Tuesday, July 29, 2008

BEWITCHED, BOTHERED AND BEWILDERED

Years ago, before the price of gas was $50 a gallon, my mom and I decided to take a “ROAD TRIP!” We drove up to Washington D.C., but the most memorable thing to me of that whole trip had nothing to do with the Lincoln Memorial. I saw “Mike the Spike!” He was a smokin' piano player at this jazz club in Foggy Bottom.


My mom and I paid (what we thought was outrageous cover at the time) to get in to One Step Down Jazz Club. Anyway, the last song that he played was “Bewitched.” It was great. After the concert, I went up to ol' Mike the Spike and told him how amazing he was on the piano.

I’ll never forget the next words out of his mouth. He looked at me for a few seconds and then said in a thick, fake, Southern drawl: “Boy, you shhhuuurrre doooo have a reeeeeal Suuuuuthern acceeeent!” I was stunned. Looking back, I wish that I had said, “Yes, along with Southern charm and hospitality.” Oh…but yeah, time machines don’t exist…

I am not sure where Mike the Spike lives these days, but I think that I know where he got his nickname. What a jerk! Anyway, just thinking about that story made me ponder the strange qualities of Darrin, Samantha and the beloved television series, Bewitched. What is the DEAL with that show?

I loved watching reruns as a youngster, but now that I am a wife and mother, I say: “What the hey?” Is Darrin mental? He watched his wife burn holes in his shirts while ironing, vacuum up the curtains and all sorts of other blunders. Did Darrin not want gourmet meals with a wiggle of the nose? What about all the painstaking housework being done with “wiggle, wiggle, wiggle?” Oh, and what about episodes when they have to call a plumber or something! Huh? I can’t believe that Samantha put up with that for so long!


I always sided with Samantha during the episodes and the fact that she was being a good wife doing her mundane duties "sans magic," but I am beginning to think that Endora had it right by calling Darrin “Dumb-Dumb.” Hey, from Darrin's point of view, I guess that it's hard being married to a witch who is immortal and will look spectacular even at 85, but for crying out loud, does she have to fold every piece of laundry? I think that might be the reason that the role of Darrin had to be played by Dick York AND Dick Sargent. Maybe she turned the first husband into a TOAD! Ribbit, ribbit!

Monday, July 21, 2008

THE INVISIBLE WORLD...TO BE ALOOF

Okay, what the heck is a Loofah? All right, I know what it is, but no one seems to know how to spell it as it can be spelled “Luffa, Loofah or Lufah,” according to the world’s leading resource in such matters: Wikipedia!

I think that products like Loofahs are overrated. However, it seems that they are all the rage in luxurious bath products. Everyone is buying them in multiple sizes and colors. Oh, and don’t forget to pick up the soap with grains of sand in it to really scrub away those pesky dead skin cells. Ouch! Here’s the thing: So, unless you toss the Loofah each night you wash, well, aren’t you just scrubbing the old skin cells back on the newly revealed ones? Gasp!

For that, and obvious germy reasons, I choose washcloths over Loofahs. I guess that you have to be “aloof” that there are germs and dead skin cells festering in the Loofah. Or, spell it backwards. Quite revealing. Like playing an old 1980s album backwards. Yeah, I am talking vinyl. Remember those hidden messages? Or, maybe that was something my older brothers used to tell me to occupy me while they did something truly cool.

I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, like I am a germ phobic freak. I keep a moderate amount of dust in the home. Builds up the immune system. Plus, I like to spend my spare time doing other things besides housework, but there is no need to purposefully grow cultures in one’s own home!

The next victim of my product tirade is the plastic toothbrush case that protects the bristles from all the “evil germs” in the outside world. What about the smorgasbord of germs having a party inside the plastic case? Yumm. I get the point for traveling, but for everyday use? I say: "Air out those bristles!"

By the way, it is SO not okay to borrow someone’s toothbrush, especially without asking. (Moment of silence while I remember the absolute horror of it all). It is not like a hairbrush. It is a TOOTHBRUSH. I actually had a debate about this with someone near and dear to my heart. I thought that little unspoken rules like this were beyond reproach. Apparently not.


Last but not least—the toilet bowl scrubber. People actually use the same one for years. It’s not like those doodads are expensive. Let’s just break the bank and invest in new scrubbers every now and then; shall we? One of my friends had a roommate who actually cleaned their toilet bowl scrubber in the DISHWASHER. Yeah, she had a heart-to-heart about that one: “Hey, man, it’s really, ummmm, not the 'best' idea to mix toilet scrubbers and dishes.” Talk about an extra kick in the recipe, eh?

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

CAR COMMERCIALS AND LEAD FEET

Back in the day, cars were cars. They all looked alike, and people still got from point A to point B. Over the years, they have evolved into all sorts of shapes and colors, and I think that variety and competition are good. But now, we are supposedly “in love” with our cars, which is mildly disturbing.

For example, the recent Cadillac car commercial ends with this: “I have one question for you. Whenever you turn on your car, does it return the favor?” I almost had coffee shooting out of my nose whenever that line was delivered in a low sexy voice. What the heck? My husband and I had a good laugh about it, but I DID remember it. So, OMG, was I part of the target audience? How embarrassing! Well, I am not a status symbol girl, so I would say – uh, nah!

Anyway, that leads me to another favorite subject. I am convinced that road rage is a genetic issue. People either have road rage, or they don’t. I am fortunate in the way that I don’t get fighting mad if someone “cuts me off,” but I probably cause road rage…singing to my hippie music. Sorry road rage readers!

This is what I don’t understand. I give courtesy seconds to people if they are sitting at a green light. However, after my courtesy seconds expire, I give a little “honk.” Not “hooooooooonk” or even “honk, honk,” just a simple, gentle, loving tap of a “honk.” Some people drive off without incident, but I think that it’s so weird whenever people give a mad “honk” back. It’s like a protest honk. Are they saying: “Don’t you know that I was sitting at this light on purpose? You dimwitted fool!” Or, maybe I am interpreting it wrong. Maybe they are honking a “thank you” to me. But…somehow…I don’t think so. They usually seem ticked, and I don’t think that I will ever understand that.

Beware: Loving “honks” can be fatal! This actually DID happen to me. I was at a red light, and there were two burly men in two pickup trucks in front of me, just shooting the breeze at the light. So, the light turned green. I gave more than my usual courtesy seconds because (A) They were burly. (B) I wanted them to be able to say goodbye without an obnoxious honk ruining the beautiful moment. Alas, finally, I honked. The burly man in front and to the right of me revved up his engine. RRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrr! He shot me the meanest look in the South. Then, he acted like he was going to ram the side of my car. Holy cow! I pretended not to see him and dramatically slowed down in order to keep from being killed.

If nothing else, people with road rage, weaving in and out of traffic and slamming on breaks will get less gas mileage, and that is sweet satisfaction for me these days!

Sunday, July 13, 2008

GENERATION TO GENERATION

Who makes up names for generations anyway? I mean, you have the “Great Generation” and “Baby Boomers” and then “X” & “Y?” The creative director must have retired or something. Probably was part of the Great Generation. At least the new naming hack could have started at the beginning of the alphabet because we will be in a panic at Generation Z. Perhaps it was a meteorologist who named them at the end of “H” season. Yeah, I don't write the “H” word.


So, I bought into this corny idea of getting a journal for my parents for Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. It was some Hallmark sappy thing about leaving a legacy. But, on second thought…not so corny. Listen up!


Okay, Generation X-ers and Y-ers, here is the deal. People in the Great Generation knew how to put lard in a jar and bury it in the ground to keep it cold. Why, may you ask? Not all that sure. I don't know where to find lard, aside from buying a pack of Oreos. If I had lard, I am not sure what I would do with it either...besides bury it in the ground as I heard my grandfather say once while talking about life on the farm in Kansas.


My other Great Generation grandparents grew up in the hills of North Louisiana, working farmland. My great-grandfather was a farmer by day and a house-calling dentist whenever someone's tooth was about to explode! My great-grandmother was of French origin and had lots of kids WITHOUT an epidural, and she bathed all of them in the same tub, same water. The kids took turns on who went first each night. Eeewwww!!!

If you looked back, your family would have similar stories. Stories about the iceman who would deliver ice for the fridge. Stories of riding horses not cars. This may seem like fiction to Twitter-ers, iPhone-aholics, “crack-berry” carrying workaholics and the like of today, but it's so real. I started thinking about this whenever I saw a clip on “desk rage” of people going nuts and kicking over their computers at work. Huh?


So, it's kinda scary in today's world that so many people don't know the secrets of the past. We did, after all, survive without oil. What's even scarier to me is that I lack a green thumb to the point that I killed a cactus. A CACTUS! Is that even possible? How would I ever run a farm?

So, go out there and get those legacies! You will be so glad that you did.