The Stone's Colossal Dream

Friday Nostalgia

2008-07-25T07:54:00.000-04:00

Speaking of 'flair'... Office Space, 1999.

Wanted: New Running Partner

2008-07-24T16:01:00.004-04:00

About two weeks ago, Georgia told me that Blaise wanted to do a 5K race with some people he works with, so he’d elected her to train him. He’s as much of a jogger as Biggy, so I didn’t give it any mind. I just figured she’d hit the streets with him a couple of times, listen to him whine about the heat and his shin splints and how STUPID and BORING running is—like Greg does—and that would be that. George and I would go back to our lovely routine, pounding the neighborhood pavement while discussing such deep subjects as toe cleavage and laser arm-hair removal.

Like I said, that was two weeks ago, and Blaise has worked up to three miles, jogging half of that. When they’re not jogging, they’re at the Y, working out on the weight machines. And I’m stuck with two hours of Damien Rice on my Shuffle, because I’m too depressed or lazy to load new music.

How am I supposed to compete? Sure, she likes to boss me around, and no doubt she misses making me cry, but Blaise has the beautiful blond curls and the Ashton Kutcher smile. And Blaise can run with his shirt off.

So what if I bore her? So what if we once shared one body?

Snare Flair

2008-07-23T21:38:00.003-04:00

They call it "spirit wear." Jack Man's at band camp. Second drummer from the left.

Krishna

2008-07-23T11:10:00.002-04:00

Check out this Washington Post article on one of my former Portfolio Center students, Krishna Brown, who has her own virtual bakery, ShoeBox Oven.

Krishna one of those people who got more than her share: She can write, design, cook, run a business...I'll bet she can sing, too. It's not fair at all.

Here's One For the Freaky Fetishers

2008-07-22T20:50:00.002-04:00

Now, I've officially heard everything. Pedicures performed by fish.

I used to have a cat that did dermabrasion.

Too Tired to Blog

2008-07-21T22:39:00.002-04:00

Had a work dinner tonight at One Midtown Kitchen. Rough job, but someone's gotta do it.

Loved the restaurant!

Saturday Things You Might Not Know. On Sunday

2008-07-20T22:09:00.005-04:00

Today, Biggy and I took Jack to LaGrange and dropped him off at band camp and then drove to Dausett Trails to ride our bikes. At some point during the ride, I noticed something crawling on my leg--a tick. Sick, sick, sick. I swiped it off but it landed on my other leg. I swiped it again, and it stuck to my glove. I shook and shook the glove, but it wouldn't budge, so I pulled off the glove and threw it as far away from me as I could. Then I started wondering how a tick can hop on me while I'm riding down a mountain. I mean, do they wait for you and jump out of trees? So, when I got home, I wiki'd it:

Physical contact is the only method of transportation for ticks. Ticks do not jump or fly, although they may drop from their perch and fall onto a host. Some species actively stalk the host by foot. Changes in temperature and day length are some of the factors signaling a tick to seek a host. Ticks can detect heat emitted or carbon dioxide respired from a nearby host.

Friday Nostalgia on Saturday

2008-07-19T13:35:00.003-04:00

Perhaps I'll do 'Saturday Things You Might Not Know' on Sunday...

Lola in the Car

2008-07-18T21:09:00.006-04:00

Lo (spotting a convertible Mustang): I really hate convertibles. What bothers me about them is the way the bottom is one color and the top is a different one...... Have you seen the Batmobile in my World Records book? The inside looks like a Batmobile. I have a Batmobile Hotwheels car. Well, it's not really the Batmobile, but it looks like it...... Remember Mamoo's old convertible? I spilled mustard on the seat once. After that, it always smelled like mustard. It never came out. It smelled sick. I can still smell it...

What 40 Looks Like

2008-07-18T18:14:00.005-04:00

He had no idea where we were taking him. Biggy's happy birthday, courtesy of Mamoo, Granny, Myself, and the Kids:

Big Questions

2008-07-17T21:16:00.003-04:00

I was watching this with Lola tonight--Are You Afraid of the Dark episode Jake the Snake, wherein one boy risks his life to save his friend. This got Lo thinking:

Lo: Would you do that?

TR: What? Go into that basement with those snake men?

Lo: Risk your life to save a friend.

TR: If it were someone I loved.

Lo: A friend you loved? Like who?

TR: Like Kathy, Josie....

Lo: You would actually risk your life?

TR: I mean, if there was a chance I could save them and we'd both survive.

Lo: What if there was no way you'd survive? Would you save them?

TR: Nope.

Lo: Nice.

TR: I have kids who need me.

Lo: What if you were a hundred and it was a kid, like a seven-year-old, and there was no way you could survive? Would you save the kid?

TR: Yeah, I think so.

Lo: You should. The kid would have its whole life to live and you'd be about to die anyway.

What IS That Noise?

2008-07-16T22:16:00.008-04:00

Not the squeaking--that we're used to. What's that sad cry of someone who wants to come inside?

I'd bring him in, give him his own pad, but I'm running out of pet names.

The Wailin' Jennys

2008-07-15T21:37:00.001-04:00

Sunday Biggy

2008-07-14T17:19:00.003-04:00

Team Trivia

2008-07-13T11:48:00.006-04:00

Here's a sample of last night's brilliance at Suburban Tap:

Chopper (the Team Trivia Host): Your category is Fictional Characters. The question is, What fictional character's name meant "white face" in Ape language?

Blaise: Who was the main character in Planet of the Apes?

TR: Oh my god, what WAS his name? Charlton Heston played him. Raquel Welch was in it with him, riding a horse.

Blaise: And Marky Mark was in the remake. Jack, did you see the remake?

Georgia: I did. But I was about TEN!

Biggy: Think, y'all! Ape language!

TR: I still have that image of her on the horse. When I was a kid, I wanted to grow up to look like that.

Blaise: C'Mon...Marky Mark...Ape language...No one remembers what they called him?

(Wham song coming to an end)

Biggy: We have to put something down!

Jack: How about Cracker?

Biggy: Na...I'm putting Nilla.

TR: Ha! Turn it in.

(Song ends)

Chopper: Ok, again, the question was, What fictional character's name meant "white face" in Ape language? And the answer is: Tarzan. Your next category is Sports. The question is, What 1992 American Olympic gold medalist figure skater played Princess Jasmine in Disney's Aladdin on Ice?

TR: Who was the girl Tonya Harding beat up? The one with long dark hair?

Biggy: Kerry something.

Blaise; He said Gold medalist. Kerry didn't didn't win the year she got clubbed. You sure it wasn't Michelle Kwan? What year was she?

Biggy: Michelle Kwan's not American. No, I know it's that Kerry girl. What's her last name?! Kerry....Kerry...

Georgia: Does he mean she WON the medal in '92, or could she have won it any time? The question's not clear.

Jack: I wouldn't know anything about Disney on Ice.

(Meatloaf song coming to an end)

TR: Just put down Michelle Kwan, since we don't know Kerry's last name.

Biggy: AAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! Fine! (Writes it down, goes to turn it in.)

TR: Her last name was Something-aggin. Something-aggin...Kerrigan. NANCY KERRIGAN! Catch him!

Blaise: It's too late. He already put it in the pitcher.

(Biggy comes back, sits down.)

TR: Nancy Kerrigan!

(Biggy slaps his forehead, which takes a while. Meatloaf song ends.)

Chopper: Your question was, What 1992 American Olympic gold medalist figure skater played Princess Jasmine in Disney's Aladdin on Ice? The answer is: Kristy Yamaguchi.

*Note: Girl on horse was Linda Harrison, not Raquel Welch.

I Ain't Gonna Lie

2008-07-13T10:29:00.003-04:00

I Forgot to Post Yesterday! That's scarier than when I walk around searching for my cell phone while I'm TALKING ON my cell phone.

Friday Nostalgia

2008-07-11T21:50:00.001-04:00

Pet Sematary, 1989. As if the book hadn't scared me enough.

Projected Family Portrait

2008-07-10T21:21:00.005-04:00

For the month of July, it's Camp Georgia at our house, as we're paying George to take care of Lola until she (George) leaves for school in August. The sisters have made a loooooong list of activities to while the while and have already checked off 'see Mim's Island,' 'baking day,' 'walk to Publix,' and 'go to the World of Coke.' At Camp Georgia, Lo must say please and thank you. She must brush her hair. She doesn't eat junk food and she has to exercise. I recommend Camp Georgia. It's money well spent.

I don't have much money, however, because Georgia is also cooking for us. You might think that sounds wonderful, especially since she's an awesome cook, and it is. But she sends me to the grocery store with epic lists--full of strange, foreign items, such as buttermilk and pineapple-not-from-a-can. Monday, we had oven-fried chicken, twice-baked potatoes, warm rolls, and fresh fruit salad; Tuesday, it was French bread pizzas from scratch; yesterday, a home-made chicken casserole; and today, country-fried boneless pork chops, fresh corn, peas, and muffins. At every meal, Biggy acts like a pig in mud. He tells my daughter over and over how good everything is, glancing sideways at me with an expression born of nine years of Old El Paso Gorditas and Tuna Helper. He never knew it could be like this.

But I've got news for my husband: my lack of kitchen skills has kept him fit and trim. Three more weeks of these dinners, that will be us above: Biggy, Stella, me, Jack, Blaise, and Lo (who'll be fine because she won't eat real food).

Good Touch/Bad Touch: A Lesson

2008-07-09T20:19:00.001-04:00

On Fathers

2008-07-08T15:06:00.008-04:00

I've been thinking a lot about fathers lately. Fathers Day is always a tough one, being as I haven't spoken to mine in 15 years and see that as a trend for me. I was talking to one of my favorite students yesterday about fathers and we agreed that, no matter how old we get or how vast the divide, we are always--somehow--looking over our shoulders, wondering if they see. That everything we do, we do to impress them for good or bad. As for me, I'm always thinking, "Living well...," as if what I needed were revenge, as if he would wish me ill. Well he might.

But it occurred to me that we'd summed up the whole problem, then and there: that we'd always wanted our fathers to SEE us, see who we were and are, which is something they'd never done. They'd always seen us as extensions or reflections of themselves. We were not to be separate creatures, or special, or entitled to our own thoughts and emotions. So while we might gain momentary approval by making straight A's or winning at the track meet, we were not going to get it when we excelled at something that proved our separateness.

This didn't change when I became an adult. The first time I was published in a literary magazine, I was 28. My father didn't say "That's so great!" or "I'm so proud of you." He scowled at the poem and told me, "I wish you'd publish something I could show my friends." And when my sister was in the hospital, withering away with Leukemia, too exhausted to see her friends, too depressed to be comforted, my father said to her, "Leroy is coming by to visit. Could you put on a little make-up, try to smile, and thank him for the robe he sent you?"

When I picked my first husband, I was certain he was nothing like my father. More than twenty years later, I'm still dismayed by that error. Turned out, my father was his hero. I think my ex got some of his best ideas from the stories I told.

For men like this, families are accessories, something to be shut up in a box and worn to make them look good on special occasions. And by special occasions, I mean family reunions and company picnics, not the likes of Christmas or Easter. For my father and my ex, holidays were hours to be endured. I have the pictures: yawning by the Christmas tree, swinging a golf club during the Easter Egg hunt, drunk at the Thanksgiving table.

This was all I knew of fathers before I married Greg. I was surprised the first Christmas Eve when he didn't stay out "shopping" till the malls closed and "stop by the office afterward to wrap the presents." He was already home, having taken a couple of days off to shop with me and consult with Santa.

When Lola was born, I kept waiting for the new to wear off, so he could start ignoring her and resenting her. She's eight, and he still rushes home from work, barging through the door with his stupid falsetto "Looolaaaaa!" Until a couple of weeks ago, I assumed I'd snagged the only truly good father besides Greg's uncle, who was the most gentle and sweetly devoted father I knew to have raised his children to adulthood. He died in April, and I will never forget him.

The week at Fripp this year opened my eye (the one that would open). There are more of these guys out there, and I was in a house full of them! Dads who took their kids fishing and golfing, who laughed at their kids' idiosyncracies--yeah, blaming them on the mothers--rather than bullying them into being little mini-mees; dads who got the kids in the shower and knew where the favorite tee shirts were and what they liked to drink; dads who didn't sneak off in the golf car(t) to the other side of the island to call their girlfriends.

These men were actually HAPPY hanging out with their wives and kids. I'm not saying they're perfect. In fact, I've got a long list of of improvements they could make under the heading 'Husbands.' But shocker of shocks, they all SEE and love their children, which is enough to make me tear up that list.

Row, Row, Row

2008-07-07T21:46:00.004-04:00

I've been down the Nantahala several times, but this was my first time to brave the falls. Sadie takes them during her virgin voyage. With Biggy as Captain. That's real courage.

Precious Moments, Part Two

2008-07-07T08:14:00.007-04:00

Lo and K with their water blasters, doing what they do best.

Precious Moments, Part One

2008-07-06T23:03:00.003-04:00

Saturday Things You Might Not Know

2008-07-05T22:40:00.000-04:00

One topic for argument this weekend regarded the daddy longlegs spider--venomous or not? I'd always heard they were the most venomous spiders in the world, but with mouths too small to bite. Turns out, they're not even spiders.

Friday Nostalgia

2008-07-04T22:32:00.001-04:00

From (the real) Get Smart, season one, 1965.

*Note: According to Blog 365 rules, I can prepare posts when I don't have access to the Internetz and post retroactively. Ha.