The Family Resemblance

Whenever I meet my parents’ friends, they always say “You look just like your mom.”  I think that’s only because they haven’t see her mom.  I look at pictures of myself and I see, just the way I hold myself, how I laugh, the flash of “up to no good” in my eyes, my Grandma Doris.

There are worse things in the world.

It’s funny.  My mom is fearless in ways that just floor me.  If there are bugs to be gotten rid of or mice to be shooed back into the field or pets to be put to sleep, my mom can do that.  And yet, when I was on the canoe trip, I wigged out twice at the sight of spiders.  Not only was I embarrassed, I felt a little like I’d let my mom down.

On the other hand, my mom is not good with blood.

One of my earliest memories is breaking my foot.  I climbed up the antique marble-topped dresser in the recalcitrant brother’s room as a part of my nefarious plan to toss him out of the crib and the dresser fell over on me and broke my foot.  Scarier was that the marble top missed my head by mere inches.  For a long time, it was in two pieces, but before they gave it to the Butcher, my mom finally found a mason who could fix it.

Anyway, I remember laying on the couch while my dad called the doctor and my mom cried about what a bad mother she was. 

Another of my early memories is when my dad almost cut his finger off with his electric hedge trimmer.  My dad is always cutting stuff with the electric hedge trimmer.  We consider ourselves lucky if the worst he does is to sever the cord, because at least then he can’t injure himself.

But anyway, this time, he had almost cut his finger clean off.  And he came in the house dripping blood everywhere and my mom just starts screaming and crying hysterically while my dad stands there all like “What do we do?” and so I took him into the bathroom and rinsed his hand off in cold water and then applied pressure to it while wrapping it, meanwhile instructing mom to get on the phone with the doctor and to get us all in the car to take us into town so he could fix dad up.

I wonder where I learned that…

I was a pretty together kindergartner.  I wonder what happened.

An Idea Ripe for Business

I was telling one of my co-workers about Kleinheider’s “It’s a phone” defense and she’s decided that, if that truly is the case, we should quit our jobs and sell such phones to all men.

“It’s a boy.”

My intern came into my office and said, "There’s someone here looking for you." and then she lowered her voice and said, "and it’s a boy."

It was Huck, who is indeed a boy.

Shoot, that tickled me.

Watching People You Like Fight

Oh, yes, the irony of this post.  Yes, I know.

Both Rexes were there last night–L. Camino and Hammock.  Hammock and I were talking briefly about the Mothership Barbecue and the recent dust-up on the blog about what a business blog might look like.  Part of me appreciates seeing a discussion of what something is in that something, but part of me also hates watching Dr. Funkenswine and CeeElCee go at it.  I assume they know the depth and breadth of their friendship and the ways it can be counted on to carry you over disagreements and the times that it can’t.  But I’m not sure.

So, I read because I think they’re arguing over important things that there are no easy answers for, but I cringe because I don’t know how much they are personally invested in the fight.

A Brief Note to Huck

Dear Huck,

You’ve better have been serious about taking me to lunch, because I’m about to walk out the door without packing one.

Yours

B.

I Behave Like A Woman With No Social Graces

So, yes, I introduced myself to Kleinheider’s boss as Kleinheider’s wife.  I also rubbed Kleinheider’s phone–no his real phone, not his "phone"–on my cleavage, just to embarrass him.  And then, I twice flashed the old boob freckle at him just to watch him blush.

That alone pretty much made it the most fun I’ve had in ages.  But I also got to meet loads of other cool people.  My blogtonic* crush on Bob Krumm continues unabated.  I lived my dream of finally seeing Jon Jackson and Sarcastro talking.  I realized that I’m kind of star struck around SistaSmiff.  I don’t know why, but I was shaking every time she talked to me.  I wasn’t nervous around anyone else.  But shoot.  I think it’s her cute hair.  I hooted at Coble as she walked down Broadway and everyone on the street turned to see if she was a famous star.  Little do they know. 

I met Gandalph Mantooth and totally went all fangirl** on him, but he was polite enough to pretend he didn’t notice.  Fritz wants me to show him around a real cooter so that he can put it up on his new and improved website.  I extolled the cuteness of Smiley to Huck.  And I met Newscoma, who is just so damn cool, you don’t even know.  Also, I talked a lot to Short and Fat who, once I get my Nashville Blog Theater*** up and going, will be playing Major Nelson in my I Dream of Jeannie revival.  Brittney, of course, will play Jeannie.

Amanda did not fight anyone, but she did make Nemesis Boy leave in a huff, so score one for the most famous non-blogger in the Nashville Blogosphere.  Abramson was also there and he kind of hunkered over the bar like some world-weary guy who will eventually end up with his own line of Ethan Allen furniture.

Whew, I’m probably leaving out three fourths of everyone who was there, but what can you do?  I’m tired from all the Kleinheider-harrassing I did all evening and I must retire to my comfy bed.

 

 

 

*Even less serious than a platonic crush, just a little "Hey, it’s that cutie Bob Krumm" feeling whenever I see him.

**"I have this friend–Elias–who should totally read your blog."  Once you start telling folks about the folks you know who are cooler than you so that those folks will continue to like you, you are in fangirl mode.

***No, you haven’t heard anything about this because I just decided right now to start it.  My first production will be Sarcastro doing a one-man musical rendition of Moby Dick.