Misery and Despair

I like Coach K, but I am not crazy about Duke (especially not after reading I AM CHARLOTTE SIMMONS). Think of the effort these guys put into what they do. Look at the jewelry they're wearing. Think about the jewelry their wives are wearing. I guess our sentiments run along these lines: TOUGH TOENAILS, DUDE.

All coaches of all teams feel they are unfairly put upon by refs. It's humorous.

WHAT?

DO YOU HAVE EYES?

I believe this is the former Kentucky coach.

"Here are my own children, going without dinner! My own children forfeiting their chance for a good education BECAUSE OF YOU! My house payment, my pastor's house payment, my Bible study group, all going down the drain because YOU CAN'T CALL THE GAME THE WAY I SAY YOU SHOULD! GOD!"

Memphis players thinking about their English paper coming up next week and the loss they endured in March Madness, which will end this weekend.

64 teams participate.

63 teams go home unhappy, robbed, heartbroken, disappointed, and traumatized.

Me, I'm going for dental surgery this morning. I would trade.

Later, dear reader.

A bientot with love,

becky

Pedestrian Concerns

This message is unmistakable, isn't it? Even in Russia, it is unmistakable.

Except in Russia it means STOP AND GET OUT YOUR IDENTIFYING PAPERS, COMRADE, BECAUSE FRANKLY YOU LOOK A LITTLE SUSPICIOUS! GET YOUR HAIR CUT!

Sometimes a traffic sign tries to explain too much.

This one tells you which way to go and also the existential ramifications of Chekhov's Uncle Vanya.

In France, of course, they like to use their own word, and they get to pay someone to put that little squiggly mark above the "e." Fine. Although to an English speaker, it suggests STOP OR YOU WILL BE ARRESTED. This we can relate to.

I also don't have a problem with Walk and Don't Walk. Again they make sense. I grew up with them.

Even the little guy walking makes sense.

Did someone get embarrassed by the low-tech image of this guy? Did someone finally heave a big sigh and say good grief, this image is right out of Pong, people. Space Invaders, for god's sake. What kind of message do we want to send to the world? Is THAT why everything is switched now to The Hand?

Sorry, but I'm not on board with that. Since when did a hand come to mean STOP?

Even if it is in red, a hand to me means HI! COME ON OVER! GREAT TO SEE YOU! DON'T WORRY ABOUT CARS!

LIVE LONG AND PROSPER!

By the way, dear reader, though I am no Star Trek fan [can't watch characters with giant stitched up furrows in their foreheads--it gives me a headache and makes me want to check in the mirror to see how my own furrows are doing], my own hand since October 2 of last year, resembles Mr. Spock's. I haven't tried killing anybody yet with the Vulcan Neck Touch, but the day is young.

See that? My ring finger is wonky and hangs to the side. I will always now show solidarity with Spock, one I never loved, but oh well.

And so why not other Hand signals?

Come on, come on. You know you want to. Cross the street, you dmfk.

HEY BABY! WALK OVER HERE! I'M LIKIN' WHAT I SEE!

CAUTION! DON'T ASK WHAT I CAN DO WITH THIS FINGER!

GRRRR! DON'T WALK! GO HOME AND CLOSE THE DOOR AND READ A BOOK, YOU SORRYASS JAYWALKER!

Friday Zest, dear reader--enjoy!

love,

becky

Becky Explains the Economy

Once upon a time a whole lot of people borrowed a whole lot of money.

They went to Disney World.

They bought cool clothes and toys. Lots and lots of toys.

They bought shiny things in happy colors and things they didn't really need. "I deserve it" was what they said. "I want it now."

It was wicked fun. It was so much fun that they kept doing it and doing it.

It was like getting to see Curious George over and over and then Barney after that and then George again and then having pizza and cupcakes and Hershey's kisses and ice cream all day long and no broccoli.

The Big People didn't say no. The Big People were the ones doing it.

Some Big People are called Adults for no reason. They bought houses with no money down. No money down means you don't have to pay for it. That's what the Big People thought. It's what you call a bonanza. Or irresponsible. These houses were called McMansions, which is sort of like a hamburger at McDonald's except the hamburger ends up being worth more.

YEAH! PAR-TAY! LAISSEZ LES BON TEMPS ROULER!

That means "we can't pay" in French.

No, there's no Big Bad Wolf in this story, I'm sorry. There's a lot of Big Scary Stupid People, though. Some of them took these loans and wrapped them up in packages and sold them to other Adults who wrapped them up and sold them again.

Pretty soon there were lots and lots of packages. Then the Big People on Wall Street sold insurance policies and credit swaps and they were all packaged and gift wrapped and put under a great big no-money-down Christmas tree.

But you know who showed up then, right, Maeve? And it was a big funny joke. Nobody could pay back the money!

And then some really bad stuff got in front of a fan. A great big fan, way bigger than this one.

I'm sorry I don't know the ending. Everybody is hoping that Timmy the Wonder Boy will save America. No, he is not a monkey, but some people think he is a weasel. I don't, though, honey. I think he will try his best. I'll try to finish the story for you next week, how's that?

A bientot

love,becky

Colonoscopy

I know you think of me as a delicate flower, dear reader, and rightly so. I'm a private little weird-o in many ways and so it's rather startling of me to broach the subject of, well, ahem, what it says in the title.

But I'm going to.
As soon as one turns um, a certain age and it rhymes with "nifty," you start getting harassed about it. Every time you darken the doctor's door for any reason, you will be asked about it. Have you had one yet, Mary? When are you going to do it, Mary? Were you planning to schedule it soon?

I myself had certain philosophical questions to ask.
Such as who thought it up?
It had to be somebody drunk, didn't it?
SEE THIS GARDEN HOSE? ARE YOU THINKING WHAT I'M THINKING? I BET WE COULD SNAKE THAT THING ALL THE WAY AROUND AND UP TO SOMEBODY'S THROAT--HOW COOL IS THAT?


It's very fashionable, of course. You never heard about it years ago. I'm sure my parents never had it done. Nobody did.

HAHA, YOU'RE FUNNY, MARY. This does not hold up as an excuse in the doctor's office.


Doctors get that serious sincere look when they talk about it. I get that serious "I'm lying through my teeth" look.

But finally, I succumbed. I couldn't take it any more. I scheduled one. My heart was pounding when I mailed in the paper work last August. Just filling out the forms and putting them in the mail felt frightening and oddly thrilling. It was thrilling again when they called and scheduled me for October 6. How mature I was going to be! No longer a sniveling juvenile! Then I fell and broke both my elbows on October 2 and had to cancel. I don't think anyone has ever gone that far to get out of one, though I can't be sure.

I would have let it go forever, but they called me again (goddamn it!) and I couldn't think of any excuse. So I scheduled it. OH GOD.

And that's what I have spent my spring break week doing. Well, the thing itself only took 20 minutes. But I had to use the rest of the week worrying and fretting and obsessing over it. Also prepping, which I must report is every bit as nasty as I had heard.

You have to drink an emormous jug of a syrupy thick substance that makes you think two thoughts in rapid succession.
1) It's not so bad!
2) YES IT IS!

Then you get to spend quality time in the bathroom. The instructions say that you need to be near the bathroom. This is misleading. Your bed will not be close enough. Know what I'm saying? I ended up bringing my pillow in there and trying to get some sleep on the floor. This is when you give yourself up to God and repent your misdoings and look forward to death.

No solid foods. You can have sherbet or popsicles.
And no red or orange ones either. It's hunger-inducing. I should have started yoga at the same time or some meditation. My thoughts are far too uncontained for meditation.
I HATE THIS!
THIS FKING SUCKS!
MY ARM HURTS TOO!

And let's not forget that this is a cancer test. Some people go in there and find cancer. This is very sobering and frightening. I console myself by thinking at least I can have a cheeseburger and fries when it is over.

And so you get there. They take care of you. They play music. The TV is on. Everybody is really nice and chatty and all you can think is, well, THIS will all stop when they see the big tumor. Then everyone will turn all sad and quiet. This hardly ever happens, they will say. Just wait.

They give you drugs. I thought the drugs were going to put me out, that's what my friends said, but maybe they were running low. I was awake the whole time. I can't say it was entirely comfortable every minute.
Ahem.
But it didn't take long. And everything was fine. When you walk out, you feel like a great big massive responsible adult, baby!

And I have the BIGGEST FRIDAY ZEST OF ALL TIMES!
Happy Spring, dear reader,
love,
becky

Mom's Girl

What must it have been like to grow up around Judy Garland? Now and then it must have been really fun. Now and then sophisticated and heartrending renditions of Over the Rainbow must have drifted from the shower. Or jazz standards of perfect nuance from the kitchen closet, or maybe the liquor cabinet. Not to be snide. Everybody knows Judy had demons. And Liza seems to now.

Growing up around Tippi was probably somewhat more normal, except during bird migration season. Maybe they went to Capistrano every year to shoot swallows. Both good actresses, Tippi probably a little better. Wonder how well she knew Al H.

It must have been a little goofy around this household, don't we think? Mom, can you drive me to the soccer game? Oh honey, I'm having work done that day. Anybody who criticizes Goldie for work done is just jealous. And she's a powerful producer in Hollywood. If anybody has it all, she does. Kate will too.

The Judd bathroom must have been loaded up with hair products and I imagine everything stopped if someone started to sing. Everyone would have to join in, each in their own harmony line. It would be like living with a CD going at all times. Not a bad thing.

I picture Blythe and Gwynneth sitting down for breakfast and casually doing lines from Macbeth. Sliding into heavy dramatic scenes all over the house. Blythe in the laundry: "Out out damn spot!"
Gwynneth: 'Tis a far far better thing I do than ever has been done, aw shit, how does that go, Mom?"
Blythe: "Hang on--we're having a bumpy ride. Christ, I forget that too. Did you buy marmalade?"



Some households you just KNOW were goofy. This daughter,once playing with a toy squirrel, was overheard saying "and now the squirrel gets up on the table and sings 'Oklahoma!'." We learn what we see.



I am putting this here for no reason. It's Tom and Katie on their wedding day, just outside the main entrance of Hades. Someday when I am dead, she will write a tell-all book and get more for it than any writer ever has. Sigh.
A bientot
love,
becky

What I Know to be True

When you go to your thirtieth or fortieth high school reunion, the same cliques will be in force. The same cool girls, even if they live in a trailer and wear Army boots and a bathrobe, will still rule the roost. The same nerds, dorks, pariahs and outcasts, even if they are now wealthy, well married, and bank presidents, will hang back in the doorway, unasked to sit at the "cool" table. You will feel your old status wash over you as you walk in the door.

Someone only has power over you if you give it to him/her. I'm not talking about the policeman standing at your window (you'd better give it to him). I'm talking about the person who intimidates you, makes you tongue-tied and nervous, not at your best. This person is a cabbage. Memorize the Prologue to Chaucer's Canterbury Tales in Middle English. Just do it, okay? Always recite it to yourself when you see this person. This will give you new knowledge, something to concentrate on in the august presence, and send the message that you are too busy to waste time. If this doesn't work, call me at home. We'll go from there.

The most wonderful day of your life can be followed by the worst. Enjoy the good while you have it.

Conversely, a really bad day will always be followed by one that isn't as bad. Take comfort.

You can't earn love. You can't be the funniest and the best or even the most attractive one in the line-up and make someone love you. They either do or they don't.

You can't tell your heart what to feel.

You: LOVE THIS PERSON. COME ON. THIS IS THE ONE WHO IS NICER, WHO GIVES ME PRESENTS AND SAYS THANK YOU. THE ONE WHO DESERVES MY WONDERFULNESS.

Your Heart: YEAH? WELL, EAT SHIT AND DIE. I LIKE THAT ASSHOLE OVER THERE, THE ONE WHO TREATS YOU LIKE CRAP AND LIES TO YOU AND HAS ANOTHER GIRLFRIEND. THAT'S THE ONE I LIKE. [ed. note: while you may have no control over your heart, you do over your brain. See above Canterbury Tales therapy: it could be the difference. Never give up. This is me, Mary Poppins speaking, I'm being held here against my wi.......]]

If someone gives you two excuses for why they can't do something, they are lying. Example: I can't come over Friday night because my mother-in-law might be coming over and my husband isn't feeling well. You don't need two. It means they're lying or at least it means they don't really want to come over.

If a person does something bad to you once, they will eventually do it again if you let them.

You won't go into labor until you have given up all hope of doing so. This is true of anything you are intensely waiting for.

The person you are jealous of doesn't think his life is that great. The woman you think has everything anyone could ever want, is thinking and hoping for something else.

Don't cross the traditional dating lines. If you're a woman, don't call a man. Wait for him to call you. If he's interested, he will. I'm not saying you can't plot and scheme about how to run into him--OH HI!! I DIDN'T EXPECT TO SEE YOU HERE RIGHT OUTSIDE YOUR HOUSE. WHAT A COINCIDENCE! I'm not saying you can't plot. Plotting is good and lots of fun. But he's hardwired to do the calling and the asking and the declaring of interest. Let him. You will have a much much better relationship. I'm proud to say I have lived by this rule. I stay home a lot too.

You can't lose weight without being hungry.

However happy you are right this minute is probably how happy you will be next week or next year or in twenty years.

Something good might happen today, although you probably shouldn't hold your breath .

A bientot

love,

becky

Dichotomy

So many things that are true have opposites that are true as well.
Such as?
"Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these." Yeah, yeah, don't worry, be happy. We know this.
But also consider-- "God helps those who help themselves." Hmmmm.
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder" is true, of course.
But also true is the opposite: "out of sight, out of mind."
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.
True enough. But really, names CAN hurt. Names can hurt worse than any sticks. Words are powerful.

What does this all mean? I don't know.

I was planning to give a list of tearjerker songs today for no reason. Just sometimes you're in the mood, you know?
For my money, LOVE HURTS by my main man Roy O is the premier tearjerker song of all times. I hate to say it, but my girlfriend and I played it over and over and over the day after President Kennedy was shot [although I couldn't have been born yet].
It just makes you feel so weepy and sometimes weepy is good.
REASON TO BELIEVE by Rod Stewart gets me every time.
"Knowing that you lied straight-faced while I cried.."
ARE YOU LONESOME TONIGHT? Theme song for all booty calls.
When you're ready to stop feeling sorry for yourself, give a listen to REO Speedwagon's TIME FOR ME TO FLY. A great song of freedom "I make you laugh and you make me cry." That's not a good paradigm, dude.
Oops, fifty cent word.
And finally, when you're feeling good again, try a little Patty Smith and Scandal doing GOODBYE TO YOU. If that doesn't get you out of your seat and doing a little righteous karaoke, then you are too far gone for help.

I'd forgotten how good music is. Music helps your life.
A bientot
love,
b

Sternum Crushers and Other Good Reads

A sternum crusher is what you call a big book, a huge book, a tome. One that has to be rested carefully on one's chest, but whose pages turn easily.

One of these is Edgar Sawtelle. I didn't know it was about dogs. They are noble creatures, of course (hey, I cried over Lassie and Old Yeller, don't call me hardhearted), though I still don't want one in real life. I also didn't know this was an Oprah pick, although how did I miss that since it's on the cover.....Anyway, I am about halfway through and it's very good. It's supposed to be a modern version of Hamlet. Ugh. I don't want to see any bloodbath in the kennel, know what I'm saying? Also interesting to me is how many poor reviews it has on Amazon. I think people like to be negative. People are jealous. I think this will be five stars, but I haven't finished it yet.

If someone came along and said hey, ya wanna read a really long book about a big fat convenience store owner, what would your answer be, dear reader? In this case, it should be yes. I didn't want this one to end. Russo reminds me of John Irving in his storytelling ability. Even inside the main plots there are little stories. Sometimes the subplots have subplots and THEY are mesmerizing. Five stars.

This book won't crush your ribs when you read it in bed, but you'll have to put it down now and then so you can howl out the window. It's darn funny. Farcical with a lot of heart underneath. Keillor has his finger on the pulse of mainland America, the midwest, Lutherans, and pretty much everything else if you ask me. Four stars.

I read this book because of the title and the cover. A German corporal in wartime Paris disguises himself. It didn't disappoint. Four stars.

Another WWII story, this one from a child's point of view. He hates tulips now because they had to boil them and eat them near the end of the war. Ugh. The love of the boy for the father is what I will remember about this book. Four stars.

I am getting into these Alan Furst WWII espionage novels. They are simple. They are relatively short. And in every one there is a sophisticated adult love affair. Very sexy without being graphic or explicit. They take my breath away. Five stars.

That's enough for today. I'm sure I have left some out, but that's the fun part of sternum crushing. You can always go back for more.

love,

becky

Snow Day Bitch & Moan

By March, dear reader, the high exhilaration of a snow day is replaced with sighs, outright whining, or "whinning" as my students would put it, and the fervent hope that the power will stay on. And if you think you've seen road rage, I guarantee you haven't seen electrical-power-I-Need-My-Microwave-fk-you-National Grid rage. I don't own a gun, but somewhere on the premises is a huge, I mean HUGE, slingshot. Picture me on the roof, dear reader, poised for attack. Think I could take out a few squirrels? Me too. I think it would feel really good.

Let's get right to the whining, shall we?
1) Only yesterday remembered to haul garbage out to the street. Now it is capsized and blocking the driveway from plow entrance. Plus nowhere to move the beast after I get it standing upright.

2) Course syllabus in disarray. I consider humans to be adults at 18, don't you? I consider an adult to be capable of figuring out what is due when, no matter the weather or cancellations. Confusion will reign on this and may require slingshot solution.

3) Snow shovel buried in snow somewhere. Remember vague whereabouts but need to kick snow around to locate. Looks like umpire dusting off home plate but more sweat. Slingshot no help.

4) Dishwasher not working. Unrelated to snow day but seems more problematic in absence of regular activities.

5) Regular misery. God, I'm a complainer, aren't I? YEAH, BABY, I AM! WHAT OF IT!

GOOD THINGS TO THINK ABOUT DURING SNOW DAY
1) Already did grocery shopping, so don't have to face Hannaford's. Can feel a bit smug and superior thinking about the poor dumfks who do. My father always refers to people as "poor devils" as in "those poor devils in [an unfortunate place in the world]."



2) Had the good sense to buy new tires recently. Today it is paying off. Maybe I will invest in a bullhorn so I can announce it to the general population. DRIVING WITH NEW TIRES, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, MAKE WAY! I wonder where a bullhorn could be purchased.

3) No papers to grade.

4) I guess that's it.

Okay, okay, enough of this. Let's see if we can reclaim our sense of wonder, our innate optimism, our hope and confidence for the future. I'm holding my arms out and embracing the world.
HAH! YOU LOOK LIKE A FKING IDIOT!
KEEP LOOKING FOR THE SLINGSHOT!
A bientot, dear reader. Stay calm.
love,
becky