Random Thoughts on a Sunday (2nd Sunday of November 2011)

Hubby and self just could not agree on whether to take Bella to the groomers or to see “Margin Call.”

Brother-in-law, R, Dad of Niece G, has one speaking line in “Margin Call.” Self knows he is definitely in it because the movie was filmed in his office, and they had him sign a release form, stating that it was OK to use his “image” and “dialogue” in the movie.

Self also wants to see it because Zach Quinto, who despite not being on self’s team, is sooo magnetic — is in it. And it was rated 89% fresh on Rotten Tomatoes, the last time self checked.

On the other hand, Bella stinks —  much.  This is what happens when you achieve great old age.  Of course, it is a triumph to have achieved 16 dog years, which would be the equivalent of 100+ human years.  But you also have this deterioration of bodily functions, and if there is not a nurse or a loved one to constantly be cleaning after you —  if, for instance, your human minders are less than patient —  you will live out your last years in a mess of filth.

But self will never permit that to happen to The Ancient One.  Never, never, never!  (If Gracie had just given self a chance, self could have been equally vigilant with her.  But instead Gracie got a huge episode in the middle of the night, and when self found her the next day, she was just barely alive.  Which then led to her having to be put down, in April.  Which then led to a very depressing spring. Possibly the most depressing spring of self’s entire life)

Anyhoo, to return to the topic at hand, and the ostensible reason for this post, hubby finally took himself off to see “J. Edgar,” and self decided to make herself a lunch of mashed avocado, sugar, and evaporated milk.  Then she continued reading the New York Times Sunday magazine of 30 October.  And lo and behold!  There is a very interesting article about the graphic artist Lynda Barry, who as self knows is half-Filipino.

It seems Lynda loves to teach, and her students travel long hours to sit in her writing workshop, and on this particular day, the day when the New York Times reporter was sitting in, Lynda started off by singing, to the tune of “Coal Miner’s Daughter” :

I was born a meat cutter’s daughter
My mom was from the Philippines; she was a janitor
I ate TV dinners at night
I grew up by the TV light
While Dad drank vodka in the basement and Mom hollered.


Barry’s next trick is to tell her students: “I’m gonna work you like the mules on the Erie Canal.”

Self can see now why they love her.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

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