long-term usefulness
MYSTERY OF THE FEET
Normally I wear a size 5.5 shoe. Sometimes a 5 if they run large, almost never a 6. But, after a heartbreaking experience with some beautiful boots that had to go straight back into their Zappos box, I have become resigned to the fact that I have to shoe-shop in meatspace from now on. Here is the weird thing, though—a European size 36 has always fit me perfectly. I’m talking multiple brands, across the board. Most people say that 36 = American size 6, but how can that be, if size-6 shoes in this country are always too big? Could it be that 36 is some nebulous mystery size that is precisely between 5.5 and 6? Do I need to move to Europe and become a foot model?
WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE
1. The other night at dinner, Nora was talking about how the word “brown” in French is either “marron” or “brun,” and then she mused that “brun” actually sounds a bit like “brown” and “it’s probably a cognate.” (She’s right, it probably is. But what the hell is going on in first grade these days?)
2. More charmingly, a lot of these malted milk balls showed up in Nora’s trick-or-treat collection. There was nothing better than listening to Nora go through her candy haul and hearing her say, “Oh, I got a lot of Whoopers.” Whoopers are pretty tasty, did you know that? Mmmm, Whoopers. I refuse to correct her. From now on those things will be known as Whoopers.
NO GOOD DEED
Posters in our neighborhood advertised a lost cat, a sweet-looking gray tabby, please call, we miss her so, etc. Last week Nora and I were walking to the bus stop when we saw a very similar-looking cat, who rubbed on our legs and purred and just generally seemed like Someone’s Cat. This cat was wearing a collar, while the cat in the posters was not, but I flipped open my cell phone and called the number anyway, leaving a message that was kind of like, “uhhhh, I didn’t do anything terribly helpful like return your cat, but I think I saw it on X street so maybe you can look there, good luck.” And we walked away a little hopeful that a stripey cat would soon be back on someone’s sofa.
Later that day a guy called me, saying that yeah, that was his cat! They let her out all the time! But once she didn’t come home for like two weeks and he got concerned and put up posters. Also yes, she is wearing a collar now, because he suspects that someone had taken her into their home to feed her and stuff, so he wanted to make it very clear that his cat is NOT A STRAY. She is just a pet cat roaming around freely. So you know, thanks for the call but it is all a big “never mind.”
This pissed me off pretty seriously, if you want to know the truth. I think it’s a craptacular idea to think you can have an “outdoor” cat in the middle of a large city, because it is only a matter of time until it gets squished by a car. If you in fact are an idiot and let your cat outdoors, then you really don’t get to put up “missing cat” posters when it doesn’t come home.
Speaking of cats, here is something that happens in my house every single day. The cat bowl is empty of dry food, and Crazy Rocko is standing in front of the bowl screaming and generally pitching a big drama-queen fit. I go to the cabinet to get out the kibble and he stands right in front of it and thus gets hit with the cabinet door. Then he rushes over to the bowl and awkwardly stands right in front of that, so I gently, but deliberately, bash him in the head with the cat-food bag. Every single day.
BIRD BANDS
In the spirit of former band-name lists, like band names that are complete sentences or band names that have some sort of medical spin, I was thinking today about how many bird-related bands there are.
- Doves
- Swans
- Cranes
- Flock of Seagulls
- Owls [Chicago thing, now broken up I think]
- Seagull Screaming Kiss Her Kiss Her
- Pelican
- The Byrds
- Wrens
- Counting Crows
- The Dodos
- The Quails
- The Eagles
- The Housemartins
- The Partridge Family
- Wings
Any others?
THE GREATEST BIRD IN THE WORLD
Owl in a box! Owl in a box! I love owl in a box! Via Emma, who deserves so many nice things right now.
VANISHING POINT
My child has to do this ridiculously lengthy and complicated Native American report and project, which is a whole separate topic of angst. There is a diorama involved. There are pages and pages of fact sheets to research and fill out. Poor Nora has been assigned a somewhat-uninteresting tribe, meaning that they were mostly peaceful and corn-farming and didn’t cause or receive a lot of drama. (They also currently own shitloads of casinos, but unfortunately the diorama has to feature a “traditional dwelling” and not a gambling establishment, so we cannot craft any little drunk dudes in wolf t-shirts playing video poker inside a shoebox. Darn.)
Anyway, I had just gotten home and was helping Nora do part of the report portion while our (awesome) nanny was getting ready to leave. This particular section of the report involved drawing your tribe’s particular native garb on the outline of a person, and the instructions also said to include one of their methods of transportation and color the background. This had me crabbing out loud about how there was simply no room to draw a to-scale canoe next to this person, and it was going to look so stupid to have this tiny little canoe next to this giant Native American woman. Then the nanny, an art education student, gently pointed out that one could use perspective, and draw the horizon, and make the canoe appear to be behind the person. Oh. Yeah. If she had not been there I totally would have told Nora to line everything up in the foreground. With me, it’s like the Renaissance never happened!
—mimi smartypants also believes in spontaneous generation.