Saturday, July 15, 2006

Weekend and not a minute too soon.

After a week of happily bashing my head against a keyboard....
I spent the most of the morning with my delicious Mother, mercifully free anything Special Olympic related, just two broads sitting around talking fiber arts, work, and soccer and the beautiful men who play it.

To great surprise, Da is back from his annual two month summer cross country meander, mocking of the relatives, flying his damn model airplanes, going to weddings uninvited & making inappropriate comments on the size of the bridesmaid's racks. Oh, god.... no wonder I dread seeing the relations, always want to apologize for that silly git. He gave me a long boring lecture on a dividend check he had just received: how the stocks originated with my great grandfather who worked unpaid in a barrel factory, possibly as an unshod serf with an overbite.....and how, when we are splitting up his assets "over (his) cold, dead body"....

Okay, my beloveds: Outside the movies, Who talks like that?! I mean really. "Oh, the melodrama of it all..." Maybe I do here, but damn it, it's my stinking blog, f'gawdsake. And I really wish you'd write one and send me the link to it, because with all these summer novels, I could really use a letter, a card, a little entertaining non-fiction.

Aside from this odd soliloquy and instead of any real conversation, he did insist on scrubbing my car, inside and out. Can't say I handed over the keys without a great flood of trepidation. I stopped every five minutes to comment to my mother that he must be engraving a name and phone number on every surface of the car and all its miscellany. (This is a man who engraves his name and phone number on his 75 cent nail clippers of which there are dozens, maybe hundreds.) Whether it would be my name would be entirely irrelevant.

Great flipping joy! Lehman's! Copper washboilers for all! They have terracotta piepans!

-This week's Knitting Group otherwise known as Jessica with the New Oven movie was The Philadelphia Story, which has led to endless Katharine Hepburn impressions, all very bad.
-Great audio moment of the week was the jazz trio outside the Berkeley Library. Fantastic. Two missed buses worth of fantastic. The drummer was a young black girl, deeply talented.
-Crazy Barbara update: Had angry, pointless, round-and-round conversation about the stupid flooding washer. Oh, and she thinks I use too much soap. Might just clean the duds elsewhere and let her ponder the $70 in monthly untaxed income loss. Gah.
-Baked cake: buttermilk with chocolate frosting. It's in the fridge. I am not thinking about it.

Steven has just walked in wearing a headband with rabbit ears. Please understand this is not an unusual occurrence.

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