They’ll not forget this – ever

Tonight, two of the grands – specifically these two very lucky six year olds – got to watch the Capitol Fireworks from the White House.

They’re ‘connected’ apparently.

The fashion cure? Beats cod liver oil

So, you got a wee Vitamin D deficiency ma’am? No problem at all – just step over here and we’ve got a little fluorescent blanket and we’ll wrap it up inside this little bunting kind of blanket. Good. Now, we’ll fit on  these special shades – made just for very recent arrivals like you –  because when we turn on those lights . . . .

This is Grace Elizabeth who joined us early Saturday morning. We’ll call her Ellie.

 

 

Too soon?

If it is, let this one be seen as a genuine historical artifact. (Has anyone living today even heard of Dennis Day?) Because I had Irish grandparents, Day was well known in my family. An Irish Tenor with a brogue claiming Christmas for the Irish? Those grandparents loved the damn thing. (Listen for the “Santy” instead of “Santa”. My father was the only person I ever heard say it that way; probably came from his own childhood.

A way to go yet

But it’s a beginning. Have to be ready for the 14th, when Logan comes to help finish the decorations and make some cookies (a lame effort but always fun). He’s eight this year so has now done this with me for over half his life.

Friday already? Holy hollycrackers . . .

When I was 9 or 10, this song by Patience and Prudence was a big hit. My younger sister and I adopted it, learned every word, every note, every inflection, every breath, practicing until we had the harmonies perfected –  and then we sang it incessantly, something for which I suspect we’ve never been entirely forgiven.

It’s a preposterous song as were so many then, but it occupies a permanent slot in my childhood hit parade. The original version is here, but this is so much more fun  :

My name is Moe, and I am a fracking idiot

Oh, big ouch!  I just showed up at a friend’s house (45 minutes away) for dinner. He was a little surprised because the dinner is tomorrow. And that is why, now that I am home, I have chosen dessert for my evening meal.

A Canadian friend says . . .

Just had an email from Brian, Canadian citizen – he admires the US in many ways, but has always been puzzled by our odd attitudes on medical care. Now he is also worried:

we’ll be in FL by Nov. 17th. for another VT season…people in this country and our contacts in the UK are flabbergasted by the way your govt. is doing such damage to itself and its economy…big investors here such as our multi-billion dollar pension plans are starting to shy away from the US markets due to the volatility screwing up all their actuarial tables…how can such a small group of racist tea partiers take over so dramatically?

And so it goes . . .

How could she not win?

Go vote for my young friend’s niece at the Tonka photo contest!

This kind of nonsense can break up families

Oh the ugly . . . anger spreads today across the land because the First Family spent lottsa taxpayer money staying in Ireland. And the First Lady is bad. Bad, bad, bad . . . here are the first six comments from a post at something called reagancoalition.* (The story began at the Moonie-owned, barely subscribed financial failure The Washington Times, and then went to Newsmax where this coalition-of-racists picked it up.)

So she’s a low class n—ger with a big black butt whose kids hate her. Obviously. But it’s sooo classy to make fun of the kids (later comments savage them). I remember Limbaugh going after then 12 year old Chelsea Clinton and making fun of her looks. That was classy too.

An aside: the Obamas made a State visit the UK in ’10; Bush did the same in ’03. In 2011, the BBC compared costs and other aspects of the visits.  It’s here and is very interesting. Note that Bush brought 700 people with him; Obama brought 500. Pretty much this is what happens when a President of the United States goes calling.

*(Stipulated: 1) this looks like a wing site, and 2) I remember the Bush/monkey stuff but he was the president and she isn’t.)

I gave the original of this picture of my great grandfather to that cousin. It’s a precious one as he is reading the very first edition of The Saturday Evening Post, in 1887.

Anyway, the story that occasions this post popped up on my timeline on Facebook as a ‘share’ from a second cousin. When I first went onto Facebook, I was delighted to find relatives I hadn’t communicated with in decades and we began some lovely getting re-acquainted dialogue. I even joined this cousin’s sister in a genealogy project which we conducted via email. It was a great deal of fun and very rewarding. She was deeply interested in family history – unlike my own nieces and nephews – so I sent her many heirlooms from my own great-grandparents, grandparents etc; it was mostly original photos, letters, even some wedding veils . . . it was a wonderful year or two for both of us.

Until last year. That’s when I began streaming this blog onto my facebook page. The communications died, emails were only answered in the most cursory way and eventually not at all. I had all along been quite familiar with these women’s politics and knew we were very different that way. But that wasn’t the sort of thing what we talked about, so it didn’t matter. Or so I thought.

I’ve not unfriended either of them and never will, but it’s a loss.

What does it say that I forgot this yesterday?

I guess it says I’m getting old too. Thinkin’ of ya’ Dad.

Singing at his granddaughter’s wedding at age 95. And very well indeed.

If I may . . .

One of the grand-snugglies in my family was just presented with a baby sister. I’m melting . . .

A blogiversary!

Fifty Four And A Half turned two today! Go say congrats to Elyse.

Still missed (this was supposed to pop up yesterday)

(Note to self: Best to confirm actual date before scheduling posts in advance for later publication . . .)

I have to detox and it’s Wayne LaPierre’s fault

Teh stupid out there is wearing me down right now. The lure of this machine in my lap is in hiding or so faint I can’t even hear it.

Not surfing. Not bookmarking. Not posting (maybe some easy stuff). I will avert my eyes and hope for a refresh – I will define success as expelling (or at least containing) knee-jerk, reactive outrage that these days rises too quickly, too often and causes me to make rude noises.

BUT BUT BUT . . . in lighter news: Whatever Works will soon be handing out spare keys to two friends who’ve shown some interest in co-blogging.

They’re both male. They’re both actors. One is 18 and a bit bent and quite liberal. The other is 40, very bent, and very very conservative. Both are fun. And smart. And I like them a lot. And if we pull this off, I hope you do too.

(Hellooooo, Orhan . . . your key still works, if you want to, ya’ know . . . )

So long to a lovely guy. Rest in peace Richie.

LeBron said “Hi!”

Where was Moe Tuesday night you ask? (Okay, you didn’t ask.) Lucky Moe was at the AA Arena in Miami watching the Heat play Milwaukee. Sentient humans probably know who won that one.

Why was Moe at the Heat/Bucks game? Because she’s a proud aunt and her nephew is a Milwaukee coach.

It was thrilling to see him on the Court, in the regulation grey suit and maroon tie pow-wowing with the other coaches the way coaches do, clipboard clutched in hand.

They could be back in Miami in a few weeks for best-of-seven with the Heat. I’ll have the car all gassed up just in case.

An extra oldie for he-who-emerged from my own way back machine

 Did anyone else know that Shout goes back this far and was recorded by The Shangri-Las??? I certainly didn’t. (Shep is still in love with Mary Weiss from Queens it seems . . . )

I sang this to my father

A few hours before his death, I was alone with my father in a small cubicle off the Emergency Room. He was on a gurney and I on the only chair. I sang this song to him.

Never punch Rush in the belly

POSTED BY ORHAN

Moe wants you all to know that she’s under the weather—a fractured elbow–and will be posting infrequently for a while; a Saint Patrick’s Day post is a strong possibility, however. Elvis bless her, and let’s hope she heals quickly.

Stay tuned…

I didn’t build that!

WordPress has now sent the 2012 blog stats to its users. Allow me to share. 

Whatever Works is into its fourth year; my first post went up in September of 2009.  (Here it is.)

Since then, there have been 213,000 unique views. They came from  174 countries.

Here’s the history:

• 2009 (partial year) – 4900
• 2010 – 35,000
• 2011 – 63,000
• 2012 – 110,000

And there have been 2800 posts generating 20,000 comments.

As nice as this is, smug satisfaction from your bloghost is tempered by a less than glorious fact: the most viewed Whatever Works post of all time was, well, this. It got 2181 views because people were looking for that appalling photo. Humility is served.

I want to thank you all for visiting, for reading and for engaging in dialogue. Any blogger knows that over time, commenters become friends. And that’s the best part. Without you, this place is just noise. Just noise.

2013, here we come. . .

And so 2013 arrives. Right on time.

My very best wishes to all blogfriends for a peaceful and prosperous 2013.

Tried to see Lincoln today. Fail!

It seems my local movie emporium has discounted tickets on Tuesdays, something of which I was unaware. This is what it looked like when a friend and I got there – and this even though  staff had been walking the line telling people that if they hoped to see Lincoln, it was sold out. Turned right around – I don’t do lines. Fandango next time, but this may be the first time this place sold out. Ah, the irresisitable pull of a good movie plus a $5.00 ticket.  

We’ll try again later in the week.

Gobble, gobble y’all

This year I feel especially fortunate. More of my family is here in town – in fact, another brother and a nephew have become neighbors.  The young’un and his wife have been visiting since they were children to see grandparents So this has always been a part of ‘home’ to them.

I’m also grateful that both David Frum and David Brooks have begun using – and not in a nice way – the phrase ‘conservative-entertainment media complex’. 

(Pictured is one of the two pumpkin pies I made this morning. Came out pretty good I think; there’s an apple/cranberry yet to go.)

Happy T’day and please, please, stay away from Black Friday. I worry about injuries. 

 

Nice things happen, even to people like me

Market day for me. It’s always the same: make a list, check it twice, pay up, load the car trunk and head home to do it all in reverse. Like I said – always the same.

But not today. I got home but my purse didn’t. I’d left it in the shopping basket after unloading. (This is, embarrassingly, not the first time I’ve done this, although to be fair it was ten years ago.)

Heart in throat I raced back to the supermarket. Up to the service desk, now breathless. Do you have my purse? No, sorry. Heartbeat takes notice. Now frantic, I head out to look at every shopping cart I can find in the parking lot, but stop because behind me someone is calling my name. Someone in the store uniform.  First I wonder how does she know my name? And then I know. My world is about to be whole again.

The store clerk had just gotten a phone call from a couple who said they’d found the purse and were headed to my house, but then thought they’d best call just in case I went there. And now, the clerk said, they were turned around and headed back.

I love those people.

 

Bill Moyers talks to smart people

M y brother was here last week. We talked a lot about many things. He’s a fine conversationalist he is. And I’m not bad, so we had a good time. But he’s got an edge on me with the depth and breadth of his knowledge. And personal experience wtih much of which he speaks.

He’s a PhD in Philosophy, a former priest who studied texts in Latin and Hebrew. He’s a father and a grandfather. He’s a sailor and a superb do-it-yourselfer (a longtime fantasy of mine is to have him prisoner for a week in my house with his tools and no books. That would be sweet.)

He’s a lecturer, a college professor, a prolific author and travels extensively to meetings and workshops here and in Europe and in Africa. I’ve no idea how he has time to do any of these things. It’s annoying.

One of the things we talked about was labor and labor unions. I said I thought that the union model, as practiced today, has failed. It was the right model for a long time but is the wrong model for these times and needs to be reinvented.

He disagreed. But here’s some evidence that, for maybe the first time ever, because some very smart people are saying the same thing, I was right and he was wrong.

The relevant discussion is the first 20 minutes or so here from yesterday’s Bill Moyers’ show. It’s fascinating.

Fireworks in New York

And one of the snugglies is enchanted.

Friday oldie

I’ve just come back from my treasured beach, which lost 20 feet of dune thanks to Tropical Storm Debbie. The walkway over the dunes leads to stairs to the beach itself. Or it did. Yesterday those stairs were hanging in the air.

And today, it’s fixed because this is a wonderful  community full of wonderful people who jump in whenever needed. So I went down to get some pictures of them and of the repairs.

Which is my roundabout way of introducing today’s oldie. It has to to be a beach song of course – here’s some really early Beach Boys.

 

 

On Father’s Day

He had 98 years, was healthy until the last weekend of his life and had his children at his side when he died. Not too bad. Miss you Dad.

Lemme just knock off this here lollypop

Lucas is ready to ride. Helmet? Check. Crocs? Check. Smile? Check. Just a wee bit of apprehension? Check.

Another of the snugglies prepares to climb up on his first bike.

I’ll take the laughs where I can get them. And this made me laugh.

How do I explain to other adults of my certain age that I am dyyying to see this movie?