Author: maggeh

Million-Dollar Idea

Walking along the beach, we see four little girls frantically digging a hole on the edge of the surf. When a wave washes in, filling the hole, they squeal in dismay, and then redouble their efforts.

Me: What is it with kids digging futile holes in the sand when they know the water is just going to rush in? I must have done that a thousand times when I was little.

Bryan: (announcer voice) Since the dawn of time, children have battled the sea. Will the kids emerge victorious today, or will their small hopes be dashed yet again, against these rocky shores?

Ev: We should do a kid sports channel.

Bryan: That would be awesome! The announcers would have to be really serious.

Me: (announcer voice) If you look closely, Bob, Timmy’s lower lip is just beginning to quiver. Around mid-field he tends to turn away from the play and seek guidance from the goalie, as you may recall from the Beaver Park game in 04. Let’s see if history repeats.

Ev: I think we’ve really got something here.

First Things First

When I turn on the radio, I pay special attention to the very first thing the announcer says. Two quintessential NPR opening lines:

1)I have several Navajo friends, I can do a little plumbing

2) opened fire on a peaceful crowd.

Act Natural

Scenario: Two girls at a bar posture in short skirts and camis. One notices a pinball machine.

Girl 1: Oh my god. Amy, I’m such a dork. I have to play a game.

Girl 2: What?

G1: I’m such a dork, I love pinball.

G2: Oh.

G1: I hope no one is watching.

(Looks around exaggeratedly, bends deeply at the waist, and leans one-handed against the machine with hip cocked while she searches for the quarter slot. Her friend sighs.)

G1: I’m such a dork.

G2: Yeah.

Faithful Reader

I like this poem. It’s from a book called Sure Signs.

Selecting a Reader

by Ted Kooser

First, I would have her be beautiful,

and walking carefully up on my poetry

at the loneliest moment of an afternoon,

her hair still damp at the neck

from washing it. She should be wearing

a raincoat, an old one, dirty

from not having money enough for the cleaners.

She will take out her glasses, and there

in the bookstore, she will thumb

over my poems, then put the book back

up on its shelf. She will say to herself,

“For that kind of money, I can get

my raincoat cleaned.” And she will.

Condolences

After the London bombings last week, I wanted to offer my condolences to the UK. I am so sorry. All of this is awful, bewildering, and needless, and the rest of the world is as stunned as you must be. We are with you in your grief.

The Mighty Hath Fallen

Sorry for the brief interruption of service, I was busy. Busy with pain. I thought it was food poisoning, but it turned out to have been some sort of virus. The sort of virus that makes you wonder, disinterestedly, whether your insides may have liquefied.

Still, because we had barbecued ribs and strawberry shortcake at our Fourth of July picnic, and I awoke at 1:30 a.m. to revisit a less-appetizing version of said meal, I’m currently feeling bitter toward those foodstuffs. I’m ignoring them for a while, say several years, until they’ve learned their lesson.

(You know what sounds good though? Weak herbal tea and saltines. Mmmmm hmmmm!)

Actually, despite being mostly immobile for the last two days, I awoke feeling pretty damn good. Fine, in fact. The contrast is so great that I feel like doing something incredibly productive. Painting the apartment! Lining up all of our shoes and shining them until they gleam! Showering!

Rock and Roll Lifestyle

I’m posting from the airport where I’m waiting to catch a plane to Australia! I’ve wanted to visit Australia pretty much my entire life, so I’m atremble with glee. Keep an eye on my Flickr account (link at left). I’ll post whenever I’m near an Internet connection.

Also, I’m a wee bit superstitious, and wasn’t aware that my otherwise excellent husband had booked international travel on Friday the 13th. So, uh, if you could keep the plane aloft with your goodwill and happy thoughts, that would rock.