Category: etc.

From Sheila:

1) Where did you graduate from and what year?
Um, what?

2) Did u have school pride?
Hmm. I dunno. Did u?

3) Was your prom a night to remember?
I went to two Senior Proms. Once as a sophomore; the other, as a Senior. They were both very icky experiences. So memorable, ah, yesss.

4) Do you own all 4 Yearbooks?
Yes. I even worked on the yearbook one year — junior year, I think. Was that it? Hmm. I’d have to check my yearbook!

5) What was the worst trouble you ever got into?
Trouble? Are you kidding?? I was eerily well-behaved. I was more of a freak than the freaks because of it.

6) What kind of people did you hang out with?
Drama people.

7) What was your number 1 choice of College in HS?
My #1 choice was where I ended up going. It was in Seattle, WA. It was NOT, however, my parents’ #1 choice for me. I bucked family tradition and didn’t go to the college that both my parents and both my siblings went to. My siblings had awful college experiences and I LOVED mine. SO glad I made the choice I did.

8) What radio station did u rock out too?
I honestly can’t remember.

9) Were you involved in any organizations or clubs?
Drama club and yearbook. Tennis team.

10) What were your favorite classes in high school?
Drama. Creative Writing. Spanish, actually. Man, I’m just remembering — I was a DEMON in Spanish! I mean, I won some kind of bizarre countywide competition in SPANISH, for God’s sake!! Who has competitions to see who’s best in SPANISH?? Who CARES??

11) Who was your big crush in High School?
9th grade: Ron B. He was on the wrestling team. He was this big-deal wrestler — made even more of a big deal because his right hand was deformed. It was frozen in a claw that bent down toward his wrist. He told me he’d had a surgery to “unfreeze” it and it worked for a while. Then it just went back the way it was. He seemed fine with it, actually. I remember watching him wrestle and watching his opponents look at that hand of his. You could almost hear them thinking, “Check this out. EASY win. NO problem.” Ron would act all nonchalant. They’d act certain they were going to win. Then Ron would proceed to kick their asses. Ended up 1st in the state in his weight class. Very cool guy. Too cool to be dating me — which I think he eventually realized!

10th grade: Tim S. A junior. A water polo player. Water polo was IT at our school, not football. Our football teams always sucked, but our water polo teams? Fuggedaboudit. We DOMINATED. So he was this dreamy, unattainable, popular guy. I’m not sure I ever spoke a complete sentence to him, breathless as I became at the nearness of him. I may have panted in his general direction. Which didn’t win him over, surprisingly. Months later, one of my best friends was dating him. We were not friends after that.

11th grade: Bob M. A senior. Much more in common with this one — we were both in Drama. He was THE star of our department, really a gifted actor. I remember watching him as Jerry in “The Zoo Story.” In that show, Jerry has an epic monologue where he describes in detail his attempt to poison his landlady’s dog. And listening to this monologue is when I KNEW I loved Bob M.! I mean, he was so believable, you see. And who wouldn’t swoon at a guy who could make you believe that he would poison a helpless dog — I was over the MOON, people! Hahaha. (But also sick.)

I remember he had to kiss me in a show we did — a mere chaste peck, really, and I nearly fainted with love for him! He, it turns out, felt that same way — about someone else. A guy. I was SO naive.

Sighhh …..

12th grade: I’d used up my whole heart on Bob M. the year before. I was too heartbroken to even allow for a crush.

12) Would you say you’ve changed a lot since high school?
(No, I still have a crush on Bob M.) Sheesh!! I hope so.

13) What do you miss the most about it?
I don’t miss much about it, honestly. High School was hard for me. I sometimes still pine for my college years. THOSE were the grand ones for me.

14) Your worst memory of HS?
Other than one of my best friends stealing my crush with her brazen hussy-ness and another crush being GAY??? I don’t know!

15) Did you have a car?
Yes. It was a used Ford Country Squire station wagon — you know, the kind with the elegant wood side panels? Clah-ssy. I shared it with my older sister. Well, that is, until I rear-ended some poor old man and basically totalled the thing. A station wagon! I TOTALLED a STATION WAGON! Luckily, the old man survived — somehow.

16) What were your school colors?
Ghastly orange — yes, ORANGE — and white.

17) Who were your fav. teachers?
Mr. Hagan. Mr. Mentas.

18) Did you own a cell phone in high school?
They didn’t exist — thank GOD.

19) Did you leave campus for lunch?
I think sometimes — during senior year.

20) If so, where was your fav. place to go eat?
The Yogurt Mill. The building used to be a pizza place called “The Leaning Tower of Pizza,” so you can imagine what it looked like. Really good frozen yogurt — which I always ate quickly because I thought the place was gonna collapse on me.

21) Were you always late to class?
Never.

22) Did you ever have to stay for Saturday School?
Nope.

23) Did you ever ditch?
No — except for “Senior Ditch Day.” I lived on the edge, man.

24) What kind of Job did you have?
Cashier at Costco.

25) Do you wish you were still in high school?
Does ANYONE answer yes to this??? Puhleazze.

All right. Anyone else care to share?

that THIS guy

is my new favorite on “American Idol”?

Some might say he needs to acquaint himself with the fine line of Just For Men products.

Some might say he needs to introduce himself to Jenny Craig.

Some might say he needs to put in an emergency call to the helpful fellows from “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.”

But I say, “Sing to me, baby! Just SAHHHNGG!!

And Sasha Cohen was PERFECT! A tiny coquette. A dancing doll. Perfection.

She’s in first place.

One of the women skaters last night wore yellow. You almost never see them wear yellow. It was so cheering to me, somehow. An errant, early daffodil. Lovely.

But Irina Slutskaya, the favorite for gold, wore a ONESIE! Apparently, the women can now wear THE DREADED SKATER ONESIE!! Irina’s was a smoky grey get-up with rhinestone fireworks exploding furiously across her chest. I sobbed at the sight of it.

I rather like her, but this, this new onesie concession, is a deeply disturbing development. Why, God, WHY? What does it all mean??

It should mean Instant Disqualification. Stripping of all titles. A Gillooly to the knees. And finally, demotion to a career lumbering around the ice in a bear costume as the very BEST Baloo “Disney On Ice” ever had!

Call me old-fashioned. I like the women skaters to look like women. And I like the men skaters to look like men, if possible. And I don’t like anyone to look like an ASS which is exactly what happens with The Onesie.

You hear me, Baloo??

Oh, goody! Disjointed ramblings on what I’m reading and watching!

— Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. I’m embarrassed to admit that I started reading this years ago, when I know I was FAR too young for it and I think I was just freaked out by it. Because of that initial impression, for years I wouldn’t pick it up again. But now, I AM JUST LOVING THIS BOOK!! SO glad I picked it up again. SO. GLAD. I think I want to live in this book. (Now, shhhh! I’m sure many of you have read it, but I’m not finished yet! Don’t give anything away!!)

— One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I absolutely love his writing, but, well, here’s a list of some of the characters:

Jose Arcadio Buendia
Jose Arcadio
Arcadio
Aureliano
Aurelianos
Aureliano Jose
Aureliano Segundo
Jose Arcadio Segundo

“and the rest …..”

Does anyone else see the, uh, potential for confusion? Or is it just me? And if you say it’s just me, I WILL delete your comment. The man is just a genius and the book is so odd and sweeping and whimsical, but would it have killed him to name someone Bobby? And then to name a completely different person not Bobbie, but, say, Johnny? And then another completely different person, oh, Huey or something???

I’m constantly pep-talking myself through the book like this:

“Okay, Tracey, now remember: That’s the brother and then THAT guy is the uncle — no, no, the SON — and you just keep reading! — but walk over here and reward yourself with a cookie because on THAT page you understood who everyone was! Now just stay calm. You are brilliant. Just because you can’t keep the freaking names straight does not mean you are a sorry idiot. Not at ALL. And frankly, I SO agree with you that Huey is a great name and — wow, you make some REALLY good cookies! You just keep reading, girl! I’ll bet if that chick in the book had one of these babies she wouldn’t eat dirt anymore ….”

I love the book, his writing — I do! — but the name thing is DRIVING ME CRAZY! And I know I don’t have one hundred years of solitude to get through it!!

Please pray for Dumb Li’l Bunny.

— Disappointment with God by Philip Yancey. I’ve read this book several times. It’s brilliant; Philip Yancey is brilliant. An absolute favorite. Everyone should read this.

(That’s about as many books as I can actually read at one time. On to the watching!)

— “I Know Where I’m Going!” (1945) starring Wendy Hiller. A REALLY obscure little gem. Even I can’t remember how I heard of it. I’ll be watching it again before I have to return it and then doing a whole post about it. I can’t even begin to describe it right now.

One of the directors of the movie, Emeric Pressburger, said this to his partner and co-director, Michael Powell:

“I want to do a movie about a girl who wants to get to an island but is prevented by storm. By the time the storm dies down, her life is changed and she no longer wants to get to the island.”

Powell apparently said, “But WHY does she want to get to the island?”

Pressburger replied, “I don’t know! Let’s make it and find out!!”

I love that, the excitement, the sense of discovery about to be made, the innocence, almost.

More on this one later. Just ….. wonderful …. and you don’t realize just HOW wonderful until it’s over.

— “Hustle and Flow” starring Terrence Howard. Howard is nominated for Best Actor for this. He was also phenomenal in “Crash” — an actor who WILL win an Academy Award some day, but, sadly, probably not this year, what with “Brokeback Mountain” and Heath Ledger and all.

In this movie, he’s a somewhat half-hearted pimp and drug dealer with a dream to make it in hip hop. A character you think you’ll hate, you begin to understand and cheer for. It’s a movie where the hero is an anti-hero and I love those kinds of movies. He’s complicated and volatile and not just washed all squeaky with goodness. His layers are maddening and beautiful, too.

There is a scene Howard does with one of his prostitutes where she gives him a gift and thanks him for something and it is SUCH a beautiful, real moment — that actress! Gah! I can’t even remember her name! I must find it out. I rewound it over and over again so I could watch that scene and see the wonder of this MOMENT and cry.

Some may be offended by the subject matter. I suppose from a Christian perspective, one could find ways to condemn many things, but I’d still say “rent it, watch it, enter that world as that person and see what choices you might make, see what hopes you might have, see who you might love.” I don’t know. I felt utterly moved by these people.

With certain eyes, I think there’s beauty to behold in their struggle.

— Lastly, we went and saw “The New World” with Colin Farrell. I do not generally care for Colin Farrell. I STILL do not generally care for Colin Farrell. But the young actress who plays Pocahontas is amazing, riveting, camera absolutely loves her face. And the beginning portions of the movie are visually stunning. You are THERE. You feel that snow. You nearly brace against the coldness of that water. You smell that grass, those trees. Cinematography, breathtaking. But then …. then …. well, I don’t know. I just got TIRED. Tired of the story and the length — and that actress is still so lovely — but I just didn’t CARE anymore. I think the movie swept itself off its feet and in the end, well, actually, My Beloved said it best in his exhausted, terse review in the car on the way home:

“The New World, otherwise known as Nature is Pretty.”

(Hahahaha! Have I mentioned he kills me?)

Okay. Rambling OVER!

All right. I’m ranting and typing furiously here.

So they skate and I guess they do all right — oh, and skating to “Prince of Egypt” about, you know, slavery and deliverance and other minor stuff like that, you whiny little piss-ants!

But they do all right, as I said; you know, there’s no fall, no butt zamboni, but I have to say that watching them HAVE to touch each other during the skate is weird. They are still SO mad at each other, it’s like both their bodies are screaming, “AHHHHH!! IT BURNS!! IT BUURRRRRNS!!!”

So they finish and …. the Italian crowd goes crazy and then — and ONLY then — she starts sobbing and clutching at him and stroking his hair. The ice melts, so to speak.

AND IT MAKES ME REALLY MAD, SOMEHOW.

I guess it’s just the notion that any forgiveness or reconciliation here was entirely dependent on how well they skated. If they’d fallen again — what? What would have happened? Would they never speak to each other again? Put out a hit on each other? WHAT?? After all that time together, there’s no grace?? I know it’s the Olympics and all, but it’s not real life, people. Your life will go on after the Olympics are done. Or at least, it SHOULD.

Can you manage to weigh your relationships as more important than one life event??

I say this:

If you guys win, Dick Button STILL gets to SPANK you.

But I do, TOO.

I ‘m watching the Ice Dancing finals. WHAT the HECK is UP with that Italian pair? They were in first place before last night’s skate — and then they fell. Walked off the ice fuming. Sat in the kiss and cry, she fuming, plunging daggers in him with her eyes, he not even looking at her, looking COMPLETELY the other way.

It was massively immature and entertaining.

So tonight, here they are, getting ready to skate — (I think they’re now in 6th place or something) — and they made such a big ol’ DEAL about coming out of retirement to skate in the Olympics in their home country — but now their home country AND the whole freakin’ world gets to witness them being the absolute biggest BABIES I’ve ever seen. The cameras are following them backstage as they prepare to skate and they are literally ignoring each other — both having their little hissy pissy fits — STILL!! They walk past one another as if they are complete strangers and not partners who’ve struggled and fallen and competed and won and lost TOGETHER for so long. It’s one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever seen.

(And I can’t look away!!!)

But someday, when they see this footage, they will be embarrassed, as they rightly should be. That is, if they ever MATURE at all, they will be embarrassed.

I wish I could be like some old-timey Gramma and shake my head and wag my finger and warble “SHAME ON YOU! SHHHAME!!!”

Wait. Who says I can’t??

“SHAME ON YOU!! SHHHAME!!!”

They’re up next to skate.

I say this:

If you guys win, Dick Button gets to SPANK you.

For anyone following along, my place of (temporary) employment, previously referred to on this blog as “Joe’s Coffeehouse,” will now be called “The Beanhouse.”

I dunno why. Just because.

(Also … I’m working on a post about the latest goings-on at The Beanhouse. Please remain calm.)

Guess I accidentally pressed the wrong button behind the scenes here that says you’re having to register in order to comment? And people are emailing me saying they don’t know how to do that — is that right? Well, I went in and “unpressed” it — because I don’t know how you register, either!

I may have to look into that, though, because I’m just getting flooded with spam comments on my old posts and I’m wasting far too much time deleting them all.

Any suggestions? Does anybody know the Word Press comment registration process?

Someone say something so I know whether I fixed the problem!!

I’m a bad aunt. Button Baby turned 2 yesterday, Valentine’s Day, and I’m a day late in acknowledging it! Well, she is ONLY 2 and doesn’t read this blog …. uh, yet.

The latest on the Button Baby front:

She had some little friends over yesterday. At one point, they all gather around the table to eat. Approximately one minute of actual eating occurs, when Button loudly declares: “Everyone full! Time for pwesents!!”

Okaaay.

When asked her age, she says, “I’m 2. Not 5 or 6 or 7, just 2.”

Then, she’s decided she no longer likes her nickname. My brother and his wife started calling her “Biscuit” right from the get-go, saying she was always hot, “like a biscuit straight from the oven.”

But not anymore. No more Biscuit.

“Peanut!” she insists. If you call her any other nickname, you hear:

“NOO! PEANUT!!”

All righty.

So Happy Birthday …. whatever your name is!!!

(And, oh, YEAH, you’re definitely just 2.)