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COVID-19 Update: The Pollyanna Edition #WednesdayWellness

March 18, 2020 by Beth

Dear Self-isolating Friends and Family,

What a time to be alive! It is unprecedented weirdness. I don’t know about you, but some aspects of life are totally normal (my boys fighting) and some are totally bizarre (no toilet paper or cleaning products in stores).

I received the email below. Ordinarily, that would send me into a tailspin. You know how I love my Biddy Boot Camp.

But you also know that I am an optimistic person. So here I am looking on the bright side:

1. Atlanta traffic has been reduced to early-1990s levels.

This is lunchtime on I-85 where it joins I-75. It’s usually a jam.

2. No line at The Varsity (no eating inside either, for better or worse).

3. No one is sneezing, coughing or sniffling in public. (I’m thrilled. I hate this. Pandemic and non-pandemic advice: If you are sick, STAY HOME.)

4. Family time (again, for better or worse). I’m not ready to kill the children. Yet.

5. Home cooking. Last night, I made Pommes Anna from a recipe by Chef Anne Burrell. (I watched “Worst Cooks in America” during my isolation this weekend.) It’s basically scalloped potatoes with a twist.

Yum!

6. The potential to watch shows on my (long) list of suggestions. Although I find myself rewatching “Schitt’s Creek” in preparation for Season 6.

7. No cancellation fees on the annual cruise we had to reschedule before Coronavirus came calling.

8. Faculty at my university are forced to try online learning. I’ve been singing this delivery method’s praises for years, but some of my colleagues have been reluctant. It’s not perfect, but it works. And it compels people to learn new things and be creative to improve the experience for themselves and for students.

9. The chance to do things that have been put off for way too long. We moved to a different place in the same neighborhood the weekend before everything started changing substantially. With the forced down time, we have unpacked everything, put up shelves, cleaned the place, etc. I also rewired our speaker system — something I needed to do since we moved back to Atlanta.

10. The constant reminder to WASH YOUR DAMN HANDS. I’m continually appalled by the number of people who do not wash their hands after going to the restroom. Gross!

Join me in optimism: Tell me about your silver lining.

Love and air kisses from at least six feet away,
Beth

 

Posted in Apartment life, Technology, Travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments »

Not a square to spare #SundaySuggestion

March 15, 2020 by Beth

Dear TP Hoarders:

Calm down. No need to buy out each store.

You are the reason Whole Foods had to set some limits.

Note that when I went, it was with the intent to hoard something else:

Sumo oranges: Expensive but worth it.

Why am I not worried about having enough toilet paper?

Because I’ve been smarter than the average bear for nearly two years.

With a bidet, you never have to worry about a TP shortage.

You’ll never hear me ask if you can spare a square.

It’s cleaner and cheaper over time. You can buy one from the comfort of your own home. No need to expose yourself to COVID-19.

You’ll be prepared for this pandemic AND the next (shudder), while helping save the planet.

Yours in healthy hygiene,
Beth

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No show, no sense, no star #ThursdayThoughts

March 12, 2020 by Beth

Dear Wilfred:

I’m not a fan of your company and you right now. Thanks to you, we all nearly killed each other this weekend, and I’m covered in bruises.

No, not domestic violence.

Moving.

We were just moving from one place in the neighborhood to another.

Note: It sounds like this might be easier. It’s not. You think, “Oh, I can come back for this.” But then you have 1,000 trips back.

I hired you and your team to move the big stuff. Like a sleeper sofa and mattresses.

I scheduled it for 2 p.m. thinking we could get the little things ourselves.

Then you started changing the plan — again and again.

You didn’t come at 2, though. Or ever. After many calls and texts, the best you could do was 5:45. When we had to get the truck we rented back by 6.

So thanks for nothing.

You noted in one of the phone calls that you want to preserve your five-star rating — one of the reasons I chose your company.

Well.

Sorry, Wilfred: You don’t even rate a star.

Hope you get your act together for the sake of future customers.

Beth

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A cornucopia of taxidermy and other strange things @ViktorWynd #WednesdayWeirdness

March 4, 2020 by Beth

Dear Viktor Wynd,

You and I clearly are kindred spirits. My friend Nick mentioned your Museum of Curiosities as a place to check out the next time I was in London. In fact, he specifically said this:

It looks like how I imagine the inside of your head looks.

Well, he’s not wrong.

My head is filled with flotsam and jetsam, much like your museum.

In fact, your website celebrates the lack of categorization as part of the mission.

This museum will merely display everything that has glittered & caught the eye of it’s founder.

I just want to take a moment to recognize your genius. Where else can a jar of Amy Winehouse’s poop live alongside some terrible taxidermy?

As I was able to visit recently, here are some visual aids for readers who think I’m kidding:

This is pretty bad, even as bad taxidermy goes.

And part of Amy outside her music lives on.

BFs 4EVA!

It must be weird to be a celebrity whose detritus is museum worthy.

There is plenty going on in this case. Almost too much for intake.

Id like to copy edit the museum mission statement, but I won’t. Here it is with all its charm intact:

The Museum has no overreaching aim beyond the theft of it’s visitors time and the hope that it will provide amusement by return & hopes to fill the vacuum between what the establishment elite believes is worthy of worship & what exists in the world.

Good news: It did ABSOLUTELY provide amusement. This is exactly the sort of place that provides a perfect afternoon for me.

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Need a little patience, yeah* #SundayStories

March 1, 2020 by Beth

Dear Parental Patience:

Where are you? Now in my hour of need? Please come back.

I thought I had turned a corner with Dominic.

Funny, right?

And he finally got his Publix uniform to start working.

Today was the big day.

But.

He realized that he had to be at work in 10 minutes but didn’t want to walk in the cold.

He’s so delicate, you know.

So he wanted me to drive him.

After sighing loudly, I put a coat on over my pajamas, and took him over.

Then he texts me. And this is when you, Patience, apparently jumped on another call.

And if the subject matter isn’t bad enough, the child refuses to use proper grammar and punctuation.

Please come back.

I miss you.

Love,
Beth

* Thanks, GnR.

Posted in Parenting | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments »

Evidently, I need a #TransformationTuesday (Look away. I’m hideous.*)

February 25, 2020 by Beth

Dear Friends,

I basically keep this blog to amuse myself and you. As always, I give you permission to laugh at my expense. I hope this post makes you laugh as much as I did when it all happened.

Here’s the setup:

Eddie and I went to see Soul Asylum last night.

Side note: I always go early enough to see the openers. Local H is great; I highly recommend.

Anyway, after their set, Center Stage turned up the lights. Not such a great move. Lots of middle-aged folks out on a school night. (Many drinking shots, but that’s another story.)

I asked Eddie if we looked as old and used-up as so many of the people around us.

He looked horrified and practically yelled, “No!”

So I tried to take a photo of us to make sure.

So I tried again.

So clearly, Eddie is wrong, and I fit in well with the crowd.

I either take decent photos or really bad ones. This night was the night of the living dead, photo-wise. Apparently. No good would come of my attempts.

Y’all know I have no shame.

So I leaned into it.

Hard.

Does this angle make my lip look big?

Beth = Ghostface from “Scream”

Maybe if I find my light …

I started laughing.

And you know me: Once I start, I can’t stop.

I started doing that wheeze laugh I do. I laughed so hard I started crying.

I laugh-cried off all my (nickel-free) eye makeup. The people next to us moved. For real.

Once Soul Asylum started playing, I shuffled my dried-up husk of a body to the front.

Dave Pirner has some miles on him too, but he brought his A game.

Not as much energy as the gondolier guitarist, though.

One good thing about a show with lots of old people around: You can get close to the stage without worrying about compromising personal space. Or finding yourself in a mosh pit.

Soul Asylum played their new stuff plus all the hits. Of course. Including that song EVERYBODY knows.

It was a good show with good photos of everyone but me, apparently.

My loss is your gain.

Are you not entertained?

I know I was.

Love,
Your not-so-photogenic friend

* Look! A “Seinfeld” reference

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Back scratch fever CURED! #SundayStories

February 23, 2020 by Beth

Dear Doctor,

Thank you for working with me to get to the root of my Hitch eye.

The verdict?

I’m allergic to nickel.

I prefer gold, silver and platinum anyway.

😉

I had narrowed my problem down to one of three eye shadows — my favorite, most expensive ones, of course.

All shimmery.

And what’s in shimmery eye shadows?

Nickel.

Ruh roh.

Your patch test proved it.

The patch test.

That medieval torture.

Testing for 36 different things.

On my back.

From a Friday morning to a Monday afternoon.

It was terrible.

And I knew I was allergic to something almost immediately because of the itching.

Itching on the top left.

That’s right.

Weird how I never had this problem before.

But, as you said, my body just had enough.

Hitch eye was its way of saying, “Stop that.”

I guess I’ll have to find some folks in the market for some bougie, nickel-filled eye shadow.

But now I know, so thank you.

Hope I don’t see you soon,
Beth

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Cult of personality up close and personal @AEWrestling #FridayFeeling

February 21, 2020 by Beth

Dear Gideon,

Thanks for hanging out with me at the AEW event Wednesday night. I know it won’t be long before the last thing you want to do is hang out with your mom.

To be honest, though, not many of the moms we know would want to watch professional wrestling. Er, RASSLIN’ (as it is known in the South).

(You know, if I knocked out some of my teeth, this and the taxidermy would give me the redneck trifecta. You would never know I had a doctoral degree. Yes, I know I’m stereotyping.)

But you and I have watched AEW since it started last year. We HAD to see it live.

Luckily, we like the same characters.

Jungle Boy (i.e., Luke Perry’s kid), Luchasaurus and Marko Stunt (Jurassic Express)? Yes.

Kenny Omega, whose hair looks like sea coral? No.

The Young Bucks, who look like they were coughed up by a Myrtle Beach T-shirt shop? Yes.

MJF, someone’s bratty prep-school little brother? No.

Orange Cassidy, who doesn’t wrestle but roams around looking like a cool knockoff of Macklemore? Sure.

Cody Rhodes, who started AEW, still wrestles and tries to be cool? Sorry, but no. (I know, I know. He’s homegrown. Still.)

Chris Jericho, with attitude to spare? Yes, please.

Sammy Guevara, who always has his tongue out? Hell no.

Our seats were decent, and we got to sit in a group of folks who were ALL IN for Moxley and Hangman Page, whose beer-grabbing is killing us (in a good way).

When they chanted, “This is AWESOME,” we did too.

When they chanted “Asshole” as Wardlow appeared for the cage match against Cody Rhodes (oh the cage match), we didn’t. You’re 13.

When one dude behind us shouted to Rhodes getting his butt whooped in the cage match,” Do less of that!,” we laughed.

We both marveled at Rhodes’ epic finish.

It was a great night watching men in panties fight each other.

I’m so glad we spent it together.

I’ll meet you on the couch for AEW Wednesday night, unless you have baseball practice.

Love,
Mama

At the Marta station, we spotted the lucky fan who scored the shirt Cody Rhodes ripped off his body.

 

 

 

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I’m stuffed with knowledge! #TaxidermyTuesday

February 18, 2020 by Beth

Warning: This post contains graphic images of a dead animal.

Dear Eddie, Dominic and Gideon,

Thank you so much for giving me the best Christmas gift ever: a taxidermy class at Rainy Day Revival down the street. It is the gift that keeps on giving, as I learned two things:

  1. I really like practicing the art of taxidermy and not just admiring it.
  2. It appears I’m good at it.

You know I’ve been trying to take a taxidermy class for years — since before we moved to Atlanta. The ones at Graveface kept getting cancelled as they didn’t fill up.

Not so with the RDR one: It sold out quickly.

Revell, the man in charge of my hair, and I have similar interests. His boyfriend bought him a seat in the class for Christmas too!

We practically rushed into the room as soon as it opened. Revell chose a fluffy black bunny, so I picked the one across for convenience.

The instructor, Nina, had us start with painting or staining our plaques. Then we had to massage our still-partially frozen yet “ethically sourced” rabbit. (No, I don’t know what that means. Various websites say various things. I didn’t ask. Ignorance is bliss.)

Here’s my rabbit, Roger (of course), lying in state — massaged and thawed.

Next we had to turn our rabbits inside out to remove the skull.

You would think this would be gross, but all the Borax we put on them helped dry things out. Plus, you know I watch plenty of medical and forensic reality shows.

Nina came by to check on progress and gave me props for not popping the eyes and keeping my lids intact.

Screen Shot 2020-02-18 at 1.19.26 PM

See! I’m a natural!

Nina then announced this, which is something I never thought I’d hear:

Once you take your face off, stop: We’re going to take a break.

So we took a break.

Revell and I had fun with our gross puppets.

Screen Shot 2020-02-18 at 1.18.43 PM.pngScreen Shot 2020-02-18 at 1.18.59 PM.png

After the break, we made a new skull out of the kind of foam stuff that goes in the bottom of funeral arrangements. Apropos, no?

Screen Shot 2020-02-18 at 1.18.30 PM
Roger starts to look more like himself again.

But see how his nose is a little mushed in? I got the bright idea to plump it up with some clay. Nina’s mom, who helps with the classes, was skeptical. Then she saw the end result.

Oh! You were totally right! That looks much better.

I’m an artist, I tell you.

Once we were done, we lingered in the shop waiting for Nina to mount them on our plaques. (Power tools + expertise = much quicker to get through all 30)

I had plenty of time to admire the wares — and dream of bigger projects.

Screen Shot 2020-02-18 at 1.18.16 PM.png

Screen Shot 2020-02-18 at 1.17.58 PM.png

Finally, Roger and I were reunited.

Screen Shot 2020-02-18 at 1.17.45 PM.png

It will be two weeks until he “cures” completely and his bandages come off.

And you three will be forced to look at enjoy him in a place of pride at home.

So thank you for this gift. I had a great time, and I’m proud of myself.

Love,
The Novice Taxidermist

Posted in Taxidermy | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

Love is a many-splendored thing — even among teenagers #SundayStories

February 15, 2020 by Beth

Dear Cupid,

Your big day is over. Thank you for your service.

I know you worked overtime with my sons. Each has a girlfriend.

Dominic has been with Anica a little while — long enough to get into trouble for skipping class to kiss her in the multipurpose room at school.

(The phone call with the assistant principal was mortifying for both of us.)

Now he wants to take it to the next level.

Um.

Not just no. HELL no.

I have to hand it to him: He was brave to ask.

But not THAT brave as he asked his father, not me.

Thankfully, Gideon is still in the kiddie pool. But he’s practicing his strokes.

Oh.

My.

God.

🙄

Right?!

This is new — very new — for him. In fact, it almost didn’t happen.

Him: There’s a girl at school who likes me.
Me: Yeah? Do you like her?
Him: Yeah.
Me (Spidey senses tingling): So what’s the problem?
Him: I don’t know if I have time for a girlfriend with jujitsu and baseball and homework.
Me: Well, just talk to her about it. Let her know.
Him: Okay.
(Waits a beat.)
Him: I’m glad I can talk to you about relationship stuff.

Anyway, you did your thing. And now I have to do my mom thing — the thing where I notice everything but pretend not to, let alone say anything.

They’re feral cats: I have to let them come to me.

Thanks again. I think.

Love,
Beth

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