The Next Dark Age
We're in it Now
Pass on What You Have Learned
I was having lunch with my boss, Dave, and my co-worker, Christy. Christy is in Accounting. They are talking about a Clearance Sale that our Public Relations department is offering to our members on some older publications. Christy encouraged it, saying the products were expensed two years ago, so anything they earned on the sale was a bonus.
“But,” I said, meekly. “I thought I learned in my Accounting class that you have to record the Cost of Goods Sold at the time you record the Revenue.”
Christy looked at me. “We don’t do it that way.”
I scowled at her. Then thought for a minute. We are a non-profit. We don’t sell things for the purpose of making money. “Wait. Is that because we don’t actually book the publications as Assets?”
“Yes,” she replied.
I was all pleased with myself. Christy turned to Dave and said, “This is the problem with educating employees. They start to ask questions.”
Speaking of Spooky the Cat
The cat is making me crazy. Since it seems he is more senior than Moses, the vet wants to protect the health of his kidneys by putting him on canned food. Or at least kidney-friendly dry food:
He thinks not.
After his most recent appointment, I decided to give canned food another shot. As a supplement, if you will. I bought a bunch of different varieties. This is what he does to them:
He laps up all of the “gravy” and rejects the “morsels”. He will touch nothing “ground” or “minced” or “pâté”. He will touch nothing that has been already refridgerated, only fresh from the can (or pouch). Gravy. Fresh from the can or pouch.
Is he kidding me?
Worst Movie Sequels
So. I went to check my e-mail after lunch. And MSN had an article about the worst movie sequels ever made. Of course, Grease 2 was on the list. And it named songs. I have had “Let’s Score!” in my head all afternoon. I thought I should share it with you.
Walking Cats
There is so much in the news I have been wanting to write about, then I found this article in USA Today. Apparently the trend among the weird people is to walk their cats. Outside, on leashes, like dogs. The advocates say that cats need outdoor-action and this is a safe way. The haters say you can’t control the environment and there is nothing worse that a wigged out cat.
Here’s my take:
They are all correct.
Spooky the Cat came to live in my house at age 8 1/2. From his kittenhood he was allowed to come and go as he pleased, but my mother and I knew we would not be able to take worrying about a cat that went prowling (or whatever they do) all night. So he became an indoor cat.
For a few years, he made regular jail breaks. The back door was always opening and closing with dogs coming and going, and all it took was good timing. Which he has. Then one day, we got him a leash and took him in the back yard. He was pretty pissy about it at first, and he pointedly ignores me when we are outside together, but he understands:
If he wants to go outside, this is how it is done.
The jail breaks diminished. Significantly.
I don’t really “walk” him in the back yard. He walks me. And finds some plot of dirt to roll around and kick up dust. Eventually, I will find a spot to sit down and read, and he will, too. It makes him happy.
However.
Once in a while, Shadow the Dog will get all excited that Spooky is in the backyard. He will run in circles and play dance. (This is how I know the dog is demented. He thinks Mr. Cranky Cat is going to play with him? Outside? For real?) And sometimes, he gets too close and Spooky will freak out, which involves hissing and scratching and forgetting that I am the person and Shadow is the Dog that’s bothering him. And omigod, when we had two. I remember locking the dogs in the house to minimize the drama of Spooky’s outside time and they would not. Stop. Barking.
Anyway, I can’t imagine what would happen if a stranger dog came to sniff him. (Wait. Yes I do. Because a strange Rottweiler tried to meet Spooky in the waiting room of the vet’s office. Spooky flat out attacked.) For one thing, the leash makes him feel somewhat vulnerable, in that it makes him unable to bolt from perceived danger. Since I can’t quite tell what he will perceive as “danger”, I am not really able to control the environment enough so that he doesn’t freak out.
So I only Walk the Cat in the safety of my own backyard. And the neighbors still look at me funny.
P.S. Walking this cat would be of no practical use, anyway. He is incapable of doing his business with anyone looking at him.
Truth & Beauty: A Friendship, by Ann Patchett
Book 7
I read Truth and Beauty: A Friendship, by Ann Patchett. Patchett is the novelist that wrote, Bel Canto, a book club favorite a few years ago. This book is a non-fiction memoir of Patchett’s friendship with Lucy Grealy, a poet-turned-memoirist semi-famous (I say because I had never heard of her before) for writing about childhood cancer, horrific treatment processes, facial disfigurement and a lifetime of reconstructive surgeries.
Patchett wrote a compelling story here. This 20 year friendship ended with Grealy’s death in 2002.
Patchett and Grealy were college acquaintances that became close friends in graduate school. Grealy’s jaw was all but disintegrated by radiation and chemo therapy when she was around 10. Besides the feeling of being “ugly”, Grealy had trouble with several basic physical tasks. She couldn’t close her mouth all the way, so she couldn’t effectively swallow. As such, she had a very hard time eating. The surgeries (nearly 40 by the end of her life) were mainly reconstructive grafts – sometimes bone, sometimes soft tissue.
Patchett does a great job of expressing some of Lucy’s realities. For example, I would have thought that someone with a physical disfigurement would be very physically modest. Lucy was the opposite. Patchett attributed it to spending so much time in the hospital, being examined by so many doctors. At the same time, Lucy always felt that her life wasn’t really going to “begin” until she was finally finished with surgeries and looked “normal”.
One of the surgeries was a breast augmentation. I would have thought someone that required so much surgery wouldn’t elect for anything unless absolutely necessary. But the fact that cancer (or its treatment), stopped her growth (at age 10 or so) it was important to Lucy to rectify it. I spent the first half of this book learning a lot about illness and the aftermath. My heart went out to this girl-poet and I was rooting for her.
At some point in the second half of the book, it hit me. I didn’t really like Lucy all that much. She was so emotionally needy. She manipulated Ann, particularly when Ann was in a relationship with a man. In fact, Lucy was continually competing for attention and affection. On one hand, I could understand why. She spent so much time alone. On the other, she had plenty of friends. What she wanted – demanded – was to be loved best. It was just not fair. By the time Lucy started using drugs, Ann was distancing herself somewhat.
Funny thing – when I started the book, I figured the cancer was coming back and that would ultimately take Lucy’s life. Suicide was never out of the question. The drug overdose was not a surprise to anyone.
One of the comments on the cover was that if this book made some of us read Grealy’s memoir, it would be a great thing. Hm. I am not running out to buy it. But I suppose if I stumble upon it at a Book Sale…
A Productive Weekend
I took my last Accounting quiz on Saturday. The final exam isn’t until next Saturday, so it felt like I had an almost free weekend. I started it rearranging my library, and filling those new bookshelves. I won’t be “done” until I finish importing all of my music to iTunes. Then I will box up all of those CDs.
I trashed an old bookcase from Target (or wherever) to fit in the new shelves and spread out my history books. Lots of room to grow in those, but I didn’t seem to make any room for fiction. So I pulled out my mother’s old quilting magazines and my father’s old home improvement books. That should hold me for awhile.
Then I sat in front of the television and watched a movie. Glory was on cable and, to my shame, I had never seen it. I don’t suppose it counts as spoilers 20 years later, but fair warning:
My mother was walking by and said, “You know this doesn’t end well, right?” I figured as much, since it is a war movie. “So everyone dies?” I ask. “Pretty much. One person lives,” she replied. “Is it Denzel?” I ask. “I think so.”
Lies! Upon angry Anne interrogation, it was revealed that no one can possibly remember the details of a film one saw 20 years ago. Anyway, I am glad I saw it. And then I finished reading a book. A real book. And imported more music.
Today, a guy we know came to take away our old dining room set. It was a very nice set, but was in desperate need in refinishing. He got the furniture and we got a whole room for the birds! Pictures to come at a later date. Kiwi the Grey seems to have adjusted, but the lack of carpet has created a terrible echo whenever the dog starts barking.
I have been reading another real book. I expect to finish it tonight. I made dinner – pizza on a fresh flatbread crust that my grocery store just started making – while watching a PBS special on Fats Domino and New Orleans. Seriously. On PBS. Not some random cable channel like OTV. Good old local PBS is telling me to go to New Orleans.
And for the first time since Rainman, I am completely skipping the Oscars. It is rather liberating. Since there is no House marathon, I have completely turned off the television. It is going to be a long week, but at least I feel like I accomplished something.
"Luxury Shame"
I have been hearing the term “luxury shame” around lately. An article in the Chicago Tribune called it, “a sense that even if you can still afford it, it’s best not to make a show of it“.
“Frugality is the new cool”, was another quote in there.
Here is the main event:
“Conspicuous consumption is out,” she said. “Conspicuous frugality is in.”
I’ve been preaching forever that we all (and I point a very big finger at myself) should learn to save more money. But I think the fact that it is “trendy” and “conspicuous” to bargain-hunt misses the point.
“Conspicuous frugality” suggests to me that one is being frugal only so that one’s friends notice. Not because they have learned anything. As if Once the Current Crisis Has Subsided, I Will Max Out My Credit Card.
I recently made a “conspicuous consumption” purchase – the bookcases I posted about the other day. So I am sorry if this comes of as rationalizing my own choices. I absolutely do not want anyone to go out and buy things they cannot afford. But it really burns me up that the very people that might contribute to the rebuilding of the economy are…oh, never mind.
Here was the good news:
“While sales for retailers of books, CDs and DVDs have plunged, the Chicago Public Library saw circulation grow by 28 percent from July 2007 to July 2008.”
You can read the entire article here.
My New Orleans: Ballads to the Big Easy by Her Sons, Daughters and Lovers, edited by Rosemary James
My New Orleans, edited bt Rosemary James, is a collection of essays. Some written by professionals, some by rather famous natives. James owns Faulkner House Books, which is a lovely store in Pirates’ Alley where I make a point to stop whenever I am in town. It is a post-Katrina piece. I don’t remember buying this book, but I know it wasn’t actually in New Orleans. I pulled it from the shelf because I was tired of carrying around hardcovers and this is a pretty slim paperback. And it was good enough to make me decide that Alaska can wait, and I am going back to New Orleans for my summer vacation.
It seems weird that I am so into New Orleans. I am the opposite of everything that makes it cool. From my clothes to my job to the food I eat. I am totally inhibited: I don’t dance, don’t sing, and don’t like to be touched too much. I am cranky and impatient. Hell, I barely even drink anymore. The fact that I am remotely comfortable in this place does not make any sense at all.
That’s probably it.
There was a piece by a guy whose name I didn’t recognize. He was talking about how he visits regularly, but would always be a tourist. I was kinda relating to that, except the next piece, by novelist Bret Lott, said it better:
“Walking the Dog with Joe” was about how he was visiting his friend, Joe, who lives in the Quarter. They were walking the dog, Zuli, before heading out to dinner. Zuli was a standard poodle and the piece was all about the attention the dog was getting in the street. This was the ending:
“Zuli, I see, in all her imperial bearing, all her presence and regal posture and beauty and carefree nobility, might as well be New Orleans herself.
And now I hurry to catch up.”
I am looking forward to going back.
My Museum
The National Museum of American History is about my favorite museum on the planet. When I was on my 8th grade trip to Washington, we visited. Later that day, we were told that we had an hour to spare. We had two choices on how to spend that time:
Go back to the History Museum; or
Go Next Door to the Natural History Museum and see the Hope Diamond.
Of the 120+ students on the trip, exactly three of us went back to the History museum.
At AU, there were regular class assignments that involved going off campus to use the resources of our Great Nation’s Capital. Once in biology, we were sent to a cemetery in Georgetown to research infant mortality rates. I’d blame that on being pre-Internet, but we could have gone to the Library. The professor just wanted us to run around a cemetery. Anyway. About once a semester, someone on my floor had an assignment that involved going to the History Museum. The pact was that if one of us had to go, we all went. It made the work easier. And anyway, it was my favorite museum.
It shut down for renovation so long ago that I don’t remember. There was some buzz about the big donor throwing his weight around about things, but I guess if you are spending $100 million dollars on a museum, you are allowed to be pushy. I withheld judgement. The Reopening was in November and yesterday was my first chance to see it. I tried to take a picture from the lobby, but none were coming out, so I stole this one from the press packet:
That big silver thing in the back? Is supposed to represent the flag. Because that is where the original Star Spangled Banner was. Well, actually, that was just a representation, also. When I was very young, they lowered it a few times a day for the masses to behold. Behind that silver thing is the Star Spangled Banner exhibit. I didn’t get back there – there were too many children.
The place is clearly not done yet. There were serious wastes of space that I attribute to exhibits not being finished yet. But the impression I left with?
The exhibits are as great as always. (The old First Ladies one seems skimpy, but maybe that is just because I am older). The American President was great. And the Lincoln one was fabulous. It made me feel much better for having forsaken my ritual pilgrimage to his shrine to go to the museum.
Having said that. The design? Is what I like to call “a post-modern monstrosity”.
OK, maybe the old look was a little dark. And there are better ways to preserve the artifacts – like Lincoln’s top hat! But…ugh. If it had been like that in the Air and Space Museum, it would have been ok. But Mr. Behring, if this is what you were fighting for – I am disappointed.
Anyway, the Public Service Annoucement here is Go See President Lincoln’s Exhibit!
Bookcases
I have made two big purchases in the last month and this is the first:
I have been looking for these all my life. Or at least since I determined that I required my own library. I found them at Crate & Freakin’ Barrel, if you can believe that. They were delivered today and the only reason there are no books in them is that I am still in Washington. My mother was kind enough to send me a “Before” picture.
If I had a million dollars, I would buy another set for the other wall.
The Next Dark Age 