[please bear with me as I try something new]
Mahmoud Ahmadinejad has sent us all a letter, but I don't think I got mine.
Looks like he's getting his holiday cards out of the way early.
According to the NYTimes, “The call came in the form of a six-page letter in English, […] addressed to ‘noble Americans’…”
Apparently, it was addressed to:
Noble Americans
c/o Occupant
I may have just thrown it away.
I imagine it may have read something like:
Dear Noble American,
You may already have won real estate in Palestine...
There may have been coupons involved, too. I don't know.
No. It was actually published online. That’ll get at the heartland. So it may have been an appeal along the lines of the Nigerian scammers. “My dead husband left me this uranium and I need some help getting it across the borders..."
Actually it's not an email but published in one place, so it's more like he started his own MySpace page.
The NYTimes article also notes, “The letter also employed an inferential, Iranian style of communication that experts say is likely to leave Americans cold.”
But I wouldn’t know about that, I only skimmed the letter provided in the link. There weren’t any pictures or graphs or captions, so I decided to skip it. Now if he were to get himself a cute little spokesmodel…
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Baci
I’d say this little guy looks pretty comfy. We just got him today.
He’s seven months old. Name’s, well, so far it’s Baci Kitty-Cat Boom-Bang.
His name at the shelter was El Nino (I hope it’s not for how much he pees).
Madge still calls him a her – because our previous cat was a she and because that’s what I was ordered to get – and she favors the name Tiger because of his color and because he’s so fierce with strings and shoelaces.
Coco and I got him today, as I said. We were on a 5-hr trek. First to Williamsburg where we found out we couldn’t adopt a kitten under four months without adopting two at a time. And the older ones didn’t meet with “our” approval. So we went to – I think – Harlem, 110th Street at First Avenue and found him. He was the only orange one and I think Coco has a thing for orange cats because he wanted to “buy” the orange one that was in the shop by the adoption place in Williamsburg.
The Baci Kitty-Cat Boom-Bang, incidentally, is mostly a Coco invention. We were bandying cat names about (all four of us) because Madge asked how you choose a name. Julie and I said you just suggest names until you find one you can agree on. Julie and my suggestion was (and still is) Mr. Grant. (And, honestly, it would suit our new arrival just fine.) Madge suggested Lisa and similar names. Then we walked by the Hibachi place and Coco said “bachi” and we realized that, spelled in a different way, this means kiss in Italian and might make a good name. Then, later, out of the blue, he said “Kitty-Cat Boom-Bang” and we thought it might be a good last name. I.e., a Ms. Kitty-Cat got together with a Mr. Boom-Bang and the lights dim and fireworks go off and we have a new kitten.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
The sidewalk of fame
We live across the street from a playground and park. On the other side of this is a middle school.
The sidewalk on our side of the playground is in the process of being redone. Yesterday they broke it up (and did some creative non-towing car-moving).
Today - today! - they are pouring new cement. Why they didn't wait for the weekend I don't know.
I expect the national guard to move in just in time for the middle school's lunch break. Otherewise it'll look like the sidewalk in front of Grauman's.
The sidewalk on our side of the playground is in the process of being redone. Yesterday they broke it up (and did some creative non-towing car-moving).
Today - today! - they are pouring new cement. Why they didn't wait for the weekend I don't know.
I expect the national guard to move in just in time for the middle school's lunch break. Otherewise it'll look like the sidewalk in front of Grauman's.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Coco time
Since Coco got to be in the hospital without being sick, we were very reluctant this weekend to drag him to the doctor. But after two nights of unrelenting fever and bad dreams we decided he had to. Good thing, too, because now he has penicillin for his sinus infection.
I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that he resists going to the doctor so violently – no scars on me this time, but my forehead still has one from a previous struggle – or the fact that when he does give in it makes our hearts break. (He slumps down in that Charlie-Brown’s-depressed posture and says, in a small voice, “okay.” – this has occurred several times for blood tests.)
Well, yesterday he fought non-stop. And, honestly, part of me is really proud of him for doing so – as tough as it is to sit through a doctor’s visit that way.
The doctor, incidentally, was great about it. When she came in, she said, “Is this going to get any better with time?”
I said, “No.” She said, “Okay,” and the wrestling match was on.
Coco won after six rounds, on points, but we got the Amoxicillin.
Now all we have to do is figure out how to get him to take it.
Which isn’t as bad as it sounds. Sometimes he only needs time. Last night we set the medicine on the table and told him he needed to take it because it would help his nose be clear. After about half an hour, he said, “My cough, too?” We said “yes” and he took it. Even asked for more.
This morning, however, Madge was involved. And she has an urge to be right. All the time. And doesn’t have much patience. Let me rephrase that: She has a lot of patience for a 7-yr-old, but not when provoked by the shouts of a little brother.
Anyway, this morning Coco said he was going to throw the medicine away (he was about to push it off the table) and Madge took it as a personal challenge, and the day got off to a painful start.
I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that he resists going to the doctor so violently – no scars on me this time, but my forehead still has one from a previous struggle – or the fact that when he does give in it makes our hearts break. (He slumps down in that Charlie-Brown’s-depressed posture and says, in a small voice, “okay.” – this has occurred several times for blood tests.)
Well, yesterday he fought non-stop. And, honestly, part of me is really proud of him for doing so – as tough as it is to sit through a doctor’s visit that way.
The doctor, incidentally, was great about it. When she came in, she said, “Is this going to get any better with time?”
I said, “No.” She said, “Okay,” and the wrestling match was on.
Coco won after six rounds, on points, but we got the Amoxicillin.
Now all we have to do is figure out how to get him to take it.
Which isn’t as bad as it sounds. Sometimes he only needs time. Last night we set the medicine on the table and told him he needed to take it because it would help his nose be clear. After about half an hour, he said, “My cough, too?” We said “yes” and he took it. Even asked for more.
This morning, however, Madge was involved. And she has an urge to be right. All the time. And doesn’t have much patience. Let me rephrase that: She has a lot of patience for a 7-yr-old, but not when provoked by the shouts of a little brother.
Anyway, this morning Coco said he was going to throw the medicine away (he was about to push it off the table) and Madge took it as a personal challenge, and the day got off to a painful start.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Madge Monday, illin'
Thanksgiving was fun, but, as you may remember, there was coughing going on. Especially Friday and after. Fevers. General discontent. Coco had the privilege of going to the doctor today (joy! – I only have two new scars on my ears and cheek from the visit). Yesterday, Madge had written this poem:
Sick.
My brother is sick.
But I don’t kno
W what to
Do. I am sick
But I don’t
Know what to
Do. Could you
Give me some advice? That would
Be very nice of you. But please
Don’t come to my house or
You will get sick too. I am
Going to tell you my adress
[XXXX] apment [XX]
Thank you!
Call it what you want, blues form or Stollen und Abgesang, this piece has some definite form. Not to mention internal rhymes. But it is also the essence of Madge (or perhaps every 7-yr-old, or – gasp – of a female), asking for help and at the same time refusing it.
(Don’t come here. Where shouldn’t you come? Why, I’ll tell you exactly…)
Sick.
My brother is sick.
But I don’t kno
W what to
Do. I am sick
But I don’t
Know what to
Do. Could you
Give me some advice? That would
Be very nice of you. But please
Don’t come to my house or
You will get sick too. I am
Going to tell you my adress
[XXXX] apment [XX]
Thank you!
Call it what you want, blues form or Stollen und Abgesang, this piece has some definite form. Not to mention internal rhymes. But it is also the essence of Madge (or perhaps every 7-yr-old, or – gasp – of a female), asking for help and at the same time refusing it.
(Don’t come here. Where shouldn’t you come? Why, I’ll tell you exactly…)
Sunday, November 26, 2006
See no error
I don’t know why, but it’s always fun to find editing mistakes in the New Yorker.
Here we have (New Yorker, Nov. 27, 2006) such an instance. Talk of the Town, “In the Museums: Do Not Touch” by Nick Paumgarten.
He begins with Nuria Chang’s blindness. (“Before Nuria Chang went blind, at the age of eight, she had wanted to be an artist.”)
Then he talks about museum tours for the blind, this one led by Amir Parsa (“… their lecturer, Amir Parsa, a poet and writer…”).
Parsa describes Seurat’s pointillist technique, and Chang asks a clarifying question about mixing colors.
In response to this, according to the article, “Parsa nodded.”
Fun, huh? (Either Parsa is sadistic or a writing convention took over when it didn’t make much sense.)
It’s still a fun article, by the way, and ends cutely with Chang saying of a fellow blind museumgoer who tends to contradict her comments, “We only see each other in the museum.” (She might have said “meet,” no?)
Here we have (New Yorker, Nov. 27, 2006) such an instance. Talk of the Town, “In the Museums: Do Not Touch” by Nick Paumgarten.
He begins with Nuria Chang’s blindness. (“Before Nuria Chang went blind, at the age of eight, she had wanted to be an artist.”)
Then he talks about museum tours for the blind, this one led by Amir Parsa (“… their lecturer, Amir Parsa, a poet and writer…”).
Parsa describes Seurat’s pointillist technique, and Chang asks a clarifying question about mixing colors.
In response to this, according to the article, “Parsa nodded.”
Fun, huh? (Either Parsa is sadistic or a writing convention took over when it didn’t make much sense.)
It’s still a fun article, by the way, and ends cutely with Chang saying of a fellow blind museumgoer who tends to contradict her comments, “We only see each other in the museum.” (She might have said “meet,” no?)
Friday, November 24, 2006
Sacrificing for an evenness of tone
Speaking of making writing worthwhile, I just read a great chapter in Sterne's "The Life and Adventures of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman." Book IV, Chapter XXV (I think, or it may have had another I) in case you want to jump to your bookshelf and verify what I'm about to say. In it, he says that he tore out ten pages from his book because they were too good and would set the rest of his writing in a bad light.
Awesome.
Awesome.
Q Fable
(It's fabulous Friday again. And you thought I'd forgotten.)
The Quill and the Quotation
The quill scratched out its discontent. “Look. You tore me out of my host, whom you may have murdered beforehand. Then you carved me up and dunked me into this vile liquid. I’d understand if you’d have some original thoughts to put down. But I consider the entire process in vain if all you’re going to do is repeat what others have written before.” And, just as the scrivener was about to open the quotation marks, the quill snapped and splattered ink all over the document.
The Quill and the Quotation
The quill scratched out its discontent. “Look. You tore me out of my host, whom you may have murdered beforehand. Then you carved me up and dunked me into this vile liquid. I’d understand if you’d have some original thoughts to put down. But I consider the entire process in vain if all you’re going to do is repeat what others have written before.” And, just as the scrivener was about to open the quotation marks, the quill snapped and splattered ink all over the document.
Gobble, gobble, cough, cough
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
We had a good one. Yummy yummy brined turkedy from a recipe we got from Ted Allen's cookbook. (Coco was with me at the book-signing last year and got to pose with the author. The dedication is "To Coco, the coolest firefighter I know." Or something like that. Sweet. The brine is great.)
Now everyone is sick, more or less. Cold, fever, cough, sniffles. All the more reason to stay inside and watch videos and eat leftovers.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Coco bonus for the week
(A quickie to counterbalance the other lengthy ones.)Coco loves to reenact movies and movie scenes.
Here he had the necklace, put it up under his nose (after making sure his hood was up) and said, "I Elliott."
(As in, I'm doing a scene from E.T.)
Phiggy goes advertising
Occasionally, I try to keep up with various aspects of pop culture. Even advertising.
Here’s one way (it’s an Ad Age editor's - Hoag Levins' - collection of eight ads).
Man. Okay, sometimes there are jokes in there that are all right (or “creative” moments), but even when there are, how do they sell a product?
Here’s my descending order of what I find wrong with them, on the superficial single go-around that I had with them (not the incessant TV-saturation they are hoping for):
Product: HondaJet
Gimmick: They’re painting a whole city to look like a blue sky
My issue: In an era when one of the single most memorable moments is having two airplanes crash into tall buildings, should we be camouflaging our buildings to look like the sky? What's next, an ad for motorboats featuring a flooded city?
What I might have done: Honda. Our cars don’t suck. Now we make airplanes. (Maybe have Garrison Keillor sing a song about flying like he does for their diesel motors.)
Product: Independence Blue Cross
Gimmick: A pregnant woman is on a bus and when she starts feeling contractions the whole city is devoid of people
My issue: I don’t get it. Why would you follow a visual image that says “There’s nobody there for you” with the logo for Blue Cross? And I thought the set-up was promising. Too bad.
What I might have done:
Lady gets on a crowded bus. Nobody gives her a seat. Blue Cross guy (bouncer/bodyguard type) comes on and forcibly ejects an inconsiderate rider. Blue Cross. We’re there for you.
Lady is on crowded bus. Labor begins. People are frantic. Bus driver asks about her insurance. She shows her Blue Cross card and the bus driver whips out one of those handy Kojak sirens and whizzes through traffic.
Similar idea: Pregnant woman in cab. Labor begins. Cabby delivers baby. Meter reads $15,277. Blue Cross representative comes and pays fare. Plus tip.
Product: Bud Light
Gimmick: There’s a pole in a guy’s apartment. As he’s getting beers for himself and his date, she gives it a whirl. He says that’s not what it’s for. She opens the proffered beer and gets clocked by the guy’s roommate sliding down the pole like a Pavlovian fireman.
My issue: Okay, it made me laugh. I’m a sucker for slapstick, even though it was expected (what other switcheroo would a pole in an apartment offer?). But don’t expect any women to buy Bud Light after seeing this. And it ought to come with a guide for what to do when watching this ad with a woman.
What I might have done: Jeez. Tossed in the towel. Maybe have the honest tag line: Bud Light. We don’t expect women to get it and we don’t care.
Oh, I’ve got it. Have your funny cake and eat it, too. Have a guy and a girl watch this ad (for an unnamed beer) and then have them “discuss” what happens on-screen over a beer (it can even be Bud Light if they pay enough).
The “discussion” begins when the girl looks around sheepishly and starts twirling on the pole. She: Oh, give me a break. He: Yeah, really. Of all the sexist crap. [tink, bottoms up!]
Later, when the girl gets clocked. She: squeaks. He: laughs. She: That wasn’t funny. He: Well, maybe if the guy gets knocked down, too.
And, when he does. She: laughs. He: Cheers!
Product: Minnesota State Lottery
Gimmick: Skinny guy trying to take down a Sumo wrestler. (I.e., The odds of winning are so good that the wimpy guy in the ad figures he might give Sumo wrestling a whirl.)
My issue: Why include the warning “don’t do anything stupid” when you want people to gamble? And, where is Minnesota in all this?
What I might have done: If you want to highlight the good odds, compare it to daily gambles. Chance that you’ll make this light, 1:7. Chance that your appointment will be on time, 1:12. Chance that your wife will be ready in ten minutes, snowball:hell. Chance to win at MN State Lotto, 1:4.
Product: ESPN Visa
Gimmick: A guy’s at the vet with his dog. And, instead of hearing the prices for the procedures, the guy hears the vet say all the things he can get with his bonus points.
My issue: No real issue. This one actually made sense, but it went by too fast to let me get that what the vet was saying was really what the guy was hearing. Also, we all know that having some fleas removed doesn’t even add up to a hot dog at the ballgame, let alone the tickets they claim (or whatever the case is).
What I might have done: Slow it down. Maybe tone it down, too. And, as a punch to the whole thing, have each procedure be a ticket for a different family member. Then, when an in-law or unpopular member might benefit, have the guy say, “Is that procedure really necessary?”
That really does it for me. The other three, I think, are past saving. But I’ll include them anyway, since I don’t have limericks tonight and I’m still exercising my little brain.
Product: Cellular One
Gimmick: Guy gets elf ears to improve his cell phone reception. Other guy says switching to Cellular One would have been cheaper and easier. First guy says, “But I have Cellular One.” (Just kidding.)
My issue: Whoa, talk about a stretch to get an early Christmas link. The acting is terrible, too.
What I might have done: Really, said no thank you to the account. But, if the elf ears are necessary, maybe have a more gradual buildup as to what crazy things people do to accommodate their carrier’s bad reception. In order to make the elf ears not seem so outrageously stupid, you see? Okay, you’re right. You can’t save the elf ears.
Product: Corelle dishes
Gimmick: Runway models show the stylishness of the plates and, to show the durability, they runway is greased and they fall.
My issue: A) It was bad slapstick. B) If you’re the kind of person who buys dishes for the fun of it or the stylishness, don’t you secretly hope they’ll break soon so you can get new ones again? C) Who enjoys buying dishes?
What I might have done: Maybe, maybe, after a big runway model pile-up have them go to the director backstage and have a little tantrum and show their anger by trying to break the dishes, unsuccessfully, of course.
Product: L.A. Times
Gimmick: The camera is inside the newspaper vending box and shows the reaction of the people looking in.
My issue: It’s as stupid as it sounds.
What I might have done: Told them not to spend any money on an ad campaign and instead pay their reporters more.
Here’s one way (it’s an Ad Age editor's - Hoag Levins' - collection of eight ads).
Man. Okay, sometimes there are jokes in there that are all right (or “creative” moments), but even when there are, how do they sell a product?
Here’s my descending order of what I find wrong with them, on the superficial single go-around that I had with them (not the incessant TV-saturation they are hoping for):
Product: HondaJet
Gimmick: They’re painting a whole city to look like a blue sky
My issue: In an era when one of the single most memorable moments is having two airplanes crash into tall buildings, should we be camouflaging our buildings to look like the sky? What's next, an ad for motorboats featuring a flooded city?
What I might have done: Honda. Our cars don’t suck. Now we make airplanes. (Maybe have Garrison Keillor sing a song about flying like he does for their diesel motors.)
Product: Independence Blue Cross
Gimmick: A pregnant woman is on a bus and when she starts feeling contractions the whole city is devoid of people
My issue: I don’t get it. Why would you follow a visual image that says “There’s nobody there for you” with the logo for Blue Cross? And I thought the set-up was promising. Too bad.
What I might have done:
Lady gets on a crowded bus. Nobody gives her a seat. Blue Cross guy (bouncer/bodyguard type) comes on and forcibly ejects an inconsiderate rider. Blue Cross. We’re there for you.
Lady is on crowded bus. Labor begins. People are frantic. Bus driver asks about her insurance. She shows her Blue Cross card and the bus driver whips out one of those handy Kojak sirens and whizzes through traffic.
Similar idea: Pregnant woman in cab. Labor begins. Cabby delivers baby. Meter reads $15,277. Blue Cross representative comes and pays fare. Plus tip.
Product: Bud Light
Gimmick: There’s a pole in a guy’s apartment. As he’s getting beers for himself and his date, she gives it a whirl. He says that’s not what it’s for. She opens the proffered beer and gets clocked by the guy’s roommate sliding down the pole like a Pavlovian fireman.
My issue: Okay, it made me laugh. I’m a sucker for slapstick, even though it was expected (what other switcheroo would a pole in an apartment offer?). But don’t expect any women to buy Bud Light after seeing this. And it ought to come with a guide for what to do when watching this ad with a woman.
What I might have done: Jeez. Tossed in the towel. Maybe have the honest tag line: Bud Light. We don’t expect women to get it and we don’t care.
Oh, I’ve got it. Have your funny cake and eat it, too. Have a guy and a girl watch this ad (for an unnamed beer) and then have them “discuss” what happens on-screen over a beer (it can even be Bud Light if they pay enough).
The “discussion” begins when the girl looks around sheepishly and starts twirling on the pole. She: Oh, give me a break. He: Yeah, really. Of all the sexist crap. [tink, bottoms up!]
Later, when the girl gets clocked. She: squeaks. He: laughs. She: That wasn’t funny. He: Well, maybe if the guy gets knocked down, too.
And, when he does. She: laughs. He: Cheers!
Product: Minnesota State Lottery
Gimmick: Skinny guy trying to take down a Sumo wrestler. (I.e., The odds of winning are so good that the wimpy guy in the ad figures he might give Sumo wrestling a whirl.)
My issue: Why include the warning “don’t do anything stupid” when you want people to gamble? And, where is Minnesota in all this?
What I might have done: If you want to highlight the good odds, compare it to daily gambles. Chance that you’ll make this light, 1:7. Chance that your appointment will be on time, 1:12. Chance that your wife will be ready in ten minutes, snowball:hell. Chance to win at MN State Lotto, 1:4.
Product: ESPN Visa
Gimmick: A guy’s at the vet with his dog. And, instead of hearing the prices for the procedures, the guy hears the vet say all the things he can get with his bonus points.
My issue: No real issue. This one actually made sense, but it went by too fast to let me get that what the vet was saying was really what the guy was hearing. Also, we all know that having some fleas removed doesn’t even add up to a hot dog at the ballgame, let alone the tickets they claim (or whatever the case is).
What I might have done: Slow it down. Maybe tone it down, too. And, as a punch to the whole thing, have each procedure be a ticket for a different family member. Then, when an in-law or unpopular member might benefit, have the guy say, “Is that procedure really necessary?”
That really does it for me. The other three, I think, are past saving. But I’ll include them anyway, since I don’t have limericks tonight and I’m still exercising my little brain.
Product: Cellular One
Gimmick: Guy gets elf ears to improve his cell phone reception. Other guy says switching to Cellular One would have been cheaper and easier. First guy says, “But I have Cellular One.” (Just kidding.)
My issue: Whoa, talk about a stretch to get an early Christmas link. The acting is terrible, too.
What I might have done: Really, said no thank you to the account. But, if the elf ears are necessary, maybe have a more gradual buildup as to what crazy things people do to accommodate their carrier’s bad reception. In order to make the elf ears not seem so outrageously stupid, you see? Okay, you’re right. You can’t save the elf ears.
Product: Corelle dishes
Gimmick: Runway models show the stylishness of the plates and, to show the durability, they runway is greased and they fall.
My issue: A) It was bad slapstick. B) If you’re the kind of person who buys dishes for the fun of it or the stylishness, don’t you secretly hope they’ll break soon so you can get new ones again? C) Who enjoys buying dishes?
What I might have done: Maybe, maybe, after a big runway model pile-up have them go to the director backstage and have a little tantrum and show their anger by trying to break the dishes, unsuccessfully, of course.
Product: L.A. Times
Gimmick: The camera is inside the newspaper vending box and shows the reaction of the people looking in.
My issue: It’s as stupid as it sounds.
What I might have done: Told them not to spend any money on an ad campaign and instead pay their reporters more.
Manet
On the way to the hospital on Sunday, I saw an ad for an exhibit at the MoMA. The featured painting – the focus of the exhibit – was Manet’s Execution of Maximilian.
All I could think of was the posture of the executioners (why not “executors”?).
Scene, the MoMA galleries, in front of Manet’s painting “The Execution of Maximilian.”
Museum Guide: Napoleon III blahblah Mexico blahblah “Mission Accomplished” blahblah Habsburg blah Austrian blah Maximilian crowned in France blahblah sent to Mexico blahblah insurgents blah Benito Juarez blahblah Maximilian blah abandoned by France blahblah execution blahblah firing squad. And the onlookers on the wall resemble the cherubim in the painting of –
Rube: Excuse me. Ma’am? Ma’am?
MG: Yes?
R: Why didn’t those six guys wait for their buddy to finish loading his gun?
MG: I’m glad you asked that. You see, in a sense he is the man of the future, beyond the smoke of time which you see between the shooters and the victims, and he is contemplating the violent act as the result of colonial –
R: Is that why his right hand is so big?
MG: Pardon?
R: Look. His right hand is too big. Is he supposed to be greedy or something?
MG: His hand isn’t too –
R: And why didn’t Mr. Mannay finish the sombrero guy’s face?
MG: Oh, another good question. You’re very observant sir.
R: Thank you kindly, ma’am.
MG: The face is obscured in reference to religious paintings. And you may notice that the sombrero resembles a halo.
R: You’re kidding.
MG: No, sir, I’m not.
R: That ain’t no halo.
MG: I beg your pardon?
R: Have you ever seen a halo?
MG: Well, no, not per se, but I’ve seen paintings of halos.
R: So have I and they don’t look nothin’ like my great-aunt Daphne when she visited upon us two summers ago in Tulsa at out annual church picnic. This genlmn’s without any facial features to speak of is wearin’ a sombrero.
MG: Let’s say that’s a matter of interpretation.
R: No, ma’am. I’d rather not. And why, if that’s supposed to be a halo, isn’t he even shot at? Seems to me all six shooters is all aimin’ at the feller on the left.
MG: Uh-
R: And while we’re at it, I don’t think Mr. Mannay ever shot no rifle.
MG: Why do you say that?
R: Well, I don’t know about religious pictures, ma’am, aside from what’s in my kid’s Sunday school book. And this don’t look like none of those pictures.
MG: Heh, heh. No. Heh. I should assume it doesn’t.
R: But I know about rifles, ma’am, and them rifles used to smoke out of two ends, the one with the flint as well as the business end. And them sumbitches shore do kick, if you know what I mean, and them six fellers is just standin’ there, laadeedaa, like they’s in a choir just humin’ a tune and boppin’ their heads. And…
MG: Yes?
R: And you said they was in Mexico, right?
MG: Yes.
R: Well, it looks like the shooters is wearin’ French uniforms, not no Mexican ones. The only one with the Mexican hat is the Austrian feller.
MG: Yes.
R: It looks to me like Mr. Mannay is sayin’ that the French done executed their own man in Mexico and that nobody felt nothin’ about it and that he wasn’t even a real person to them, just some sort of a holy symbol and that Mexican or French guns smoke funny and that not everyone was even doing the same thing together. … I don’t think Mr. Mannay was that much of a painter anyhow.
MG: Let’s say that’s up to interpretation, too.
R: Yeah? Let me ax you this: who bought the painting?
MG: Uh –
R: I like the lonely barmaid better.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?
[WWDTM used the story in last week's show, so I feel I can use it now]
The Queen, her Royal Highness, is to visit Jamestown (will they rename it Elisabethville in her honor?) in May.
Canadians must be jealous, eh?
I wonder what she expects to find.
Will she be offering a brief “Carry on” (while turning to Philip and whispering “and good riddance to those religious fanatics”)?
Or might she collect 400 years’ back taxes?
Maybe she heard about Tom Cruise getting married and wants to impose some form of Jus Primae Noctis.
Unwitting wisdom
This morning, Madge dressed Coco. So I was taking it easy. Then, when school-time loomed, I realized I hadn’t made her lunch yet, and I said, “Oh [expletive], I haven’t been making your lunch, I was just being [I rolled my eyes and went lala with my tongue].”
To which Madge replied,
“Stop being and start making. Those are the important things.”
At age seven, Madge is smoking Sartre and Heidegger in a pipe.
Parenting advice
When a child receives silly putty, make sure that said putty doesn’t go to bed with him. It’s worse than gum because it spreads like peanut butter once it warms up. Then, when it cools again, ick.
And, if you’ve unveiled above wisdom, don’t assume that a lost bit of silly putty is actually led by gravity all the way under the bed.
(Guess who got to extract silly putty from clothing two nights in a row.)
And, if you’ve unveiled above wisdom, don’t assume that a lost bit of silly putty is actually led by gravity all the way under the bed.
(Guess who got to extract silly putty from clothing two nights in a row.)
Coco Tuesday
What can I say about our brave little guy?
In general he seems to be getting so big, but sitting on a hospital bed in his Spongebob “button-pjs” with twenty-odd wires sticking out of his head, he looked tiny. And when we told him he was being brave, he said, “Benny brave, too.” (Benny was another kid doing the video EEG.)
The first room freaked him out more than we realized, I think. It was a four-bed room and two TVs (at least) were always on, not to mention a lot of foot traffic. We didn’t notice how uptight that room made him until we got to move to a double, from which the other tenant got released halfway through the day. Coco calmed down quite a bit there.
So now we get to taper off the medicine. It’s like taking off the training wheels, except that falling down isn’t really a learning experience.
When we told him that soon he might not be taking medicine anymore, he said, “Maybe Dr. LJ want to see Flushed Away.” In other words, he likes her and wants to reward her.
So now we’re flying without a net. And let me tell you, being a parent who is afraid of heights isn’t easy when your child isn’t. Especially a child who might have a seizure. Yesterday he was standing on the back of the sofa to reach a toy, for example. Eeek.
My dad told me about Pujol, the Spanish soccer star, and how he broke a lot of bones because he put on a cape and thought he could fly off a garage. I wouldn’t put it past Coco to do the same. One must watch one’s suggestions around him, his safety filter is set at a different level than most people’s.
On the other hand, it sure makes him a lot of fun. And if we’re not careful, Madge can easily convince him to try to do somersaults in the bathtub.
In general he seems to be getting so big, but sitting on a hospital bed in his Spongebob “button-pjs” with twenty-odd wires sticking out of his head, he looked tiny. And when we told him he was being brave, he said, “Benny brave, too.” (Benny was another kid doing the video EEG.)
The first room freaked him out more than we realized, I think. It was a four-bed room and two TVs (at least) were always on, not to mention a lot of foot traffic. We didn’t notice how uptight that room made him until we got to move to a double, from which the other tenant got released halfway through the day. Coco calmed down quite a bit there.
So now we get to taper off the medicine. It’s like taking off the training wheels, except that falling down isn’t really a learning experience.
When we told him that soon he might not be taking medicine anymore, he said, “Maybe Dr. LJ want to see Flushed Away.” In other words, he likes her and wants to reward her.
So now we’re flying without a net. And let me tell you, being a parent who is afraid of heights isn’t easy when your child isn’t. Especially a child who might have a seizure. Yesterday he was standing on the back of the sofa to reach a toy, for example. Eeek.
My dad told me about Pujol, the Spanish soccer star, and how he broke a lot of bones because he put on a cape and thought he could fly off a garage. I wouldn’t put it past Coco to do the same. One must watch one’s suggestions around him, his safety filter is set at a different level than most people’s.
On the other hand, it sure makes him a lot of fun. And if we’re not careful, Madge can easily convince him to try to do somersaults in the bathtub.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Managers
The hospital has an office of Bed Management.
This got me thinking.
I supect that my domestic bed manager got her MBA from an institution that's not fully accredited. It appears that my tasks are to insure a proper sleeping temperature on all parts of the sleeping surface while at the same time keeping my infernally sharp toe-claws at bay.
I think I should look at her degree again. It might be a forgery.
Madge Monday bonus
The kids' sense of humor is generally split as follows: Madge - word, pun, tricks; Coco - slapstick.
An example of Madge's trickery.
I ask her for a cookie. She goes to the cookie jar (with a brief stop at the table on the way), opens it and closes it, tells me to open my mouth, and inserts a piece of rubber cat-poo (which she got at a novelty store in SF).
At least it was fake.
An example of Madge's trickery.
I ask her for a cookie. She goes to the cookie jar (with a brief stop at the table on the way), opens it and closes it, tells me to open my mouth, and inserts a piece of rubber cat-poo (which she got at a novelty store in SF).
At least it was fake.
This weekend and Madge
It’s Madge Monday again.
The thing that sticks out from this weekend is how accommodating she was. She got to make the commute to the hospital three times, after all. Sure, she talked us into taking a cab home every time, but still. We took public transportation there. Julie reports that Madge had a short bath on Friday because “it’s not much fun without Coco.” They still take baths together. For two reasons, really. First, in case he has a seizure in the tub, there’s someone there right away. Second, they seem to enjoy it – though it does get kind of messy, what with the splashing and bubble throwing. But it seems that solo baths are only fun when the other one has been made to leave, not when the other one can’t be there.
She was also very brave during the application of the leads. Coco cried a lot because the glue is stinky and the whole process is uncomfortable. Like all of us, Madge doesn’t like it when Coco cries. So she went to another place in the room and read or colored, I’m not sure because we were busy.
What else? She got shorted on playroom time because the hospital’s weekend schedule has abbreviated hours for the playroom and the library. And on Sunday, she and I arrived to a disconnected Coco who was ready to check out and go home, so any sort of hospital fun time was really out of the question. She acted up a bit after that.
But much of this acting up stemmed from the fact that we all deal with stress and its relief in different ways. Madge gets calm and focused during stressful times and then, when the stress is done, she gets fidgety. And her fidgetyness coincides with other people’s desire to finally rest. Ergo: conflict.
Really, all child-parent clashes seem to be scheduling conflicts. One party thinks it’s time to go to sleep while the other party thinks it’s time to catch up on dinner which was forsaken because it occurred during reading time, etc.
Anyway, she was quite amazing this weekend.
And there was another moment of denial for me. When we got on the bus, the driver said, “Sir, just so you know, she’s too tall to be riding for free.”
Eek. Time to make her hunch over or do a duck-walk when we get on the bus.
The thing that sticks out from this weekend is how accommodating she was. She got to make the commute to the hospital three times, after all. Sure, she talked us into taking a cab home every time, but still. We took public transportation there. Julie reports that Madge had a short bath on Friday because “it’s not much fun without Coco.” They still take baths together. For two reasons, really. First, in case he has a seizure in the tub, there’s someone there right away. Second, they seem to enjoy it – though it does get kind of messy, what with the splashing and bubble throwing. But it seems that solo baths are only fun when the other one has been made to leave, not when the other one can’t be there.
She was also very brave during the application of the leads. Coco cried a lot because the glue is stinky and the whole process is uncomfortable. Like all of us, Madge doesn’t like it when Coco cries. So she went to another place in the room and read or colored, I’m not sure because we were busy.
What else? She got shorted on playroom time because the hospital’s weekend schedule has abbreviated hours for the playroom and the library. And on Sunday, she and I arrived to a disconnected Coco who was ready to check out and go home, so any sort of hospital fun time was really out of the question. She acted up a bit after that.
But much of this acting up stemmed from the fact that we all deal with stress and its relief in different ways. Madge gets calm and focused during stressful times and then, when the stress is done, she gets fidgety. And her fidgetyness coincides with other people’s desire to finally rest. Ergo: conflict.
Really, all child-parent clashes seem to be scheduling conflicts. One party thinks it’s time to go to sleep while the other party thinks it’s time to catch up on dinner which was forsaken because it occurred during reading time, etc.
Anyway, she was quite amazing this weekend.
And there was another moment of denial for me. When we got on the bus, the driver said, “Sir, just so you know, she’s too tall to be riding for free.”
Eek. Time to make her hunch over or do a duck-walk when we get on the bus.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Home again
We’re back. Coco had his video EEG and didn’t have any seizures while he was there, off the medicine. This is a good thing.
Last night was my first night of not sleeping in the same place as Coco since he was about 4 months old and he had to spend a night in the hospital. It was weird, but Madge and I had a good time, considering, and it had been Coco’s request to have Julie with him the second night. This is a good thing, too. Back in SF I doubt whether he would have made the same request.
Hospital wards like that aren’t the most uplifting places to be at, no matter how hard the staff tries to cheer things up. It is hard, for example, to know what to ask parents of pediatric oncology patients. Or other epilepsy patients. The hospital staff, after all, didn’t really know how to treat Coco because they are trained to hope for seizures. Because seizures that are registered on a video EEG are a step forward from seizures that have not been witnessed, registered, and catalogued. It was odd for the staff that we were hoping he wouldn’t have any seizures.
But we’re home now and he’s hopping on everything, quoting movies, and playing with every toy he can discover. It’s delightful.
His current movie quote is “does somebody need a hug?” followed by an attack-hug and general mayhem.
Feel free to guess what movie we saw (several times) in the hospital room.
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