Wednesday, July 16, 2003


Last night, I stayed up late to read the Hepburn article in the New Yorker. There was some damn good writing in there. A sample:

Variety crowned her the second most popular female star in the
country—right behind Mae West. Between them,
these two unprecedented creatures neatly divided the possibilities:
Brooklyn and Bryn Mawr, vaudeville
and the classics, flesh and bone or possibly flesh and the ravenous
Puritan spirit that consumed it.
Still, even if Hepburn looked like the hanger on which Mae West
hung her clothes, and seemed as
rigid as her own New England scruples, it was she who
outlasted every change in the rules of a country
that couldn’t quite decide whether such women should exist.

This morning, while Ian slept and Jonah played with trains, I read the review of the Harry Potter book in the New York
Times book review. Yes, some mild guilt was involved because shouldn't I be down on the floor with Jonah helping him assemble his train empire while at the same posing thought provoking questions to boost that IQ? "Now he'll never go to Harvard!!" But I read on. "Welcome to Bergen Community College, Jonah."

The Harry Potter review was a love letter to J.K. Rowlings who I think is amazing, although I'm a little concerned about her recent marriage. I hope she had a good pre-nup. I HAVE to get that book. If I wait for it to work its way through my friends (susan to chris to margie to me), it could take a while. Amazon.

Dreary Day

It was one of those days. During the morning, Jonah and I did chores while Ian slept. Called the parking lot to get the car ready. Packed the bags for the trip to my sister's swim club in New Jersey. Checked e-mail. When Ian woke up at 11:30, I quickly dressed him, walked down the stairs, put him in the stroller, and walked a few blocks to the lot. Then we had a nice time splashing at Maria's pool.

Not really hard, but I'm still tired. Not enough sleep last night. Both kids were in our bed at one point. And I'm so tired of saying everything ten times. "Jonah stop splashing in the pool. Jonah stop splashing in the pool. JONAH STOP SPLASHING IN THE POOL. OKAY SIT ON THAT CHAIR FOR FIVE MINUTES." Loud wails. Everyone in this pool is looking at me. Valium is celebrating its 50th birthday.

Cute things that Jonah said that helped stop the urge to self-medicate: "Mom, I'm have a cold because I have a BURGER in my nose." Also. I called some balding guy in a gold convertable a jerk because he was riding on the shoulder of the highway. I immediately heard from the back seat "butt crack!" Where did he get that from?

Blog Watching

I started this blog before I had really done much research to see what else was out there. Yes, I was a little hasty. Now in the spare minutes of the day, I've been poking about in a very unscientific manner. Click here and there. My initial observation is that most of the bloggers are nerdy, dateless guys. Twenty years ago they would all be playing Atari and Dungeons and Dragons. Many sites model themselves on Drudge or Andrew Sullivan and monitor the papers. Lots of Times bashing. I find these sites very difficult to read. They excerpt paragraphs and link willy nilly, but don't really write much themselves.

There are a whole lot of blog whores. Seems like lots of bloggers don't feel good about themselves without a certain number of hits. (Clearly I don't give a shit.) So they link up with other people who link them. "If you link me, I'll link you." If you are really hot shit, you can demand that the other guy mentions you twice, and then you'll mention them once.

So far, Lileks seems to be the only guy I really want to read. I guess that's enough.

Disney Land

Maria the sister said a lot of her friends are taking the kids to Disney Land. Maria had already thought about when it would be a good time to take her girls. Call me an evil parent but I won't go. Can you say vacation in hell? Long lines for rides, crazed and sticky kids, hot sun, cheerful people. I know that there has to be compromise involved with vacationing once you have the kids. They aren't going to last that long in the 18th century room at the Louvre. "Look honey, it's David's famous painting of Socrates' Death." But there has to be some compromise. They have to give in too. I'm not all about being Martyr Mom. "I have no identity of my own. I live for my kid's happiness." Think they'll like Montreal?

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