Monthly Archives: August 2008


….breasts and strategically lighted, professionally groomed pudendum (or “pussy” if you prefer because apparently everyone doesn’t speak Latin).

I have never seen the film, 2005 was not a stellar year for me and movie-going, but I think Dame Judi Dench won an Oscar? Or perhaps just a nomination. In any event she was wonderful to watch and the scenes without her don’t sparkle nearly as much.

But I am a sucker for eccentric old lady movies, perhaps due to the fact that I fully intend to be one when the appropriate age presents itself.

In keeping with our near perfect tradition of choosing films where a character is widowed or experiences death in some other way, Mrs. Henderson opens with a funeral. Mrs. Henderson has been recently widowed.

And I thought – fuck me. Why am I plagued with blue-ray representatives of Queen Victoria at her blackest?

But you know what, that isn’t really true. I have yet to met an imaginary widow who doesn’t strive to break free of Lizzie’s misused rule book.

Mrs. Henderson did not disappoint.

Laura Henderson: [at Mrs. Henderson’s husband’s funeral] I’m bored with widowhood.*
Lady Conway: My dear, you’ve just scratched the surface. 
Laura Henderson: I have to smile at everybody. I’ve never had to smile at everybody. In India, there were always people to look down on. 
Lady Conway: People are merely being sympathetic. After all, you have lost your husband. 
Laura Henderson: Well I didn’t mislay him! It was most inconsiderate of Robert to die. What on earth am I supposed to do now? 


Lady Conway: It’s really not so bad. Widows are allowed hobbies. 
Laura Henderson: Hobbies? 
Lady Conway: Yes. Embroidery, things like that. 
Laura Henderson: Are you mad? 
Lady Conway: I’ve graduated to weaving. Would you care to see my tapestries? 
Laura Henderson: I’d rather drink ink. 
Lady Conway: Committees are good of course. I serve on quite a few charities. Once your husband dies, it’s quite permissible to help the poor. And now, there’s no one to stop you buying things. Also, of course, there’s a great deal of time for lovers. 
Laura Henderson: Margot, I’m nearly 70! 
Lady Conway: That’s true, but you’re also very rich. The one cancels out the other. 

Okay, widowhood is probably a lot different when you are not looking at decades of it but I have to admit I was long over widowhood itself within a very short span of time. Like Mrs. Henderson I wanted to do and grow and move on. Unlike her I didn’t have the money to buy a theater, so I blogged instead. There is something to be said for creative outlets.

Rob didn’t like the movie. He gave it a “meh”.

It is not quite a chick flick but veers dangerously.

Oh and there is nudity. Strategically lit and neatly trimmed.**

 

 

 

*Writing credits

(in alphabetical order)

David Rose   idea
Kathy Rose   idea
Martin Sherman   written by

**Boys and girls

So yesterday was a banner day for views. Between my YouTube version of a Hallmark greeting in honor of my handymanly husband and taking part in nursemyra’s T-Shirt Friday, I nearly topped out at 150. Woo-hoo, eh?

The week was packed with errands and reno and school preparations and family melodrama.

BabyD has been having tiny bouts of anxiety about her upcoming induction into grade one and all day school. To the point where she has been making Rob and I a bit peeved with “growing pain” episodes and tears at the drop of a hat about – nothing as far as we can ascertain.

We dropped by her school on Thursday as the teachers were finally back in the building and a visit to the grade one classrooms and a chat with her kindergarten teacher – in addition to picking up her supplies – has calmed her a bit. I will be taking her in on Tuesday but Wednesday we start with the bus back and forth. Fortunately, the little boy behind us (renters – it won’t last) is going to be riding the bus with her and with luck they will be in the same class.

Tee is a nice kid though Rob doesn’t think he is too bright (he thinks that about the boys ElderD and MidKid bring around too) and today BabyD and Tee played princess and My Little Ponies happily for over an hour. I have high hopes for this friendship*.

Most major activities for the fall are now booked. Ballet on Monday night for BabyD. Yoga twice a week from 10 AM to 11:30AM (me). I found a yoga strength training drop in class on Friday mornings too, and I am signed up now for the writing course at U of A. It’s being taught by a local journalist and writer and is designed for immigrants to tell the story of what brought them to the area. She is going to put together a book in which some of the stories might be included and there is a public reading after the class is over. Very cool opportunity.

Thursday being my dad’s birthday, I gave him a call around lunch because it is better to talk to him early in the day anymore. He is in bed most of the time and is not really eating again. Our talk was brief. He was not very responsive and sounded worn out and very old. Sometimes he is lively and witty but more often than not now he is sounding far away.

CB tried to call dad too a few hours later but got our mother instead and was told to call later as dad was asleep again. His call to dad was really about him – he needs help escaping his situation in San Francisco and wants to go home. To Iowa. That’s desperate folks.

Thwarted, he called me but got the answering machine. His tone told me I needed to call him right away and my instinct was right. He was zoned on his anti-anxiety meds and he talked – mostly at me – for an hour and a half. Basically he wanted me to convince the folks to bring him back to Dubuque.

And that’s what I have done.

But first I told him that it was time to really put the past in the past and take his relationship with our parents from now forward. No more looking back.

I told my mother the same thing when she tried to bring up CB’s long ago hell raising of his teens. I pointed out that he was a kid and they were the adults. They didn’t know he had mental health issues even as a small child but they had made mistakes and some of them were wrong no matter how the spin played.

I talked to my brother again on Friday. He sounded much better and I told him to call home and hash details out with the folks. Later DNOS called to wish Rob a happy birthday**, and when I told her about urging our parents to bring CB home for a bit, I got her pat reply,

“Oh really.”

Our mom uses the exact same expression and tone. DNOS sounds just like her sometimes – and would be horrified to know it.

Anyway, it means “WTF are you up to” or “Thanks so fucking much but I don’t think so”.

I noted but ignored. I am tired of some of the older family dynamics.

Dealing with CB is upsetting. It reminds me of Will in the earliest days of his illness – before we knew anything really – when he would get anxious or angry and plaintively tell me he had no idea why he felt as he did but that sometimes he felt like he was losing his mind. Sadly, he was and no one believed him or me.

CB’s quest to find mental help or help period has been fruitless with most doctors and other professionals telling him (or accusing him – take your pick) that he is actively choosing to live an effed up life. My folks and DNOS still believe this to some extent too. I don’t.

But I have no magic wand (or excess cash lying around) to help him, so I remind my parents that CB is their son and they have amends still to make. Unfair? Perhaps. But that is what big sisters are for.

Today Rob is off to the city to help ElderD move in with her friend who is a boy whom she loves and who loves her. Beyond that is anyone’s guess. Our massage therapist thinks BoySheLoves is gay***. We’ll see.

BabyD and I are off to shop for school clothes.

Next up is cleaning for a garage sale (good freaking god help me) and to put our new fall schedule to a serious road test.

Life in the Great White North.

* Like that the family doesn’t move soon. They are acreage crazy and it’s not looking good.

** My family worships my husband like aboriginals with a Coke bottle*.

*** Okay, we wondered about that too but ElderD says “no” because she wondered also and asked.

* nursemyra rightly reminds me that Australians might take offense at the coke bottle reference. I was thinking about that movie, The Gods Must Be Crazy, when I made the comparison. My family acts as though Rob dropped from the sky like a god in Greek Mythology and it irritates me to no end as it seems to me they are happier with him than they ever were with my late husband. I meant no offense but realize now that some people were offended and I am sorry.


My friend Nurse Myra over the Gimcrack has this little thing she calls T-shirt Friday and it takes place on the last Friday of the month in place of her Corset Friday. I have been toying with the idea of joining in and my husband prodded me a bit today by suggesting a shirt he had made for me as a gift during the LDR portion of our relationship.

Silverstar believes that tee’s should have a story. I agree.

Rob bought me the shirt as a bit of a play off one of our many risque email/IM dialogues. When you are connected only by technology foreplay is in the word – spoken or written.

He was a bit embarassed when he told the woman at the t shop what he wanted her to print on the shirt but I don’t think she blinked. I imagine people who create t-shirt’s for a living have seen much more than the rest of us in terms of content and creativity. Probably like tattoo artists in that respect.

So here is my tee for Myra’s Friday round-up:

 

Crew necks are so unflattering but the message is quite apt.

Crew necks are so unflattering but the message is quite apt.

 

Oh, and Happy Birthday once again Rob my love.