Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘Bright ideas’

Never Forever 21

I first heard about the store Forever 21 from a student in one of my classes a couple of weeks ago. That same week, a graduate student in another class was wearing a cute outfit and she said she got it at Forever 21. I was at the mall yesterday, so I went in.

Up until that point, I had never felt particularly old. True, the occasional “Diff’rent Strokes” joke did fall flat in class, but I could live with that. But surrounded by St. Vincent’s students and hoochie clothes, I knew I was way out of my element. I felt like Jimmy Stewart in “Vertigo.”

How I felt at Forever 21

How I felt at Forever 21

My wrinkles and I left immediately, never to return.

Read Full Post »

Trish and Ed had mentioned the Jaguars’ halftime hot dog buffet for the media, but I’m not a fan of hot dogs unless they have the processed cheese in the center. Still, I decided to dig in, despite the unappetizing presentation of the dogs swimming in amber brack.

The famed hotdog buffet

The famed hotdog buffet

It was a decision I would regret.

The game was a blowout. The crowd started singing “Na na na na, hey hey, goodbye” with more than four minutes left. The Titans went home 0-4 and very sad.

I met up with Ed outside the press conference room. Inside, there were a dozen or so print folks and eight people with video cameras. Jaguars head coach Jack Del Rio read from the standard coach script: “It was a solid team effort” and “we were solid throughout.” I didn’t care about any of that stuff because something else had attracted my attention: a very large man doing illicit things to a cigar. He was wearing what looked like a fern-patterned muumuu.

The man in the muumuu

The man in the muumuu

He asked this astute question of Del Rio: “Is the quickness the key to being a better team?” Um, I don’t know much about football, but I’m going to say, “Yes.”

After we left the meat locker temps of the press conference room, we went to the actual locker rooms. The Titans’ one was quite wee and covered in discarded knee, elbow and ankle wraps. The Jaguars’ one is like the Taj Mahal. While I was writing down that note, Ed told me to look over his shoulder. And there was the tight end of a corner back. It was Ed’s way of making me more aware and cautious. And I was. I took a lot of notes so that I could better avert my eyes.

The players exhibit a lot more patience with people in their space when they are naked than I would. One TV guy was doing live shots — live shots! — in the locker room. They may be used to it, but I’m certainly not.

Fern muumuu was roaming around and gnawing his cigar. He is about 5-feet-4-inches tall and wide, and makes a “Where the Wild Things Are”-style cacophony when he walks.

Ed has one cardinal rule regarding locker room interviews: He won’t interview a player until he is dressed. The player, that is, not Ed. I would think Ed is usually fully dressed. Meanwhile, I’m standing next to the bins of sweaty shorts and towels, and I start to feel lightheaded. Then the hot dog asks to be released. I need to leave.

Ed follows shortly thereafter and we head home. He asks me if I’ve had a good time. I reply that every experience makes a good story.

Read Full Post »

My friend Ed is the publisher of a sports publication. During football season, he and Trish the Human spend many weekends covering the Jaguars. I’m not sure how it transpired, but it was decided* that I would come with him today and cover the Jaguars/Titans game from behind the scenes. I think what led to it was the fact that I was intrigued by their tales of all the weirdo press people who cover the games.

So, Ed and I drove to Jacksonville this morning, listening to the B-52s (mine) and Ringo Starr (his). We arrived in record time, then paid a blistering $30 for parking — $30!! WTF? We parked and walked the trail of tailgating to the media entry. I would have been happy to stay in the parking lot. Fat Floridians were grilling burgers, drinking beer, and listening to live music. (I got out of the car to the tune of “What I Like About You.”) Yet we pressed on.

Clearly he knows how to grill something tasty

Clearly he knows how to grill something tasty

On the Tailgate Trail

On the Tailgate Trail

Ed and I went through the security cavity search, then headed to the press area to get food. On the menu: sandwiches, some meat product in goo, and over-oiled potatoes. Savory.

He showed me to my seat in the air-conditioned press box and he headed to the sidelines to shoot the game. I looked for him, but I realized I might never see him again.

That's me, working hard (hardly working) in the press box

That's me, working hard (hardly working) in the press box

It is a sea of teal Jones-Drew jerseys with shots of pink for breast cancer awareness. In the press box, I am painfully aware of my deceit.  Everyone here lives for football, and can discuss the nuances of the game. I am only here to observe and pass judgment.

And here is one call now:

What is the deal with radio and TV folks and their “broadcast” voices? It is ridiculous. There is no need to switch into some extra loud, hyper-enunciated vocalization as the guy a few seats down is doing.

Within the first few moments of the game, it becomes clear that it will be a good day for the Jaguars. No. 32 — a look at the media guide tells me that it is Maurice Jones-Drew of fan jersey fame — scored a touchdown. I was browsing the Museum of Bad Art’s Web site, but I sensed anticipation from my press cohorts. I looked up just in time to see him jog into the end zone.

More touchdowns follow. The mood in the box is jubilant, and I wonder what happened to journalistic objectivity.

View from the box

View from the box

It is halftime now, and my butt hurts. I think I’ll go get popcorn.

Stay tuned: more coverage to come!

* deliberate use of passive voice

Read Full Post »

The Junior League Thrift Sale is an annual event where the ladies of the Junior League round up their castoffs and those of others, bring them to the Savannah Civic Center, and sell tickets for two days of bargains and chaos.

I always work the morning of the first sale day because I love to watch the stampede down the stairs when the doors open.

Shoppers wait outside

Shoppers wait outside

The herd is on the move

The herd is on the move

I also always choose to be a cashier. That I can’t explain. Each cashier has a bagger. Today, I was lucky enough to have the inimitable Sarah Copeland as my very own bag lady, and we set up shop in a prime location by the restrooms.

Silly Sarah and the tool of her trade

Silly Sarah and the tool of her trade

We laughed a lot today, and marveled at the the items people donated, and what people bought. A stuffed cat wearing a fancy sparkly coat and carrying a wreath, for example. One couple arrived at our station with a mound of books, purses and random other items. It appeared that they had just started dating; he was still in the “impress her by paying” mode. She responded with the title of this post. And we laughed.

Read Full Post »

The wing clipping did not work. Eddie reports that she escaped again. Maybe I need to clip more.

I’ll let Trish herself tell you about her escapades.

Read Full Post »

I had to have the following conversation with my neighbor’s middle-aged son.

Me, at the front door: “Um, hi. Sorry to bother you, but have you seen my chicken?”

Him: “Oh that’s yours? My dad was going to go buy some feed.”

Me: “Yeah, it’s mine. She learned how to get out and now we can’t find her. If you see her, she answers to the name of ‘Trish.'”

Him: “I had some chickens when I lived in Pooler. They are unusual animals.”

Occasionally, Trish has flown the coop. Once nabbed and returned, she usually stays in for a few days. Yesterday, though, she was bold. Every time Eddie and I went outside, she was out of her yard. We must have captured her six times. And Eddie was mad because she kept kicking the pine straw out of the flower beds.

Today, we came home around lunchtime and she was gone. Yes, I walked around our house and the neighborhood hollering “Trish!” and feeling like a buffoon. I figured I would only worry if she didn’t return to the coop at night.

I started to wash my car and I heard Dominic yelling, “Mama, I found Trish!” I looked up and saw him coming from the side yard holding Trish to his chest. She seemed oddly content. Apparently, she had been amusing herself near the backyard fence. I don’t know how I could have missed her when I was walking around.

I knew it was time to clip her wings to avoid future AWOLs. Trish = grounded.

Clipping in progress

Clipping in progress

The clipped wing

The result. No birds were harmed in the clipping of the wing.

The boys give Trish some love

We’re rednecks. My shirtless kids like to hang out with the chicken.

Read Full Post »

My mother always said, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, then I want to hear it.” No, she didn’t say that. But I do.

My friend Ed is stunted. He has lived his life without watching important, life-changing movies. Movies such as “Rear Window,” “Napoleon Dynamite” “Blair Witch Project,” “Seven,” “To Kill a Mockingbird,” anything Bond, anything with Clint Eastwood, any horror movie, etc. What stopped me in mid sentence tonight was his revelation that he has not seen “Tommy Boy.” Oh the shame.

To harass him further, I made him go through AFI’s list of the top 100 movies. Ed had not seen 38 of the first 50, so I had to stop. He was suitably heckled by the rest of the people over for Human Trish’s birthday, yet claims he would do better with the bottom 50. Sure, Ed.

Read Full Post »

A haiku for a holy day

Punctuation Day

Should be a bank holiday.

Let’s honor commas.

The joy of Dilbert

Read Full Post »

Brussels sprouts

Yes, that is how the vegetable is spelled. Brussels sprouts are members of the Brassicaceae (cabbage) family, and are pretty much universally reviled. I’ve recently discovered a love for them, but only the way I prepare them: cut in half, braised in sesame oil then sautéed in sea salt and garlic. Yummy. Trust me. If you need evidence, consider this: Both my kids like them. Last night, in fact, Gideon said, “We love you because you cook Brussels sprouts.” He really did say that.

I’m sure it is because we told them it builds muscles. And, because they are Batman and Superman, they care about big muscles. It is all in the presentation, folks.

Read Full Post »

I woke up one morning and wanted chickens. I don’t know why. I just did. I mentioned it to my long-suffering husband Eddie, who said, “You’re kidding, right?”

I gave it a week. I still wanted chickens. So I asked Eddie to make a coop (he’s handy). He ignored me. I think he thought I would forget about it. I didn’t.

I went to a feed store and took a picture of a coop. I researched coop designs. I drew the plan and gave it to Eddie. He sighed and went into the garage.

The coop is a fancy, two-story affair with a covered run. The back is chicken wire and we put it up against one of our sunroom windows so that we could check on the chickens and egg production from the comfort of our home.

The finished product

I made friends at the feed store. They called me when a new batch of chicks arrived. Eddie and I picked out two Araucanas, a Rhode Island Red and a Sex Link. I named them Heidi, Terri, Trish and Linda after four good friends.

All was well for almost a month. We kept them inside until it was time for them to move into the coop.

The weekend after the big move-in, we went out of town and left the neighbor girl in charge of checking on them. Her dad called us on Saturday night to report there had been a mishap.

We returned home to find an unpleasant scene. Only Trish was still alive. We called her namesake. Human Trish said, “Of course she was the smartest one.” Human Terri was very sad. Human Heidi wanted a forensics expert called in. Human Linda couldn’t be reached for comment at the time.

We had a dilemma: We didn’t want Trish to be lonely, but we couldn’t add an adult chicken in with her, or more chicks because of pecking order issues. We decided to wait until she was full-grown, then add a friend.


Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts