The choir director at the high school is retiring after a long and illustrious career. I was in her first year teaching here, and Grant is in this year, so that's a fun little set of bookends. There is an alumni concert for all her former students, so of course I was like YEAH MUSIC. They also said that spouses who were up to it could participate, so John was also like YEAH MUSIC. So John and I and Grant are all going to sing some gorgeous music together, and the songs are really pretty and meaningful and I'm going to be a total mess up there. But let me get to the point of my story, which is of course a complaint about somebody else:
Monday, May 2, 2016
Wednesday, April 13, 2016
Do you even Neko Atsume? This is a game a coworker told me about, and I call it the cat hoarding game. You attract cats to your yard with food and toys, and they bring you fish, which you can use to buy more food and toys. They never poop, and if you don't feed them it doesn't kill them, they just don't come to your yard. It's like a giga-pet without the stress! Highly recommend.
UMMM GUESS WHO WENT TO CHURCH WITH BILL CLINTON ON SUNDAY? It was me. Grant's choir was performing at the Abyssinian Baptist Church in Harlem, and who should walk in and basically commandeer the entire program but Bill Clinton and Charlie Rangel, large as life and twice as natural. He gave a stump speech for Hillary, which was good but went on and on, and it seemed like the pastor was getting a little miffed about it. Like, we understand your position Mr. Clinton, but we've got a sermon about the Israelites to deal with here. But it all worked out and the sermon was great and the music was great and I hope those kids understand what an incredible experience they had. I cried a ton, which surprised nobody. MUSIC!
Monday, April 4, 2016
I think we can all agree that Flamin' Hot Cheetos are a treat for a specific type of person. Like, when Britney Spears was married to Kevin Federline and was being photographed going shoeless into gas station bathrooms? That kind of person. And there's a snotty part of me that thinks I'm a better kind of person than the Flamin' Hot Cheetos kind of person. They seem like a snack from a misanthropic cartoon.
Friday, March 11, 2016
I just finished reading "Primates of Park Avenue" by Wednesday Martin, and I heartily recommend it. I was certain that I would loathe every person in the book, and take pleasure in doing so, and for the most part I was correct. I do find the "tribe" being discussed in the book to be an embarrassing, immoral blemish on our purportedly democratic, egalitarian society. But that doesn't mean that I can't recognize that for them, the manufactured competition for resources is as real and terrifying as the struggle for daily survival was for our ancient ancestors. And of course, when you really study a culture, you're bound to find at least some traits worthy of admiration. It gave me new insights into human social behavior, and that's fun.
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
Remember when we were thinking about getting another cat? Surprise, we did. Here is a poor-quality picture of her:
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
Immigration law is a weird thing to me. I need to study it more because in my Pollyanna way I am confused about why we don't welcome any and all law-abiding people who want to come here. From the cursory internet research I've done it looks like the United States didn't institute quotas until 1921, and I'm wondering what else was going on socioeconomically or geopolitically or whatever that the quota system was put in place.
But I guess there were country-of-origin exclusion policies clear back in 1882, so it's not like we were living up to our professed ideals even then.
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
Thursday, January 28, 2016
Last night I opened a book I just checked out from the library, and realized to my disappointment that I'd already read it--this is probably why the title seemed so familiar when I grabbed it. It's "The House on the Strand" by Daphne DuMaurier. It's a good one, so if you like DuMaurier's style you'll appreciate it.