A List of Things That are Making Me Very Angry

1. I was carrying everything upstairs so that I can pack and I wrenched my knee so bad that I can’t even bend it without gasping in pain.
2. I opened the dryer to get my laundry and was greeted by the smell of cat pee. Why did the cat(s) pee in the dryer?
3. The Butcher hasn’t cleaned the litter box since the middle ages. And the lid to the litter box is in the litter box, thus making it impossible to use, which you think someone might have noticed, but no.
4. So, as I was emptying the dryer and putting all that shit back in the washer, I knocked the folding door that the Butcher said he was going to fix months ago and it fell over onto the dog and a bunch of boxes that the Butcher stacked in the dining room and their contents are now scattered everywhere.
5. So, obviously, I’m going to have to clean the fucking litter box because the cats cannot use it as it is.
6. And I can’t get started packing until the laundry is clean.
7. Which I guess is fine because I can’t climb the fucking stairs with my knee as is.
8. But I can’t lay on the couch and watch TV and feel sorry for myself because the fucking folding door fell in front of the couch and I’ll be damned if I’m going to pick it back up and prop it back where it belongs so that we can ignore that the Butcher didn’t ever fix it.

That is all.

Help the Butcher

I almost forgot. The Butcher has to entertain my aunt and uncle on Tuesday. He’s desperate for ideas about where to take them and what to do.

I told him I would ask y’all what you think are very “Nashville” things that folks should not miss out on. So, here it goes. What should the Butcher be sure to expose my aunt and uncle to?

Walmart, I Feel About You the Way Nathan Moore Feels About Me

Walmart, I don’t like you, but I can’t help but sometimes seeing if you’ve bothered to change.

I’m going to admit something to you–readers, not Walmart–so unfeminist that I have to ask that all feminists advert their eyes and pretend they never read this.

Here is the one reason I’m occasionally sad that I don’t have a husband–I would, if I could, be married to a man who liked and had an aptitude for fixing things. When I came home from Atlanta and said, “I broke my suitcase,” my husband would have pulled out a mallet, an Exacto knife, a pair of pliers, and a manly sewing kid and spent a good hour fixing it right up. He would have even WD40ed the zipper for me.

“All set there, B.” he would have said, in his charming way, as he grinned and I cheered. Then he would have balanced my checkbook, just for the challenge. Ah, imaginary husband, you are so sweet and good at all the things I suck at. And you like my dog. And you are kind and smart. How could I not love you?

Alas, I have no husband and no real aptitude for fixing things. So, my suitcase is broken and all my attempts to fix it just broke it worse.

So, I went to Walmart to buy some luggage. For $90 I could have gotten this awesome five piece American Tourister set that was like those Russian dolls. You’d open one suitcase and there was another smaller one inside it. It seemed like a really good deal, but alas, I only had $100 and needed contact stuff and a tiny tube of toothpaste.

So, instead, I got a cheap suitcase and a cheap bag and I figure if they fall apart, well, at least I got to San Juan and back in one piece. Knock on wood.

Yes, folks, I’m leaving you again. I go on Tuesday and get back on Sunday. I’m really looking forward to it. The folks I’m going to see are always a good and lively bunch. I’ve never been to the Caribbean, so I’m excited about that. And, since I love these folks and I’m totally intrigued by the place, even though I’m going for work, I’ve got none of my work-travel anxiety.

Still, if you see me on the plane, I’ll be the girl muttering “Safe I go and safe return and safe on my journey be.”

An Evening with the Professor

Last night the Professor made dinner for a bunch of us–pork ribs, cole slaw, salad, corn on the cob, corn bread, bean soup, potato wedges, and brownies. There was so much food and it was so, so good.

Over dinner we talked about authenticity and the tension between the cool and the co-opters of cool, how the cool need to be co-opted in order for their vision to spread, but how once their vision is spread, it runs the risk of no longer being cool, and they with it. Couple that with the fact that the cool are not nearly as cool as they seem if you start asking too-tough questions about authenticity and you have all kinds of interesting tensions*.

Also, I decided last night, though I didn’t bring it up, that three of my toes are really cute, one of them is ordinary, and one of them looks unfortunately like a submarine.

Let’s take them in order–The piggy that went to market is very cute. It is narrow as it comes off the foot and then has a nice round shape at the top. The piggy that stayed home is also very cute, long, but not garish, and pleasantly plump. You’d put the piggy that stayed home in your mouth if it were clean and the left one has a cute freckle. The piggy that had roast beer also very cute. Almost the twin of the piggy that stayed home**. But the piggy that had none?

I don’t wear terrible dress shoes, but it’s apparent that the piggy that had none is a casualty of women’s shoes. It really looks like a torpedo and snuggles itself under the piggy with roast beef like it’s ashamed of how non-toe-like it looks anymore.

The piggy that went whee whee whee all the way home is okay cute. It’s somewhere between torpedo and attractive.

But from the bottom, I think it’s a different story. The big toe is not so cute from the bottom. Both of them have big thick callouses on the side. But my other toes?

God damn. They look so round and pink and happy. How can you not love them?

*Though, thank god, no one used the word problematize, my least favorite word in the English language, followed closely by praxis and then hegemony. Hegemony used to be my least favorite word, but then I found out that it actually does have a useful meaning, if used correctly. I’m still not convinced that there’s any reason for the other two words to exist other than to allow the person using them to construct a little impenetrable word fort around his weak ideas.
**Though this genetic mutation passed me by, many folks in my family have conjoined piggies that stayed home and piggies that had roast beef. If you’re good, the Butcher will show you his webbed toes.

A Rain of Serpents

If the 1800s are under appreciated for anything, it’s the large number of strange rains that seem to have fallen–full of frogs, snakes, and even meat.

In Memphis, for instance, in 1877, they were deluged with a rain of snakes. One might wonder where thousands of snakes could come from. Most Memphians (I still prefer Memphibians) assumed a hurricane had brought the snakes.

Charles Fort writes a nice letter in which he explains how clearly these rains of animals are a clear indication of space winds: “The phenomena look to me like migrations from unknown worlds not far away.”

My question is when was the last time it rained animals? It seems to have happened pretty dang frequently in the 1800s but I haven’t heard of it recently. Are we being cheated out of a cool weather phenomenon? And if so, by whom?