A Writer's Closet

Welcome to the weird flotsam of a writer's mind . . .

Location: Southern California

Monday, March 20, 2006

The Big 1-0 and I'm O-L-D!

My son had his first big birthday party yesterday, fitting since he was turning ten. Good lord, I was five years older than him when I met his father. He's showing signs of growing up, too, with a major crush on Jessica Alba. Daddy's very proud. I was happy to learn that he's also partial to Queen Latifa. And now I'm going to print this out and keep it so I can embarrass him with it when he starts dating.

The party was awesome, we got a bouncing castle and it was never empty. Even when it started to rain the kids didn't care, they all got soaked. My best friend and her boyfriend came and she posted an amazing photo on her website. I've gotta get my digital camera fixed. Her fella was fantastic with the kids, leaping into the fray, and he brought comics and a way cool original pen drawing by Ben Burden, the creator of Mystery Men. How did he score that? It's going inside a locked frame about 6 feet up on my son's wall. No touchie! He also graced us with an original Nate Pottker birthday card. I'd take a picture of it, but, damn camera!

Friday, March 17, 2006

Happy St. Patrick's Day

It seemed wrong for me not to blog about this day, seeing as I have family across the water. But, as usual, I have a complaint. I lived in Ireland for almost 4 years and I never once saw a plate of corned beef and cabbage. They don't eat it over there, people, it's an American fabrication. What they do eat--potatoes, about 6 different pork products, and natural yogurt. Also can't forget my favorite, the plum pudding, yum yum.

Actually I need to correct myself, I DID see corned beef and cabbage advertised in a restuarant once, but it was definitely satirical, making fun of America, specifically tourists who claim to be Irish and go over there with a suitcase full of gaudy clothes and a headful of misconceptions. American's use St. Paddy's Day (that's Paddy with a "D", not a "T" as I've seen some places) as an excuse to drink, but for a country who's social structure revolves either around the church or the pub (sometimes both) they don't need an excuse. They already know how to celebrate, better than Americans do.

Monday, March 13, 2006

Moo cow or mad cow?

A cow is an herbivore, right? For those of you who haven't had your coffee yet today, it means "plant eater." At some point in worldwide history farmers thought they could do better than mother nature and pulled a Martha Stewart by "recycling" their dead cows into their live cow's feed, and voila, mad cow disease is born. And all it took was cheap people and dead cow brains to do it. See what happens when you screw around with the status quo? My biggest gripe about mad cow disease is that, because I lived overseas when it came out (1990's), I'm not eligible to donate blood in America, according to the Red Cross. But, lo, here it is right in America. I swear, the only things I imported from Ireland were a husband, a global viewpoint, and an affinity for using "cow" as a swear word, as in, "You just cut in line in front of me, you cow."

My best friend gave me a great belly laugh today in a letter written to Axl Rose. How the mighty have fallen.

Sunday, March 12, 2006

Back on the air

After almost a month long absence I'm back to my blog. Today is a record, at least in my book. A bank thermometer I passed this afternoon read 49 degrees. That might not seem so bad to you folks back east, or up north, but I've lived in Southern California for 15 years and this is the first time I've been able to see my breath in broad daylight. I dodged hailstones while unloading groceries from the car. My poor old dog is practically catatonic with the miserable cold. I know how he feels.

Speaking of dogs, I recently read Marley and Me, by John Grogan. If you like dogs in the slightest, read it, read it, read it. Ditto if you're just thinking about getting a dog, so you'll know what you may be getting yourself into. It's a totally realistic chronicle of Marley from puppyhood on (I'll let you figure the rest out yourself), the extensive trouble he gets into, the love he brings to the family and the life lessons he teaches. As a former (sniff) owner of a large dog, I was able to identify with Marley's insatiable appetite (my Rottwieler loved to nosh on door frames). There's even a website called Marley and Me, with message boards with cool titles like The Things They Ate where you can find adorable pictures of a Lab puppy caught in the act with various household items.