My father was not one to complain about something unless it bothered him incessantly. He had a certain way of ignoring annoyances until they either went away or stopped being annoying. It is a trait that I don't have.
So it is not difficult for me to remember something that he complained about: the knuckle on his right index finger. Every so often, it would swell up to almost twice its normal size with arthritis, and the slightest movement would cause him pain. His flare-ups would last less than a week, but when he was in the middle of one I'd hear him wince over and over throughout the day.
This is a trait that I do have. In the exact same finger. Three or four times per year it shows up on my digital doorstep and hangs out for a few days. Just last week I happened to realize that it had been a long time, more than a year, since the knuckle on my right index finger swelled up, looking like a pale pickle and stiff as three fingers of scotch.
I woke up this morning, went to scratch my head, and saw more stars than the Hubble Telescope. Sometime while I was asleep, my overdue visitor arrived.
My right index finger looks like an albino sausage.
It's literally impossible for me to move the finger without feeling like it is on fire, and simple tasks are rendered, well, not simple. Today (and for the next two or three most likely) I opened the refrigerator, dialed my cell phone, and did one hundred other menial, everyday tasks with my left hand.
Typing this is taking much longer without the use of my primary finger, and every time a different finger on my right hand hits the keyboard, the spike digging through my index finger plunges deeper and deeper.
It's a nuisance, but I'll live. Every time I feel stiffness or pain I am reminded of my father. I never experienced arthritis in the knuckle until a year or so after he died, and I've come to the point that I believe that maybe that wasn't just a coincidence, that a swollen, painful knuckle is a two-to-four day visit from my father.
Just trying to wiggle my finger now, the pain is excruciating.
I hate it and I love it. I want it to go away and I want it to last forever.
14 December 2009
04 December 2009
There's irony, and there's IRONY
I got a rejection letter in the mail today from a literary journal to which I submitted a piece of writing.
The literary journal in question is published by the university where I received my MFA in 2008.
I was an editor of the literary journal's 2006 issue.
The rejection was a form letter, though written very warmly, and it's easy to see that the person who wrote it understands what it is like to be a writer. I think it is one of the best rejection form letters I've ever seen.
Of course, I'm biased.
I wrote the damn thing back in November 2005.
The literary journal in question is published by the university where I received my MFA in 2008.
I was an editor of the literary journal's 2006 issue.
The rejection was a form letter, though written very warmly, and it's easy to see that the person who wrote it understands what it is like to be a writer. I think it is one of the best rejection form letters I've ever seen.
Of course, I'm biased.
I wrote the damn thing back in November 2005.
30 September 2009
12 September 2009
Ah.....
It's the finest Saturday of the year.
Why, you ask?
Michigan 38, Notre Dame 34.
I always enjoy the first ND loss of the season, so that we no longer have to suffer talk of ND winning it all.
(Sorry, Beth. It's nothing personal. And I'm even 100% Irish!)
Why, you ask?
Michigan 38, Notre Dame 34.
I always enjoy the first ND loss of the season, so that we no longer have to suffer talk of ND winning it all.
(Sorry, Beth. It's nothing personal. And I'm even 100% Irish!)
07 September 2009
Swing batter, batter! Swing, batter!
I've been told more than a few times that there must be something wrong with me because I'm not particularly fond of Ferris Bueller's Day Off. What can I say? It just never appealed to me. It's not a bad film. I just don't think it's the classic that everyone else seems to think that it is. Why? I can't get past the whole idea that there is no way that Ferris, Cameron and Sloane can get everything accomplished in the time that they have before Ferris has to get back home to keep his ruse going.
Yes, I know, it's only a movie, but I have always had issues with movies that don't assume the person watching it can figure out when something is complete BS. More on that later.
Next week, a reporter from Chicago is going to try to re-create the events of the film, as the movie lines up with reality in a nice tidy row. He won't be the first to try this, either.
Given that it's 23 years later than the time of the movie, there's no way he's even going to come close to pulling this off. The Wrigley Field situation alone will ruin any chance.
I've thought about this a few times since the death of John Hughes (especially about this move, because I'll just say that I seem to be the only person who ever existed who doesn't fawn over it), and really, I just can't get over the fact that the viewer is supposed to believe that all this is possible. It's not, not even in 1986, and there are clues in the movie that let you know this. The Cubs game alone is enough to break it into a million pieces. A vendor mentions that it is the third inning, and in '86 Wrigley Field still didn't have lights, so every game started at 1:20. It'd be a stretch to say that it would be 2 PM by the time the game is in the third inning; it would be more like 2:30 at the earliest.
But the premise gets blown further to bits when the game is on TV (as is Ferris) and you clearly hear Harry Caray say that Lee Smith is pitching. Smith was the Cubs closer, so it would be the 8th inning at the earliest that he'd be on the mound, and quite possibly the ninth inning. That puts Ferris and the gang at Wrigley Field around 4 at the earliest. You think they're driving back to the North Shore, going through the stuff with Cameron wrecking the corvette, etc. in 90 minutes? No way.
I remember feeling this way the first time I saw the movie. And it's petty, sure, but it bothers me that someone didn't catch the infeasibility of all this.
I just hate when movies do this. Yes, I can accept the story of ET crawling out of the garage because you know it's a fairy tale going in, but I'm pretty sure that you wouldn't find Ferris Bueller's Day Off in the sci-fi section of your local video store.
You know what other "classic" movie drives me crazy with this stuff? Jerry Maguire. Decent movie until the last half hour, and then it just loses me. It starts when Rod Tidwell gets injured in the end zone and lays there for a while while Maguire is on the phoen with his wife, detailing how badly he is hurt. I can fathom that, I suppose. But then Tidwell recovers, hears the fans cheering for him, and proceeds to dance and strut all around the end zone. If someone tried that in actual game, someone from the opposing team would clobber him in about five seconds. And then when he got back to the sidelines, his coaching stuff would clobber him for doing it too.
And let's not forget the big revelatory moment when Rod is on a talk show and the host divulges the huge new contract the player has been offered. It's complete bull. No team, no agent, would ever allow something like that to happen.
That kind of stuff drives me crazy yes, can ruin a film for me. My brother is a pilot. You should hear him go on about the dozens of aviation moments in movie involving airplanes that are complete BS. The 747 blowing up at the end of the second Die Hard? Phooey. The rescue of the president in Air Force One? Bunk. I always say he should host the "Oh That Could NEVER Happen" Film Festival. He could have day one, I'd take day two.
Last night I was getting ready to go to bed when I got sucked into a movie called The Final Season. It's about a high school in Norway, Iowa that built a baseball dynasty, winning 20 championships before the school was closed due to enrollment issues. The film is about that last season, which was spring of 1991, which also happened to be my last semester before graduating from the University of Iowa. I remember hearing about the situation in Norway.
The film seemed true to the story, with some embellishments in it, of course. I doubt that the team really had an angry Chicagoan who happened to excel at the game move to the town just before the season started, among other things, but all in all, it was an adequate baseball movie that told a true story that also happened to be heartwarming: here was a school with a rich tradition of winning about to be gone forever. Could the team win one last title?
Norway does (and did) win, of course, but the recreation of the game is what killed the movie for me (again). I really, really, really doubt that in the last inning that a Norway player went up and over the wall to take a go-ahead home run away from the other team. I doubt that the stud pitcher on the other team was a prick who yelled at his players on the field "do I have to do everything myself?" I doubt that with the bases loaded and the winning run on third that a manager would have his batter bunt.
Wait, unless maybe the manager was...Ferris Bueller!
What's wrong with a little realism? Why make this movie and then turn it into a complete fantasy at the end? Does the average film maker think everyone in his potential audience is a complete moron?
I can hear the collective voice of the movie-watching public telling me to get over it. A movie is a movie, much like a novel is a novel. Which reminds me: what they did to The Time Traveler's Wife was CRIMINAL...ah, don't get me started.
Yes, I know, it's only a movie, but I have always had issues with movies that don't assume the person watching it can figure out when something is complete BS. More on that later.
Next week, a reporter from Chicago is going to try to re-create the events of the film, as the movie lines up with reality in a nice tidy row. He won't be the first to try this, either.
Given that it's 23 years later than the time of the movie, there's no way he's even going to come close to pulling this off. The Wrigley Field situation alone will ruin any chance.
I've thought about this a few times since the death of John Hughes (especially about this move, because I'll just say that I seem to be the only person who ever existed who doesn't fawn over it), and really, I just can't get over the fact that the viewer is supposed to believe that all this is possible. It's not, not even in 1986, and there are clues in the movie that let you know this. The Cubs game alone is enough to break it into a million pieces. A vendor mentions that it is the third inning, and in '86 Wrigley Field still didn't have lights, so every game started at 1:20. It'd be a stretch to say that it would be 2 PM by the time the game is in the third inning; it would be more like 2:30 at the earliest.
But the premise gets blown further to bits when the game is on TV (as is Ferris) and you clearly hear Harry Caray say that Lee Smith is pitching. Smith was the Cubs closer, so it would be the 8th inning at the earliest that he'd be on the mound, and quite possibly the ninth inning. That puts Ferris and the gang at Wrigley Field around 4 at the earliest. You think they're driving back to the North Shore, going through the stuff with Cameron wrecking the corvette, etc. in 90 minutes? No way.
I remember feeling this way the first time I saw the movie. And it's petty, sure, but it bothers me that someone didn't catch the infeasibility of all this.
I just hate when movies do this. Yes, I can accept the story of ET crawling out of the garage because you know it's a fairy tale going in, but I'm pretty sure that you wouldn't find Ferris Bueller's Day Off in the sci-fi section of your local video store.
You know what other "classic" movie drives me crazy with this stuff? Jerry Maguire. Decent movie until the last half hour, and then it just loses me. It starts when Rod Tidwell gets injured in the end zone and lays there for a while while Maguire is on the phoen with his wife, detailing how badly he is hurt. I can fathom that, I suppose. But then Tidwell recovers, hears the fans cheering for him, and proceeds to dance and strut all around the end zone. If someone tried that in actual game, someone from the opposing team would clobber him in about five seconds. And then when he got back to the sidelines, his coaching stuff would clobber him for doing it too.
And let's not forget the big revelatory moment when Rod is on a talk show and the host divulges the huge new contract the player has been offered. It's complete bull. No team, no agent, would ever allow something like that to happen.
That kind of stuff drives me crazy yes, can ruin a film for me. My brother is a pilot. You should hear him go on about the dozens of aviation moments in movie involving airplanes that are complete BS. The 747 blowing up at the end of the second Die Hard? Phooey. The rescue of the president in Air Force One? Bunk. I always say he should host the "Oh That Could NEVER Happen" Film Festival. He could have day one, I'd take day two.
Last night I was getting ready to go to bed when I got sucked into a movie called The Final Season. It's about a high school in Norway, Iowa that built a baseball dynasty, winning 20 championships before the school was closed due to enrollment issues. The film is about that last season, which was spring of 1991, which also happened to be my last semester before graduating from the University of Iowa. I remember hearing about the situation in Norway.
The film seemed true to the story, with some embellishments in it, of course. I doubt that the team really had an angry Chicagoan who happened to excel at the game move to the town just before the season started, among other things, but all in all, it was an adequate baseball movie that told a true story that also happened to be heartwarming: here was a school with a rich tradition of winning about to be gone forever. Could the team win one last title?
Norway does (and did) win, of course, but the recreation of the game is what killed the movie for me (again). I really, really, really doubt that in the last inning that a Norway player went up and over the wall to take a go-ahead home run away from the other team. I doubt that the stud pitcher on the other team was a prick who yelled at his players on the field "do I have to do everything myself?" I doubt that with the bases loaded and the winning run on third that a manager would have his batter bunt.
Wait, unless maybe the manager was...Ferris Bueller!
What's wrong with a little realism? Why make this movie and then turn it into a complete fantasy at the end? Does the average film maker think everyone in his potential audience is a complete moron?
I can hear the collective voice of the movie-watching public telling me to get over it. A movie is a movie, much like a novel is a novel. Which reminds me: what they did to The Time Traveler's Wife was CRIMINAL...ah, don't get me started.
08 August 2009
Time for a Random 11
(This is a complete, total ripoff from here)
I haven't done one of these in a while. It was finally, finally hot here today (which means over 90-it's been a depressing summer) and I celebrated by overdoing it outside. Tomorrow it might be over 95, and I'm playing golf. Let's hear it for sweat.
1. "A Certain Girl"-Warren Zevon. Look! He's linking to videos! Yes, this is another way I am ripping off from another blog. On to Warren: I miss this man. This is the first song of his I remember hearing, around 1979, on WEFM, the first classic rock station I ever got into. Within a year of discovering the station, it changed formats to country. I started listening to another station, WMET, and they switched to jazz within a year as well. When I was a pre-teen, apparently I was the Typhoid Mary of FM classic rock. As someone who used to practice lots of unrequited love, this song speaks to me. Ah, those were the days.
2. "I Can't Stand Up for Falling Down"-Elvis Costello. Truth be told, I am not much of a dancer. I tend to only dance at weddings, and then only if I have had a few beverages. This song makes me want to dance no matter the circumstance, and if I were to jump up on the coffee table in front of me, and there was not another awake person in the house, I'd find myself rocking back and forth while swinging my arms in the opposite motion. Take a look at the three dudes in the background while EC sings the refrain: they are doing it all wrong.
3. "I'll Fly Away"-Allison Krause. Someone else named "Gillian W" sings this as well, but the screen on my 'pod is too small to display here entire name. I'm sure it's here somewhere...Welch! It's Welch! This is from O Brother Where Art Thou, a severely underrated movie (Do not seek the treasure!). I love it. When I first met Kristen she told me that she was a big George Clooney fan, and I told her that this was one of my favorite movies (We thought you was a toad!). She had never seen it-really? I mean how can you be a Clooney fan and not have seen this? I forgave her, and we moved on. No, not really. I still hold a grudge. Hi Honey! She's seen it several times since (I've counted to three!). This song gives me a bit of comfort when I think about those who have gone before me. Imagine how I'd feel if I took religion a tad more seriously.
4. "Departure"-REM. From the vastly underrated CD "New Adventures in Hi-Fi." The video is a little, um, weird. I'm not sure why Michael Stipe thinks he is a purple raccoon. Anyway, any song I hear from this CD makes me think of a road trip I took out west in the summer of 2003, and I recall hearing this song as I passed the Salt Lake City airport heading towards Nevada early on a Sunday morning (the song talks about heading out over the Salt Flats). The rest of Utah after Salt Lake on Interstate 80 is a little, shall we say, barren, but yet fantastic, if you are into looking at things that you've never seen before. We don't have salt flats in the Midwest. I ended up in Sacramento that night, and saw more from less in fourteen hours behind the wheel (there's nothing in Nevada either) than I could have possibly imagined. I don't think I'd make it through an hour of the same drive without falling asleep though.
5. "Waiting on a Friend"-Rolling Stones. It'd be hard to a favorite Stones song, but this is in the top five. We got cable television for the first time when I was a freshman in high school, and there was a public access channel that ran community bulletin boards for every city on the system. They'd play the best music on it though, and I recall sneaking into my parents' room to turn this channel on just for the music. My father busted me frequently, and it drove him nuts that I'd turn on a television for music. One time he busted me as this song was on, and I said "Dad, come on it's the Stones." He replied: "I don't care if it's a meteor. Get out of here."
6. "Yellow"-Coldplay. Ah yes, before Chris Martin got all Gwenyth on us. I like this band, but they haven't been the same for me ever since "Fix You", which is the worst song ever. My niece Erin was a baby back when this song was popular, and she loved it, kicking her feet like crazy whenever it came on. Three years later I played "Fix You" for her and she cried. Really.
7. "Follow Your Bliss"-B52s. OK, there are times when the Internet freaks me out completely, and this is definitely one of them. I didn't think that there'd be a video for this song, and there isn't. Stick with me here: I remember being in Iowa City in the summer of 1990 (just before my senior year) and turning on the Weather Channel before I walked to class to see if it was going to rain, and was a little put off by the fact that this song was being played during the local forecast. It seemed (then, and still does now) a little depressing that someone at the Weather Channel would coordinate music for local forecasts, and that someone would have to contact the B52s and get permission to include this. And I thought this would be an interesting anecdote, but as it turns out, you can see it for yourself at the link, because someone has posted on YouTube a local forecast for Jackson, Mississippi from July 9, 1990 featuring "Follow Your Bliss." Of course, that means the use of the song was national. Unbelievable. What did we do before the Interent again?
8. "Save Me"-kd lang. Whatever happened to her? My very first apartment was in Oak Park, Illinois and had one of those big old fashioned basin bath tubs. The first time I used it I put 6 CDs into the player, hit random, and stayed in the tub for two hours. This is the first song that played. I bet no one else anywhere in the universe hears this song and thinks about a bath tub.
9. "Daughter"-Pearl Jam. As with dancing, I am not much of a singer, but there are a few songs that for some reason I can just nail. This is one of them. I sing it better than Eddie Vetter, and no, I won't sing it for you. Another song that was written for me is James' "Born of Frustration" though I refuse to do the "woo woo wooo woooooo" part at the beginning. Those might be the only two.
10. "Just Like Heaven"-The Cure. Winner of the "Let's Turn a Great Song Into a Crappy Movie" award, which is different from the "Let's Turn a Crappy Song Into a Crappy Movie" award. What the hell is Reese Witherspoon's problem? I digress. Remember the annoying guy in college who played his guitar on the roof of his rental house across from the dormitory where you lived, the one who annoyed the hell out of you and made you wish you had a catapult and several small sheep? The only time I found him mildly entertaining was on a very foggy night in the spring of 1990 when he was playing "Just Like Heaven" and I couldn't see a damn thing. I wonder if Reese Witherspoon was over there.
11. "Romeo and Juliet"-Dire Straits. We started with unrequited love, we finish with unrequited love. Back in my pathetic 20s, when I was blindly carrying a torch, I used to listen to this song and think of how cool it would be when she finally came around. Then a few years later it was featured in Can't Hardly Wait (which is a great song and wasn't a bad movie, so it doesn't win any awards from above) and seemed completely pathetic. It makes me laugh now, especially since I am married and all that pathetic 20s shit is behind me (Thank you, Kristen; when I met you, you made me 56000% cooler. God love you). I do admit that there are times of my life that I could scrub out of my brain with a Brillo Pad, but experience makes us who we are today, doesn't it?
Stay thirsty my friends.
I haven't done one of these in a while. It was finally, finally hot here today (which means over 90-it's been a depressing summer) and I celebrated by overdoing it outside. Tomorrow it might be over 95, and I'm playing golf. Let's hear it for sweat.
1. "A Certain Girl"-Warren Zevon. Look! He's linking to videos! Yes, this is another way I am ripping off from another blog. On to Warren: I miss this man. This is the first song of his I remember hearing, around 1979, on WEFM, the first classic rock station I ever got into. Within a year of discovering the station, it changed formats to country. I started listening to another station, WMET, and they switched to jazz within a year as well. When I was a pre-teen, apparently I was the Typhoid Mary of FM classic rock. As someone who used to practice lots of unrequited love, this song speaks to me. Ah, those were the days.
2. "I Can't Stand Up for Falling Down"-Elvis Costello. Truth be told, I am not much of a dancer. I tend to only dance at weddings, and then only if I have had a few beverages. This song makes me want to dance no matter the circumstance, and if I were to jump up on the coffee table in front of me, and there was not another awake person in the house, I'd find myself rocking back and forth while swinging my arms in the opposite motion. Take a look at the three dudes in the background while EC sings the refrain: they are doing it all wrong.
3. "I'll Fly Away"-Allison Krause. Someone else named "Gillian W" sings this as well, but the screen on my 'pod is too small to display here entire name. I'm sure it's here somewhere...Welch! It's Welch! This is from O Brother Where Art Thou, a severely underrated movie (Do not seek the treasure!). I love it. When I first met Kristen she told me that she was a big George Clooney fan, and I told her that this was one of my favorite movies (We thought you was a toad!). She had never seen it-really? I mean how can you be a Clooney fan and not have seen this? I forgave her, and we moved on. No, not really. I still hold a grudge. Hi Honey! She's seen it several times since (I've counted to three!). This song gives me a bit of comfort when I think about those who have gone before me. Imagine how I'd feel if I took religion a tad more seriously.
4. "Departure"-REM. From the vastly underrated CD "New Adventures in Hi-Fi." The video is a little, um, weird. I'm not sure why Michael Stipe thinks he is a purple raccoon. Anyway, any song I hear from this CD makes me think of a road trip I took out west in the summer of 2003, and I recall hearing this song as I passed the Salt Lake City airport heading towards Nevada early on a Sunday morning (the song talks about heading out over the Salt Flats). The rest of Utah after Salt Lake on Interstate 80 is a little, shall we say, barren, but yet fantastic, if you are into looking at things that you've never seen before. We don't have salt flats in the Midwest. I ended up in Sacramento that night, and saw more from less in fourteen hours behind the wheel (there's nothing in Nevada either) than I could have possibly imagined. I don't think I'd make it through an hour of the same drive without falling asleep though.
5. "Waiting on a Friend"-Rolling Stones. It'd be hard to a favorite Stones song, but this is in the top five. We got cable television for the first time when I was a freshman in high school, and there was a public access channel that ran community bulletin boards for every city on the system. They'd play the best music on it though, and I recall sneaking into my parents' room to turn this channel on just for the music. My father busted me frequently, and it drove him nuts that I'd turn on a television for music. One time he busted me as this song was on, and I said "Dad, come on it's the Stones." He replied: "I don't care if it's a meteor. Get out of here."
6. "Yellow"-Coldplay. Ah yes, before Chris Martin got all Gwenyth on us. I like this band, but they haven't been the same for me ever since "Fix You", which is the worst song ever. My niece Erin was a baby back when this song was popular, and she loved it, kicking her feet like crazy whenever it came on. Three years later I played "Fix You" for her and she cried. Really.
7. "Follow Your Bliss"-B52s. OK, there are times when the Internet freaks me out completely, and this is definitely one of them. I didn't think that there'd be a video for this song, and there isn't. Stick with me here: I remember being in Iowa City in the summer of 1990 (just before my senior year) and turning on the Weather Channel before I walked to class to see if it was going to rain, and was a little put off by the fact that this song was being played during the local forecast. It seemed (then, and still does now) a little depressing that someone at the Weather Channel would coordinate music for local forecasts, and that someone would have to contact the B52s and get permission to include this. And I thought this would be an interesting anecdote, but as it turns out, you can see it for yourself at the link, because someone has posted on YouTube a local forecast for Jackson, Mississippi from July 9, 1990 featuring "Follow Your Bliss." Of course, that means the use of the song was national. Unbelievable. What did we do before the Interent again?
8. "Save Me"-kd lang. Whatever happened to her? My very first apartment was in Oak Park, Illinois and had one of those big old fashioned basin bath tubs. The first time I used it I put 6 CDs into the player, hit random, and stayed in the tub for two hours. This is the first song that played. I bet no one else anywhere in the universe hears this song and thinks about a bath tub.
9. "Daughter"-Pearl Jam. As with dancing, I am not much of a singer, but there are a few songs that for some reason I can just nail. This is one of them. I sing it better than Eddie Vetter, and no, I won't sing it for you. Another song that was written for me is James' "Born of Frustration" though I refuse to do the "woo woo wooo woooooo" part at the beginning. Those might be the only two.
10. "Just Like Heaven"-The Cure. Winner of the "Let's Turn a Great Song Into a Crappy Movie" award, which is different from the "Let's Turn a Crappy Song Into a Crappy Movie" award. What the hell is Reese Witherspoon's problem? I digress. Remember the annoying guy in college who played his guitar on the roof of his rental house across from the dormitory where you lived, the one who annoyed the hell out of you and made you wish you had a catapult and several small sheep? The only time I found him mildly entertaining was on a very foggy night in the spring of 1990 when he was playing "Just Like Heaven" and I couldn't see a damn thing. I wonder if Reese Witherspoon was over there.
11. "Romeo and Juliet"-Dire Straits. We started with unrequited love, we finish with unrequited love. Back in my pathetic 20s, when I was blindly carrying a torch, I used to listen to this song and think of how cool it would be when she finally came around. Then a few years later it was featured in Can't Hardly Wait (which is a great song and wasn't a bad movie, so it doesn't win any awards from above) and seemed completely pathetic. It makes me laugh now, especially since I am married and all that pathetic 20s shit is behind me (Thank you, Kristen; when I met you, you made me 56000% cooler. God love you). I do admit that there are times of my life that I could scrub out of my brain with a Brillo Pad, but experience makes us who we are today, doesn't it?
Stay thirsty my friends.
04 August 2009
Surely, this one was the King of all Muppets
I have acquaintances who, when they found out that I was going to be a father, said to themselves "HA!" These were people who heard me say that if I ever had kids, there would be certain things that I would never do; things that I saw other people do with their kids, like wait for an hour just to see a Disney parade pass by.
I wasn't being judgmental. People are free to do what they want. And I'm free to not to do what I want, regardless what any child of mine may think.
So far, no Disney parades, and I don't see that changing. Call me Grumpus. I don't care.
I did do something last week that I thought I might never do though: I bought my son an Elmo.
Yes, Elmo. Some love him. Some hate him. Some of us hear his voice 24/7. Desmond has discovered Sesame Street, and he loves Elmo. He completely freaks out whenever he comes on. So last week, when we in Target, I saw a small stuffed Elmo that spoke when shook (and if that isn't an apt metaphor...unfortunately it does not say "stop, my brain hurts.") and I showed it to Desmond. He squealed. Windows five miles away shattered. I put it in the cart.
And this is how cool my son is: he didn't freak because I didn't give him the toy. He just kept his eye on it for the rest of the time we were in the store. I let him hold it in the car, still in its package, and he squealed the entire way home.
So we hear Elmo now, 24/7. I will never get used to it, but I know that it is not forever.
Shake-Me-Like-a-British-Nanny Elmo (and if you have issues with that name, address your complaints here) is packaged quite tightly. He comes sitting up in a cardboard container, his arms and legs fastened to it with plastic. I needed a scissors to free him of these restraints.
It struck me as I was doing this that Elmo is packaged in a most peculiar way: his arms were outstretched, the plastic attached around his wrists. His feet were crossed over, and the plastic wrapped around them as well.
I not only unpackaged Elmo, I de-crucified him.
I feel so noble.
I wasn't being judgmental. People are free to do what they want. And I'm free to not to do what I want, regardless what any child of mine may think.
So far, no Disney parades, and I don't see that changing. Call me Grumpus. I don't care.
I did do something last week that I thought I might never do though: I bought my son an Elmo.
Yes, Elmo. Some love him. Some hate him. Some of us hear his voice 24/7. Desmond has discovered Sesame Street, and he loves Elmo. He completely freaks out whenever he comes on. So last week, when we in Target, I saw a small stuffed Elmo that spoke when shook (and if that isn't an apt metaphor...unfortunately it does not say "stop, my brain hurts.") and I showed it to Desmond. He squealed. Windows five miles away shattered. I put it in the cart.
And this is how cool my son is: he didn't freak because I didn't give him the toy. He just kept his eye on it for the rest of the time we were in the store. I let him hold it in the car, still in its package, and he squealed the entire way home.
So we hear Elmo now, 24/7. I will never get used to it, but I know that it is not forever.
Shake-Me-Like-a-British-Nanny Elmo (and if you have issues with that name, address your complaints here) is packaged quite tightly. He comes sitting up in a cardboard container, his arms and legs fastened to it with plastic. I needed a scissors to free him of these restraints.
It struck me as I was doing this that Elmo is packaged in a most peculiar way: his arms were outstretched, the plastic attached around his wrists. His feet were crossed over, and the plastic wrapped around them as well.
I not only unpackaged Elmo, I de-crucified him.
I feel so noble.
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