March 20. Spring begins. Officially. Living in Tennessee, there’s
been spring here for some time. Sure, we had some nasty weather. But
the saying goes that if you don’t like the weather around here wait a
few hours and it’ll change. So it was no big surprise to have
beautiful spring days in the first week of January. They didn’t
stick, but they were there for a second. And they popped back up
again to tease us in February. Just like we’re sure to get some
mighty cold days ahead just to mess with us.
What I enjoy, however, is how the warm days peppered in among the
cold change the habits of those around us. I recall one day toward
the end of January. Sure, it had reached 50 degrees. But did that
mean that everyone had to pull out his or her shorts and flip-flops?
And yet, they did. One of my friends called me from Wal-Mart to
report that everyone was inappropriately dressed. Warm weather will
mess you up.
You start thinking crazy thoughts like, I should really clean out my
closet. And mean it this time. I’ve been outside more, like the rest
of the world. And now I have a list of outdoor chores. I’m already
failing in indoor chore doing. Why did it have to get nice out so I
could feel guilty about not doing more stuff? And we changed the
clocks earlier. So there’s more daylight. So I’m even more messed
up. I’m sure I’m not alone.
It’s March people. You know the deadline you’re under? If you want
grass, you’ve got to get it seeded this month. Your butterfly bushes
need to be cut back to 12 inches this month. But don’t cut back the
azaleas or forsythias or you’ll be cutting back this season’s blooms.
I made that mistake. Once. The dead wood needs to be removed from
all your trees and shrubs and explaining the three levels of growth on
a hydrangea, well, I can do it, but it’s complicated. Just know
you’ve got to do it all this month. And the mulching, the mulching.
Plus, you’ve got to send your husband up a ladder just because it’s
amusing. Oh, and to clean out the gutters. And seriously, don’t your
vehicles need a good airing out? (The warmer temperatures have one of
my inner circle saying they’re going topless. I’ll let you ponder if
they’re talking about their wardrobe choice or their vehicle.)
And you do realize taxes are due next month? How come every year I
say I’ll do mine in January and I never do? Why doesn’t anyone remind
me?
It’s just a few weeks until the big dance recital in April for Anna
Grace. And me. I’ll bet she knows her routine. And she’s turning
four at the end of May and is expecting a party. Plus, her birthday
is just a few days after our nephew Adam is getting married. Good
news on that one, all we have to do is drive a few hours and show up.
That I can do. Head spinning. Spiraling. Spiraling.
Sigh. I really need to stop and enjoy the vernal equinox more. The
solar year is getting shorter. Can’t you tell? No wonder I feel like
I’m running out of time.
3.08.2009
The One About Spring
3.03.2009
The Destroyers
Just the other evening I was doing some grocery shopping with my
toddlers. The Destroyers. Of course, you know that’s what George
Thorogood calls his back up band. And I know it’s a fitting name for
my soon to be three and four year old girls. I was telling a friend
that he doesn’t really ever see them at their best. That’s in the
morning when they’re fresh. Well, 5:30 in the evening, they’re not
exactly fresh. And neither am I.
Anyone who knows anything at all about me knows I run on about five
hours of sleep a day. Apparently, that’s the way I’m made. I don’t
like it, but that’s the way it is. I’m just not funny when I get more
than five hours of sleep so it all works out.
Those who also know me know that I don’t leave the house unless I’m
fully accessorized. I don’t even get the mail without lipstick. No
lie. And yet, something happened the other day. Now, I didn’t go all
crazy and leave the house with no make up on. That would just be
wrong.
But as I looked in the rearview mirror, backing out of the parking
slot, I thought, oh no, I’ve turned into, “that poor woman.” You
know. You’ve seen them out in public. You think to yourself. “That
woman. That poor woman.” There I was. No earrings. Oh, the shame
of it. Clear lip gloss. The horror. And an I’m Grumpy t-shirt.
Well, I was. Now, my clothes matched. And were stain free. My
children matched. They were not stain free. They had recently been
assuaged with an entire bag of Cheese Puffs. Most of my girls were
orange. My mother would’ve been appalled. I wasn’t so thrilled about
it myself.
It’s not like the orange destroyers were quiet in the store either.
They were standing up in the cart making siren sounds and grabbing at
everything. Because there are two of them they can work together for
good or evil. This time, for evil. No matter what side of the aisle
I pushed the card toward; there were two hands ready to grab
something. Random cans of beans. “Too beanie,” said Anna Grace.
Bags of spoons hanging on the refrigerated aisle doors. Anything,
everything, my kids touched it. And we were noticed.
I know it because of the many people who stopped to remark. “At least
your children seem contained” “It’s funny because I can walk away”
and so on. And these remarks were from strangers. Or from people who
I knew so vaguely I had forgotten their names.
Of course, I ran into friends of mine too. They got to witness
several rounds of grocery crushing followed by what will no doubt
become an Olympic event—item tossing. The idea is to see how far
small things can be thrown from the cart. Item tossing is dealt with
my speaking softly this message, “throw one more thing from the cart
and all the cookies and crackers get put back and all I’ll buy are
paper towels.” My friend Adam remarked he had never heard of paper
towels being used as a threat before. And with so much success.
Don’t mess with mama. Mama’s on a short string. Mama just might
snap.
Well, Mama didn’t snap. We made it out of the store and no one was
crying. Naturally, my spouse pointed out that the plan is to never
take them grocery shopping to begin with. Oh, I should’ve mentioned.
I had asked him to go to the store about five hours before all this
happened. He was watching TV. I should’ve tried the paper towel
threat on him.
To make up for it all went back to the same store the very next day.
In so much finery I could’ve gone to a White House luncheon. I didn’t
go back to see if the same people who were there the night before
might see that I had redeemed my look. I had to go back and get
everything else on the list I had abandoned the night before. Still
on my usual five hours sleep. But Mama has learned her lesson. Mama
looks gooooooood.
The Walking Celebrity Dictionary
It’s funny, how my mind works. One recent Sunday night my husband
said, “your favorite Rhode Islander is on TV tonight.” To that I
replied, “Van Johnson?” OK, I know I lost most of you right there.
Van Johnson was born in 1916 in Newport and died this past December.
They featured him on the remember those who died this year segment of
the Oscars. He made tons of films, but I’ll just name two you should
see, Brigadoon and The Caine Mutiny. But I digress. Jim was just
reminding me that Family Guy was on. You see, that cartoon on FOX
takes place in Rhode Island. My parents and my sister Judy were all
born in Rhode Island. Get the connection?
And yet I could go on about Van Johnson. He was in a car accident
while filming a movie in the 1940’s. Got a metal plate in his head.
That’s why he was not eligible for service during WWII. Which
explains why he made so many war movies after all the song and dance
movies with Esther Williams and June Allyson.
I have no doubt some people’s eyes have glazed over at this point.
They’ve never seen Neptune’s Daughter and don’t remember the Depends
commercials. But that’s neither here nor there. What I’m getting at
it, I don’t just know about Marilyn Monroe.
I have been, accused I guess is the word, of being a Marilyn freak.
And that is because, yes, I know, we have the same hair. There’s a
vague resemblance. I can intentionally pull off a Marilyn look no
problem. I also found out I can look like Ann Jillian. Look her up
while you’re trolling www.imdb.com (the Internet Movie Database).
It’s just that as I have lost weight over the past few years and it
seems I have turned into a Marilyn clone in many people’s eyes.
Actually, I cannot convince my daughters that I am not her. But
they’re 2 ½ and 3 ½ and just looking at photos on DVD’s so really,
what do they know? Anna Grace tried to shut me down when I told her
she was not looking at a photo of her mother. She said I had the same
shoes. Conversation was over.
But I always knew things about Marilyn, and many other Old Hollywood
types. I know Travilla designed things like her most famous dresses.
That includes the white one from Seven Year Itch and the pink dress
from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.
By the same token, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, one of my favorite
movies, is directed by Howard Hawks who directed His Girl Friday,
another great film. And that one has Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell.
You want some great dialogue; you watch a Howard Hawks film. See? I
don’t just know Marilyn trivia.
I know that Bogart’s line “Here’s looking at you, kid” was improvised
on the set of Casablanca. Another film that you should know. Have
you noticed a theme?
Oh, sure, I can do more up-to-date films. But it’s really much more
impressive if the people in the movies are dead. You would expect me
to know something about a film in the theater right now. You would
expect me to be able to name a movie in the theater right now.
OK, that’s not fair and I resent it. So I spend most of my time
watching Turner Classic Movies and their documentaries. I can’t help
it if I remember things that do not make the world a better place. I
did tell one of my friends that Tom Jones sings the theme song to Duck
Dodgers in the 24th Century in case it should ever come up in
conversation. You never know when something like that will come in
handy.
It’s like when I run through the entire best picture Oscars before I
go to sleep at night. Starting with the silent picture Wings. Don’t
you do that?
Just the other day I was called a walking celebrity dictionary. All
because of a little Elizabeth Taylor trivia. Hey, these are the types
of things that come up in conversation with me. That and when is your
website www.thejanellen.com going live? To answer that—any second
now.
I hope I have put to rest the idea that I have a Marilyn fixation.
What I really have is a trivia fixation and the inability to put
things out of my head. I find the bits and pieces fascinating. It’s
the best part of the cookie jar.
2.22.2009
The Laptop
Where some things are concerned, I am very knowledgeable and timely. You won’t catch me with unmanicured nails or my hair in need of doing. I have visited the dentist every six months since I was three years old. I get the oil changed in my vehicles every 3,000 miles. Get the picture? And yet, something managed to slip by me. And that would be the maintenance of my laptop computer. Call it a blonde moment if you must. But I didn’t know it needed any. I kind of thought it did for itself. I was wrong.
In preparing for my worldwide domination with the launching of http://www.thejaneellen.com/, there was a need to load programs onto my laptop. Now I knew that I had a lot of photos stored on there. I just didn’t know there were over four gigabytes of photos on there. And then some.
Just the other evening it was pointed out to me that the laptop could’ve crashed at any time. Whaaaat? Never crossed my mind. It was so new. As old as Jenna. OK, so she’s turning three in August. It seems like I just got it. It seems like I just got her. And she’s the youngest. Anyway, I digress. The laptop, in my mind, was a mighty fortress-- with so much room it would never be full. Plus, the laptop became mine as the desktop became my husband’s. I just assumed if something needed to be done to it then he would do it. I assumed incorrectly. I guess he thought my ability to read and brilliant mind would be enough to keep it from crashing. Instead it was my friend Brien’s ability to read and brilliant mind that kept it from crashing. And who pointed out all the things I’ve done wrong with my laptop.
As a matter of fact, he made me a list. He knows I love a good list. Or was it because I just glazed over when he told me what I needed to do to? Honestly, don’t we live in the Star Trek age yet with sentient computers? Hasn’t Hal opened the pod doors yet? Ah, but it seems I willfully ignored all the times the laptop firmly suggested I delete things from the C drive. What I didn’t know is that it was about to start deleting things on its own. There’s the thinking for itself computer I thought I already had.
So it seems not everyone has about 2,000 emails. Is that so wrong? Apparently, it is. There is a delete button. I have since learned how to use it. The gajillion photos? Mostly of my beautiful children but a good many of my beautiful self? They’re on jump drives now. But I have now learned about external hard drives. Why, you can even get portable ones that come in pretty colors. And they’re more expensive than the less pretty desktop ones—how surprising.
(By the way, I don’t trust or believe that my photos are on the jump drives even though for two days after the transfer I stuck them back in and checked. It just seemed impossible. It seemed wrong. And it seems that I now have something small and easy to lose that I must now hide from two toddlers.)
I have been instructed and have mastered how to get updates for my laptop. I know, I am also surprised that I was able to do this without handholding. And now I have to clean up my laptop once a week and such. Who knew? I didn’t. Had my laptop had taken in one more teeny tiny bit of information it would’ve ceased to be. And if you thought I had a back up of anything, well, think again. Even I know I should’ve had a back up.
Much like people who don’t start diets but change their eating forever, I am planning to start anew. Even though I am a great one for hanging on to things. I promise to delete emails after I read them. I promise to defrag my C drive. And I promise not to live in a technology bubble where I let my math anxiety surface when I hear too many unfamiliar terms that begin to sound incredibly boring. There. A breakthrough. And I don’t even think it’s my math anxiety. I just think I get incredibly bored and it turns into a buzzing sound and I’d rather be baking or shoe shopping or doing something much more shallow. Or, here’s the real truth, or have someone else do the computer dirty work for me. In return for some baked goods. Well, I already promised. And I do want to set a fine example for my girls that they shouldn’t be dependent. However, if a baked good will get the job done, so be it.
In preparing for my worldwide domination with the launching of http://www.thejaneellen.com/, there was a need to load programs onto my laptop. Now I knew that I had a lot of photos stored on there. I just didn’t know there were over four gigabytes of photos on there. And then some.
Just the other evening it was pointed out to me that the laptop could’ve crashed at any time. Whaaaat? Never crossed my mind. It was so new. As old as Jenna. OK, so she’s turning three in August. It seems like I just got it. It seems like I just got her. And she’s the youngest. Anyway, I digress. The laptop, in my mind, was a mighty fortress-- with so much room it would never be full. Plus, the laptop became mine as the desktop became my husband’s. I just assumed if something needed to be done to it then he would do it. I assumed incorrectly. I guess he thought my ability to read and brilliant mind would be enough to keep it from crashing. Instead it was my friend Brien’s ability to read and brilliant mind that kept it from crashing. And who pointed out all the things I’ve done wrong with my laptop.
As a matter of fact, he made me a list. He knows I love a good list. Or was it because I just glazed over when he told me what I needed to do to? Honestly, don’t we live in the Star Trek age yet with sentient computers? Hasn’t Hal opened the pod doors yet? Ah, but it seems I willfully ignored all the times the laptop firmly suggested I delete things from the C drive. What I didn’t know is that it was about to start deleting things on its own. There’s the thinking for itself computer I thought I already had.
So it seems not everyone has about 2,000 emails. Is that so wrong? Apparently, it is. There is a delete button. I have since learned how to use it. The gajillion photos? Mostly of my beautiful children but a good many of my beautiful self? They’re on jump drives now. But I have now learned about external hard drives. Why, you can even get portable ones that come in pretty colors. And they’re more expensive than the less pretty desktop ones—how surprising.
(By the way, I don’t trust or believe that my photos are on the jump drives even though for two days after the transfer I stuck them back in and checked. It just seemed impossible. It seemed wrong. And it seems that I now have something small and easy to lose that I must now hide from two toddlers.)
I have been instructed and have mastered how to get updates for my laptop. I know, I am also surprised that I was able to do this without handholding. And now I have to clean up my laptop once a week and such. Who knew? I didn’t. Had my laptop had taken in one more teeny tiny bit of information it would’ve ceased to be. And if you thought I had a back up of anything, well, think again. Even I know I should’ve had a back up.
Much like people who don’t start diets but change their eating forever, I am planning to start anew. Even though I am a great one for hanging on to things. I promise to delete emails after I read them. I promise to defrag my C drive. And I promise not to live in a technology bubble where I let my math anxiety surface when I hear too many unfamiliar terms that begin to sound incredibly boring. There. A breakthrough. And I don’t even think it’s my math anxiety. I just think I get incredibly bored and it turns into a buzzing sound and I’d rather be baking or shoe shopping or doing something much more shallow. Or, here’s the real truth, or have someone else do the computer dirty work for me. In return for some baked goods. Well, I already promised. And I do want to set a fine example for my girls that they shouldn’t be dependent. However, if a baked good will get the job done, so be it.
The Layoff
You never want to hear about someone losing a job. Well, I don’t anyway. Over the past year the number of layoffs across the nation, and among my own friends, has been stomach churning and staggering. And then it happened to us. Because you know, you never think it’s going to happen to you. But when you have two people who work for the same company, well, that is a bit of a risk. And that’s the story with Jim and I.
But let me backtrack a minute. It is highly unusual in the broadcasting industry to stay. anywhere for long. It’s just not the nature of the business. Except for news. And Jim did news. He had been a broadcast news journalist working out of that particular building since 1984. He was there to see teeny tiny Q94 turn into the Country Giant. Jim was there through it all. And there’s always news. So when we heard there would be cutbacks, honestly, I never thought Jim would be involved. Who cuts the news? What a surprise. He, however, predicted it. He said the option would be to offer him part-time hours. Which is just what happened right before Christmas. So I guess it wasn’t a total layoff. Just enough to lose benefits and the ability to pay some bills. Now of course, the fun part is I had that major body surgery, for which we had to pay for on our own. Another bill. And I know we’re not alone. Everybody’s in a financial bind.
So we started to regroup and January 23 rolled around. I had come back to work, I was on the new insurance plan, and in under sixty seconds I was basically told due to budget cuts it was my turn to go. Goodbye. Huh. You know, it made me laugh. How ‘bout that? I never saw that one coming. I’m the female talent. We’re usually the last to go. For me, it was ten years on Magic and five years on the Giant. And yet, I think I’m taking it better than most. My job did not define who I am. I defined my job. And I loved it. However, I am more than a morning radio show. I do feel a very strong connection to the many people I’ve spoken to over the years. Thank God for facebook and myspace because at least we can keep in touch. And soon, very soon, you will be able to find me on www.thejaneellen.com.
Everyone wants to know what Jim and I will do next. Anna Grace turns four in May and Jenna turns three in August. Their welfare is of the utmost importance. If I have to be a receptionist again, I’ll do it. I was a really bad receptionist though.
Will we move away? I hope not. Before I came to Tennessee I moved a lot. I don’t like to pack up my stuff and Jim sure doesn’t. He can barely tolerate my stuff unpacked as it is. Moving is a last resort. But if you’ve followed the news, yes, you can still find news, broadcasting jobs are disappearing.
Those who are old enough to remember AM radio know that it was where it was at. Then along came FM. FM is changing and being challenged by XM/Sirius, iPods, the internet, and basically our on-demand society. Your television has changed with a digital channel and the ability to stop it, back it up, and fast forward through the commercials that pay for the shows you watch.
So what will Jane Ellen do next? Think. Reinvent. Survive. Conquer. Same ol’ same ol’ for your average, determined, type A platinum blonde.
But let me backtrack a minute. It is highly unusual in the broadcasting industry to stay. anywhere for long. It’s just not the nature of the business. Except for news. And Jim did news. He had been a broadcast news journalist working out of that particular building since 1984. He was there to see teeny tiny Q94 turn into the Country Giant. Jim was there through it all. And there’s always news. So when we heard there would be cutbacks, honestly, I never thought Jim would be involved. Who cuts the news? What a surprise. He, however, predicted it. He said the option would be to offer him part-time hours. Which is just what happened right before Christmas. So I guess it wasn’t a total layoff. Just enough to lose benefits and the ability to pay some bills. Now of course, the fun part is I had that major body surgery, for which we had to pay for on our own. Another bill. And I know we’re not alone. Everybody’s in a financial bind.
So we started to regroup and January 23 rolled around. I had come back to work, I was on the new insurance plan, and in under sixty seconds I was basically told due to budget cuts it was my turn to go. Goodbye. Huh. You know, it made me laugh. How ‘bout that? I never saw that one coming. I’m the female talent. We’re usually the last to go. For me, it was ten years on Magic and five years on the Giant. And yet, I think I’m taking it better than most. My job did not define who I am. I defined my job. And I loved it. However, I am more than a morning radio show. I do feel a very strong connection to the many people I’ve spoken to over the years. Thank God for facebook and myspace because at least we can keep in touch. And soon, very soon, you will be able to find me on www.thejaneellen.com.
Everyone wants to know what Jim and I will do next. Anna Grace turns four in May and Jenna turns three in August. Their welfare is of the utmost importance. If I have to be a receptionist again, I’ll do it. I was a really bad receptionist though.
Will we move away? I hope not. Before I came to Tennessee I moved a lot. I don’t like to pack up my stuff and Jim sure doesn’t. He can barely tolerate my stuff unpacked as it is. Moving is a last resort. But if you’ve followed the news, yes, you can still find news, broadcasting jobs are disappearing.
Those who are old enough to remember AM radio know that it was where it was at. Then along came FM. FM is changing and being challenged by XM/Sirius, iPods, the internet, and basically our on-demand society. Your television has changed with a digital channel and the ability to stop it, back it up, and fast forward through the commercials that pay for the shows you watch.
So what will Jane Ellen do next? Think. Reinvent. Survive. Conquer. Same ol’ same ol’ for your average, determined, type A platinum blonde.
The Memory
Memory. It’s a tricky thing. And I do mean as in we can do tricks with our memories. For instance, my friend Lee can tell you what day of the week any date falls on in a given month. He explains it away because of his absolute devotion to football. Once you know what Sunday a game falls on you can do the whole year. So, I guess that makes sense.
I know a lot of dancers and they can remember choreography. Tons of it. From years ago. Now that’s certainly a trick to non-dancers, but cake to them. My friend Dancing Jennifer, is fascinated with how the mind remembers. By the way, I call her Dancing Jennifer because she is one of the owners of Stage One Dance Studio on Cookeville. She is also directing next week’s production of the Vagina Monologues at TTU’s Backdoor Playhouse, which is done every year across the nation.
As usual, I am a fascinating case. For instance, when she teaches me choreography (we tap dance together) she now knows that there is nothing in my head. Now there are those that will argue that there never has been. But I learn choreography in bits and pieces. And then it’s put together for me by body memory. I need constant repetition. I may be able to do the steps, and I’m not talking remedial tap steps here either, but that doesn’t mean I will retain them. At first. Enough repitition and it’s all there. But I’m not actively thinking about it. Which is just plain weird. I know. She knows it too. Intriguing to her though. It probably explains my penchant for winging it.
Now when it comes to actual memorization—now we’re talkin’ my specialty. I can visualize the words and recall them. Which should come in handy soon since I haven’t even attempted to learn my parts for the Vagina Monologues. And I’m sure I’ll store it in my short-term memory.
Unlike the Latin I learned as a sophomore in high school. Dissertisime Romule nepotem. I could go on, but I know you all know your Latin and there’s no need to review. I can recall so much of my high school Latin that I had to memorize even I find it freakish.
I asked my friend Brien (www.brientravis.com) the musician how he remembered music and he says it plays in his head. Movies also play in his head. When we both have Young Frankenstein rolling in our heads at the same time we can entertain ourselves endlessly. “Would the doctor care for a brandy before retiring?…Some varm milk... perhaps? …Ovaltine?”
I asked my husband what he remembers most easily and he said bizarre trivia. He cited Ernest Borgnine’s marriage to Ethel Merman. For 32 days at that. I thought everybody knew that. Jim’s ability to recall odd trivia equals mine. It’s nice.
And yet, what I think is the trickiest thing about my memory is the random dates and just plain odd things that I remember. I remember what I wore the first day of high school. And we shall never speak of it again. I remember I first spoke to my husband Jim on a Saturday night; it was December 19, 1992. Around 8:30pm, kind of iffy on the time. I recall meeting my friend, yes, we became friends—he couldn’t help but adore me, Gray who told me he was going to college and I replied, “oh, how cute.” I already had my degree you see. So I had him fetch things for me and in return he became I high-powered radio executive. I remember a girl named Lisa needed fifteen cents in the fifth grade for a folder. She got a red one. It was raining that day. She didn’t pay me back either. She doesn’t need to now.
And yet, for all these memory tricks, I have a hard time remembering what day it is. I know it’s February. My birthday’s this month. I know that much. Seriously, that’s all I’ve got. And honestly, somedays I can’t even remember how old I am.
I know a lot of dancers and they can remember choreography. Tons of it. From years ago. Now that’s certainly a trick to non-dancers, but cake to them. My friend Dancing Jennifer, is fascinated with how the mind remembers. By the way, I call her Dancing Jennifer because she is one of the owners of Stage One Dance Studio on Cookeville. She is also directing next week’s production of the Vagina Monologues at TTU’s Backdoor Playhouse, which is done every year across the nation.
As usual, I am a fascinating case. For instance, when she teaches me choreography (we tap dance together) she now knows that there is nothing in my head. Now there are those that will argue that there never has been. But I learn choreography in bits and pieces. And then it’s put together for me by body memory. I need constant repetition. I may be able to do the steps, and I’m not talking remedial tap steps here either, but that doesn’t mean I will retain them. At first. Enough repitition and it’s all there. But I’m not actively thinking about it. Which is just plain weird. I know. She knows it too. Intriguing to her though. It probably explains my penchant for winging it.
Now when it comes to actual memorization—now we’re talkin’ my specialty. I can visualize the words and recall them. Which should come in handy soon since I haven’t even attempted to learn my parts for the Vagina Monologues. And I’m sure I’ll store it in my short-term memory.
Unlike the Latin I learned as a sophomore in high school. Dissertisime Romule nepotem. I could go on, but I know you all know your Latin and there’s no need to review. I can recall so much of my high school Latin that I had to memorize even I find it freakish.
I asked my friend Brien (www.brientravis.com) the musician how he remembered music and he says it plays in his head. Movies also play in his head. When we both have Young Frankenstein rolling in our heads at the same time we can entertain ourselves endlessly. “Would the doctor care for a brandy before retiring?…Some varm milk... perhaps? …Ovaltine?”
I asked my husband what he remembers most easily and he said bizarre trivia. He cited Ernest Borgnine’s marriage to Ethel Merman. For 32 days at that. I thought everybody knew that. Jim’s ability to recall odd trivia equals mine. It’s nice.
And yet, what I think is the trickiest thing about my memory is the random dates and just plain odd things that I remember. I remember what I wore the first day of high school. And we shall never speak of it again. I remember I first spoke to my husband Jim on a Saturday night; it was December 19, 1992. Around 8:30pm, kind of iffy on the time. I recall meeting my friend, yes, we became friends—he couldn’t help but adore me, Gray who told me he was going to college and I replied, “oh, how cute.” I already had my degree you see. So I had him fetch things for me and in return he became I high-powered radio executive. I remember a girl named Lisa needed fifteen cents in the fifth grade for a folder. She got a red one. It was raining that day. She didn’t pay me back either. She doesn’t need to now.
And yet, for all these memory tricks, I have a hard time remembering what day it is. I know it’s February. My birthday’s this month. I know that much. Seriously, that’s all I’ve got. And honestly, somedays I can’t even remember how old I am.
The Guilt Free Random Things
Anyone who has spent any time on Facebook has no doubt been tagged by their friends regarding 25 Random Things About Them. I tried to ignore it. But I was plagued by the guilt. You see it comes with tags from your Facebook friends and the tags say it's sent to you because they want to know more about you. Because they care. I know. It's sincere. And I was suffocating under the friend tags. Even though many of their posts were very entertaining. I put it off. But I was needled into it by soon-to-be internationally known singer-songwriter Brien Travis. Who denies it now. Well, we all blame Ambien for something now and then. Ambien and computer hackers. Or Ambien-fueled computer hackers. Now that's a combination. Needless to say, here I am. Randomly summed up in 25 points. Even though I want you to realize that I do want to know more about you. You can read this guilt-free with no tags attached.
1. Everyone thinks my favorite color is purple. Honestly, it’s black. I’m not anti-purple by any means. I am a Pisces and my engagement ring is an amethyst. I love purple. However, I love wearing black. So much so that my husband tells me the crew from What Not to Wear will come to the house and empty out the closet and take away all my black clothes. It’s not that I don’t enjoy wearing other colors. I do. But my first choice will always be black. I think it’s because I wore blue plaid for eight years. More on that next.
2. I went to a private Catholic school for grades one through eight. And it was awesome. The nuns were sweet, beautiful women. The order was the Daughters of Wisdom. I had a lovely experience. And our uniforms were blue plaid. And I should’ve taken up the Monsignor on his offer of fifty bucks to cut off my hair when he made it. Because I did it anyway but the offer had expired. Difference between offering an eight-year-old money and a sixteen-year-old I suppose.
3. The Beatles are the best band ever. I will accept no arguments. I will listen to no arguments. I have no time for you non-believers. And thank you to my oldest sister Judy for brainwashing that into me. The very first album I remember is A Hard Day’s Night. She would take me to her room, sit me down and tell me to listen to the best band in the world. She was right of course.
4. I find the Marx Brothers funnier than the Stooges. I also adore the comic timing of Jack Benny. Classic Steve Martin slays me. When it comes right down to it, I think raising an eyebrow, if done properly, can be truly hilarious.
5. My favorite tastes are those of chocolate and coffee. Combined. There’s nothing I’d rather have in my mouth. Now, I gave up candy a year ago so I have not been able to take it to it’s highest form, and that’s a dark chocolate Hershey kiss, or reasonable facsimile, stuck to the roof of my mouth, while I’m drinking coffee. Oooohhhh, just the thought of it. What? Addicted you say? Tell me something I don’t know.
6. I have three older sisters. The way I tell it, much older. I am trying to think the last time all four of us were in the same room at the same time. I wonder if it was even during this millennium? They all live in Virginia. I’m the only one away from them. But we do all talk to each other. We’re just physically distant. Well, we can be in a room and still be physically distant. My family. Not huggers.
7. I started taking tap dancing lessons when I was three and a half years old. My teacher was a former Rockette. Not a Rockette fill-in from another city but a New York Rockette. I always wanted to be a Rockette. I never grew tall enough. I have never outgrown the desire. I think that explains my love of high heels, sequins and false eyelashes. Because I didn’t know any drag queens when I was a child.
8. Saying the phrase “that was before my time” gets on my very last nerve. Bone up. Read a book. Remember some history. Learn something. That also applies to music. I’m not saying you have to read encyclopedias and learn entire genres of music like I did. For fun. Though it wouldn’t hurt you. Just be aware. There’s already too much stupid going around.
9. Which brings me to my next point. I have always had the suspicion that those not in my inner circle-- who am I kidding? I have always had the suspicion that most people do not think I am genuinely nice. Imagine that.
10. I love to read. Constantly. And have little patience with those who say they don’t read anything. Ever. Wow. It blows my mind. It is beyond my ability to understand. I have to be reading. Sometimes I’ll do three books at once. Yes, it’s my addictive personality. Got to have more. I prefer mysteries. Rex Stout is my favorite author and I will reread his Nero Wolfe mysteries as a type of brain comfort food. When I first read his books I had to have a dictionary next to me because some of his protagonist’s words were out of my league. Nero is a genius after all. I can handle it now. I love a good biography. Steve Martin’s Born Standing Up is brilliant. And he wrote it himself. So that would be an autobiography not an “as told to.” Even a sub-par Michael Crichton is a good book. But even if I’m reading a perfectly hideous book, I have to find out how it ends. I always need closure.
11. Let’s settle this right now. Captain Kirk was far more entertaining that Picard. Whose shirt gets ripped across the chest in the first ten seconds of a fight? Kirk’s. Who gets the freaky space chicks? Kirk. Though Picard may have followed the rules more. The other Star Trek captains, sure I can name them, but no one ever asks who was better now do they? I…must…choose… Shatner.
12. Speaking of Star Trek. And Star Trek II Wrath of Khan being one of my favorite movies in the sci-fi genre, I am not a fan of so-called chick flicks. I am bored with such films. Beaches? Haven’t seen it. Terms of Endearment? Hated it. Seriously. Give me some hobbits, a few explosions, Han Solo. Really, just give me Han Solo. Or I’ll swing the other way and get into my movie musical vibe, Hitchcock vibe, or films from the late 1930’s and 1940’s. If Cary Grant was in it, I’ve seen it. But if there was a chainsaw or Luke Wilson, chances are I passed.
13. I love to cook. As a food addict and former super morbidly obese person, this should come as no surprise. Inasmuch as I love to cook, I consider myself to be a better baker. If it’s a cookie or dessert you want, I here for you. I am told they make frosting that comes in a can. Brownies from a box. I am unfamiliar with such things. And I am a horrible enabler. I show that I care through food. There’s an entire episode of The Simpsons on Marge’s tendency to do the same thing. Anyway, heaven forbid you’re trying to lose weight around me and I feel the need to shower you with goodies. Because I can’t eat them anymore and I just want to lick the bowl. I should know better.
14. I can’t sleep when it’s completely quiet. This started in college. You see, in my dorm there was no such thing as air conditioning. We had a huge window fan. I got used to hearing the fan. I still sleep with a fan turned away from me just for the sound. When I do sleep. I’m a poor excuse for a sleeper.
15. I knew I would marry Jim the very first time I saw him. I suspected it the very first time I spoke with him. I also set my dogs upon him the first time he came over to my house. I wanted to see if he passed the dog test. He did. I was tired of guys who wanted the dogs put outside. The dogs were there first as far as I was concerned. The dogs were going to stay.
16. I have recently lost the ability to park as I have gained the ability to accessorize like a pro. That’s the only explanation I have. Trading one skill for another.
17. I have had headaches since I was 11. Every day. I learned to deal. If there had been a no drugs in school thing, which I totally understand but which I believe applies to things like Advil, I would’ve never lasted the day. Excedrin got me through high school. Advil got me through college. And now, because of my gastric bypass surgery, I can only take Tylenol, which never did a thing for me. I miss my Advil. The coating tasted like M&M’s to me. Wow, now I sound like a crazy addict.
18. I wish I had a talent like the ability to play an instrument. I took piano lessons, as did all my sisters, but I learned only a few things and that was at home. I took guitar lessons but I refused to cut my nails and never learned a thing. I mean not a thing. But my guitar teacher looked like Jim Stafford so Spiders and Snakes, the song, came up a lot. Oh, and I never practiced either. Huh, that was probably part of the reason why I never amounted to much of a musician.
19. I am an exceptionally fast typist and was once clocked at 96 words per minute, no errors, and that was on an electric typewriter, not a computer keyboard, with the long fingernails. Take that guitar teacher guy. Oh, that electric typewriter was in a museum and it was some sort of speed contest. Yeah, that’s what it was.
20. I’m a little out of practice, but for a few years I was really into bird watching. Really into it. I started learning some birdsongs too. It bugs me when I see or hear something and I don’t know what it is. I like to at least be able to identify all the trees and shrubs and birds around my house. I still get excited when the green herons fly over the house at dusk during the summer. It’s the little things.
21. I have two mini-me daughters. I know my mom just sits at her house and laughs. I was born on her father’s birthday. Her parents died before I was born. She says he always told her that one day she’d have one that would get her back for everything she ever did. She told me that I managed to do that, and more. Well, I suspect that Anna Grace and Jenna are doing the same. I had no idea how many times a day I say “that’s ridiculous.” Apparently, quite a lot. And they don’t have butts. They have bums, or tooshies, or moneymakers. Oh, they’re trouble.
22. My mom always told me to laugh like a lady. It is one thing that I consciously ignored. I laugh like I laugh and it is in no way ladylike. Which, by the way, I never could figure out what that should sound like. My laugh is big and raucous, sometimes I snort, and sometimes it sounds downright naughty. I can’t imagine any of that is how a lady should laugh. Oh well.
23. I think that peanut butter tastes great on all pork products. Even kielbasa. I mean, bacon or sausage, that’s a given. There’s just something magical about it.
24. I love shoes. I love shopping for shoes. I love trying them on. I love thinking about them. Buying shoes genuinely makes me happy. And it has since I was a child. My youngest loves shoes so much she wants to sleep in hers. You are clearly born to love or not love shoes because I have not had the opportunity to sit down with her and tell her how wonderful shoes are. She just knew it. I love that I can wear four-inch heels for hours and it doesn’t hurt. I think shoes are a thing of beauty.
25. Oh I could end this never-ending sucked away too much of my time list with something about how I truly have some fiercely loyal people in my life who I love more than anything. But that would be too sweet of me. Some of them who have been my friends since I was a child mind you. Instead let me say that I have always been a believer in now. Carpe diem. That’s Latin you know. Seize the day. You want to accomplish something? Do it now. Because you have a now. It’s yours. The past is just that. Get the lead out and make your future worth talking about.
1. Everyone thinks my favorite color is purple. Honestly, it’s black. I’m not anti-purple by any means. I am a Pisces and my engagement ring is an amethyst. I love purple. However, I love wearing black. So much so that my husband tells me the crew from What Not to Wear will come to the house and empty out the closet and take away all my black clothes. It’s not that I don’t enjoy wearing other colors. I do. But my first choice will always be black. I think it’s because I wore blue plaid for eight years. More on that next.
2. I went to a private Catholic school for grades one through eight. And it was awesome. The nuns were sweet, beautiful women. The order was the Daughters of Wisdom. I had a lovely experience. And our uniforms were blue plaid. And I should’ve taken up the Monsignor on his offer of fifty bucks to cut off my hair when he made it. Because I did it anyway but the offer had expired. Difference between offering an eight-year-old money and a sixteen-year-old I suppose.
3. The Beatles are the best band ever. I will accept no arguments. I will listen to no arguments. I have no time for you non-believers. And thank you to my oldest sister Judy for brainwashing that into me. The very first album I remember is A Hard Day’s Night. She would take me to her room, sit me down and tell me to listen to the best band in the world. She was right of course.
4. I find the Marx Brothers funnier than the Stooges. I also adore the comic timing of Jack Benny. Classic Steve Martin slays me. When it comes right down to it, I think raising an eyebrow, if done properly, can be truly hilarious.
5. My favorite tastes are those of chocolate and coffee. Combined. There’s nothing I’d rather have in my mouth. Now, I gave up candy a year ago so I have not been able to take it to it’s highest form, and that’s a dark chocolate Hershey kiss, or reasonable facsimile, stuck to the roof of my mouth, while I’m drinking coffee. Oooohhhh, just the thought of it. What? Addicted you say? Tell me something I don’t know.
6. I have three older sisters. The way I tell it, much older. I am trying to think the last time all four of us were in the same room at the same time. I wonder if it was even during this millennium? They all live in Virginia. I’m the only one away from them. But we do all talk to each other. We’re just physically distant. Well, we can be in a room and still be physically distant. My family. Not huggers.
7. I started taking tap dancing lessons when I was three and a half years old. My teacher was a former Rockette. Not a Rockette fill-in from another city but a New York Rockette. I always wanted to be a Rockette. I never grew tall enough. I have never outgrown the desire. I think that explains my love of high heels, sequins and false eyelashes. Because I didn’t know any drag queens when I was a child.
8. Saying the phrase “that was before my time” gets on my very last nerve. Bone up. Read a book. Remember some history. Learn something. That also applies to music. I’m not saying you have to read encyclopedias and learn entire genres of music like I did. For fun. Though it wouldn’t hurt you. Just be aware. There’s already too much stupid going around.
9. Which brings me to my next point. I have always had the suspicion that those not in my inner circle-- who am I kidding? I have always had the suspicion that most people do not think I am genuinely nice. Imagine that.
10. I love to read. Constantly. And have little patience with those who say they don’t read anything. Ever. Wow. It blows my mind. It is beyond my ability to understand. I have to be reading. Sometimes I’ll do three books at once. Yes, it’s my addictive personality. Got to have more. I prefer mysteries. Rex Stout is my favorite author and I will reread his Nero Wolfe mysteries as a type of brain comfort food. When I first read his books I had to have a dictionary next to me because some of his protagonist’s words were out of my league. Nero is a genius after all. I can handle it now. I love a good biography. Steve Martin’s Born Standing Up is brilliant. And he wrote it himself. So that would be an autobiography not an “as told to.” Even a sub-par Michael Crichton is a good book. But even if I’m reading a perfectly hideous book, I have to find out how it ends. I always need closure.
11. Let’s settle this right now. Captain Kirk was far more entertaining that Picard. Whose shirt gets ripped across the chest in the first ten seconds of a fight? Kirk’s. Who gets the freaky space chicks? Kirk. Though Picard may have followed the rules more. The other Star Trek captains, sure I can name them, but no one ever asks who was better now do they? I…must…choose… Shatner.
12. Speaking of Star Trek. And Star Trek II Wrath of Khan being one of my favorite movies in the sci-fi genre, I am not a fan of so-called chick flicks. I am bored with such films. Beaches? Haven’t seen it. Terms of Endearment? Hated it. Seriously. Give me some hobbits, a few explosions, Han Solo. Really, just give me Han Solo. Or I’ll swing the other way and get into my movie musical vibe, Hitchcock vibe, or films from the late 1930’s and 1940’s. If Cary Grant was in it, I’ve seen it. But if there was a chainsaw or Luke Wilson, chances are I passed.
13. I love to cook. As a food addict and former super morbidly obese person, this should come as no surprise. Inasmuch as I love to cook, I consider myself to be a better baker. If it’s a cookie or dessert you want, I here for you. I am told they make frosting that comes in a can. Brownies from a box. I am unfamiliar with such things. And I am a horrible enabler. I show that I care through food. There’s an entire episode of The Simpsons on Marge’s tendency to do the same thing. Anyway, heaven forbid you’re trying to lose weight around me and I feel the need to shower you with goodies. Because I can’t eat them anymore and I just want to lick the bowl. I should know better.
14. I can’t sleep when it’s completely quiet. This started in college. You see, in my dorm there was no such thing as air conditioning. We had a huge window fan. I got used to hearing the fan. I still sleep with a fan turned away from me just for the sound. When I do sleep. I’m a poor excuse for a sleeper.
15. I knew I would marry Jim the very first time I saw him. I suspected it the very first time I spoke with him. I also set my dogs upon him the first time he came over to my house. I wanted to see if he passed the dog test. He did. I was tired of guys who wanted the dogs put outside. The dogs were there first as far as I was concerned. The dogs were going to stay.
16. I have recently lost the ability to park as I have gained the ability to accessorize like a pro. That’s the only explanation I have. Trading one skill for another.
17. I have had headaches since I was 11. Every day. I learned to deal. If there had been a no drugs in school thing, which I totally understand but which I believe applies to things like Advil, I would’ve never lasted the day. Excedrin got me through high school. Advil got me through college. And now, because of my gastric bypass surgery, I can only take Tylenol, which never did a thing for me. I miss my Advil. The coating tasted like M&M’s to me. Wow, now I sound like a crazy addict.
18. I wish I had a talent like the ability to play an instrument. I took piano lessons, as did all my sisters, but I learned only a few things and that was at home. I took guitar lessons but I refused to cut my nails and never learned a thing. I mean not a thing. But my guitar teacher looked like Jim Stafford so Spiders and Snakes, the song, came up a lot. Oh, and I never practiced either. Huh, that was probably part of the reason why I never amounted to much of a musician.
19. I am an exceptionally fast typist and was once clocked at 96 words per minute, no errors, and that was on an electric typewriter, not a computer keyboard, with the long fingernails. Take that guitar teacher guy. Oh, that electric typewriter was in a museum and it was some sort of speed contest. Yeah, that’s what it was.
20. I’m a little out of practice, but for a few years I was really into bird watching. Really into it. I started learning some birdsongs too. It bugs me when I see or hear something and I don’t know what it is. I like to at least be able to identify all the trees and shrubs and birds around my house. I still get excited when the green herons fly over the house at dusk during the summer. It’s the little things.
21. I have two mini-me daughters. I know my mom just sits at her house and laughs. I was born on her father’s birthday. Her parents died before I was born. She says he always told her that one day she’d have one that would get her back for everything she ever did. She told me that I managed to do that, and more. Well, I suspect that Anna Grace and Jenna are doing the same. I had no idea how many times a day I say “that’s ridiculous.” Apparently, quite a lot. And they don’t have butts. They have bums, or tooshies, or moneymakers. Oh, they’re trouble.
22. My mom always told me to laugh like a lady. It is one thing that I consciously ignored. I laugh like I laugh and it is in no way ladylike. Which, by the way, I never could figure out what that should sound like. My laugh is big and raucous, sometimes I snort, and sometimes it sounds downright naughty. I can’t imagine any of that is how a lady should laugh. Oh well.
23. I think that peanut butter tastes great on all pork products. Even kielbasa. I mean, bacon or sausage, that’s a given. There’s just something magical about it.
24. I love shoes. I love shopping for shoes. I love trying them on. I love thinking about them. Buying shoes genuinely makes me happy. And it has since I was a child. My youngest loves shoes so much she wants to sleep in hers. You are clearly born to love or not love shoes because I have not had the opportunity to sit down with her and tell her how wonderful shoes are. She just knew it. I love that I can wear four-inch heels for hours and it doesn’t hurt. I think shoes are a thing of beauty.
25. Oh I could end this never-ending sucked away too much of my time list with something about how I truly have some fiercely loyal people in my life who I love more than anything. But that would be too sweet of me. Some of them who have been my friends since I was a child mind you. Instead let me say that I have always been a believer in now. Carpe diem. That’s Latin you know. Seize the day. You want to accomplish something? Do it now. Because you have a now. It’s yours. The past is just that. Get the lead out and make your future worth talking about.
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