......starts 28 September.
Be still my heart.
Readings by Paul Theroux, Annie Proulx, conversations with Norman Mailer, Salman Rushdie, book signings with Fiona Apple, Theroux and Proulx, panels on everything from the war to costume design, music and a sneak preview of The Kite Runner. And, those are the tip of the iceberg.
If anyone can get me a pass to this Festival, I will organise your home. I will create a zen flow to your kitchen. You will find your possessions you thought missing. Imagine. There isn't a panel I don't want to see nor a reading I want to miss.
Oh! New York! This is why I love you.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Toddlers T.V.
Who invented the Doodlebops?
And, why?
Why do The Toddlers find them irresistible? This show, along with Yo Gabba Gabba, have played for hours over the last 36 waking hours I've been here.
Yo Gabba Gabba? Where did they find the name? Did some Account Exec come in drunk, was pushed for the name on the spur of the moment, and his secretary heard him throwing up in his trashbasket? Was it the call of one stoned Yankees fan to another on the 4 train after a win? "Yo! Gabba! Gabba!" and thus a children's series was created?
I can see why the adults who are in said series wear heavy make-up. For some reason, I see them as modern day Soupy Sales and crew, drinking in their dressing rooms.... doing their stint on the set, removing the concealing make-up and wigs, and listing their occupations as 'research assistant' when they apply for loans.
I suffered through years of 'Sesame Street', which wasn't bad, looking back on it. Paul Simon was on, you had the Count, and let's be honest, we all wondered about Bert and Ernie. Mr. Rogers lived in a world where no child ever shoved a broomstick in the spokes of another child's bike as he rode past, and He-Man let my son run around in plastic armour.
I've yet to see any little boy dressed as a Doodlebop.
Well, not in Utah.
And, why?
Why do The Toddlers find them irresistible? This show, along with Yo Gabba Gabba, have played for hours over the last 36 waking hours I've been here.
Yo Gabba Gabba? Where did they find the name? Did some Account Exec come in drunk, was pushed for the name on the spur of the moment, and his secretary heard him throwing up in his trashbasket? Was it the call of one stoned Yankees fan to another on the 4 train after a win? "Yo! Gabba! Gabba!" and thus a children's series was created?
I can see why the adults who are in said series wear heavy make-up. For some reason, I see them as modern day Soupy Sales and crew, drinking in their dressing rooms.... doing their stint on the set, removing the concealing make-up and wigs, and listing their occupations as 'research assistant' when they apply for loans.
I suffered through years of 'Sesame Street', which wasn't bad, looking back on it. Paul Simon was on, you had the Count, and let's be honest, we all wondered about Bert and Ernie. Mr. Rogers lived in a world where no child ever shoved a broomstick in the spokes of another child's bike as he rode past, and He-Man let my son run around in plastic armour.
I've yet to see any little boy dressed as a Doodlebop.
Well, not in Utah.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Quin, MomAgain
I'm suddenly the mom of toddlers again.
Mr. Neebes and the Sisterwife are out of town for the weekend, and I was elected to watch the Toddlers. True Toddlers, 2 & 4 year olds, who have extensive vocabularies, parents who are both in the arts, therefore giving them rather dramatic personalities, and they have elder siblings (who are farmed out for this weekend, I am beyond handling that many children) who have taught them the ropes.
"I am going to my friends house." T.M. tells me.
"Which friend?"
"If you don't know, I can't see the reason to tell you again. I told you his name once."
A.K. dresses like a princess. Four or five times a day. She sings to me quite a bit, in a clear soprano voice that hints at what it will be in the next few years. I am looking forward to those years. Her ringlets and deep blue eyes betray a razor sharp mind and lead you to think she is nothing but a pretty face in an Ariel dress.
"Miss Quin..." I hear the phrase all day long. We discuss rock people, why the terrier is tired of eating treats and the reason she prefers her pink blanket to her blue one. When you think you simply cannot take another Miss Quin, she smiles, dimples glowing and says, "I love you so much". No one loves like a two year old.
Her brother is a solid block of boy. He saves his hugs and gives them only if you've earned them. He has no idea why his sister is crying. Well, perhaps it's because he slugged her in the back....maybe. He'll have to think on it, and while he's thinking, will you sit next to him and watch TV. He feeds the terrier snacks that come up later on. He races about on his small bike, no shoes, going places in his imagination. He holds doors open and says please and thank you then turns around and can only say one word; no.
They rely on me for everything, food, juice, kisses on owies, being tucked into bed, sitting next to them in the maybe scary part when we watch Harry Potter for the 2,472nd time.
You forget that little boy smell, the way a little girl wraps her arms around your neck as she protests she's not sleepy... the way they stop crying when you pick them up, and listen to whatever it was that upset them, the joy in their voice when you announce pudding for dessert.
I would never do this again full time.....but, for this weekend... we're having a pretty good time. Check with me again on Sunday evening and see how we all survived.
Mr. Neebes and the Sisterwife are out of town for the weekend, and I was elected to watch the Toddlers. True Toddlers, 2 & 4 year olds, who have extensive vocabularies, parents who are both in the arts, therefore giving them rather dramatic personalities, and they have elder siblings (who are farmed out for this weekend, I am beyond handling that many children) who have taught them the ropes.
"I am going to my friends house." T.M. tells me.
"Which friend?"
"If you don't know, I can't see the reason to tell you again. I told you his name once."
A.K. dresses like a princess. Four or five times a day. She sings to me quite a bit, in a clear soprano voice that hints at what it will be in the next few years. I am looking forward to those years. Her ringlets and deep blue eyes betray a razor sharp mind and lead you to think she is nothing but a pretty face in an Ariel dress.
"Miss Quin..." I hear the phrase all day long. We discuss rock people, why the terrier is tired of eating treats and the reason she prefers her pink blanket to her blue one. When you think you simply cannot take another Miss Quin, she smiles, dimples glowing and says, "I love you so much". No one loves like a two year old.
Her brother is a solid block of boy. He saves his hugs and gives them only if you've earned them. He has no idea why his sister is crying. Well, perhaps it's because he slugged her in the back....maybe. He'll have to think on it, and while he's thinking, will you sit next to him and watch TV. He feeds the terrier snacks that come up later on. He races about on his small bike, no shoes, going places in his imagination. He holds doors open and says please and thank you then turns around and can only say one word; no.
They rely on me for everything, food, juice, kisses on owies, being tucked into bed, sitting next to them in the maybe scary part when we watch Harry Potter for the 2,472nd time.
You forget that little boy smell, the way a little girl wraps her arms around your neck as she protests she's not sleepy... the way they stop crying when you pick them up, and listen to whatever it was that upset them, the joy in their voice when you announce pudding for dessert.
I would never do this again full time.....but, for this weekend... we're having a pretty good time. Check with me again on Sunday evening and see how we all survived.
Friday, September 7, 2007
IP-71.203.5 ~ AKA Anonymous
I am flattered.
Not only do you read my journal AND my writings on 6S (thanks for the info, Rob for matching the IP!), you have me on an RSS feed from www.bloglines.com!!
You sly dog!
You actually have it set up to notify you down there in Sarasota, Florida when I post on my journal!!
You cute little gimp, you!
I'm wondering, though... you've got, what, three posts on my journal today.
You could have just closed the browser and moved on with your life, but now, by your own definition, something bad might happen to you. Of course, as you have just announced, you love that.
Now, I'll hit post, your RSS feed will notify you I've posted, and you can get ready to wank off on this post, dedicated to you, Mr. IP 71.203.5
You hunka-hunka burning obsessed with me guy.
Not only do you read my journal AND my writings on 6S (thanks for the info, Rob for matching the IP!), you have me on an RSS feed from www.bloglines.com!!
You sly dog!
You actually have it set up to notify you down there in Sarasota, Florida when I post on my journal!!
You cute little gimp, you!
I'm wondering, though... you've got, what, three posts on my journal today.
Did you really just cream your jeans over a stranger's broken car? That seems to me like a "batshit crazy" reaction.
Now, I'll hit post, your RSS feed will notify you I've posted, and you can get ready to wank off on this post, dedicated to you, Mr. IP 71.203.5
You hunka-hunka burning obsessed with me guy.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Wrecks, Part II
Sometimes, cars act like humans.
With my decision to divest myself of everything I own, Mr. Neebes suggested I sell Norma immediately, and rent a car during my remaining visit here in the land of Utes.
It was a good suggestion, I had a couple of people interested, she was in prime condition, and it was still summer... top dollar for a Mercedes-Benz SLK hard-top convertible that does this really cool thing where the trunk opens, and the hard top slides down into the trunk, leaving you with an open top and a nice roll bar and a hot car.
I've said I don't like cars, but, I do like Norma.
I held fast to refusing to sell... I mean, why pay $150 for a few weeks of renting some Elantra when I could still cruise around in Norma? She's the only one of her kind in the area...and, well, I liked driving her this last time. It didn't matter selling her was my nest egg for my move.
Saturday, I ran an errand before meeting up with Mrs S to go have fun at our annual Parade of Homes Day. We go look at the builders Best of the Best, we judge them based on their candy and giveaways, and then have a nice meal. She dropped me off at Norma, and I held out my nice Mercedes key and pressed the 'open' button.
Nothing happened.
I did it again, holding it closer, the way you do when your remotes batteries are going bad, as if the extra few inches will make a difference.
It didn't.
I used the key to open her....manually. It hurt me to do this, she was built to be opened with panache.
Alarms went off, lights flashed, she screamed in protest as she was assaulted with a key. After five minutes, her hissy fit was over, and I was able enter the car, and pull out the trusty five inch thick manual that came with her, that I'd never opened before and includes the road side assistance number that I promptly dialed.
Claudia (no outsourcing for Mercedes) and I discussed the issue. She asked if I had another key, and suggested I try that one. She was out of warranty, but, they do offer a number of roadside assistances... sadly, coming up from Vegas, two hours away, isn't one of them. She would, however, call the local company to help out.
I waited for Mrs S to go to her house and get said key, where it had been left for safe keeping. While I waited, I read the manual, a first for me.
The new key, too, was rejected. Norma was having none of this key stuff. She had separated herself from their marriage.
I took a ride home, leaving her there to think about the consequences...being towed.
Chuck, the only tow operator in town met me the next day, and put his hands all over her engine. Her battery was fine, he said, she just didn't want to start. No! Really?
We took her down to Seth and Dave who work on the imports here in town.
Norma likes Seth and Dave. They take good care of her. Being backed up with other cars they said I had to wait a day to see what the problem was. It was severe enough, it turned out, they had to call in.... Klaus.
Klaus works at the Mercedes satellite shop from Vegas a town down. He came up, puttered, poked, prodded, and announced.....
Norma had indeed initiated separation proceedings from the keys.
What?!? After 12 happy years of locking and unlocking on command? Of setting off the alarm when I pushed the cute red button? With NO WARNING? A separation?
Klaus told me the only thing was to bring in mediation, a new key... one that might soothe Norma's miffed system. Sure, it was $128.00, but, with luck, a push of a button, a twist of a gadget, and wunderbar! Norma would again fall in love with the security system, and again open and close and, more importantly, start.
If this didn't work... if she rejected the key as a cheap date, I'd have to call in the big guns.
Yes, the expert lawyers, disguised as 'mechanics' in Las Vegas. Norma would be taken there, towed at a cost that would buy me a plane ticket to London, and we'd have to discuss the divorce, also known as overhauling her electric system.
The divorce issue worries me.
Who would get custody of the catalytic converter? Would the key or the main security system be allowed to have visitation of the 6 disc CD player? The cute little headlight washers, will they be important enough to be included in the settlement? I was worried about the fight over the hydraulics system that controlled the roof... I know that would be a huge issue, and could see a guardian ad liem being appointed.
What about the leather seats?
This may not turn out pretty. And, I can foresee a number of 0's between the $ the main number and the decimal.
I should have listened to Mr. Neebes.... and if he tells me that one more time, the two warring parties will have to discuss who gets custody of the body in the trunk.
With my decision to divest myself of everything I own, Mr. Neebes suggested I sell Norma immediately, and rent a car during my remaining visit here in the land of Utes.
It was a good suggestion, I had a couple of people interested, she was in prime condition, and it was still summer... top dollar for a Mercedes-Benz SLK hard-top convertible that does this really cool thing where the trunk opens, and the hard top slides down into the trunk, leaving you with an open top and a nice roll bar and a hot car.
I've said I don't like cars, but, I do like Norma.
I held fast to refusing to sell... I mean, why pay $150 for a few weeks of renting some Elantra when I could still cruise around in Norma? She's the only one of her kind in the area...and, well, I liked driving her this last time. It didn't matter selling her was my nest egg for my move.
Saturday, I ran an errand before meeting up with Mrs S to go have fun at our annual Parade of Homes Day. We go look at the builders Best of the Best, we judge them based on their candy and giveaways, and then have a nice meal. She dropped me off at Norma, and I held out my nice Mercedes key and pressed the 'open' button.
Nothing happened.
I did it again, holding it closer, the way you do when your remotes batteries are going bad, as if the extra few inches will make a difference.
It didn't.
I used the key to open her....manually. It hurt me to do this, she was built to be opened with panache.
Alarms went off, lights flashed, she screamed in protest as she was assaulted with a key. After five minutes, her hissy fit was over, and I was able enter the car, and pull out the trusty five inch thick manual that came with her, that I'd never opened before and includes the road side assistance number that I promptly dialed.
Claudia (no outsourcing for Mercedes) and I discussed the issue. She asked if I had another key, and suggested I try that one. She was out of warranty, but, they do offer a number of roadside assistances... sadly, coming up from Vegas, two hours away, isn't one of them. She would, however, call the local company to help out.
I waited for Mrs S to go to her house and get said key, where it had been left for safe keeping. While I waited, I read the manual, a first for me.
The new key, too, was rejected. Norma was having none of this key stuff. She had separated herself from their marriage.
I took a ride home, leaving her there to think about the consequences...being towed.
Chuck, the only tow operator in town met me the next day, and put his hands all over her engine. Her battery was fine, he said, she just didn't want to start. No! Really?
We took her down to Seth and Dave who work on the imports here in town.
Norma likes Seth and Dave. They take good care of her. Being backed up with other cars they said I had to wait a day to see what the problem was. It was severe enough, it turned out, they had to call in.... Klaus.
Klaus works at the Mercedes satellite shop from Vegas a town down. He came up, puttered, poked, prodded, and announced.....
Norma had indeed initiated separation proceedings from the keys.
What?!? After 12 happy years of locking and unlocking on command? Of setting off the alarm when I pushed the cute red button? With NO WARNING? A separation?
Klaus told me the only thing was to bring in mediation, a new key... one that might soothe Norma's miffed system. Sure, it was $128.00, but, with luck, a push of a button, a twist of a gadget, and wunderbar! Norma would again fall in love with the security system, and again open and close and, more importantly, start.
If this didn't work... if she rejected the key as a cheap date, I'd have to call in the big guns.
Yes, the expert lawyers, disguised as 'mechanics' in Las Vegas. Norma would be taken there, towed at a cost that would buy me a plane ticket to London, and we'd have to discuss the divorce, also known as overhauling her electric system.
The divorce issue worries me.
Who would get custody of the catalytic converter? Would the key or the main security system be allowed to have visitation of the 6 disc CD player? The cute little headlight washers, will they be important enough to be included in the settlement? I was worried about the fight over the hydraulics system that controlled the roof... I know that would be a huge issue, and could see a guardian ad liem being appointed.
What about the leather seats?
This may not turn out pretty. And, I can foresee a number of 0's between the $ the main number and the decimal.
I should have listened to Mr. Neebes.... and if he tells me that one more time, the two warring parties will have to discuss who gets custody of the body in the trunk.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
"There's No Place Like Home...."
I knew I would be in Utah for a bit.
Mid August was my goal to return home to New York... medical testing aside. If it was clear, I was booked to wing my way back to Newark, land of stupid airline employees and a train that took me back to the city.
It's September, and I'm still here.
The house still isn't on the market, the Benz died and needed a new battery (thank goodness it was only a battery, there are only two zeros between the first number and the decimal), I still have a few things to sort to have shipped to the place I pay rent on and have yet to see, and the terrier has terrorised the chickens so much, they refuse to lay eggs.
I do my best to look innocent when the neighbor walks off shaking his head, an empty basket in his hand. I'm thinking of buying eggs and putting them in the nest.
If Norma is fixed today, everything is back on track, and I may actually fly out of Vegas on Monday. I will have nothing to sleep on for a week, but, I can live that way. I had the dead front yard repaired, the garage sale was good, the storage is consolidated into one place, and I've signed the sale agreement. Norma has to sell so I can make two house payments a month until the house here sells.
How do people live life this?
Mid August was my goal to return home to New York... medical testing aside. If it was clear, I was booked to wing my way back to Newark, land of stupid airline employees and a train that took me back to the city.
It's September, and I'm still here.
The house still isn't on the market, the Benz died and needed a new battery (thank goodness it was only a battery, there are only two zeros between the first number and the decimal), I still have a few things to sort to have shipped to the place I pay rent on and have yet to see, and the terrier has terrorised the chickens so much, they refuse to lay eggs.
I do my best to look innocent when the neighbor walks off shaking his head, an empty basket in his hand. I'm thinking of buying eggs and putting them in the nest.
If Norma is fixed today, everything is back on track, and I may actually fly out of Vegas on Monday. I will have nothing to sleep on for a week, but, I can live that way. I had the dead front yard repaired, the garage sale was good, the storage is consolidated into one place, and I've signed the sale agreement. Norma has to sell so I can make two house payments a month until the house here sells.
How do people live life this?
Sunday, September 2, 2007
The Truth About Me
One of the funniest men I read, Hoosier Joe, tagged me.
I have to elaborate on the words/phrases below....so, here goes:
Accent – I don't really have one, as many people from New Orleans tend to grow up without a real accent. I have what is called the 'non accent' accent. I do tend to reflect any dialect I'm faced with, and can mimic ones fairly easily.
Alcholic Drink – Tonic and lime for me....unless Todd is buying, and he forgets and throws in the occasional vodka. If I do drink, it's tequila.
Chore I Hate – Laundry. I don't mind ironing, I love using linen spray and the mindlessness of ironing, but, the rest....*shudder*
Pets – The infamous Westie.
Essential Electronic – My sweet laptop computer, Bob.
Perfume/Cologne – I use this great rose soap I bought at the street fair I went to with GolfWidow and LisaB and DeniB. I also use ylangylang/rose spray from Bed and Body works...but, they stopped making it. My read perfume, when I go out (both times a year) is Dior's Dioressence. You can't buy it here anymore...ah, well. I've a bottle of Joy, but, I've never opened it.
Gold or silver – I wear pearl earrings or gold hoops, a gold necklace, my dad's wedding ring and a silver watch. That's it.
Insomnia – Depends.
Job Title – Depends
Most Admired Trait – Wow. Good manners, I suppose.
Kids – Five.
Religion – Raised Catholic, now, I believe in God and made a deal... I won't show up in one of his houses if he doesn't show up in mine.
Siblings – One, my brother whom I was allowed to name. Recently, he forgave me. He's in the film industry, and is married to the most wonderful woman in the world. I also have a number of sisters of the heart that God loved me enough to put into my life. Oh, and Mr. Neebes.
Time I wake up – I get out of bed around 8AM. I wake up around 10AM
Unusual talent/skill – I can tear a phone book in half.
Vegetable I refuse to eat – Rutabaga
Worst habit – Pointing out bad props/time continuity in plays to my companions. Pointing out continuity issues during films to my friends. I now find myself attending both alone. When working on plays, I usually have the entire script memorised, and unknowingly will start to say the lines sotto voce, causing said friends (who are usually the directors) to make me sit in the boxes, since I also cringe when a line is dropped.
X-rays – Are difficult props to find.
My favorite meal – A big Southern Sunday dinner or sitting on a back porch eating boiled crawfish and blue crabs with corn and potatoes on a table covered with newspaper while you drink cold beer, followed with bread pudding and fresh strawberry ice cream.
The tagging to continue goes to....
GolfWidow, The Prince, Amber, Bud, ending with CajunBoy
that makes it go full circle on the Louisiana crowd from Joe to me to CB.
I have to elaborate on the words/phrases below....so, here goes:
Accent – I don't really have one, as many people from New Orleans tend to grow up without a real accent. I have what is called the 'non accent' accent. I do tend to reflect any dialect I'm faced with, and can mimic ones fairly easily.
Alcholic Drink – Tonic and lime for me....unless Todd is buying, and he forgets and throws in the occasional vodka. If I do drink, it's tequila.
Chore I Hate – Laundry. I don't mind ironing, I love using linen spray and the mindlessness of ironing, but, the rest....*shudder*
Pets – The infamous Westie.
Essential Electronic – My sweet laptop computer, Bob.
Perfume/Cologne – I use this great rose soap I bought at the street fair I went to with GolfWidow and LisaB and DeniB. I also use ylangylang/rose spray from Bed and Body works...but, they stopped making it. My read perfume, when I go out (both times a year) is Dior's Dioressence. You can't buy it here anymore...ah, well. I've a bottle of Joy, but, I've never opened it.
Gold or silver – I wear pearl earrings or gold hoops, a gold necklace, my dad's wedding ring and a silver watch. That's it.
Insomnia – Depends.
Job Title – Depends
Most Admired Trait – Wow. Good manners, I suppose.
Kids – Five.
Religion – Raised Catholic, now, I believe in God and made a deal... I won't show up in one of his houses if he doesn't show up in mine.
Siblings – One, my brother whom I was allowed to name. Recently, he forgave me. He's in the film industry, and is married to the most wonderful woman in the world. I also have a number of sisters of the heart that God loved me enough to put into my life. Oh, and Mr. Neebes.
Time I wake up – I get out of bed around 8AM. I wake up around 10AM
Unusual talent/skill – I can tear a phone book in half.
Vegetable I refuse to eat – Rutabaga
Worst habit – Pointing out bad props/time continuity in plays to my companions. Pointing out continuity issues during films to my friends. I now find myself attending both alone. When working on plays, I usually have the entire script memorised, and unknowingly will start to say the lines sotto voce, causing said friends (who are usually the directors) to make me sit in the boxes, since I also cringe when a line is dropped.
X-rays – Are difficult props to find.
My favorite meal – A big Southern Sunday dinner or sitting on a back porch eating boiled crawfish and blue crabs with corn and potatoes on a table covered with newspaper while you drink cold beer, followed with bread pudding and fresh strawberry ice cream.
The tagging to continue goes to....
GolfWidow, The Prince, Amber, Bud, ending with CajunBoy
that makes it go full circle on the Louisiana crowd from Joe to me to CB.
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