I know it's old news but I hadn't actually seen this until today. Kind of a big moment for the first couple. What do you think they are talking about? How much do you think they practiced for this? I'm falling a little more in love with him each time I see him in a tuxedo. Good thing I'm not a Republican senator!
Friday, January 30, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
On Being Chased
Once over dinner my husband and some friends recalled frightening childhood memories of being chased. I was surprised that they had all been through (and survived) something so scary. My childhood was fraught with danger and trepidation (not the least of which were the "Indians" who lived on and worked the orchard next door. Um. They weren't really Indians--but I thought they were for a long, long time). As afraid as I remember being much of the time, I was never EVER actually chased. I think I would have had a heart attack. My imaginary abductors were scary enough. Perhaps my would-be assailants sensed this and considered me a liability. We'll never know.
Even though no one ever chased me, I do have vivid memories of running away. I could run away really really fast if I had to. Once after a sleepover I was walking home with a friend in pajamas and a robe. (I'm pretty sure the robe was yellow terry cloth with red ric rac, sewn by my mom.) It was around noon--you remember those lazy sleepover mornings, don't you? We thought it was maybe a little embarrassing that we were still in our pajamas so we pretended to be weak and sick as we walked. This, we reasoned, would make the people in cars passing us feel sorry for us instead of judging us for still being in our pajamas. We started to fall over onto the ground to really make it convincing but when a car slowed down we jumped up and ran away! We had to!
On another occasion--a real red-letter day, in fact--I was walking home with my friend Rachel after her older sister had taken us to Castletons to buy our first bras. (I didn't really need one.) Her sister had cruelly made us try them on over our clothes right by the cashier. Rachel's sisters were insufferably cruel. If anyone would have ever really chased me, it would have been one of them. We had returned to my house and put our bras on. Then we had to walk to Rachel's. Such walking, climbing fences, and "cutting through" yards are the gist of my childhood.
I was so self-conscious with my new bra on that I thought everyone could see the strap in back through my shirt. I was also convinced they could see the box through the white paper sack I carried--As if the letters "B" "R" "A" were readable through the opaque bag. I rolled it up into a sweaty and twisty cone in my fist. As we passed the local tree house we saw Brent Hamilton, who I loved [unrequited] all through grade school. We screamed and ran away so dang fast! We had to.
Just a word or two more about the elusive Brent Hamilton: Once on Valentine's night I received a doorbell-ditch valentine written in red pencil with a sugar cookie. Though there was little evidence to support this notion, I always believed in my heart that the valentine was from Brent. It only occurs to me now that it was more likely from my primary teacher. Or my speech therapist. Just kidding. (Partly.)
Brent's mom asked me and my sister, Heidi to babysit for them on New Year's Eve. This was an awesome gig, as we had nothing better to do. We babysat his little brother and as the clock struck twelve I rifled through Brent's belongings for mementos. We babysat for them on New Year's Eve two years in a row. His mom was probably so happy--you know how hard it is to get a sitter on New Year's Eve. By now it should be clear and I shouldn't have to belabor the point at my own expense. Me: babysitting. Him: gone. Me: had nothing better to do. Other people: at parties. Such pathetic desperation is the gist of my tweens.
So, though I imagined it rather vividly, I was never chased. Or even pursued. At all.
Stay tuned for the next installment about my raucous tweens: On Being Chaste.
Even though no one ever chased me, I do have vivid memories of running away. I could run away really really fast if I had to. Once after a sleepover I was walking home with a friend in pajamas and a robe. (I'm pretty sure the robe was yellow terry cloth with red ric rac, sewn by my mom.) It was around noon--you remember those lazy sleepover mornings, don't you? We thought it was maybe a little embarrassing that we were still in our pajamas so we pretended to be weak and sick as we walked. This, we reasoned, would make the people in cars passing us feel sorry for us instead of judging us for still being in our pajamas. We started to fall over onto the ground to really make it convincing but when a car slowed down we jumped up and ran away! We had to!
On another occasion--a real red-letter day, in fact--I was walking home with my friend Rachel after her older sister had taken us to Castletons to buy our first bras. (I didn't really need one.) Her sister had cruelly made us try them on over our clothes right by the cashier. Rachel's sisters were insufferably cruel. If anyone would have ever really chased me, it would have been one of them. We had returned to my house and put our bras on. Then we had to walk to Rachel's. Such walking, climbing fences, and "cutting through" yards are the gist of my childhood.
I was so self-conscious with my new bra on that I thought everyone could see the strap in back through my shirt. I was also convinced they could see the box through the white paper sack I carried--As if the letters "B" "R" "A" were readable through the opaque bag. I rolled it up into a sweaty and twisty cone in my fist. As we passed the local tree house we saw Brent Hamilton, who I loved [unrequited] all through grade school. We screamed and ran away so dang fast! We had to.
Just a word or two more about the elusive Brent Hamilton: Once on Valentine's night I received a doorbell-ditch valentine written in red pencil with a sugar cookie. Though there was little evidence to support this notion, I always believed in my heart that the valentine was from Brent. It only occurs to me now that it was more likely from my primary teacher. Or my speech therapist. Just kidding. (Partly.)
Brent's mom asked me and my sister, Heidi to babysit for them on New Year's Eve. This was an awesome gig, as we had nothing better to do. We babysat his little brother and as the clock struck twelve I rifled through Brent's belongings for mementos. We babysat for them on New Year's Eve two years in a row. His mom was probably so happy--you know how hard it is to get a sitter on New Year's Eve. By now it should be clear and I shouldn't have to belabor the point at my own expense. Me: babysitting. Him: gone. Me: had nothing better to do. Other people: at parties. Such pathetic desperation is the gist of my tweens.
So, though I imagined it rather vividly, I was never chased. Or even pursued. At all.
Stay tuned for the next installment about my raucous tweens: On Being Chaste.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
You Should Go Stay at This Beach House, But Not When I Want To
I hesitate to tell you about the beach house we rented last week because it is so wonderful and I want to keep it to myself, but I'm a good person (in spite of what you might think) so I'll pass along the information. It's the bottom floor of this house:
The owners live upstairs and they are as congenial as can be. I'm not going to lie to you, the water is cold.
But it's not that cold. (The tile floor in the bathroom in my house in Utah in January is a lot colder.)
You will have fun and it will be just right for your family. It's not too ritzy and intimidating; neither is it crappy and scary. I saw a whale the first day. You probably don't believe me, but it's true. It's a magical place--I got tan and did not burn. Again, true. If you go I hope you enjoy it and I hope your 18 month old doesn't scribble with ball point pen on the couch because that really ruins it for the rest of us. Geeze.
Does the owner pay me to promote this place? No. But he should.
The owners live upstairs and they are as congenial as can be. I'm not going to lie to you, the water is cold.
But it's not that cold. (The tile floor in the bathroom in my house in Utah in January is a lot colder.)
You will have fun and it will be just right for your family. It's not too ritzy and intimidating; neither is it crappy and scary. I saw a whale the first day. You probably don't believe me, but it's true. It's a magical place--I got tan and did not burn. Again, true. If you go I hope you enjoy it and I hope your 18 month old doesn't scribble with ball point pen on the couch because that really ruins it for the rest of us. Geeze.
Does the owner pay me to promote this place? No. But he should.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Sometimes I Just Don't Know
Today Ben asked me if parachutes are vehicles. I said no, because they don't have wheels. Then he said vehicles don't have to have wheels and I asked him to name a vehicle without wheels to which he replied, "Feet."
Five seconds after that he asked me if rockets have wheels. I said "No," and yielded to his victory. And later--you know, like with all great comebacks--I realized that the Space Shuttle does have wheels. So that's a total burn on Ben!
Five seconds after that he asked me if rockets have wheels. I said "No," and yielded to his victory. And later--you know, like with all great comebacks--I realized that the Space Shuttle does have wheels. So that's a total burn on Ben!
Michelle's Inaugural Gloves
I love Michelle Obama and thought she looked great at the inauguration. I'm glad she wore gloves and I like them but. . . . whenever I see them I think of this character in an Amelia Bedelia book I had when I was little. Amelia Bedelia is doing her best (as ever) and her boss (a doctor?) is berating her for something and he wears these red, baggy gloves. His face is red too (to indicate his frustration with Amelia Bedelia). He's horrifying! He's kind of a precursor to Steve Martin's Dr. Maxwell from Sgt.Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, which is also horrifying if you see it as a kid and don't yet understand the difference between the Beatles and the BeeGees.
It must have really made an impression on me because every time I caught a glimpse of Michelle's gloves--yes, even holding the Lincoln bible--I thought of the horrible baggy gloves on Amelia's impatient and abusive boss. You might assume that this cruel man and his distinctive, haunting gloves are my earliest memory of terror--but you would be wrong. Ever heard of the child catcher?
He wears gloves too, has a whip, and can smell children with his long nose. What an awful person. I hate him. We have Roald Dahl to thank for that.
I guess the only thing more frightening at the time was:
Anyway, her ballgown was really pretty too.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Hey Guys, I Posted at Segullah
Hey guys, I wrote another post for Segullah. Won't you please read it? Make some comments and make me look good (if you don't mind.) Thanks so much.
Saturday, January 03, 2009
These Are a Few of My Favorite Things
I liked 2008. I have finally structured my life so I do very little that I don't want to do. In fact, I do very little, which is just the way I like it. This quote from Eudora Welty really resonates with me: "I like to wake up ready to go and know that during that whole day the phone wouldn't ring, the doorbell wouldn't ring--even with good news--and that nobody would drop in. This all sounds so rude. But you know, things that just make a normally nice day are not what I want."
Things that just make a normally nice day are not what I want either. But even though I like to be reclusive, I do enjoy some contact with the outside world through instant messaging, select phone calls, and blogging. Blogging is my favorite thing from 2008. It's been my favorite thing for the last four years.
Here are more of my favorite things from 2008.
Barack Obama. Frugality. Tina Fey. Writing to missionaries. Reading. Not finishing books I don't like. Watching Law and Order. All my sisters on Facebook (even Erin). Wondering if high school reunions will survive the social-networking era, and hoping they won't. The Dog Whisperer. Ballet flats.
Finding out the first woman admitted to MIT was named Ellen. What a beautiful name. Who thought of that name!
Funniest Book I Read this Year: Diary of a Wimpy Kid.
My kids have never seen me laugh so hard. "Want to see my secret freckle?"
Best Heart-Softening Moment: Realizing that Donald Rumsfeld (who I don't like) was in the Pentagon on 9/11 and that he was probably really scared.
Most Interesting Book: The Unthinkable: Who Survives When Disaster Strikes - and Why
Favorite Bum to Wipe: Hugh Clark
Favorite Band: Vampire Weekend
Favorite Unsung Hero: Steve Winwood
Most Startling Realization: When I'm in a public restroom with Ellen talking to her and calling her "Lady" or "Little Lady," people don't know she's in there with me and probably think I'm talking to myself and that must sound really weird. I need to stop doing that.
Biggest Calendar: Stendig
Best Movie Genre: Super Hero
Most Repulsive Person on TLC: Half Man Half Tree.
Most Wonderful Person on TLC: Michelle Duggar!
Most Demanding Teachers: Sam and Maggie's
Most Hated Responsibility: Grading packets of third grade homework for Maggie's teacher.
Most Normal, Smart, and Well-Behaved Kindergartner: Ben Faulconer (Surprise!)
Number of iPhones We Went Through This Year: 5
Grains of Rice it Takes to Desiccate an iPhone: Immeasurable
Least Favorite People of 2008: Liars, cheaters, and ne'er do wells.
Most Clever Entrepreneur and Re-Financing Genius: Christian Faulconer
Here's hoping 2009 brings more stuff I like.
Things that just make a normally nice day are not what I want either. But even though I like to be reclusive, I do enjoy some contact with the outside world through instant messaging, select phone calls, and blogging. Blogging is my favorite thing from 2008. It's been my favorite thing for the last four years.
Here are more of my favorite things from 2008.
Barack Obama. Frugality. Tina Fey. Writing to missionaries. Reading. Not finishing books I don't like. Watching Law and Order. All my sisters on Facebook (even Erin). Wondering if high school reunions will survive the social-networking era, and hoping they won't. The Dog Whisperer. Ballet flats.
Finding out the first woman admitted to MIT was named Ellen. What a beautiful name. Who thought of that name!
Funniest Book I Read this Year: Diary of a Wimpy Kid.
My kids have never seen me laugh so hard. "Want to see my secret freckle?"Best Heart-Softening Moment: Realizing that Donald Rumsfeld (who I don't like) was in the Pentagon on 9/11 and that he was probably really scared.
Most Interesting Book: The Unthinkable: Who Survives When Disaster Strikes - and Why
Favorite Bum to Wipe: Hugh Clark
Favorite Band: Vampire Weekend
Favorite Unsung Hero: Steve Winwood
Most Startling Realization: When I'm in a public restroom with Ellen talking to her and calling her "Lady" or "Little Lady," people don't know she's in there with me and probably think I'm talking to myself and that must sound really weird. I need to stop doing that.
Biggest Calendar: Stendig
Best Movie Genre: Super Hero
Most Repulsive Person on TLC: Half Man Half Tree.
Most Wonderful Person on TLC: Michelle Duggar!
Most Demanding Teachers: Sam and Maggie's
Most Hated Responsibility: Grading packets of third grade homework for Maggie's teacher.
Most Normal, Smart, and Well-Behaved Kindergartner: Ben Faulconer (Surprise!)
Number of iPhones We Went Through This Year: 5
Grains of Rice it Takes to Desiccate an iPhone: Immeasurable
Least Favorite People of 2008: Liars, cheaters, and ne'er do wells.
Most Clever Entrepreneur and Re-Financing Genius: Christian Faulconer
Here's hoping 2009 brings more stuff I like.
