a Cabaret,
becky

housework

Tasks I Most Hate:

anything done on hands and knees, such as scrubbing toilet, bathtub, etc.
windows (don't attempt with new manicure)
polishing silver (you can't get inside the little froufrou decorative gargoyle
thingies, so they stay black anyway)
floors (you always have to get on hands and knees to scrape off tiny piece of gra-doo
with your thumbnail)
dusting (when you have finished a room, you can stand in the doorway and see two
places that you missed. I can keep doing this all day.)
outdoor (this can take days and is never finished really and only leads to
depression)
screens (you can't get them clean and they always have little papery things stuck
inside them)


Okay, I'm stopping before I start hyperventilating.

It's all bad.

But I am going to do it this week. This is why I am already sleeping late and indulging in severe avoidance behavior, much of it on the telephone.

I am hosting a Family cookout next weekend and it will be great fun when it happens, so don't listen to me bitching about it now. This will make my Christmas clean-up that much easier, won't it?

Never clean unless you have to, that's my motto.

I've started a number of potential writing projects but am not in love with any of them. They keep sounding so romance-ey and I don't really want to get into anything like that. Ho hum. Plus school is starting and very soon I will be exhausted all the time.

My friend and I often say to each other on the phone, "I don't know anything good."

AND NOW I MUST RETURN TO HATEFUL HOUSEWORK. Just as soon as I read the paper.

A bientot
becky

Cape Redux

Okay, so I will try that again.

I am here on beautiful Cape Cod, vacationing with friends and living in the lap.

We do nothing but seek pleasure, sometimes small ones and frequently concerning food and drink. We eat out, fix cocktails, watch movies, read books, and one friend is attempting a giant jigsaw puzzle on the dining room table, I can see.

I like and admire her for doing this, but I haven't yet joined herin this yet. I'm sure I will. The picture of the puzzle is a lovely impressionist painting of a maid doing her work next to an indolent mistress trying to paint a still life. Oh god, if I ever experience time travel, please let me out of the machine as an indolent mistress and not the servant. Also in this picture is a very odd and luminous green lamp which I find off-putting.

The recent collapse of the Red Sox is most disheartening. Note: make other plans for October.

Because I drove all the way back to Framingham yesterday for my dental surgery, I got to be Girl of the Day yesterday and make all decisions and picks for our pleasure-seeking. Ice cream? Now or later? Which movie? Things like that.

ME! ME!! ME!!!

A bientot
becky

Cape

current events

Since I have nothing to report on the writing front, I may as well comment on what is going on in the world. Not that I have any right to, of course, but then, how many do?

I read in the Boston Globe today that Hezbollah is giving out packets of twelve thousand American dollars CASH to people who needed help rebuilding their homes in Lebanon.

That is a persuasive technique.

Boston has just benefited during the last two decades from the largest public works project ever in history, the Big Dig. The purpose of it, I believe, was to get rid of all the expressways above ground so we could have parks and statues up there and a series of tunnels underneath that would still get us to the airport. It took two decades to finish. The federal government paid for most of it. Thanks, you guys!!! Your boondoggle dollars at work. It seemed too good to be true.

And it was.


First there were leaks. Bad enough. Imagine sitting gridlocked in an underground tunnel and noticing that water around you is rising. Whew. But you know what? We New Englanders can take that. Many of us are Red Sox fans and used to adversity and rising panic. A lot of us are fishermen, living so close to the ocean, and we aren't bothered by maritime predicaments. So okay, bring it.

Then a big section of it collapsed and killed someone. Turns out many of the underground roofing sections are held in place with epoxy--look up that word, boys and girls. It means GLUE. Glue? Holding up trillions of pounds of automobiles and cement mixers and who knows what else? Almost every day there is another article about someone ten years ago who warned everyone that the glue wouldn't hold.

I SAID IT WOULDN'T WORK AND I WAS RIGHT!!!

Yeah, okay, shut up.

But the big question is, when will all those tunnels and entranceways and ramps be open? And who will have confidence to drive in them? If you take Logan Express to the airport today, your bus will be allowed in the Ted Williams tunnel. I don't get that. If it's unsafe for everybody, why is it safe for the bus riders?

I DON'T CARE IF IT'S UNSAFE--JUST GET ME TO MY FLIGHT. That's the new motto of Logan Express.
Meanwhile, thanks to all of you from the other states who contributed so generously to this debacle. We appreciate your largesse.

You don't see many monuments or statues going up these days and that's too bad. The Brits put up that big Ferris wheel to commemorate the milennium and we did bupkas. We're not leaving our mark. I think I might bury some really confusing items in the forest behind my house for future scholars.

WHAT IS THIS?

I WOULD SAY THAT IS A FLAT IRON. WOMEN USED THEM TO HAVE REALLY STRAIGHT BANGS.

WHAT WERE BANGS?

THEY SHOT OUT FROM THE FOREHEAD AND HUNG DOWN IN A WOMAN'S FACE. THEY WERE WAY COOL.

HUH?

VERNACULAR FROM THE TIME FRAME. THAT THING YOU'RE HOLDING NOW WAS A TRAP, PROBABLY MEANT FOR SQUIRRELS.

IS THE FLAT IRON CONNECTED TO IT?

IT'S CONFUSING. DID PEOPLE TRY TO STRAIGHTEN THE HAIR OF THE SQUIRRELS? DID SQUIRRELS HAVE BANGS?

I KNEW I SHOULD HAVE STAYED IN TUNNEL ENGINEERING.

Our governor is running for prez. He's a slick dude and because he's Mormon, makes me personally think of the show BIG LOVE, which I adore. Not that I adore Romney by any means and I wish he would raise my adjunct pay in my job. Fat chance.

Did this weird guy Karr really kill JonBenet? And we never heard of him before? That goes against one of my pet theories that no one anywhere can keep a secret. Mostly you can blame the National Enquirer for this phenomenon.

I WAS IN AN ELEVATOR WITH BRITNEY SPEARS AND SHE SAID SHE HATED HER HUSBAND. WHAT WILL YOU GIVE ME FOR MY STORY?

Headed to the mall, boys and girls, with a serious shopping jones.
A bientot
becky

getting into late summer

It's still summer, but all of a sudden the schedule fills up. Events and appointments encroach and the days don't spread in front of one unendingly. Each one is a jewel to appreciate.

GOD, SHUT UP!!!

WHY ARE YOU SUCH A POLLYANNA?

I dunno, always have been.

ONE DAY IS THE SAME AS THE NEXT, YOU DODO.

That's not true.

Although I must change my tune here because one thing I used to tell my mother was to keep her problems to herself. When asked how she was doing, Mom used to say, "not too good." I counseled her to say "fine" instead. "Nobody wants to hear about your problems, Mom. No offense." I was right then and I'm right now.

So people get annoyed whether you are always depressed or always optimistic. We all want variety, I guess.

HOW ARE YOU?

TRY AND GUESS.

Maybe that would be better.

For a Virgo like me this has been a frustrating week. The endodontist was not able to get into the canal of my tooth and so now the procedure has to be done surgically. Isn't that nice of me to share? YAAAAY!! Plus the plumber came here today and could not determine the cause of water pressure problem. Now a "well guy" has to come, a phrase that makes me smile. Better than a "sick guy," I guess.

Don't hit me.

So instead of completing the tasks on my list, the list keeps growing. Virgos don't like that. We like to make the list and follow through on each item. I like to make a little progress each day--that's the way I write. Lately I am stymied, though. I wouldn't call it writer's block, but I don't know which direction I'm taking next.

Time for a little solitaire.

A bientot
becky

blacktop

They are paving my road tomorrow. The sign says my road will be closed. The question is, what does that mean? When I leave to have my root canal at 3pm (ugh), will I be barred from driving?

STOP, MAAM, OR WE'LL SHOOT.

OKAY THEN, I GUESS I CAN'T GO.

That was easy and an outcome I wouldn't mind. Or does it mean that we can drive on the street, but waaaay over on the edge, where the squirrels tread, my little enemies. Maybe I can run a few over.

I noticed quite a few cars parked down at the end of the road and now that is making sense. Earlier I thought it was one more party in my neighborhood that I wasn't invited to.

I am reading MAGICAL THINKING by Augusten Burroughs, who is brilliantly funny. The story about finding the "rat/thing" in his bathtub had me choking with laughter. And believe me, I need a few laughter chokes. I also read his DRY, about going to rehab, and it was compelling.

I must give another recommendation for my friend Gail Stockwell's DAVID AND MAX, a middle grade book about the Holocaust. I don't think there are too many of those and this one is done with the sensitivity one would want for that age group.

Humidity has fried my hair once again. IS THAT WOMAN WEARING A BIRD'S NEST ON HER HEAD? Yes she is. And since I am going to the hairdresser on Thursday, I see no reason to do anything about it, so be grateful you don't have to see me today or tomorrow. The poor endodontist has to, but I don't mind horrifying her, since she does the same to me.

Actually, I'm meeting with a stockbroker today at 4:30. Isn't he the lucky guy?

I've decided to do something shocking at the hairdresser's. Stay tuned.

A bientot
becky

What's Made Me Laugh?

Not too many laughs lately.

However, last week in Arkansas, my brother and s-i-l and I got hysterical over a car ad. It's for Buick, I think, and it says "a breath of fresh air in a world gone mad." A WORLD GONE MAD. I don't know--it seems a little over the top for Buick. You had to be there.

We were also reading about the steroid guy in the bicycle race, don't ask me what his name is, I can't keep up with that stuff. But evidently other track stars have come up with creative excuses for high testosterone in their bodies. One said he had had repeated sex with his wife the night before a race and maybe that was why his levels were elevated. Yeah, okay. Rut away, baby. That could be why testosterone was DEPLETED, don't we think?

And then there was this recent exchange I had with someone I knew well. The first speaker is me.

"Hey. I'm going to tell you something about myself that you don't know."

"Something important?"

"Well, distinctive. It sets me apart. You will be impressed."

"What is it?"

"The last time I ever threw up was St. Patrick's Day 1969. Isn't that cool?"

"How is it cool?"

"Because I never barf. Isn't that unusual?"

"Thanks for sharing."

"When was the last time you threw up?"

"Page two of COupon Girl."

Hardy har.

Oh and one last one. DRiving along a seedy section of downtown Hot Springs, Ark, this sign was seen:

STRIP KARAOKE

Now there's a concept.

A bientot
becky

Friday Zest

Friday Zest is different when you're on vacay.

All the days are zestful, so none seem particularly so.

It won't be long before Friday Zest picks up its usual gusto, though. How will I ever get up every day at 6am and out the door by 7am? How will I do all that work?

I worked diligently on my syllabus yesterday and will continue that project today. It's so bleeeeeeech compared to regular writing.

The bird book I was working on (with a co-writer) may have come to a standstill or even a dead stop. It's tough to write with someone else, that's all I can say. I always think it's funny in Hollywood when they say "creative differences."

"He wanted Italian dressing and I wanted Hershey's syrup."

"She says four people in a hot air balloon over the Grand Canyon is too many and I say the more the merrier."

"He has too many adverbs."

"She doesn't get to the point."

And the phrase undoubtedly is a euphemism for other things, such as outright hostility.

I'LL SHOW YOU CREATIVE DIFFERENCES. SEE THIS GUN?

I have great admiration for people who can create a work together. Imagine creating a painting together.

VINCENT VAN GOGH: I sink a bit more yellow here.

PAUL GAUGUIN: Mais non! Pas de yellow!

VVG: Move your hand, sir!

PG: I say no yellow!

VVG: If I say yellow, voila! We will have yellow!

PG: And you shall have no ears at all!!

Did anyone see Liza Minelli last week on Ellen Degeneres show? God, she looked awful and seemed as though she couldn't walk right. I felt so bad for her, but maybe it's time to get away from the inky black hair dye.

A little Friday cattiness to start the weekend.

A bientot
becky

Home at Last

Coming home is always the best part of any trip, provided the house is still standing and the water works, the toilet still flushes, and no squirrels have busted in. It's delightfully cool here in New England compared to Arkansas.

Nose to the grindstone today on Victory revisions, which I have ignored shamefully since I finished the thing. I don't think they will take me too long. One reader said I could "milk" the ending more and I may consider adding more to it. I was very distracted as I wrote the ending and I feared it would show.

Only 4 weeks until the shining eyes of my new freshmen look up at me. That means a syllabus for each class. Ugh. They're not hard to do, just tedious. And since I've been Living the Dream, it will be refreshing to get back into the swing, though I never thought I'd say that.

I'm hosting a Family Event on Labor Day and that means extensive housecleaning, ugh again, uber ugh. Lawnmowing I may be able to palm off on one of my offspring.

Got talking recently with a group of writers about themes in one's own work and how you might not even know they're there. Old Ernie Hemingway, for example and just in my own observation, always talks about paying the bill, settling up, giving the bartender his due. I always notice it in his books. I think in my own work, well, not for me to say, aside from people slumping all the time. I love that word "slump" and seem to use it a lot. I'm slumping now, actually, and usually do. I'm a sloppy bag of goods.

Glad to be home, though.
A bientot
becky

Arkansas

Finally I can get online. My father's computer is eerie and bipolar and will not allow me to visit any web site. Very strange.

I am at my brother's house in Hot Springs right now, overlooking beautiful Lake Hamilton. This is always the highlight of my visit, sitting out with him and his wife, having a sip of something (they also like cigars, but I don't).

I will be returning to the 1950s tomorrow when I go back to my parents' house for one more night of air conditioning wars. My father thinks the central air is unnecessary and goes around turning it off. Meanwhile, the caregivers who work there die a slow death from the heat. THe other day I insisted it be left on and Dad said it was freezing so he put on a JACKET and went to sit outside on the patio. I can only imagine what someone would have thought who saw him on a 100 degree day, sitting out there in a jacket.

Takes all kinds, they'd probably comment, and I guess it does.

New weirdnesses at my parents':

Obsession with eyeglasses--where are they? Did I leave my sunglasses in the car? ARe they upstairs? What about my prescription dark glasses?

Obsession with whereabouts of all belongings: Where is my stapler? Someone stole it. Someone walked off with three pairs of my socks. If only we could find Mother's pink purse from twenty years ago.

Pressure for Earlier and Earlier Lunch: This phenomenon begins at around 10:20 and it's a horrible battle to get them to wait until 11. Meals on Wheels brings them lunch at 11am or so, but on some days THEY CAN'T WAIT. So they have lunch at 10:45 and save the Meals on Wheels for dinner. I refuse to eat lunch until 12, though it about kills me pacing around.

Yesterday our wonderful head caregiver put her own large Calvin Klein sunglasses on my mother. Mother refused to take them off all day. This was after her complete cosmetics makeover, which Clarissa does on Mother every day. She also put on a very nice necklace, bracelet, and attractive pants outfit. My mother looked like Lana Turner sitting there avoiding the press. She also looked something like Maxine in the Hallmark cards.

We do have a few laughs.

A bientot
becky