FeeFiFoto Blog

A Sheepish Open Letter To Bossy

Bossy's on the move again.  She's leaving today for the commencement of her (No) Book Tour and, since I missed her visit last time because it fell on the first night of Passover and besides I'm way too shy and awkward to hang out with perfectly fine strangers in a perfectly fine restaurant for one perfectly fine night and have a perfectly fine time --

I had a point here... what was it...?

Oh yes.

This time around I offered Bossy a place to stay for the night when she visits my city.  And she accepted!  I think.

But here's the thing:

Bossy, I am the boringest, yawningest person from the dullest, tediousest family on the planet (except we yell sometimes, but who doesn't), so if you have gotten a better, more interesting, more appealing, funner offer from someone in my area, please don't think my feelings will be hurt if you accept it.  I'd absolutely love to meet you so count me in for dinner although I'll probably freak out from self consciousness and stay in my car and turn around and spend the evening at Target instead of hanging out with you and all the other cool bloggers in town.

Bossy, if you'd like to stay with us, we'd be delighted to have you as our guest.  You can have your own room and your own bathroom and your own shower.  My son will barbecue every meal for you, even your breakfast oatmeal, should you desire.  Nevertheless, I can't promise we won't bore you to tears.

Consider yourself warned.

Fun With Movie Cliches

Thanks to encouragement from Roger Ebert, I frequently blight my own movie-watching experience by tabulating movie cliches.  For example, take the Seeing-Eye Man:

"Function performed by most men in Hollywood feature films.  Involves a series of shots in which (1) the man sees something, (2) he points it out to the woman, (3) she then sees it too, often nodding in agreement, gratitude, amusement, or relief." 

Or the Hot Justice Syndrome:

"All trials that are held south of the Mason-Dixon line take place during the summer in a non-air-conditioned courtroom filled with people airing themselves with fans from a funeral home.  Heroic lawyer always mops neck with big white handkerchief.  Slimy defense attorney never sweats."

Now very many (but not all) of these painful cliches have been incorporated into this video, which I found at Urlesque, a charming site that allows me to waste more time each day than I ever thought possible.  The video was created by BriTANick, two guys who:

"decided that they didn’t want to use the knowledge and experience they garnered in college for anything but creating short stupid videos that would make them laugh."

But wait -- I have one more cliche, which I'm sure will be added to Academy Award Winning Movie Trailer, Part II.

You know a scene occurs at a school because, as the scene opens on the inevitably picturesque multi-story brick building from the 1920s or earlier, the bell will always ring.

Have a movie cliche you'd like to see memorialized?  Lay it on me.

I Must Be Good At Something, But It's Not Graphic Design

I know I have talents.  I know I have abilities (but probably not far beyond those of mortal men).  I'm a decent writer; for example, I know not to use a preposition to end a sentence with.  I can knit.  I can cook pretty well, and even better if I pay attention.  What's more, I can sometimes make people laugh, even without having to slip on a patch of grease on the floor.

But -- as much as it distresses me, I cannot produce these or anything like them:

 

I love design magazines and blogs; these logos and more came from webdesignledger.com

Can you produce anything like them?  If so, don't tell me because it'll just make me feel sad and inadequate.

I've Never

• Intentionally watched Oprah or reality programming of any kind
• Read Catcher in the Rye or anything else by JD Salinger
• Broken a bone (chips, yes, but no clean breaks.  Did you know you can chip the tip of your finger if you slam it in a door?  And that, even years later, your fingertip will twinge when you type?  ow)
• Smoked anything, snorted anything, popped anything
• Seen The Godfather, Titanic, A Christmas Story, Lord of the Rings anything, or The Sixth Sense (although I know someone will shoot his eye out, someone else sees dead people, and another guy should leave the gun but take the cannoli)
• Cooked or served ham
• Read USA Today, or anything by Stephen King (not that Stephen King writes for USA Today.  Does he?  I wouldn't know, since I've never read either, see above)
• Held a loaded handgun (although I held the very old, unloaded pistol that my aunt found in my grandfather's desk after my grandfather died.  It was frozen.  We figured that he intended to throw it at burglars)
• Worn Birkenstocks* or Crocs (but Uggs keep my feet toasty oasty oasty these days)
• Seen Stonehenge in the flesh stone
• Eaten an Egg McMuffin*
• Prepared my own taxes, or anybody else's (for that matter, I'd feel great pity for anyone who had to depend on me to prepare their taxes)

What have you never?

*Spell Check wanted laughingstocks or bluestockings, crocus, scruggs, scruffiness

Sweet Ride

Really, Neiman Marcus?  Do you really think I need a $25,000 cupcake that rolls along at a cool 7 MPH?

No thanks.  I already have the coolest Cupcake in town.

It's Beethoven's birthday!

Order Personalized Photo Calendars from FeeFiFoto and put your favorite cupcake's photo on every page.

My Son Thinks He's Really Funny: Jib Jab Video

This is us. All of us. Even Little Miss, because Robey ran out of Us before he ran out of spaces for faces.

Guess who's who(m).

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!

Certain Aspects Of Being A Grownup That I'd Rather Avoid: When A Friend Is Sick

Found out today that a very dear friend has pancreatic cancer.  This gentle, elegant and courageous lady, the wife of an orthodox rabbi, has been nothing but extremely kind to me and my family as long as I've known her.  When I got divorced from the World's Worst Person, lo these many years ago, she sat with me while her husband prepared the Get, or Jewish divorce; then she gave me a small desk clock as a "divorce gift."  When she learned of my plan to begin a family on my own, her delight and support were warm and palpable.

I haven't run into her much since my kids came along.  Still, just knowing that she was out there, supporting me and approving of me, gave me a feeling of strength and security.

I'm feeling crushed.

Sleep

Can't sleep Can't sleep Can't sleep  Can't sleep Can't sleep Can't sleep Can't sleep Can't sleep Can't sleep Can't sleep

Why?

Too many thoughts running through my mind.

What kind of thoughts?

That I Can't sleep Can't sleep Can't sleep  Can't sleep Can't sleep Can't sleep Can't sleep Can't sleep Can't sleep Can't sleep 

Can you sleep?  And by the way, doesn't the word sleep look odd if you read it too many times in succession?

Happy 40th Anniversary, Sesame Street: You Can't Tell Me This Doesn't Bring Tears To Your Eyes

Do you remember when Sesame Street began? I do.

Thanks to Jack for bringing this to my attention.

My sister was four years old and she watched it at home while I had to go to school.  I came home every day and had to listen to her describe each episode breathlessly, excitedly, with glowing eyes.  I was so jealous.  Finally, I had a day off school for snow, or teachers' meetings or the flu or something, and I couldn't wait to see what all the excitement was about.

She was right.  Sesame Street was a miraculous, intimate and long-lasting little treat.  I already knew the alphabet and numbers; it wasn't about the learning.  The charm came from the fact that I thoroughly enjoyed most segments as a nine-year-old, and a 12-year-old, and a 20-year-old; as the aunt of three and the mother of two.  The kids didn't quite understand why I laughed so loudly, but really, how could I help but laugh, at a Paul McCartney concert, when I could sense many of the parents in the crowd were mouthing the words to "Letter B" by the Beetles?

My friend is expecting twins in about a month. One piece of advice I offer to any expectant mother is to choose music you can live with, since you're going to live with it for an awfully long time.  I recommend show tunes, movie soundtracks, and, naturally, Sesame Street.  I picked up a copy of Silly Songs for her today.  How can you go wrong with "The Honker-Duckie-Dinger Jamboree"?

or "The Everything In The Wrong Place Ball"

or "The Elephant Elevator Operator"?

Happy Birthday Sesame Street! And many, many, many more.

What are your favorite things about Sesame Street?

Departed Celebrities

Looks like, at least for a few moments, Ted Kennedy will be eclipsed by DJ AM.

Whoever that is.

It's All In The Timing

Better to die on a slow news day

Quoted from Presidential Anecdotes, by Paul F. Boller, via Amazon:

A reporter on Air Force One asks John F. Kennedy what would happen if the plane crashed. JFK answers: "Two things. First, tomorrow your name would be in the paper. Second, it would be in very small print."

Poor Dominick Dunne.  Outshined by Ted Kennedy.

Has anyone ever stolen your thunder?

Am I Sick? Or Just Faking?

The only good thing about laryngitis is that, even though you feel okay, you still get lots of sympathy.

What I've Done While They've Been Away

Using time productively while the kids are at camp for a month

Planted plants, uprooted plants, moved plants and watered plants, including a Japanese maple I bought at Home Depot on sale for $20...

...except for the uprooting part, unless you classify removing it from the bucket as uprooting, in which case, proceed

Edited, revised and rewrote a long and important essay as part of an application to an educational program for Cupcake

Slept late Gotten up whenever Little Miss decided it was time I got up

Finished knitting a Tallit / Tallis / prayer shawl for Robey to wear at his Bar Mitzvah (more on that another time)

Taught Little Miss to sit and lie down... when she wants to

Spray painted a wooden park bench bright blue,

 

along with a significant portion of the driveway

Gave blood so the local mosquito population might prosper

Watched way more television than I usually do, mostly baseball games and episodes of Scrubs -- never news, talk shows, game shows, or reality shows

Ordered and picked up Cupcake's choir uniform

Dipped some or all of the following in melted Dove dark chocolate: raspberries, strawberries, bananas, spoons, fingers

Mailed invitations to Cupcake's Third Annual Swim Party, to be held at my sister's pool.  We will toss cans of soda (closed) and a watermelon (whole) in the pool; later we will rescue and consume them.

Cuddled babies, who now coo, squirm, and laugh at my jokes, no matter how lame

Pinch hit a few times on Cupcake's blog

Watched the Disney Channel only when I wanted to never

Sorted through my 768-odd and my father's 400-odd photo files from our cruise and loaded them to albums on FeeFiFoto so I can make them into commemorative photo books, as soon as I gain access to Click's 2500-odd photos

What have you accomplished this summer?

Oath Of Citizenship

Alison Becker cautions new citizens that life as an American doesn't completely dovetail with life at Disney World.  She's right.  Still, it's thrilling to witness the glow of pride in a new citizen, isn't it?  And to take the oath at Disney World?  It doesn't get more picturesque than that.

Thoughts On Jury Duty

I feel like I'm at the Humane Society, hoping to be chosen.  Every time one of those clerks come in to page 30 potential jurors I mentally wag my tail.

The security guys order me to throw away the fork and scissors in my bag (which one of my kids left a fork in the lunch bag?  Somebody's in truuuuuble.)  Later I discover that I had two pairs of scissors and they only caught one.  Wish I'd trashed this pair and kept the one I pitched.

I can't believe some people come intending to spend the entire day in this room with nothing to read, nothing to do except stare straight ahead.  Their thoughts must be mighty entertaining.

I feel foolish walking to a restaurant for lunch wearing this silly "Juror" name tag.  They begged us to wear the tags everywhere so attorneys and parties to legal proceedings would know not to talk about their cases in our hearing.  It makes sense, but I still feel dumb.

My friend calls my cell phone and yells at me for being on jury duty, like it's my fault.

I've brought a lot of entertainments: book, newspapers, knitting, laptop.  I get a lot of writing done but can only check email on my Blackberry because: dial up?  Really?  Come on, County Courts -- think about joining us in the 21st Century.  I'll happily donate my per diem to get you started.

By the end of the day those of us who haven't been called are dismissed and told we don't have to come back tomorrow.

I made $10.

It's Bastille Day, And You Know What That Means: Time To Update The About Page

Image here.

In case you're confused, there's really no connection between Bastille Day and updating my About page. I'm just messin' witcha.

I have, however, updated my About page, and here are some highlights:

I'm a recovering attorney with two kids, two dogs, a gift site called FeeFiFoto (duh), and very little free time on my hands.

1. I'm really good at parallel parking.  Someone gave me a lesson when I got my first car and I've never forgotten how.  I could park a school bus if I had to.  As long as the bus had an automatic transmission.
2. I did fail parallel parking on the driver's test, however.  Both times.  But I can do it now, I swear.  I even give lessons.
3. I do know how to drive a standard transmission, just not one on a bus.
4. Do they even make school buses with standard transmissions any more?  It's been a very long time since I've ridden a school bus.  Since I get motion sickness even at the mention of a bus, I don't think I'm going to be finding out about the transmissions on school buses any time soon.

American Idols: Whom Do You Admire?

Robespierre: "Jon Stewart is my new idol."

Me: "Really.  Why's that?"

Robey: "Because Billy Mays died."

Me: "..."

Who Knew It Could Be This Easy: The Fountain Of Youth

Headline from Monday's New York Times:

‘Tonight Show’ Audience a Decade Younger

"One of the big questions facing Conan O’Brien was this: How can he succeed with the older “Tonight Show” viewers? The answer: by making them younger.

In Mr. O’Brien’s first month as host, the median age of “Tonight Show” viewers has fallen by a decade — to 45 from 55..."

Enough with The Daily Show -- I'm switching to Conan.

Buh Bye Sarah

Bye Sarah.  Have a nice retirement.

Hi Linda!

Fame Contest.  Enter here to win fame, and a gift certificate!

Manners Versus Mushrooms: What To Do When A Kind Hearted Human Being Offers You Something That Makes You Cringe

The cough.  The COUGH.  It's getting better but it simply won't go away, and I'm beginning to alarm perfect strangers.  It's worst by the end of the day, what with all the talking and umpiring of baseball games and Marine chanting I've been doing (I don't know but I've been told!! / I don't know but I've been told!! / I thought this was just a cold!! / I thought this was just a cold!!) but try as I might, I just can't seem to stop hollering cooing gently at my kids, and I pay for it by nightfall. 

Tonight the kids and I dined at a Chinese restaurant with my parents.  The coughing, which had been minimal most of the day, escalated rapidly, and by the time our food was delivered I was hacking and choking like a first time smoker.  After delivering our five different varieties of stir-fried chicken (we're an imaginative bunch), the waitress returned with a glass full of lukewarm brown liquid -- some type of powerful Chinese tea ("Tea.  It's only tea.  Nothing else -- just Chinese tea") that she swore would cure anything from a monstrous cough to a severed finger to homesickness.

I examined it.  I swirled the glass and sniffed the contents; it smelled earthy but not unduly alarming.  I sipped it: earthy but not unduly alarming.  I shrugged and drank.

At this point I must commend my mother for her reaction to this scene.  She didn't blink, or flinch, or protest my sampling this possibly lethal potion; rather, she maintained a gracious and grateful smile.  My conclusion is that she's either become considerably more laid back in recent years, or I'm not on her familial alarm radar because I'm not a grandchild. 

I prefer to believe she's mellowing.

Once I'd made my way through about two thirds of the glass's contents, still coughing copiously, the waitress came back with a quart container of tea for me to take home, promising she'd make me more if I needed it.  I asked again if it was really just tea and she smiled broadly and declared: "Yes, just tea.  It's a mushroom tea -- very beneficial.  Make your cough go away."

Mushroom.  Tea.

Mushrooms.

I don't like mushrooms. I'm afraid of mushrooms. They're squishy.  They're slippery.  They grow underground, but they're not yummy potatoes.

They're creepy and they're kooky... mysterious and spooky... they're altogether ooky...

I've never willingly or knowingly consumed a mushroom in any form.  In restaurants I always (politely) insist that mushrooms be withheld from my meal, with an implied threat that I might run screaming from the room if I find one.

But.  Turning my nose up at the mushroom tea would have been as hurtful as refusing to enjoy the Mother's Day breakfast in bed mushy omelet, and for the same reason: I'm constitutionally unable to deny the hopeful puppy expression that comes with that type of offering.

So I guzzled the tea, thanked the waitress profusely, and toted home my container of mushroom tea.  It's sitting on the kitchen counter right now.  Looking at me.  Daring me.

Eek.