Sunday, May 29, 2022
Gettin' Salty
We went to Salt Lake City last weekend. Well, in truth, we flew into Salt Lake City and drove to Park City, where we stayed for the weekend. But either way, it was an experience. We made sure to see some of the Real Housewives sites before we left SLC proper, including the Beauty Lab parking lot where Homeland Security tried to arrest Jen Shah and Mary Cosby's church that may or may not be a cult. We also stopped at the Meredith Marks store in Park City, where the staff judged us with their eyes and found us wanting while taking personal phone calls and ignoring questions about the merchandise.
Of course, if you don't watch the housewives (and you shouldn't, for the sake of our nation), all of this means nothing to you. So I'll transition to items of more general interest. Park City is cute. There was lots of good hiking available to make us quickly realize we weren't especially cut out to hike at high altitude. There were many nice restaurants priced as though Gwyneth Paltrow might show up and order a chicken sandwich at any minute. And there were interesting art galleries where they really seemed unsure of why they had put out the art for unwashed losers like us to look at in the first place. Ian and I joked that we should buy a piece for our new house, except it would then have to be instead of the new house. Guess we've come a ways from the poster sale in the student union back in '97.
We stayed at a VRBO that was frankly amazing. Woodburning fireplace, foosball table where I schooled Ian with maximum prejudice, Star Wars themed pinball machine that was fairly incomprehensible, classic arcade game where I realized that Burger Time is actually kind of a metaphor for life. You know, sentence fragments like that. And a mountain view! I almost didn't want to come back, except this is where everyone we know and all of our stuff is.
Saturday, May 14, 2022
Going, Going, Gone
Getting ready to move has been a really good impetus for us to do things that we probably should have taken care of years ago. For instance, some of the cabinets in the kitchen have had a tendency to randomly swing open since like a year after we moved in. This is not due to a haunting, though that was my first impulse; the hinges just needed to be tightened a bit. Yet for years we kept them shut with rubber bands and tape, as getting a screwdriver out was just too much work. Now, they are fixed for whoever is lucky enough to buy this place from us. Or there's the much-needed weeding of our linen closet. After years of denial, we have finally parted with the pillowcases that were bleached out by one of my many dermatological treatments. And I drove the sheet sets for bed sizes we no longer have to what I think was goodwill, although it may just have been random cardboard boxes some miscreant set up outside goodwill after hours. Either way, it's handled, as Olivia Pope said during her brief window of national popularity.
And then there's the Netflix DVDs. Yes, they still exist. And yes, I am still subscribed, even though it generally just means I pay $10 each month (or whatever it costs now) for the privilege of having Fences sit on my shelf for over two years. But I am breaking up with them before the move, at least once I watch the last few discs they sent me. (Please don't tell them yet; I want them to hear it from me.)
Which is how we came to watch Gone With the Wind this week. I had never seen it and thought it was something that I should be aware of as part of pop culture. And, well, I guess now I'm aware. I have to applaud them in a weird way for managing to make a civil war boring. And developing so many characters that seem almost uniquely designed for me to find irritating. The endorsement of marital rape is an interesting take. And then there are the characters of color, who seem to have been largely okay with the whole slavery thing. So yeah, not the best four hours I've ever spent. Although I was playing Mario Kart simultaneously with some of it, so I guess it wasn't a total wash.
Sunday, May 08, 2022
Out of the Mouths
That was actually the title of a show I was in when I was in middle school. It was a shockingly dark play that was supposed to have been written by kids for kids, but I've always suspicioned that the parents of those kids may have been more than a little bit involved. Or maybe all the other kids just had a lot more awareness of their peers being molested or considering suicide than I did. But anyway, I'm not actually here to write about my time as a child star, for once. The babes sharing wisdom this time are my niece and nephew.
Jack has some old man mannerisms at times that are pretty amusing. Since he was like three he's been using phrases like "I surely do" and "he's a neat guy." Yesterday he gave me an extended dissertation on why he doesn't like his cheese sandwiches prepared a certain way. And a few weeks ago he literally put his hand over his face in disbelief when I brought him his water in a regular cup instead of one with a cap and straw. "I mean, I'd spill it all over the place," he explained. I was tempted to argue that would be his fault and not mine, but it seemed uncharitable.
Maggie is still at an age where she launches into random soliloquies, like a few weeks ago when she greeted me not with a "hi" but rather a long explanation of how I could choke if I sucked on my thumb. Which I was not doing, by the way. But good advice is good advice. My favorite, though, was when she learned about Easter in her (religious) pre-school and told me "Jesus rose from the dead on Easter. He must be so happy!" It depends on which version of Jesus you get, Maggie. The Catholic one sometimes has some weird ideas.
So yeah, that's some kid stuff for you. Think of it as the "lighter side" portion at the end of your local news, but in blog form.
