It’s funny.
One can travel to far flung locales, dye one’s hair questionable shades of red, and pretend to speak Italian…but when it comes right down to it, what makes you [me] happiest is when five lilac trees are planted in the backyard. The same kind that used to be in your [my] childhood home’s backyard.
After living in a major metropolitan area for going on eight years (!), it’s sweet to think that I can let Nora experience the same kind of lovely fragrance wafting through her bedroom windows- the same scent that woke me on Spring mornings in a small, western Massachusetts town.
Also- she can play Stables once the trees are fully grown. (I can totally see my little sisters wincing at this- whatever. If you had applied yourselves, you totally could have been promoted to exercising the A-list imaginary ponies. I don’t make these rules. I just enforce them.)
And now on to The Issues. First up, Out and About:
During yesterday morning’s commute, I spied a really special license plate. For the sake of privacy, let’s just say the vanity plate was owned by MARCI. Now, apparently MARCI owns a Doberman, for her plate guard read: My Doberman Can Lick Your Honor Student.
However.
The placement of these words was rather questionable. Above her name read: “My Doberman.” And beneath? “Can Lick Your Honor Student.” So at 7am, if there’s an early morning glare, a commuter might be surprised to read: “MARCI Can Lick Your Honor Student.”
Which may very well be true. But that it hardly the correct forum for such a bold statement.
Also- the advent of construction season has me a tad more worried than usual. Driving south down California to Irving Park the other day, I was stopped by a worker carrying orange cones. He proceeded to line three extremely narrow paths for cars, all the while waving me forward. Without looking at me. Or the car driving north, whom he was also apparently waving forward. When neither of us made a move (except to shrug, confused, at each other) he waved us on even harder. So I slowly pulled through, knocking over a couple of cones along the way. (I felt like Marcia Brady in the episode where she learns to drive.) Suddenly, the large truck for whom he was apparently lining the road busted out and cut perpendicularly across the road. Between the cars going north and south. All the while we were being WAVED ONWARDS. (This was an eye contact-free event, I cannot stress that enough.) Eventually, through a series of complicated hand gestures between the north-driving fellow and myself, we maneuvered our ways through the mess on our own.
That worker may still be there, waving willy-nilly and lining narrow orange cones with Rain Man-like precision. I’ll check later.
Also on the roads: my older sister had the pleasure- and confusion- of seeing this banner in her town the other day: Congrats, Seniors, for a Deficiency-Free Survey!
So many things. Firstly, what is this about? I know these words, but I cannot make them make sense. I’m going to go ahead and assume these were high school seniors. Congrats- I get that part, too. Survey…survey…like the Census? Popularity of New Coke? (Unless they meant the SATs…but in my day we called that a “test.”) Deficiency-free…what could go wrong, warranting a “deficiency” in a survey? (What the heck happened last time?) And is it wholly necessary to broadcast this? This is akin to someone posting a banner on my front door proclaiming: Excellent Work Not Dropping Nora Today!
(Thank you!)
And in the world of IknewitIknewitItoldyou’causethisalwayshappenstomyshows News:
Demetri Martin is gone. I don’t know where he went, but his show Important Things With Demetri Martin is now missing. After being bumped to 12:30am on Thursdays, it disappeared altogether. It’s no longer featured OnDemand content. His website is no help.
And P.J. is not accepting my return to our marriage as gratefully as one might expect. He feels all ‘second-placey’ to Demetri- but I made no bones about with whom I was spending my Thursday nights. It’s called an arrangement.
I still have John Krasinski (for now- although once people in charge figure out that I like The Office, that’ll be it. I’m the Kiss of Death for programming.) And, of course, Psych comes back in June. And I can continue my love affair with a certain Nordic vampire in True Blood that same month.
But for now- totally married. Goin’ on strong.
And I cannot- cannot– deal with the ending of Law & Order yet. Possibly ever. And yeah, fine, millions of NYC actors won’t be able to get their SAG cards, blah blah. Let’s look at this on a way more personal level: it’s 3am. I’ve had a craving for tacos. I need to watch something, ’cause eating alone in the dark is way too sad to ever do again- and I can’t believe I just put that in print- so what’s it gonna be? Infomercial? Seen it. Lifetime programming? Not this late at night, thank you. Law & Order? Perfect. Soothe me back into indigesty sleep with your procedural drama, your forward-moving BOM BOM, your neatly wrapped up confession/courtroom ‘gotcha’/healthy dose of righteous indignation…and if there are no more new ones, that means that- someday, someday awfully soon- I will have seen them all. A lot.
Look, I know shows have to end (I really do not know this), but this show is more a part of my college experience than my [frisbee-shaped] diploma. Sometimes I slept through class. Or would forget to eat. But miss an episode of [seven times a day] Law & Order? I wouldn’t be the person I am today if I had let that kinda thing slide.
My Nana and I used to watch this show religiously as a backdrop to our nightly Rummy games. Sure, later on Nana was known to say that she “never really cared for that show, much.” But, as Nana was also known for the occasional untruth, I’m gonna file that statement under the What’re You Sellin’ category.
Please, Dick Wolf- of the masculinely noun-ed moniker- please. Dick. Do not take away Nana Alice’s favorite show. Don’t make me turn to other cop dramas for comfort. Leave me with the illusion of dignity and classy viewing.
Because, as Nana would say- “I never know who she’s gonna bring home.”
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