I love my family, but this Thanksgiving will not have Gourmet tendencies. I'm not sure what to think of the crock-pot stuffing that will be served. And though I enjoy, in a sentimental way, the picture above, I'm BYOCS (bringing my own cranberry sauce). Let's just hope that the roads are not so icy that I can't get away to work out or get some air or whatever, and that everyone remembers their very best Thanksgiving mountains. That, and their own personal stash of alcohol.

Enjoy your holiday!

Things I've heard this week:

1. "I don't want to be old and dried up when I'm like 30. (pause) But you're not like that, ma'am."

2. "I dreamed I had candy in my pants."

3. "The mouths of the people will drop. open."

4. "You, as the conductor, are in full control of your musicians."


Who said it?

a. Sexy musical artiste
b. my son
c. a grocery bagger
d. one of my preschool students

'Cause I Do Know How to Whip it Up a Little Bit, Martha

via The Atlantic.

Love Story

I love Taylor Swift. A few months ago my daughter found out about a song and video that I found at once catchy, if not a bit fluffy. That would be "Love Story." See how pretty and unskanky Taylor looks -- sorry, you have to click to see....

But then. Last week we're riding home from who knows where and we hear a song on the radio. From the opening riffs, I guess it is Taylor Swift and impress my children. My daughter and son both knew the song - they told me it was "Our Song" from Taylor's first record. And I listen closely and hear:

"Our song is the slamming screen doors,
Sneakin' out late, tapping on your window
When we're on the phone and you talk real slow
'cause it's late and your mama don't know
Our song is the way you laugh
The first date "man, I didn't kiss her, and I should have"
And when I got home ... before I said amen
Asking God if he could play it again"

In a choked up voice, I squeaked out, "Oh."

Is that not the cutest capture of high school? DUDE. And her voice! Clear, straight tone, unstrained, and NOT NASAL (Yes, Miley Cyrus, I'm looking at you...you and Ashley Tisdale.).



The 3 minute pop song is my life's soundtrack, and y'all know despite my indie tendencies I'm not averse to folks like Justin and Beyonce and Gwen and Madonna - if they keep to their tight, edited little frothy concotions. Taylor has done it and without the annoying, repeptitive twang of today's country (sorry if I'm offending...maybe my new fascination will help me to be more open-minded).

So I get home after wiping away tears of music love and nostalgia, and open up a New Yorker that's sitting around.

And Sasha Frere-Jones loves her too! His article, like a lot of his, is a gushfest and almost too critiquey, but he knows more about her than I do, so I enjoyed it. Also, read how much better he describes "Our Song".


" 'Our Song' ” was not Swift’s first hit, but it was the first to stop me in my tracks. It’s a breezy recounting of frustration, streaked with simple phrases so conversational that on first hearing they fly by without registering. For example: “He’s got a one-hand feel on the steering wheel, the other on my heart.” Not one hand here and another there; first comes a “one-hand feel,” and then the asymmetrical “hand”—on someone else’s heart, not his own. The song’s tension is that Swift and her man don’t have a song to call their own; its genius is that they never pick one—their romance is the song, and both characters get a chance to narrate. Swift, the writer, also gets to transubstantiate; their song is their life as she describes it.



Now, I should warn you not to watch the video for "Our Song", cause remember that unskankiness? Yeah, apparently she didn't konw how to avoid it on the first album. Taylor's new release is obliterating the charts, iTunes, etc. etc. so you'll hear more of her, obviously, and good thing, too. I have given my full approval for my children to follow her career. Let's hope she continues to let her music do the talking.

Introducing:

Carlos and Reggie, Guppies. Carlos has a blueish hue...he is a Turquoise Guppy. Reggie is a Tuxedo Gold or some such. They seem very pleasant thus far. I feel sorry for them. The children love them.

Now that Scrabulous is gone, Facebook doesn't hold as many wonders for me. I've tried promoting events on there, and keeping up with organizations that I work with/volunteer for, but it really doesn't seem to serve that purpose, as I am not in high school.

The purpose it has served, however, is to render meaningless the phrase "whatever happened to?" I now know what happened to Greg, he with whom I had a tense hook-up one night in college. He was broody, smart as hell, little, and strange...so of course I was completely intrigued. Despite my pseudo-edginess, I was perhaps needy at the time, so you can imagine the scene both that night and the days that followed. My roommates nicknamed him "F.O.G.", for "Fear of Greg". His arrival in classes or the cafeteria was noted by their poking me and saying in a spooky voice, "The F.O.G. is rolling in...."

Last I saw Greg, his then-girlfriend was flinging his belongings out of a 2nd story apartment window whilst screaming obsenities. Now I know that he lives in a hip urban center, is into Mingus, the New York Dolls, A Confederacy of Dunces and Tristam Shandy, and is going to a birthday party this weekend. Granted, I knew about the music and books already, but did I need to be reminded?

I also now know what happened to Mark, and I'm happy about it: a fun and wry wit from high school, he has his PhD and teaches history at a nearby venerable institution. We're meeting for lunch next week. Mark would be the fellow that made our chemistry teacher, whom we called Mick Jagger (and for good reason) say, "Silver nitrate will turn your hands black, even you Mark!" I can't wait to ask if he remembers this moment.

I guess I just want some mystery to my past. I wonder if I'll ever again have those surreal moments of bumping into someone from your old life. I literally bumped into a guy I used to know once...in Manhattan! Pete had taken me to a fraternity dance in college. He was handsome, fit, smelled delish, and an amazing dancer. On the night of our date we enjoyed a super-long, very public, fantastic makeout session....and then we just resumed our friendship. When I ran into Pete many years later outside a Broadway theatre, he was thrilled to introduce me to his new boyfriend. He still smelled and looked great: he just had bigger muscles and gel in his hair.

I'm sure he'll friend me soon.

I was a secret policy wonk this past election season. And I say secret because I hid it from my family. My husband is a well-known political junkie, and I just didn't think our house/family/social life would survive with two of us in the house. So I started a few rituals: whilst making dinner or before everyone got into the kitchen for breakfast, I would watch CNN non-stop. In the car, no more jazz - just NPR. (Or, in the days before the economic meltdown, Rush Limbaugh. I kid you not.) And I became a devoted follower of Nathan Silver.

FiveThirtyEight was fun, impressive for a non-numbers gal, and generally a calming influence for someone who worried about certain races going certain ways, that they certainly did not. Apparently, I'm not alone in Loving Nate - check out the NYTimes, Newsweek, and Facebook.

So now the election is over, and Nate Silver is worried people won't care about politics anymore. But as my friend Linda said, now is the time to put the shoulder to the wheel. I'm taking down my political signs today (don't blame me for leaving them up for a week - those on differing sides from me in my 'hood have done the same and I suspect won't take them down anytime soon). I'm ready to recommit to helping people in my circle, to advocate for those less fortunate in my community, and to try to keep our own family economics from imploding. I'm proud and happy - and especially grateful that gender and race seemed to be non-issues last week (especially in my state!) - but I won't be a pompous, gloating ass about it. Starting now!

Now the Holiday Shopping Can Begin....

....or not. What do you think?

Historic

Worth It, If Only for Borat

It Just Gets Weirder

via Sasha Frere-Jones

Because I am slightly melancholy over the ending of elementary school, I insisted we all go, as a family, to the State Fair. We didn't buy advance tickets, and we didn't have a free evening. So we skipped something (soccer, I think) and I took out $700 cash from the ATM, and off we went. Daddy was to take the bus and meet us.

As we walked in, earlier drama over too much homework and whatever happened at school that day melted away into memory. Someone smiled at me and asked if I wanted an admission ticket. Sure! Later, someone asked us if we wanted their leftover ride tickets. Yes! "Good Karma", my daughter assured me.

(We went one day earlier than Paul Friedrich, he of Onion Head Monster fame. Which was too bad, as his day-long experiment? performance art piece? heart attack- inducement exercise? fascinated me.)

My son ate:

Half of a funnel cake sprinkled with another half pound of powdered sugar

a foot-long hot dog

an apple (from one of the exhibits on agriculture that I thrust upon my young charges)

a deep-fried Snickers bar

(He had a lot of gas that night.)

The children's favorite rides involved them going high in the air, in circles. One ride, a favorite for years, is a hanglider-type contraption. Watching them soar over the fair was fairly magical, and worth the traffic and depleted bank account.

Daddy met us without too much trouble, having taken the bus from his swanky new downtown office. We only argued about what and where to eat for 15 minutes, a family record! And all agreed to go see the cows and bunnies. I didn't get to see the gardening competition...but only because I felt like my feet were going to separate from my ankles (for exercise that day I walked for an hour...dumb. Just finding that hanglider ride was over a mile trek).

The fair was a pretty Republican-seeming place...but there were the occasional Democratic stickers, and usually on people who looked less urban than I might have thought. I saw most of the Dems in the Village of Yesteryear. What does THAT mean?

We parked far away from the fair, which was not only free, but that much closer to our house. Home in 10 minutes, then showers to wash off that special brand of fair grime. My son, who spent a good portion of his fair time on the GROUND, got a Mommy-scrubbing. Ewww. And we read books and drifted off, and another fall is upon us and the leaves turn and the children grow and the days are shorter than ever.

Bill Cunningham on "colah"

I Would Put Britney's New Video Up, But This is a Family Website

• Beyoncé
• New Music

Other causes I lurve:


The Gail Perkins ovarian awareness group has a walk that has taken place, but their site has wonderful information and there's always next year!

Remember that the JRDF walk is coming up soon - you can always support my friend Scott.

Hearts with Haiti really needs your help. Things in Haiti are almost bleaker than I can comprehend.

And of course I encourage you to donate to the candidate of your choice for state and local races, as well as the big 'un.

I'm feeling like I should put positiveness out into the uni, so I'll report that my family had a special time of it this weekend. Team Whilst traveled to a town west of here for my daughter's soccer tournament. Not only did she play crazy great (including performing a block that had her sliding into the ball to knock it away from an offensive opponent...she would be on the highlights reel), but we all enjoyed the Emb-ASS-y Suites - free breakfast! Complimentary cocktails! A separate room for Mom and Dad! There was also the 10 hours of sleep we all got Saturday night. Love the church gig, but it cuts into my Saturday/Sunday laziness.

So I'm feeling good and healthy and aware and rested, and I want you all to feel the same. That's my wish tonight.

Also about my son? He has a favorite new playmate at recess, a boy who is not in his class. From what we can tell, the boy speaks in another language that "is not Spanish", but his English is good enough that he and my son discuss any number of things. The playmate's name, according to my son, is "Y2K".

Y2K is apparently funny, engaging, and quickly becoming popular with the 3rd grade boys. Until the school directory is published, we may not know his real name. Even then, some of the Montanyard children at school's names go almost completely unknown....initials are used. So for now, Y2K it is. My son says it is spelled "Ytookay." I prefer the numbers. I"ll keep you posted....I can't wait to meet him!

My son asked, "Is 'Mad Men' your 'SpongeBob'?"

I replied, "No, 'Lost' is."

On the Street with Bill Cunningham< - another fun fall truffle.

On the Street with Bill Cunningham - another fun fall truffle.

The Great Schlep