Thursday, September 10
My Cat Walks on the Sidewalk
...but he walks right across my sleeping body as if I weren't even there.
Tuesday, September 8
Flintstones > Jetsons
DH and I sat on our newly-waxed porch this evening and discussed the movie we watched last night.
"Did you notice the parallels in their lives?" I asked.
Both embarked on food as a release. Both had adoring husbands. Both husbands suggested the Js' media: Paul suggested TV to Julia; Eric suggested blogging to Julie. Both Julie and Julia moaned, "They HATE me!" when faced with rejection. Both husbands listened rationally and explained what was actually happening.
Later I asked DH what his favorite cartoon was when he was a boy. The question was on a Facebook quiz and I wondered what his favorite was. He was unprepared to answer. "Hmm," he said. "I liked Tom & Jerry..."
Me, I was ready. First, when I was little, I loved Yogi Bear. As I got older, I really liked the Jetsons. At age 8 or 9, close to the end of my cartoon times, I liked The Archies. Sang their songs all week at Girl Scout camp that summer.
"Did you ever notice the parallels between the Flintstones and the Jetsons?" I asked. They were the same, just at opposite ends of history.
Yes, he said, but the Jetsons did not have neighbors like Barney and Betty. I like it when we have these sophisticated conversations!
"Did you notice the parallels in their lives?" I asked.
Both embarked on food as a release. Both had adoring husbands. Both husbands suggested the Js' media: Paul suggested TV to Julia; Eric suggested blogging to Julie. Both Julie and Julia moaned, "They HATE me!" when faced with rejection. Both husbands listened rationally and explained what was actually happening.
Later I asked DH what his favorite cartoon was when he was a boy. The question was on a Facebook quiz and I wondered what his favorite was. He was unprepared to answer. "Hmm," he said. "I liked Tom & Jerry..."
Me, I was ready. First, when I was little, I loved Yogi Bear. As I got older, I really liked the Jetsons. At age 8 or 9, close to the end of my cartoon times, I liked The Archies. Sang their songs all week at Girl Scout camp that summer.
"Did you ever notice the parallels between the Flintstones and the Jetsons?" I asked. They were the same, just at opposite ends of history.
Yes, he said, but the Jetsons did not have neighbors like Barney and Betty. I like it when we have these sophisticated conversations!
Weather= Mood
So it is a totally gray, still, day. Temp: 83. Humidity: 99%. Not kidding.
I checked the weather website before waxing the outside edge of the front porch this morning. It promised me the chance of rain is only 10% all day long. Yet, I doubt. I waxed on faith, but I doubt.
All of us are droopy. Cats, dog, me. I took my Energy Drink, outside on the lovely, waxed porch, even. Did 45 minutes on the treadmill. Woopee. Still droopy. I think even the birds are droopy; they have not sung all morning.
Oh. I think I'll go put a sign on the porch just in case the mailman comes early. I'd hate for him to slip and mail goes everywhere....
I checked the weather website before waxing the outside edge of the front porch this morning. It promised me the chance of rain is only 10% all day long. Yet, I doubt. I waxed on faith, but I doubt.
All of us are droopy. Cats, dog, me. I took my Energy Drink, outside on the lovely, waxed porch, even. Did 45 minutes on the treadmill. Woopee. Still droopy. I think even the birds are droopy; they have not sung all morning.
Oh. I think I'll go put a sign on the porch just in case the mailman comes early. I'd hate for him to slip and mail goes everywhere....
Monday, September 7
Julie & Julia
DH and I went to see this movie tonight. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it. IF you are a foodie, or a Julia buff, or a writer, or a woman. Or a guy who secretly loves Julia (as does my dear DH.) And who can't love some Nora Ephron? She is actually the only screenwriter/director/producer I pay attention to.
The movie (and the book) are about cooking. And aspirations. And BLOGGING. Which is why I am here.
I haven't blogged in so long, my website-filler-inner did not even fill in the words. It has never done that before.
So, yes, I am running for public office. And have a high-schooler who has extra activities every evening but Tuesday. And I'm terrifically busy. Running a campaign and vacuuming pounds of cat hair. Hey! This weekend I stripped and waxed the front porch. For two days. After campaigning AND working the homeless shelter. Whew.
But too busy to BLOG? I should be flogged.
Teensy little writing joke there.
I actually liked the movie, Julie & Julia better than the book, which I have almost never done! but I think it is because it offered insights into Julia's life as well. The movie was a melange of Julie Powell's book by the same name, and Julia Child's book, My Life in France.
So, after countless promises and commitments, to you, dear reader, and to myself, I pledge to blog. No matter how inane, how mundane, how insane, or profane. I. Will. Blog.
Til tomorrow.
The movie (and the book) are about cooking. And aspirations. And BLOGGING. Which is why I am here.
I haven't blogged in so long, my website-filler-inner did not even fill in the words. It has never done that before.
So, yes, I am running for public office. And have a high-schooler who has extra activities every evening but Tuesday. And I'm terrifically busy. Running a campaign and vacuuming pounds of cat hair. Hey! This weekend I stripped and waxed the front porch. For two days. After campaigning AND working the homeless shelter. Whew.
But too busy to BLOG? I should be flogged.
Teensy little writing joke there.
I actually liked the movie, Julie & Julia better than the book, which I have almost never done! but I think it is because it offered insights into Julia's life as well. The movie was a melange of Julie Powell's book by the same name, and Julia Child's book, My Life in France.
So, after countless promises and commitments, to you, dear reader, and to myself, I pledge to blog. No matter how inane, how mundane, how insane, or profane. I. Will. Blog.
Til tomorrow.
Sunday, August 30
63 Days til Election
With only 63 days to election, and only a week to Labor Day, things are heating up in the Blackwell household!
Although we filed for office in July, the campaign "proper" doesn't start in earnest until Labor Day, which is only a week away. Yikes! Here we go! I have that feeling you get at the start of a major roller coaster. What is in store for me on this ride?
In a town where the incumbents rarely have opposition, we have one encumbent stepping down, and a hearty field of 9 new candidates jockeying for his place. Yet the whole council could be ousted, as our local election is "at large," with the top five vote-getters being elected to council. Once elected, the new council appoints the mayor and mayor pro-tem. By tradition, but not by law, they select the person with the most votes for mayor and #2 for mayor pro-tem. But this tradition has never been broken. With a total of 13 candidates for 5 positions, it does indeed promise to be a wild ride.
I've already been overwhelmed by generous donors. By patient mentors. By encouraging friends, and encouraging strangers, who, oddly, know my name but I don't know them.
I've met neighborhood leaders, pastors, police officers, teachers, retired folks, and young folks.
I've attended conferences, meetings, committees, and neighborhood groups -- all in an effort to educate myself on the issues facing every corner of the city..
Some issues I hear over and over. Some are particular to one case or another. What I have learned is that folks are passionate about their city, and they all are eager to talk about it.
If you haven't dropped by my campaign website, take a minute to do so: www.MaggieBlackwellforCouncil.com. It's going to be a wild ride!
Although we filed for office in July, the campaign "proper" doesn't start in earnest until Labor Day, which is only a week away. Yikes! Here we go! I have that feeling you get at the start of a major roller coaster. What is in store for me on this ride?
In a town where the incumbents rarely have opposition, we have one encumbent stepping down, and a hearty field of 9 new candidates jockeying for his place. Yet the whole council could be ousted, as our local election is "at large," with the top five vote-getters being elected to council. Once elected, the new council appoints the mayor and mayor pro-tem. By tradition, but not by law, they select the person with the most votes for mayor and #2 for mayor pro-tem. But this tradition has never been broken. With a total of 13 candidates for 5 positions, it does indeed promise to be a wild ride.
I've already been overwhelmed by generous donors. By patient mentors. By encouraging friends, and encouraging strangers, who, oddly, know my name but I don't know them.
I've met neighborhood leaders, pastors, police officers, teachers, retired folks, and young folks.
I've attended conferences, meetings, committees, and neighborhood groups -- all in an effort to educate myself on the issues facing every corner of the city..
Some issues I hear over and over. Some are particular to one case or another. What I have learned is that folks are passionate about their city, and they all are eager to talk about it.
If you haven't dropped by my campaign website, take a minute to do so: www.MaggieBlackwellforCouncil.com. It's going to be a wild ride!
Saturday, August 1
Thinking Deep Thoughts...
Well, I have gone and done it again, or should I say, NOT done it again. Too, too much time has passed since my last posting.
After years of intermittent checking on the website, I finally subscribed to The Writer's Almanac, a delightful daily brief written by Garrison Keillor.
I have listened faithfully to Keillor on Saturday nights for about 30 years. He is a tender spirit, a gracious man, and an excellent writer. Although, I must say he must not be the best husband, as he seems to have a string of ex-wives in his wake.
In the mornings I let the doggie out for a tinkle, wind all the clocks, pour my coffee, and then curl up in front of the PC to check my email.
Having only subscribed a few weeks ago, I am still a little surprised every morning when I see the email from them. "Oh!" and I anxiously click on it. I am never disappointed.
Reading The Writer's Almanac is a little like a vacation from the world. He takes me into a world of great people who wrote great things. Or of tragic people who wrote tragic things. Or of painters or scientists with great imaginations. He always includes some little-known fact about them and some trauma or joy or idiosyncracy.
The entire trip takes me about 2 minutes and I feel more literate, more in touch with people who wrote well and accomplished great things.
Here are some things I learned recently:
Alexis de Tocqueville was only 25 when he visited America. His first book was a collaboration with Gustave de Beaumont, whose work was not quite as successful as de Tocqueville's. Their book explored our prison system in the early 19th century, gee, I know nothing about that -- I wonder what they were like? ... and then returned back to Britain to continue to write about the States. Beaumont wrote about slavery and our hypocrisy, Land of the Free vs. slaves, and de Tocqueville wrote about, well, about everything American. At one time, he said,
And I just about believe he was right. I am trying not to be such a Now Girl.
Lawrence Raab wrote an achingly poignant poem about Ralph Waldo Emerson, who apparently suffered from Alzheimer's in his later years. The poem is entitled, "A Friend's Umbrella," and is definitely worth the time. It appeared in TWA on Wednesday, 29.July.2009.
Astronomer Maria Mitchell discovered a comet in 1847. She was a professor of astronomy at Vassar College. She wrote, "The more we see, the more we are capable of seeing." Take this thought out of astronomy and to the philosphic realm, and it makes perfect sense. The more insight you use into what people are really saying and thinking, the more you can see. It makes perfect sense to me. I wonder which way she really meant it?
And Francis Scott Key, whose birthday is today, wrote a beautiful, and sadly optimistic verse of the national anthem which we never sing:
Please visit the site and subscribe for yourself. --OR-- you can subscribe to the podcast and listen to Keillor read it for you himself, in his deep and doleful voice. As I said earlier, I am never disappointed.
After years of intermittent checking on the website, I finally subscribed to The Writer's Almanac, a delightful daily brief written by Garrison Keillor.
I have listened faithfully to Keillor on Saturday nights for about 30 years. He is a tender spirit, a gracious man, and an excellent writer. Although, I must say he must not be the best husband, as he seems to have a string of ex-wives in his wake.
In the mornings I let the doggie out for a tinkle, wind all the clocks, pour my coffee, and then curl up in front of the PC to check my email.
Having only subscribed a few weeks ago, I am still a little surprised every morning when I see the email from them. "Oh!" and I anxiously click on it. I am never disappointed.
Reading The Writer's Almanac is a little like a vacation from the world. He takes me into a world of great people who wrote great things. Or of tragic people who wrote tragic things. Or of painters or scientists with great imaginations. He always includes some little-known fact about them and some trauma or joy or idiosyncracy.
The entire trip takes me about 2 minutes and I feel more literate, more in touch with people who wrote well and accomplished great things.
Here are some things I learned recently:
Alexis de Tocqueville was only 25 when he visited America. His first book was a collaboration with Gustave de Beaumont, whose work was not quite as successful as de Tocqueville's. Their book explored our prison system in the early 19th century, gee, I know nothing about that -- I wonder what they were like? ... and then returned back to Britain to continue to write about the States. Beaumont wrote about slavery and our hypocrisy, Land of the Free vs. slaves, and de Tocqueville wrote about, well, about everything American. At one time, he said,
"An American will build a house in which to pass his old age and sell it before
the roof is on; he will plant a garden and rent it just as the trees are coming
into bearing … he will take up a profession and leave it, settle in one place
and soon go off elsewhere."
And I just about believe he was right. I am trying not to be such a Now Girl.
Lawrence Raab wrote an achingly poignant poem about Ralph Waldo Emerson, who apparently suffered from Alzheimer's in his later years. The poem is entitled, "A Friend's Umbrella," and is definitely worth the time. It appeared in TWA on Wednesday, 29.July.2009.
Astronomer Maria Mitchell discovered a comet in 1847. She was a professor of astronomy at Vassar College. She wrote, "The more we see, the more we are capable of seeing." Take this thought out of astronomy and to the philosphic realm, and it makes perfect sense. The more insight you use into what people are really saying and thinking, the more you can see. It makes perfect sense to me. I wonder which way she really meant it?
And Francis Scott Key, whose birthday is today, wrote a beautiful, and sadly optimistic verse of the national anthem which we never sing:
"And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion
A home and a country should leave us no more?
Their blood has wiped out their foul footstep's pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave:
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. "
Please visit the site and subscribe for yourself. --OR-- you can subscribe to the podcast and listen to Keillor read it for you himself, in his deep and doleful voice. As I said earlier, I am never disappointed.
Saturday, July 18
The Good New Days
We've all received emails remembering "The Good Old Days," when you could ride your bike to the corner store, drop it on the sidewalk, and go in and buy a brown bag of goodies -- for a quarter. Alone. Without fear of peril.
I have complained, myself, about the Thumb Generation. They don't go outside and play. Everything they want to do is electronic: texting, MySpace, Wii.
What happened to the Good Ol' Days?
Well I was thinking this morning about the Good NEW Days. Here are a few things I came up with.
PHOTOS. Having photographs processed used to take 2 trips to the drugstore: one to drop the film off, one to pick up the prints.
Now I go to Walgreens.com, upload my photo, and pick it up in an hour. One trip. One photo costs me 19 cents.
RX. Ditto that on prescriptions.
Now my physician sends it in to the drugstore via his laptop, and I drive through and pick it up on the way home. Pretty nice if you (or a cranky toddler) are running a fever.
MAIL. When I was little, the postman came twice a day: once at 9 and again at 2. We often received letters in the morning mail and replied with the evening mail. That doesn't happen anymore.
Now we send letters all day, every day. 2 am. 9 pm. Billions, who know how many, of notes, letters, words of encouragement, fly through space every day. Gives a whole new meaning to the term, "air mail."
NEIGHBORS. True, we don't chat over the back yard fence anymore while we hang out our clothes.
Now we gather at Starbucks or our local coffee house for weekly chats. Or gather on porches after the kids' bedtime for a glass of wine and the latest gossip.
FOOD. There are all sorts of conveniences today we just didn't have before. I remember it was a big deal when you could buy a chicken already cut up. When Jiffy Pop came out, we thought it was magic. Then came a device just for popping corn, basically a hot plate with a lid. Then the air poppers came out. Now, of course, we throw a bag in the microwave and eat it within 5 minutes.
I remember when the "tea" section at the grocery was about 1 foot square. Our choices were Tetley, Lipton, and the new Constant Comment. Now our grocery has a half an aisle dedicated to tea, from Africa or India; teas, tisanes, and herbals; teas that turn colors and teas that bloom.
Ditto that on bread. In my town, it was a choice of Wholesum or Colonial. Now we can buy organic, whole wheat, 5-grain, 7-grain, white, white whole wheat, berry, oat, the list goes on and on.
So the next time one of us middle-agers grumbles and remembers the Good Ol' Days, help him remember the Good New Days. Life is sweet.
I have complained, myself, about the Thumb Generation. They don't go outside and play. Everything they want to do is electronic: texting, MySpace, Wii.
What happened to the Good Ol' Days?
Well I was thinking this morning about the Good NEW Days. Here are a few things I came up with.
PHOTOS. Having photographs processed used to take 2 trips to the drugstore: one to drop the film off, one to pick up the prints.
Now I go to Walgreens.com, upload my photo, and pick it up in an hour. One trip. One photo costs me 19 cents.
RX. Ditto that on prescriptions.
Now my physician sends it in to the drugstore via his laptop, and I drive through and pick it up on the way home. Pretty nice if you (or a cranky toddler) are running a fever.
MAIL. When I was little, the postman came twice a day: once at 9 and again at 2. We often received letters in the morning mail and replied with the evening mail. That doesn't happen anymore.
Now we send letters all day, every day. 2 am. 9 pm. Billions, who know how many, of notes, letters, words of encouragement, fly through space every day. Gives a whole new meaning to the term, "air mail."
NEIGHBORS. True, we don't chat over the back yard fence anymore while we hang out our clothes.
Now we gather at Starbucks or our local coffee house for weekly chats. Or gather on porches after the kids' bedtime for a glass of wine and the latest gossip.
FOOD. There are all sorts of conveniences today we just didn't have before. I remember it was a big deal when you could buy a chicken already cut up. When Jiffy Pop came out, we thought it was magic. Then came a device just for popping corn, basically a hot plate with a lid. Then the air poppers came out. Now, of course, we throw a bag in the microwave and eat it within 5 minutes.
I remember when the "tea" section at the grocery was about 1 foot square. Our choices were Tetley, Lipton, and the new Constant Comment. Now our grocery has a half an aisle dedicated to tea, from Africa or India; teas, tisanes, and herbals; teas that turn colors and teas that bloom.
Ditto that on bread. In my town, it was a choice of Wholesum or Colonial. Now we can buy organic, whole wheat, 5-grain, 7-grain, white, white whole wheat, berry, oat, the list goes on and on.
So the next time one of us middle-agers grumbles and remembers the Good Ol' Days, help him remember the Good New Days. Life is sweet.
Sunday, July 12
Saturday, July 11
Packing
So, DH walks in and says, "Talk to me about packing."
"Packing?"
"Yeah," he says. "If you were leaving for a week, how would you pack?"
"Hmm," I say. "I guess I would put 'like' things together. I would not pack by outfit."
He stomps off, muttering about outfits.
What'd I say?
"Packing?"
"Yeah," he says. "If you were leaving for a week, how would you pack?"
"Hmm," I say. "I guess I would put 'like' things together. I would not pack by outfit."
He stomps off, muttering about outfits.
What'd I say?
Sunday, July 5
YOU in YOUR SPACE
I have an amazing dear friend named Marguerite. She, our other dear friend Mandy, and I have been known to spend hours over coffee or wine, depending on the hour of the day. We talk about all sorts of things, and, having cleared our souls, can re-emerge out into the world, brighter, lighter beings.
Marguerite's son gave her a mug last Christmas with the inscription: "Queen of F***ing Everything" and it's just so funny because it's just so TRUE. When our neighborhood had an auction to raise funds for the park, oh, so happens she trained in auctions at Christy's. When she and her brother had to evacuate Norleans, and the Saab failed, she slid underneath and stitched the rubber boot together with needle and wire so it would drive them to safety. She's smart, she's industrious, and she's funny, a holy triumvirate.
Today she brought a friend who happens to be a famous photographer from Chicago. They are taking a 10-day trip through the South, taking pics of people in their places. They shot Little One on her bed, listening to the iPod, texting away. They took pics of Little Dog dancing, sitting, sneezing (although not all at once.) They shot me at my desk, and standing with a book, and at the dinner table working on a jigsaw puzzle with DH. Finally, they got closeups of my feet in my bunny slippers. I may use that one for my profile on Facebook.
Marguerite had asked us to save this afternoon for the photo shoot. We had gladly done so for our dear friend, but did not at all look forward to posing.
Amazingly, it was fun, great fun, and she and he were so accommodating. They asked every time they moved a lamp, or un-mounted a picture from the wall. Before they left, they replaced every little thing (even though they did not need to) and left the house just as it was before.
It was great to see our pictures, even if it was only on the camera view-finder. They have promised to send copies digitally. I declare, we all looked just like ourselves, just better.
What a lovely adventure it was.
Marguerite's son gave her a mug last Christmas with the inscription: "Queen of F***ing Everything" and it's just so funny because it's just so TRUE. When our neighborhood had an auction to raise funds for the park, oh, so happens she trained in auctions at Christy's. When she and her brother had to evacuate Norleans, and the Saab failed, she slid underneath and stitched the rubber boot together with needle and wire so it would drive them to safety. She's smart, she's industrious, and she's funny, a holy triumvirate.
Today she brought a friend who happens to be a famous photographer from Chicago. They are taking a 10-day trip through the South, taking pics of people in their places. They shot Little One on her bed, listening to the iPod, texting away. They took pics of Little Dog dancing, sitting, sneezing (although not all at once.) They shot me at my desk, and standing with a book, and at the dinner table working on a jigsaw puzzle with DH. Finally, they got closeups of my feet in my bunny slippers. I may use that one for my profile on Facebook.
Marguerite had asked us to save this afternoon for the photo shoot. We had gladly done so for our dear friend, but did not at all look forward to posing.
Amazingly, it was fun, great fun, and she and he were so accommodating. They asked every time they moved a lamp, or un-mounted a picture from the wall. Before they left, they replaced every little thing (even though they did not need to) and left the house just as it was before.
It was great to see our pictures, even if it was only on the camera view-finder. They have promised to send copies digitally. I declare, we all looked just like ourselves, just better.
What a lovely adventure it was.
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