“The ashtray, the remote control, the paddle game, and this magazine, and the chair. And I don’t need one other thing, except my dog.” (dog growls at him.) “I don’t need my dog.” — Steve Martin in “The Jerk”

http://youtu.be/kXZs3mjGlQU

“You need to get back on that board is what you need to do. You gotta just pull yourself up by your wetsuit, get back on that board. Hey, look man, if you’re attacked by a shark, are you gonna give up surfing?”

Amy Chua has gotten a load of grief over her memoir, “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother,” about parenting her two daughters. I liked the book — I thought she was brave and forthright, and funny, too. She’s the first one to admit her flaws, people, so get off her back. I agree with some of her methods. I know, I know — she got a little extreme. But you know what? Motherhood makes you crazy. It’s the truth.

Maybe we could talk honestly about our struggles and demons, instead of going all judgmental and focusing on finger-pointing. When did it become such a sticky wicket, “modern parenting”? Try to do the best you can and call it a day. Gah.

“Next Stop Grand Central” is another great picture book by Maira Kalman. It was published in 1999, but I just got a copy of it a couple of months ago. I’m trying to collect everything by Kalman — some of it is expensive and hard to find, but if you poke around on eBay and Amazon, or at the used book stores, titles show up and you can find them at reasonable prices.

Just received a review copy of Sophie Kinsella’s latest, “I’ve Got Your Number.” (My disclaimer.) I started it and it is fun and engaging, like her books always are. I needed something a little lighter — I’ve been on an F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald kick — novels, bios, short stories. I like these self-imposed author studies I do, but it’s a little much sometimes, eh, Sylvia? So Ms. Kinsella, thanks for another good read.

(Edited on 3/12/12 to say: Finished the Kinsella book last week — loved it. There’s a touch of sorrow and intensity to this one, woven through. V. good.)

“No one wants to hear stories about about bad things. That’s the truth. I remember that my tutor at college once asked me if I was all right and if I wanted to talk. The moment I started, he said, ‘You mustn’t lose your confidence, Poppy!’ in this brisk way that meant, ‘Actually I don’t want to hear about this, please stop now.'”

Next: Somehow, when I was doing my library work, I missed reading Jon Scieszka and Lane Smith’s picture book, “The True Story of the 3 Little Pigs!” (flipside in Spanish: “!La Verdadera Historia de Los Tres Cerditos!”). You know why? It’s such a great book that the students and teachers always had it checked out and I never got to enjoy it! How dare they! Ha. Found my kids’ old copy awhile back, out at their grandma’s house, and brought it home with us.

I give this one five out of five stars. Yes. !Si!

Jarrett J. Krosoczka (who also wrote the hilarious “Lunch Lady” series of graphic novels) has a new picture book out: “Ollie the purple elephant.” Too. Cute. Really liked the art in this one, and the story is fun. That’s it for books. Now how about a short film and some music? Alright.

This short film won an Oscar last night. I just adore it.

http://youtu.be/Adzywe9xeIU

And now, just because I am still so bummed about Whitney Houston’s death, another video — this one of an impossibly young Whitney and her incredible mom, Cissy. Peace, peace, peace to the Houston family

http://youtu.be/jXSpThaakp8

(Photo by Steve Rawley.)

Misc. everything, by me, Wacky Mommy:

1) No one told me Will Smith and Jada Pinkett (soon to be not) Smith were divorcing. Explain yourselves, prettiest couple in the world next to President and Mrs. Obama.

2) Is it really necessary to make one movie, much less two, about the poor, sweet, late Linda Lovelace? Do all oppressed women everywhere a favor and skip the soon-to-be-released movies. Skip Deep Throat, too, if anyone happens to suggest that you view it together, for a little “fun.” Go read her autobiography/biography by Mike McGrady instead. Seriously. She was one of my heroes growing up, because she lived through her past. Rest in peace, hon.

3) The wild tom, Baby, is back at the vet. There goes another several hundred dollars that I don’t have. Love you, fluffy boy. Please stay healthy.

4) Tired today. Gardened and planted all weekend. It’s looking nice out there… Maybe Stevie will take some pictures this week for me to post.

5) My kid is getting some dental work done soon. Not so much fun. Send some good thoughts his way, would ya? Thanks.

6) Off to read now, and possibly write. No word from the vet about when Baby gets to come home. Soon, we hope. Well, our grouchy old-lady cat is glad he’s gone, but the other cat and I miss him.

7) I was thinking about this Goldschmidt situation a little more. How I feel about this can be best explained by Andrew McCarthy, telling off James Spader’s douchebag character, Stef, at the end of “Pretty in Pink.” (Somehow I never saw the movie — watched it with my daughter this weekend. It’s awfully good.) The douchebag has convinced his BFF, Blaine (played by McCarthy) that Molly Ringwald’s character is a poor, ugly, worthless slut, and that he shouldn’t date her. And like the big idiot that he is, Blaine listens to him. Then he wises up.

Blaine, to Stef: “You couldn’t buy her, though, that’s what’s killing you, isn’t it? Stef? That’s it, Stef. She thinks you’re shit. And deep down, you know she’s right.”

That’s what I’m saying. That’s what we all want, am I right here? For people to not think that we’re pieces of shit. For Goldschmidt, he can atone forever, but there is no hope for him. He is upset because he knows that Steve and I can’t stand him, and are calling him out for the child rapist asshole from hell that he is. So he needs to go climb back under his rock and stop re-traumatizing the rest of us by trying to crawl out again. Give up, already. Done.

For the rest of us? We all need to be a little more like Duckie, and a little less like James Spader. Or Charlie Sheen, as the case may be.

8) Just heard from the vet: The cat has cystitis. They’ll shoot him up with antibiotics and send him home with pain meds. Three hundred dollars, please. (Edited to say: Total was $353.13, and that included pain meds for him only, not me.)

all for now,

yours, as always,

wm

http://youtu.be/NpC-dZpD7eI

http://youtu.be/CH2KGboA35c

http://youtu.be/kTQrNQm3yZQ

yesterday, i was grateful cuz we all went to see the Muppets movie (soooo funny) and my sis and her husband, Red-Headed Guy from Texas, went, too. I was going to fix dinner for us, but she said, No, we have to go out for Indian food. So we did! giving me not 1 but 3 things to be grateful for: the Muppets, time w/ family, and Indian food. oh gosh it was good, i’m just saying…

Today? Today i am extra-grateful cuz Steve did the grocery shopping, and now he’s hanging up the Christmas lights. wow. what a dude, huh?

oh yeah also he sent the final (final?) (final!) (cuss plz let this be the final) draft of my book + the bio + the cover to the publishers for the hard copy y’all have been so impatiently waiting for.

so check the website and we will have links up within the next couple weeks.

i promise.

thank you for your support. ps my bookmarks for “That’s Not It” arrived this week, too. If you would like a personalized bookmark, plz leave a note in comments or send me an e and i will mail one to you!! They’re very pretty and shiny.

Mischief managed.

Yeah. That’s right.

I stayed up late watching stupid-ass TV two nights in a row. First it was the Judds and their insane reality show. Then it was the end of season five (final season, and to that I say, Fucking amen) of Big Love. Really, they should call that show Sick Love. But I am nuts for the three actresses who play the wives — Jeanne Tripplehorn, Ginnifer Goodwin and Chloe Sevigny. Also I liked how they spun out the (also sick love) storyline of Bill’s parents, played so skillfully and scarily (???) by Grace Zabriskie and Bruce Dern.

Zabriskie I have adored and followed like a little puppy dog ever since “Drugstore Cowboy.” (She played Matt Dillon’s mom. Gus Van Sant did it up when he cast that movie, man.)

“Lord, it’s my dope fiend thief of a son and his crazy little nymphomaniac wife.” (then she hides her purse.) If you haven’t seen that one, check it out.

I cannot give that kind of ringing endorsement to Sick Love and the Judds, though. I say, run for the hills instead of watching those shows.

My point (and I do have one, as Ellen DeGeneres would say) is that even though I slept in, after staying up way too late, and even though I have been eating and drinking all right… I have been fighting off this frickin’ virus for two weeks now. And yesterday I woke up with low blood pressure, low blood sugar, wheezing from asthma and bronchitis, total crash, and ended up in urgent care. (Steve drove, don’t worry.) Bronchitis, allergies, and blah blah blah blah antibiotics and more sleep and etc. The kids were worried and gave me lots of attention and brought me sorbet and there you have it.

Me, resting. I’m dying at some point, but it’s not going to be today. Whew.

However. Now I’m awake at 6 a.m., on our day off (Memorial Day here in the States, or Decoration Day, as my Granny used to call it) so I can go have some delicious breakfast, take an antibiotic and not crash again. Then I will nap and avoid all responsibility. We visited the graves on Saturday. They’re all resting peacefully, fyi, my grandparents, two uncles, my one uncle’s mom, my two aunties and my dear Dad. I left them notes. Wacky Girl was a sweetie, as always, and respectful. Wacky Boy paid his respects in his own way, namely, he raced around the graves, then told me, Try not to step on them! Then he threw rocks in some big mud puddles and eventually couldn’t resist the urge to jump in. So he did.

My dad, grandpa and uncles would have been thrilled, especially since where he was playing was where the baseball diamond used to be. (Now it’s all cemetery.) I hope they noticed, y’know? All of them would have said, She looks just like Nancy when she was little! about my daughter, because that’s what everyone says. Makes me beam every time. At my grandma’s funeral, my uncle’s friend drove down from Seattle — I hadn’t seen him since Grandma’s 80th birthday party. When my daughter walked by, he just said, Little Nancy, under his breath and smiled at her. She didn’t notice, of course, but it made me happy.

Next time I go I’ll take food and flowers and do the whole Day of the Dead thing. The kids are getting older now, they think it’s a little weird, but they’re OK with me doing whatever I need to do, for my little rituals. But I thought I’d spare them this time, since the weather was nice on Saturday and there were a ton of people decorating the graves, leaving flowers, trimming back the grass, all that.

Not everyone understands my need to leave cookies, fruit and notes at the graves of my dead relatives. But I do, so that’s that.

Also? This was amazing and a little Six Feet Under weird. I had twin aunts — they were just adorable. They cheated at cards and were yin/yang funny and no-bullshit about everything. (“Now you’re just reminiscing, Nancy” as one of them used to tell me.) Well, someone in the family needed to look at the world through rose-colored glasses, and it sure wasn’t them or my Grandma, God love ’em. Prairie girls from northern North Dakota who would walk over to Canada when they wanted to play with their friends. Seriously, how cool is that? Six years old or whatever, you’re just going to walk to another country to go play :)

I went over to see them one time — they were both wearing sweatsuits and white headbands — very Olivia Newton-John, “Let’s Get Physical.” They said, in unison as always, “You like these?” (about the headbands.) “The little lady who does our hair gave us these!” omg, too cute and funny.

My point (again) — we were at my Dad’s grave, saying goodbye and getting ready to leave, and I saw two big crows fighting and flipping out (just like my aunties used to do) and sure enough, they sent them.

It was right on their grave.

the end.

— wm

Sunshine, my favorite tearjerker from 1973. Watch it and weep…

I don’t think it was ever released to video, thus its YouTube following.