Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Return of the Jedi

I don't even know what a Jedi is. Is it plural? Is it one Jed, two Jedi? As in there are three Jedi at this party and I can't tell them apart? Half the students in my classes are Jedi.

But I myself have returned to the cool climes of New England. I must say it feels good after the sweltering jungle weather of Arkansas.

If you make the unlikely choice of shopping outside, you must duck into a store every few seconds or wilt right there on the sidewalk. It doesn't matter what is for sale. You must go in and feign interest.
Well sure I want to browse and peruse toilets, why wouldn't I? We're always being told how much time we spend sleeping--is it one third of our lives? How much of our time do we spend using a toilet? I'll bet it's a high percentage (and for some I've known a VERY high percentage). I'll bet this store owner can tell me about it. Until I cool off and step outside again.

Bath House Row in Hot Springs, Arkansas, is a sight worth seeing.

It evokes an earlier time, one of style and opulence (though now dulled). You can sense the babes from long ago wearing their white gloves as they stroll with their gangster boyfriends. Hot Springs used to be the getaway resort of preference for Al Capone and many of his buddies.

The Arlington Hotel presides over the whole setting.

And if it's a little frayed at the edges, no one is noticing. I must say we did notice a huge cockroach crawling around outside the front door, though, rather a deterrent perhaps. The fun part was watching an outdoor wedding across the street as we stood comfortably inside the front door of the Arlington. The bride looked pissed off, the guests were fanning themselves madly, and all concerned seemed pretty miserable.

It was a great trip and I got to see my niece get married. When she walked down the aisle on the arm of my brother, it was a weepy moment for me and very gratifying.

Worst airline? Possibly US Air. No thunderstorms, no weather of any kind for hundreds of miles in every direction, but you know what? We're going to delay this flight anyway. And then we're going to delay your connecting flight, so you can feel hopeful, so you can clutch on to the possibility of making it, and have that heartstopping OJ Simpson run through the airport that everyone so loves. And then miss the flight anyway. All travel in the US is miserable. You heard it here first, dear reader. Hmm, maybe not first.

Anyway, I'm glad to be home and am reading GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO.

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Now taking nominations

Now taking nominations for the Worst Airline in US.

Will report soon.

Love from 100 degree heat,

Monday, June 22, 2009

Cat Toy? Or Dead Mouse?

I must make this decision several times a day. Either is possible. It's a question of emotion, of good judgment, of WHAT THE F IS THAT THING?



I have done that a few times. Along with Iphones, MRI medical diagnostics, and other twenty first century technology, cat toys have come a long way. They are pretty darn realistic. OH SHIT! OH GOD! Also they get under your feet. You're about to step backward to get a better look at yourself in the mirror (here's hoping) and so you rest your weight on one foot, and you feel a certain softness--oh god, I'm stepping on somebody's tail--OH GOD I'M GOING DOWN--but it's only a soft toy and you catch yourself in time. GOOD LORD.

The cats have this blue toy shown here but aren't interested in it. They prefer telephone wires and digital cameras. They like to explore sacks. Violet was hiding inside a cloth shopping bag the other day and I stepped on her. I felt so bad. But you know, their feelings are never hurt. I KNOW YOU STEPPED ON ME AND SPOKE HARSH WORDS, BUT I STILL LIKE YOU AND I STILL EXPECT FOOD AT REGULAR HOURS. I can hear them now in the next room working on some project. It's very cute when Dahlia leaps into my lap as I sit at the computer and then insinuates herself up over my shoulder and purrs. Aw.

It almost makes up for the 4:30am Extreme Cat Olympics. Is this on ESPN yet? It should be.

GOOD BOOK ALERT: The 19th Wife by David Ebershoff-------yummy yummy. I love that polygamy stuff. I don't want to be IN it, don't get me wrong. But it makes for a good story, that's for sure.
I am traveling this week, dear reader, and so will not post for a while.
I will miss you, though.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

If I Were Really Cynical

I would complain that life is boring. I wouldn't say it was just my life either. I would go out on a limb and say all life is boring, for everybody.

I'll bet Paris Hilton's life is boring.

Shown here channeling Jackie Kennedy and Elton John, I am sure she feels that entirely too much time is spent on airplanes. That's right. It's an onerous burden and a boring one if you are she. Think of the time spent/squandered. Clearance at Bergdorf's in NYC? Red eye. Sidewalk Sale on Rodeo Drive? Returning red eye. What can you do on an airplane besides read a magazine? They won't let you work out. You can't text or talk on your cell or buy anything.

I guess you can have sex on one. People say they do. But I'll bet not that many people do.

So if they're not having sex, they're reading magazines. That's pretty much it.

Paris Hilton is right.

Also bored--you can just bet--is my main gal Martha. God, she looked good when she got out of the slam, didn't she?

martha-stewart Trimmed down, toned up, and ready to install the most difficult screen doors on the market. Being on a TV show would be wicked interesting for all of us, but for her, it's ho hum. BORING. Instructing the masses on one more holiday centerpiece with a live beehive gets freaking old, my friend. Is that all there is? One more pineapple Key Lime tylenol-flavored charlotte russe? BFD.

So she's bored for sure.

The Pope is probably bored as all hell. I bet he swears too. Not the swearing that has God in it or Christ--oh christ, no--but the rest of it. LISTEN TO ME, YOU MOTHERFKING MONSIGNOR! YOU RAISE TWO MILLION MORE FOR YOUR PARISH OR IT'S SHITSVILLE FOR YOU!. NADA. NO MORE OF THIS PANSYASS "I DONT WANNA ASK THE PEOPLE FOR MORE MONEY!" YOU'LL ASK 'EM OR YOU'RE FKED!

Shown here during a recent game of Charades [five words, movie,] and sending a secret Vatican hand signal at the same time--Hook 'Em Horns! Or just placing his bar order. But still, boring. What's he going to do for fun--it's not like he can cruise out to put a few benjamins down on the ponies. So what else? You can wear the white vestment or the green one, that's about it. With crosses or without. And the hat--he's got to be miserable in that thing. Wouldn't want the Pope to be called --gasp--GAY. So they'd better continue to hide the bobby pins if they're using them. I bet they serve a lot of macaroni in the Vatican. It's Italy after all. In Catholicism, you can earn time off your eventual sentence in purgatory by saying certain prayers. I wonder if the Pope can actually add time to your sentence.


Whew. Dang. I think I need a hug. No, I don't. I hate it when people say that.

And don't worry. This is all only if I were cynical. And you, dear reader, know that I am not.

Live the Dream. Be Here Now. Send Money. Haha, One is a Joke.



Sunday, June 14, 2009

Tomorrow's Winning Lottery Numbers

5 12 23 28 47

HAH! I know my readers did not fall for that. They have taste and discretion and intelligence. Unlike me.

Now how would you spend your money?

Your house is falling down.

Falling down house

Your car is deteriorating.


But you love clothes so much.

watters bridal1 Watters Bridal Stores

and you have a new love for travel.

See full size image

And working is so, well, tedious sometimes. I mean just getting up and going there requires energy, discipline, and organization. And you have to remember to get gas. And you have to remember to buy enough yogurt for one every day. And there's other stuff too. Some people were meant for lolling about.

Click to view big photoAnd not for actual labor.

Though you love the classroom and are comfortable there. It gives you a chance to use words bigger than futon, long reptilian words as Mark Twain would say, and to witness novel texting techniques So what would you gain if you quit working?

I know. I'll have some trees cut down. They are encroaching on my house.

And I will continue to think about this issue.

Living the Dream, dear reader, or I should say Living the Dream With Cats. They are still working on their book. So am I.



Wednesday, June 10, 2009


On my walk recently, I noticed a small pond. What, you may say? You didn't notice a POND in front of you before?

Well, no, I didn't. It's very small. More like standing water of some kind. But I was going past it a week or so ago and I heard this odd noise.
It's difficult to convey. It sounds like defunct banjo strings are being plunked or someone is fooling with a synthesizer. Very very odd. Also the noise is LOUD. It sounds like the pond itself is boiling up. I don't think anyone could stand in front of it without laughing [of course I didn't notice it for weeks and weeks, but never mind me.].
They are male frogs, of course, voicing their love lament, their pitch for a mate. The lady frogs must be wearing earplugs.

Wookin' pa nub, know what I'm sayin'?

What does this all mean? Not one damn thing.

The Death and Life of Sylvia Plath
I am interested in Sylvia Plath, and Ronald Hayman's biography is pretty good, although I'd like to say one thing to him if he's around. Dude! Swampscott is not on Cape Cod! Check your facts, okay? Interesting here how SP stands behind her husband Ted Hughes on the cover. Gosh, is that ever fitting. She was crazy-crazy about him and put her head in the oven and killed herself because he cheated on her. Yikes. No man is worth that. Three stars.

The woman Hughes was having an affair with on that occasion? I read her biography too. She was Assia Wevill and the book is A LOVER OF UNREASON by Yehuda Koren and Eilat Negev. I found it spellbinding. Guess what? Six years after Sylvia did it, Assia did the same thing, gassed herself in the kitchen. A copycat suicide, it is called. This makes me really curious about Ted Hughes and I may have to read some books about him. Poet Laureate of England in his day, he said something like he wasn't going to try and find happiness with one woman; it was weakening and suffocating.
Lover of Unreason: Assia Wevill, Sylvia Plath's Rival and Ted Hughes' Doomed Love
Well yowza and lah-dee-dah. Some people. Four stars.

And I also read

The Women: A Novel

THE WOMEN by T. C. Boyle. It's about Frank Lloyd Wright and the women in his life. Another genius type like Ted Hughes who went through a few wives. This one was beautifully written by Boyle, whose work I have admired before, but in truth, I couldn't take the reverse chronology. I couldn't see the reason for telling the story back to front, end to beginning. It's clever, I suppose, but wearying. Oh no, now we're jumping back another ten years. Forget everything you knew.
I don't like that. Three stars.
Enjoying these wonderful June days, dear reader


Saturday, June 06, 2009

One Year Ago

I stood on Westminster Bridge.

I addressed Parliament. [I yelled my loudest]

I perused Harrod's, inside and out.

I soaked up the ambience of Bloomsbury.

I got hungry and ate.

I made new friends.

I paid homage to Winston and Ben.

And got on the London bandwagon.

But which did I prefer, dear reader, London or Paris? I must think about this. And I may be adding another world destination in the coming months, I'm happy to say. It rhymes with "dome." Also "loam." And "tome."

Wednesday, June 03, 2009

4:30 a.m.

My god, there's the sun! See it? LET'S GET GOING!
Is that big lump over there Becky? She's quiet. She must have finally fallen asleep. Let's let her know that time's a wastin' on this beautiful day.

I'll race you down the stairs and then back up here under the bed! Okay, GO!

YAAY, FUN! I WIN! Let's do it again!

Let's go back to the kitchen! I love walking on the table--hey look, here's some paperwork we can organize. Step carefully now--oops.

I think that might have been Becky's camera. It made kind of a loud noise on the floor. Oh, it'll be fine probably and she's still asleep anyway. Is that her voice yelling? Look, here's a partially deflated balloon under the couch. Let's take it back upstairs. In fact, let's try and take all our cat toys out of the basket and distribute them in all the rooms of the house! I'll race ya!

This is really doing us some good, I think. We've held back until now. But now we're comfortable and ready to rock and roll. This is ONE GREAT PLACE.

I think you knocked Becky's new dress off the hanger just then. Wow! She's joining in! Didn't she just yell out in joy and glee? What a fun gal! What does "goddammit" mean?
We should probably start reminding her to get up and put food in our bowl. She might not remember to do it. First let's cuddle in next to her so she can't turn over or move. Then you walk on her and lick her face. I'll flex my claws on her back. She's loving it! She's up and swinging her arms around!
Let's leave her here for a minute and try to organize some of the stuff under the bed. Put that balloon over there just in her path when she first stands up. Won't that be a good surprise? Good grief, what a mess. Why don't you scratch the inside of that box for a while? It makes a good noise, doesn't it?
Now let's be really quiet for a minute and then POUNCE up on the bed right next to Becky's face. Oh, she jumped, didn't she? God, that is so much fun. Let's walk around and then over to the bedside table. There's lots of stuff there so step carefully--oops, those were Becky's glasses, I think. Well, they're only on the floor--oops. Gosh, look at that. Becky left that drawer slightly open at the top of the bureau.
You know what? I think I can jump into it all the way from here. I'm sure I can.
WHOOOOOOOAH! That'll teach me, I guess. I clawed on to the bureau pretty heroically, wouldn't you say, but ended up down here again. That's all right. Let me try again. AAAAAAAAAAH--I made it to the top of the whole bureau! Wow! I love being up here! Oops. What is all this stuff? It's on the floor now. Was that perfume? Earrings? She really ought to clean this stuff up.
Have a good day, dear reader.
The kitties are really very cute.