It's Just Snow!

I'm sure there are things in this world stupider than media buzzwords, but I'm not sure at this moment exactly what they are. We just had a big storm, which dumped at least a foot and a half of snow on us, which I've seen variously called Snowmageddon, the Snowpocalypse and the Snowicane. I'm probably forgetting (or blocking the memory of) even more stupid names for what amounted to a big ol' snowstorm. When it snowed in DC a few weeks ago, I swear I saw someone call it "Snowgate." WHY? What is this compulsion to sound idiotic?! Snow in February in the northeast isn't exactly an unusual occurrence. It's annoying, and sometimes even worrisome, but it certainly doesn't put me in mind of any apocalyptic scenarios. When it snows in Phoenix in August I'll know that the Snowpocalypse has truly arrived and we should all worry. In the meantime, we'll just dig out and hope spring comes soon. I guarantee you we wouldn't be able to do that if we'd just survived Snowmageddon!

Past Ramblings:

Joy of Cooking

It's really funny to me how much I've come to enjoy cooking. I know I've said it before, but I do not come from a family of cooks. Yes, my grandmother and great-grandmother were excellent cooks, but I never got the feeling it was something they loved doing, but more that it needed to be done and they did it well. I had the morning from hell on Thursday. By the time I got home I was dazed and in tears. I would typically have gotten right to work, sewing, writing, doing a mailing--something that could conceivably result in money, or at least be good advertising for me and my various careers. But I was utterly drained. The creativity had been sapped from my body and trying to write would have resulted in frustration and more tears. So I made fudge. I played with the recipe and it came out great. I'm not going to say that simple act made everything better, but it did make me feel better. I later made pasta with a meat sauce Paul really liked and a yummy salad. That felt good, too. I think it's the lack of pressure. I'm not trying to cook professionally, or even enter contests, so I feel free to experiment, have fun and possibly even screw up without consequences. Besides, I'm known in my videos for hideous cuisine! I'm really happy to have found this pressure-free hobby. I want my ukulele to be the same way for me. I just want to play it, without pressure to be good. All my life it has seemed as if, if I had any aptitude for anything, I was encouraged to compete and/or make money at it. I want a few things I do to be just for fun, without that pressure. Competition is the American way, but no one says you have to compete at EVERYTHING.

Green This

I've had eleven or twelve hours sleep in the past three days and I fully admit I'm in a terrible mood, but if I have to hear any more about how the environment going to hell in a bucket is my own personal fault I'm going to strangle somebody! I drove Paul to the train station this morning on 1 1/2 hours sleep and figured listening to the radio on the way home might keep me awake. I turned on NPR and was greeted with a screed about how the problem is people who live in the suburbs and if we cared AT ALL about the environment we'd get rid of our car and move back to the city to reduce our carbon footprint. I'm sorry (okay, I'm really NOT sorry!), but SCREW YOU! We live in a house that was built in 1938. Wouldn't it impact the environment if we left this house to either go to seed or tore it down? I think buying an older house is the ultimate in recycling. We also shop at flea markets, thrift stores, yard sales and the used book store and have been known to grab quite a few pieces of furniture and household items out of the trash. Hello, that's recycling, too! I save used food jars to make candles and to hold things. In fact, I took out our weekly garbage last night and the bag was only about 1/3 full, since we recycle so much. I combine car trips and only drive over to the other side of town when I'm going anyway, to pick Paul up, if I can possibly help it. We replace all of our burnt out light bulbs with those florescent curlicue things that are supposed to last, like, eight years, even though they cost more. They're supposed to reduce our energy bill, too, but I have yet to see that effect. We eat leftovers. We compost. We may not use solar panels (although I'd love to) or drive a hybrid, but I think we do our part and it pisses me off when these sanctimonious yuppies tell me I'M the problem! We could all switch to overpriced organic laundry detergent and it's going to do jack squat in terms of real environmental change if places like China don't clean up their acts. So don't try to pin this one on me, just because I don't want to overpay through the nose for a cramped city apartment in a scary neighborhood (which, believe me, is all we could afford in the city). I'm sick of taking the blame.

Nobody Likes a Pretentious Crafter

It's funny: crafts like sewing and knitting are often thought of as homey sorts of pastimes, done by folks who enjoy the simpler things in life. Believe me, that's a myth. It may have been like that 30 years ago, but if the people who think crafting is a gentle pastime could see some of the women who shop at our local craft stores they'd be alarmed. I'm alarmed! I'm not terribly competitive by nature, preferring to keep outdoing myself, rather than outdoing others, but these women are an entirely different breed from me. Maybe they worship Martha Stewart, in all her arrogance. I don't know, but it's kind of surreal to be in an aisle of fabric featuring images of adorable kittens, gentle flowers and cartoon characters and be practically shoved aside by some soccer mom who's convinced she's the Queen Crafter in the store that day. It's worse when two or more of them get together, because then we're forced to listen to them loudly and pretentiously discuss the projects they're doing. Typically I'm alone in these situations, but when I'm with Paul the temptation is great to say something like, "Well, this fabric is OKAY, if you like to be like everyone else, but I'm going to be different and make a 1950s prom dress out of a shower curtain, using a vintage pattern OF COURSE," just to see the horrified looks on their faces. Heh heh heh! The truth is that I can find lots to love in any craft store and I buy all kinds of fabric from all sources, but these biddies need to be brought down a peg or two. You know I'm bad!

Swank/Not Swank

I've always hated people who consider themselves arbiters of taste and appropriate behavior, so please don't take this as anything more than my observations of behavior I've seen recently. If you read it and think I'm full of it and want to go around acting like a jerk, hey, whatever! I may change your name and write about it here, but it's totally your business and I won't confront you about it.

I've had occasion recently to attend several events that took place in glamorous surroundings, with folks who pride themselves on such knowledge as single malt scotches, cigars, jazz and the like. However, knowing about a subject doesn't make one sophisticated or swank, particularly if one indulges in any of the following behaviors:

Not swank: getting plastered in a public place and bouncing off the walls like a chimp
Swank: being able to hold your liquor and, more importantly, stop when you've had enough

Not swank: incessant name dropping
Swank: being confident about yourself and mentioning your famous friends only when it comes up organically

Not swank: pointing out the designer of your outfit to all who will listen
Swank: wearing what you like and mentioning its provenance only when asked

Not swank: ordering a lot more food and/or drink than everyone else and expecting to split the check equally
Swank: paying your share

Not swank: constant complaining (the food, the drinks, the service, etc.)
Swank: going with the flow and being willing to try new things and, if the service is atrocious, bringing it up with management in private (we saw a friend do this recently and it was not only classy, but lead to a bunch of free drinks for our table)

Not swank: spouting off about any subject like a pretentious twit
Swank: a lively, respectful discussion with willing participants

You get the picture. It's good to be knowledgeable about a variety of topics and to be enthusiastic. It becomes ugly when folks try too hard to be impressive. They just come off as pompous asses or, worse, sad. I like to think of it this way: would Dean Martin do it? If the answer is no, I probably shouldn't either!



Ripped from Today's (and yesterday's and tomorrow's) Headlines

As I perused our local newspaper's website this morning I found myself thinking that they really don't need to employ reporters so much as someone to write a bunch of story templates and simply change the names and towns every day. For every genuinely original story, like the guy who lost the sight in one eye during a war (WW2 or Korea--I forget which), but regained it when he was recently kicked by a horse, there are approximately 500 that fall into one of a few categories, such as:

"Local Official Indicted on Bribery/Coercion/Embezzlement Charges"
I don't know whether or not we have more crooked politicians than other places, but I certainly hope so, because it seems like a desire to run for public office here goes hand in hand with a desire to commit crimes.

"Local Punk or Mom Indicted on Embezzlement or Insurance Fraud Charges"
This one differs slightly from above because it doesn't involve elected officials. We seem to have lots of folks in their early-20s who turn their creative energy to bilking insurance companies. Just think what they might accomplish if they used that energy in legal ways. We also get a lot of moms in their 30s and 40s in white collar jobs who decide to supplement their incomes by embezzling. Hope those Disney timeshares and Lexuses are worth the jail time.

"Local Driver Wraps Car Around Tree"
The newspaper has undertaken a campaign to get drivers to slow down, since there are several stories every day about people dying or getting injured on local roads, the Thruway and I-84. I appreciate their efforts, but lotsa luck with that one. It seems the only good car trip taken around here is taken at top speed, whether it's sunny and 75 degrees or snowing. The lack of police enforcement insures that this practice will continue in perpetuity.

"Local School Official Engages in Lewd or Boneheaded Activity"
It seems the only qualification you need to become a school official in this town is to be an utter moron, a child molester or someone who covers up for a child molester, although that may fall under the category of utter moron.

"Gangs Infiltrate Local School and All the Middle Class Kids Become Gangbangers"
If you believe the first twenty pages of the paper there aren't any kids left in our schools over the age of twelve who aren't affiliated with a violent gang. The social column occasionally features a kid heading off to Harvard or doing something legal but not often. The law of averages suggests that there must also be some kids engaging in wholesome, productive activities, but you certainly don't hear about them often.

"Another Church Closes"
There must be some churches still operating around here, but, seemingly, not for long. I typically skip these stories, so I don't know why all these churches are closing. I'd guess poor attendance, but it seems lots of people are upset by these closings, so either that's not it or their consternation doesn't translate into church attendance.

"Gas Prices Are High"
This is the paper's number one filler story, always accompanied by a photo of someone pumping gas into an SUV.

"Property Values Plummet"
Another filler story, wherein they repeatedly interview the same real estate salespeople, who assure us that the sky is falling. Yeah, if you were stupid enough to pay half a million dollars for a house in Orange County.

"Another Dollar Store is Robbed"
This is a recent addition to the canon, but it's happened four or five times lately. Robbers often wear hoodies to do their thing.

"Locals Up In Arms Because of Development or New People Moving to the Area"
When you're an hour from New York City you're going to be caught in the path of urban sprawl, but there are many who refuse to face this reality and they like to run to the paper and whine. I'm not a fan of developers either, but that's life when you live in the metro area. I would suggest moving to Vermont or Montana if it bothers you. That might keep you out of the path of NYC urban sprawl for at least a few more years.

There are more, but you get the idea. Throw in the comics, obits and Dear Abby and you get pretty much the same newspaper every day. There's war coverage, too, but I can't even look at that and, besides, that's the same every day, too. I get the top stories online and Paul brings the actual paper home most days, but it really wouldn't matter if I missed a day, since I'm going to read basically the same stories the next day and the day after that and the day after that...

I'm Keepin' it Fake

There are those among the thirty-and forty-something-who-grew-up-middle-and-upper-middle-class-in-the-suburbs set (okay, I'm talking about some folks I know--I'm trying to describe them as generically as possible!) who put a lot of stock in keeping things "real." They'll speak reverently about seeing horrible bands I've never heard of (for good reason) at firetrap clubs with restroom doors that don't close and floors sticky with beer, puke and God knows what else and look at you like you're a pathetic loser if you suggest that seeing a band at midnight on a Tuesday doesn't sound like fun when you have to wake up at 5:00 AM. Yes, these people have jobs. They just go in to work exhausted and hung over, but that's better than rested because they're keepin' it real! They don't watch TV like the plastic, sellout losers they know! They don't cook or have dishes that match or clean their skanky apartments, oh, ever. That's for people without social lives! Speaking of social lives, one such individual (our age, which is nowhere near 21) was telling us recently that he was out drinking with an underage friend and became nervous when the cops came into the bar. Not knowing anyone under 21 (or under 30, really) I just never have those sorts of problems. Call me a fuddy-duddy, but I don't start sweating when I see a peace officer. Of course, the only bars I frequent are the Lounge and Koala Kabana and those are rarely visited by the law. No bar fights, no underage drinking, no alcohol poisoning--we're so boring. The thing that really cracks me up about all this "reality" is that it's no more these folks' "real" experience than sprouting wings and flying. Face it: you grew up safe and comfortable. Most teens rebel at some point, but that was half a lifetime ago. Your idol, Sid Vicious, had a mother who sold drugs for a living and shot up with him. Yours didn't. Deal with it. I expect some of these poseurs to start sporting dreadlocks any day now. Me, I'll stay here in my fake, phony Lounge, sipping martinis and listening to good music at a volume that won't guarantee hearing loss in a few years. I may even see some of my favorite performers live (the ones who are still alive to see, anyway), but only if I'm positive the floors of the venue won't be sticky!

I Like What I Like

One of the things I looked forward to most about adulthood when I was a kid was the fact that I would no longer have to deal with pressure to conform or people putting down the things I liked and that made me happy. Well, I'm still waiting for that day that day to arrive. If you read my Velveteen Lounge Manifesto (see below) you know just how much I detest unsolicited opinions about my life and the things I do and enjoy. The difference between third grade and now, however, is that I no longer care if I or my passions and interests are deemed acceptable, either by society or by any individual. This week a couple of members of the online retro community decided I'm lowbrow because I enjoy a nice hearty ale (maybe they meant Lowenbrau). I know I'm not lowbrow. I know I have a degree from a well-regarded university that actually makes you work for that piece of paper, that I've had two years full-time Shakespeare conservatory training and that I spent a good chunk of my youth at a yacht club. I know who I am. I'm also not a snob. I like what I like and I like that I no longer care when others disagree with my tastes (or think I have no taste). In fact, I am so unashamed that I think I'll list some other unacceptable things I like, without irony or apology: disco, Love Boat, CHiPs, The Jazz Singer (and I mean the Neil Diamond version), any Rankin-Bass Christmas special, Jacqueline Susann novels, Bobby Rivers, Target, Nancy Sinatra, doing the speed limit when I drive, Match Game and the big three of terrible movie musicals, Can't Stop the Music, Staying Alive and Flashdance. I'm sure there are plenty of others, but that'll do for a start. Don't want to cause too much shock all at once!

There must be some socially-unacceptable-yet-legal things you enjoy. Let yourself enjoy them without shame or remorse. You only live once.

A Velveteen Lounge Manifesto

It has come to my attention over the past few weeks that I'm thought of by some people as something of a goody two-shoes. Apparently I'm too polite and am putting on an act. Never mind who said it. The fact is that the people who said these things don't know me very well. However, I think that perhaps something about the way I express myself has lead to these conclusions. I know I'm not a goody two-shoes, a wuss, or anything else of the sort, but I dislike being misunderstood, so please allow me to set the record straight.

First of all, I do not tell off every single person I come across that really should be told off. If told off everyone who needed a good telling-off I would do nothing else in my life because I would be telling people off full-time. I choose my battles. There is also the real and present possibility of physical violence when you tell off someone you don't know. I try to save tellings-off as a last resort. However, that doesn't mean that it doesn't happen when it needs to be done.

The fact that I don't offer my unsolicited opinion about everything from politics to cartoons to your love life does not mean that I approve of everything you do or that I necessarily agree with you. I despise it when people offer me their unsolicited opinions and I imagine it annoys you as much as it annoys me. You're an adult and I figure you've thought through your opinions and life choices. If you want my opinion you'll ask for it. Otherwise you won't get it unless I'm complimenting you.

I really think there is too much negativity in our society already and I try (not always successfully, I admit) not to bitch about everything under the sun. It's such a cliche. I'd rather try to make my life better than complain constantly about how miserable I am and how it's everybody else's fault. I hate whining but, hey, if you want to whine I support your right to do so. Our founding fathers fought tirelessly for your right to whine.

Wow, this feels great! I hope we're all on the same page now. I'm full of opinions and have plenty of venom to spew, but I like to think that I have a life and my priorities don't include interfering with every person who crosses my path. I think it's time we all sat down now for a nice round of Whiskey Slings. This round's on me...