To the reader who sent me zucchini bread: My love for you is a little intense right now. It might make us both uncomfortable eventually.
I want you to know I’m sitting UP at my DESK and not hunched in bed with the laptop or moaning posts into my phone. This is progress, although I can tell you it’s not 100% comfortable yet, sitting here. In this chair. Waitin’ on you. Oh, girl, to see things my way.
I didn’t want to bring it up, but I had surgery 10 days ago. I didn’t want to make a big deal. I also have not left my house or put on pants since coming home from the hospital 10 days ago, and I guess this is what it’s like to give birth, other than there is no squalling needy creature I have to raise for the rest of its life unless you count Lily.
Actually, I have had great affection for my pets during this, my convalescence. They’ve been a delight, all of them, particularly Edsel. Remember at the end of Marley and Me, when Marley is old and can finally walk nicely through that field? That’s Edsel now. He’s such a good boy.
Anyway, since I’m stuck in the house for weeks on end, I’ve decided to take on the things I always meant to do, but had a life and did not.
Yesterday, I played Dark Side of the Moon and watched The Wizard of Oz simultaneously, which I’ve always heard is a trip, because apparently I’m Shaggy now. You start the album on the third roar of the lion before the credits.
Oh my god! That was a trip, Scooob! There were times they’d knock or laugh or talk about a heart or chop a door with an axe and it was RIGHT ON THE BEAT. And many times, the song would end with the scene in the movie.
Anyway, well worth my time, watching it that way. Did you ever see footage of Mama Cass watching Janis Joplin at Woodstock? That is because you weren’t married to Marvin. Sometimes I wish Marvin’s wife, crnt., and I could form a support group. Anyway, Mama Cass, pre-ham, watches Janis Joplin and keeps shaking her head mouthing, Oh, wow. Oh, WOW. That was me watching the Wizard of Oz with Dark Side of the Moon yesterday.
After that, I finally started my righting-my-slides project I talked about. I told myself I only had to fix one wheel per night, otherwise I’ll get that sweaty, cranky mood I wish to avoid. I shone the slides on my wall, which is painted paneling and one day I’d like to rip it all down and the only reason I haven’t is I don’t want to ruin the original molding and it scares me. Anyway, they had grooves, my slides, but what can you do. Here are some images from the past that I flipped the right way and actually saw as they were intended for the first time.
Yes, there WAS a black spot on the slide that looked like something in my nose. Fixed it.
I like it when people say, Your hair wasn’t curly! As if no one else’s hair changed after childhood. As soon as adolescence hit, I got the George Washington look.
My Aunt Mary at prom. Now with paneling! I love this dress. A year later, my Aunt Kathy wore it to HER prom. Aunt Kathy, using those in-law connections.
Hello, dog I don’t know. Has anyone changed less in life? Other than my hurr.
Hello, cat I don’t know. This is a cat at a really pretty hotel we stayed at, in Canada. It’s a polite cat cause it’s Canadian. Also, I promise you I did not even consider climbing that tree. Was placed, like prop.
Sums up my feelings about being outside.
Here I’ve managed to show more “enthusiasm” about being outside, but I promise you I was biding my time. Ned used to tell me when he was young he was literally outside all day, in creeks and baseball fields, catching toads and so on, and I think, I would have abhorred you. And vice versa. He’d have been like every kid, who looked at my avid indoorswoman status with disdain.
Bob Dylan and I share a hairdo.
Why was I given teapots and records to play with? Was there no cat?
But here’s what I really wanted to show you.
Oh, hell, yeah. Trova! At Pace! Columbus!
Years ago, I wrote about the art from my childhood. For years, YEARS, I sat around the little entryway from the living room to the dining room (color scheme: pink, yellow, turquoise, green, red, blue) wondering, What is a Trova? What is a Pace? CHRISTOPHER Columbus? For the life of me, the meaning of this poster eluded me. Was the white silhouetted man named Trova?
If my parents had put up a nice landscape I might have spent those hours forming useful thoughts and today I’d be a successful banker.
I like the tiny TV at the end of the table. I don’t recall getting to watch TV at dinner, EVER, and would have welcomed the lack of bonding to watch I Love Lucy or what have you. Maybe my mother watched TV at lunch or something. Ooo, maybe this was during Watergate. Oh, that’s an excellent guess on my part.
I have to go. I have to order a yellow cube lighting fixture and begin my Growing Up With Leggy Plants seminar. But there’s a chance I’ll fix more slides tonight, and for this you should be rapt with anticipation.
June. At Pace. Columbus.