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Tuesday
Jul272010

a whole lot of nothing

Mini-tomato plus basil equals a thimbleful of marinara.I was supposed to have accomplished so much by now. My plan was to take advantage of a long, slow July to write three solid chapters of a new book I'm working on (more on that someday if and when there's news to share). I had also planned to finish all unfinished household-cleaning projects, sew a dress for which I bought fabric two months ago, reconnect with neglected friends, buy presents for a whole lot of weddings I've already attended, and replace the shredded upholstery on my dining chairs.

Let's just say July ended up being one enormous series of snafus: unexpected setbacks, unplanned trips and unscheduled chores. I am pretty much in the same place as I was four weeks ago, except frustrated. I have gotten nothing done. Nothing.

Or have I? Looking back, I was able to succeed in the following ventures:

1. Boy, did I polish up that Chapter One. Every comma is perfection. Every word has been buffed to a high gloss. If the chapter were a laboratory cleanroom, you could now assemble microchips in it. It is that immaculate.

2. I reread Gone With the Wind from the perspective of an adult with a solid understanding of the Civil War, not a high school twit who glossed over the racist bits to get to the part where Scarlett and Rhett make out.

3. I read and edited two friends' unpublished manuscripts weeks after I promised to. There are still two more waiting for me. Lalalalala, unpublished manuscripts, I can't hear you right now.

4. I managed to keep a tomato plant alive long enough to harvest two delicious, if pea-sized, tomatoes. About 150 more and we'll have marinara sauce for one. 

5. I lost two pounds on the Anxiety Over Not Accomplishing Anything Diet. Yes, this is a happy side efNice, right? Don't look at the others.fect of my frustration—though only temporary, because eventually I will start eating again.

6. Also, I can now remain in the plank pose for three and a half torturous minutes.

7. I reupholstered the spare dining chair we keep against a wall—the only chair whose seat isn't hidden under the table. Which if you think about it is the only one that matters.

...and that's pretty much it. The good news is there are many more weeks to go until summer's over, and I've decided to ratchet back my expectations. This morning's goal is to get dressed, maybe answer some e-mail and then forage for lunch.

And this afternoon? It's got "plank pose" written all over it.

Friday
Jul092010

senior moment

Does this card make my hand look old? Last week, I realized my husband and I had become senior citizens. I'd suggested that we try a nearby restaurant's Monday night deal: A whole lobster, plus side dishes and soup or salad for $25.

"Let's go to Lobster Night!" I'd proposed, giddy at the promise of a bargain. He was game, as long as we could eat early—say, six or six-thirty—because he'd skipped lunch and was hungry. Which is how we wound up wearing matching plastic bibs, splitting a lobster in full daylight, like an elderly couple enjoying the early bird special.

And then it dawned on me: We were an elderly couple enjoying the early bird special.

I should probably explain: I am not really a senior citizen (though I certainly aspire to be one someday). Neither is my husband, although he, twelve years and a demographic generation older than I, has for several years been getting mail solicitations from the AARP. It had never occured to me that he wouldn't toss the offending come-ons like the other, youth-obsessed Baby Boomers. Then, the day after the Lobster Night incident, searching the Internet for a bargain on a rental car for a ladies' camping trip I'm taking in August (which—good heavens!—includes an RV), I looked up to find him holding out a membership card.

"It's from the AARP. I joined a couple of months ago. You can use it to get a rental discount," he crowed, and I took the card with shock because, dear reader, IT HAD MY NAME ON IT.

That's right. I, the dewy-ish bride of an older man, am now an official, card-carrying member of the AARP.

And my husband and I truly are living a retiree life, albeit for the summer: I have cut back on the journalism grind to work on a third book—which has me on a fixed income. He is has been working from home for the past couple of weeks. We've retreated to our vacation home in Connecticut, where I have taken up sewing and my husband alternates between puttering around the house and getting underfoot.

But that's not all. In the mornings, I eat a grandmotherly, roughage-filled breakfast. After that, while all the youngsters are working, I hit the gym, along with the other seniors who are free in the middle of the day. I wear a sun hat religiously and—oh, dear, it keeps getting worse—recently ordered a pair of sun-protective driving gloves. In the evenings, we relax in rocking chairs on the porch and hit the hay by ten.

Come to think of it, this is a great life. It's not at all bad being a senior citizen. Maybe this week, after Lobster Night, we can even get cheap seats at the movies.

Just as long as I'm in bed by ten.

 

Saturday
Jul032010

what is love, which separates

This is what the German title of Mating Rituals of the North American Wasp means in English. Yes, that's right, for those of you clamoring to read my book in German, Was Sich Liebt, Das Drennt Sich will be available November 21.

I get a thrill out of seeing the foreign translations of my books. That people in France and Germany would want to read them is remarkable to me. It's also a great deal of fun to Google-translate the cover copy. Without further ado, here is the plot of my book in German:

"Dass sie im Bett neben einem fremden Mann aufwacht, ist für Peggy schlimm genug. Am Telefon zu erfahren, dass sie ihn geheiratet hat—unfassbar! Doch als Peggy und Luke übereinkommen, die Ehe annullieren zu lassen, macht dessen Tante ihnen ein unmoralisches Angebot: Wenn sie ein Jahr lang verheiratet bleiben, erben sie ihr Herrenhaus. Und beide brauchen dringend Geld...."

And here what Google says it means:

"The fact that she wakes up in bed next to a stranger, for Peggy bad enough to learn. On the phone that she married him, beyond me, but leave as Peggy and Luke agree to cancel the marriage, his aunt makes them an indecent proposal If they stay married for a year, inherit her mansion. And both need money...."

Hmm. Well, certainly that's pretty much the plot, though I suspect an actual German-speaking human would translate it with more precision. In fact, if you are a German-speaking human and would like to translate, please do so in the comments!
And for anyone who doesn't already know the plot of WASP, you can find it in English here.
Thursday
Jun242010

this summer's anthem 

Last summer, it was "Boom Boom Pow." I couldn't get enough of that song. In New York, it was the most-played selection on my iPod. On the weekends, when we went to our house in Connecticut, it was on every radio station every time I got in the car.

My abiding love lasted well into the fall, until one day "Boom Boom Pow" started to sound a little "two thousand and late," and that was the end. Still, as a summer anthem—the kind of song that puts you in a happy state of mind, and immediately takes you back to a particular summer, whenever you hear it—it ranks among the best. Here are a few of my other anthems over the years...

During the summer of 1977, I was constantly wrecking my Dorothy Hamill haircut by listening to "Hotel California" on my dad's giant stereo headphones. (I also thought the lyric "You can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave" was sooo deep.):

A few years later, during the most monumental summer of music of my life, I went on a trip during which I toured colleges, played drinking games for the first time and got my first taste of New Wave*: "Do You Really Want to Hurt Me," by Culture Club, "Rio," by Duran Duran, "Der Kommissar" by After the Fire, "She Blinded Me With Science," by Thomas Dolby, "Rock the Casbah," by the Clash, and this:

 

Now I'm wondering: What will be the summer anthem of 2010? So far I've come up with two possibilities, both already in heavy rotation in my brain. One is "Miss Independent" by Ne-Yo:

The other is "Rude Boy" by Rihanna:

But the choice of summer anthem is highly personal. You may have entirely different predictions. So I'm turning this over to you: Which songs have been your summer anthems over the years? Is there a song you think will epitomize Summer 2010? Click the Post a Comment link below to share your thoughts.

*Yes, I know, some of these artists are really synth-pop, or punk, or something else. Please indulge me.

Saturday
Jun122010

sex and the city 2: hell freezes over

For your skin's sake, ladies, cover up!I liked it.

I can hardly believe this myself. I despise nine out of ten movies, even those everyone else adores, like the dreadful Avatar. Truth be told, I am so disdainful of popular culture (and, admittedly, have a hard time sitting still for two hours) that I don't see ten movies a year. I didn't see The Blind Side, The Hurt Locker, Precious or any of the rest of this year's Oscar-nominated movies. Given all of this, I was prepared to malign Sex and the City 2 along with everyone else.

Maybe low expectations are a good thing.

As countless reviewers have pointed out, SATC2 is a brainless paean to conspicuous consumption starring four characters who have it all but still want to complain—and I say this as a fan of the original HBO series. A truly cringeworthy moment: Over drinks in the private bar of their $22,000 a night Abu Dhabi hotel suite, swathed from $800-dye-job head to meticulously pedicured toe in designer clothing, Charlotte and Miranda—both of whom have full-time nannies—discuss the tribulations of motherhood. "How do the women without help do it?" asks Charlotte, who doesn't even work outside the home. Um, yeah, Princess; good question.

But as I registered this insipid comment, mostly I was transfixed by the gorgeous iridescent goblets from which the two were drinking. Which sums up my feelings about the movie. I abhor materialism, and yet it was fun to watch Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte sing karaoke and fall off camels and change into over-the-top outfit after over-the-top outfit. More than that—and this is probably the true reason I enjoyed SATC2—it's rare to find characters my age discussing topics that aren't necessarily Earth-shattering but are things I do relate to: Keeping marriage "sparkly," the age-appropriateness of fashion, the inexorable march of time.

Still, I do have a few minor complaints about the movie:

1. Hello, sun protection? These women were out in the middle of the desert in tank tops and shorts. I kept wanting to throw shawls over their tender, exposed flesh. No, Carrie, a turban does not count as a wide-brimmed hat.

2. Speaking of flesh, Samantha's little outburst in the spice market—"I HAVE SEX!!!!" she screams to a crowd of Muslim men as she simultaneously pantomimes the act—horrified me. It wasn't a feminist statement; it was simply crass. This ain't America, Samantha; this is Abu Dhabi (actually Morocco, but whatever). If you're going to visit a place where sex isn't discussed in public, don't discuss it in public. (I'm a prude that way. The final scene in which Samantha is safely home and getting it on on the beach also bothered me. We may live in the Land of the Free, but that doesn't mean people should feel free to have sex in public. Seriously, America, let's show some decorum.)

3. Wow, that Abu Dhabi lifestyle is something else, wasn't it? So opulent. So decadent. So made possible by America's unquenchable gluttony for foreign oil.

4. The sympathetic Muslim women in the spice market wearing designer outfits under their full-length burqas: How could those ladies not be boiling, sweaty, passing-out hot?

Despite these serious and not-so-serious issues, I thought the movie was a lot of fun. When it comes out on video, I might even see it again. And coming from me, the movie-hater, that is the highest of praise.