Invention Of Fine Art
Stay Positive
C’mon friends, stay positive!
And in that same spirit, see bonus Dorothy Parker selections below.
Quotes, quips & poems from the mistress of the verbal hand grenade:
Feel free to indulge in much more Dorothy, here.
Easter Through The Years
Easter through the years:
Fashions and faces change,
but the baskets remain the same…
(Except for ’61 when all I had was a paper bag – Oh well.)
Say That Again Slowly
Say that again, but slowly this time…
Palindrome
Go hang a salami. I’m a lasagna hog.
A man, a plan, a canal: Panama.
Lisa Bonet ate no basil.
Do geese see God?
Wonton? Not now.
Code nine, doc!
Stack cats.
Virtue Signaling
For the first time since before the pandemic, Tax Day is upon us more or less right on schedule here in mid-April. Before you go and indulge in any ** virtue signaling ** by saying you’ve already done your taxes and have long since spent your refund, know this: I haven’t. But if you, like me, are a habitual tax procrastinator, also know this: You can rest easy, because Friday is a holiday – at least for DC residents (see the details here) – and that means IRS offices are closed. It also means we all have until next Monday to finish without filing an extension. (Note: Since state taxes are dependent on the feds, those are also due on the 18th this year.) That’s good news for the un-virtuous among us. And for the rest of y’all? Well, I hope you did something fun with your refund.
“I’ve come full circle in my procrastination loop and ended up doing my taxes to avoid working out.”
Happy Emancipation Day!
** Generally a pejorative term, “virtue signaling” is the action or practice of publicly expressing opinions or sentiments intended to demonstrate one’s superior character and/or the moral correctness of one’s position on a particular issue.
Wait… What?
Here is proof positive that an assortment of random memes is more popular than a carefully considered dissertation. Wait… What?
Yeah, you heard me. Favorites, anyone?
More, here.
Beg To Differ
What’s that I hear you say… You beg to differ?”
Yeah, I know, I know – you’ve got something that says otherwise.
But I’ve got one that says it all.
Good News Bad News
Well, as the old guys used to say, “There’s good news and there’s bad news. Which do you want first?” I say, let’s mix it up a little. So, without further ado…
********
The good news: With a no-carb diet and meds, my A1C is down to 6.4 from 14.2 (i.e. almost normal). The bad news: When my contract with UMG runs out – as expected at the end of June – I’ll be without health insurance for 18 months until Medicare kicks in. Assuming I have no desire to go work in Jackson, MS, which I emphatically don’t. Now about that diet…
The bad news: My non-English-speaking Afghan refugee Airbnb guests gave me a 4/5 rating, thus nullifying my Superhost status. The good news: They now have found a permanent place to live. And my property management guys will only charge 7% commission on a 1-year lease, so stay tuned for further details on your late local news at 11.
The good news: My current Airbnb guests, all cast members of the musical “Wicked” now playing at the Performing Arts Center in downtown Sac, emerged unscathed from the horror of last weekend’s mass shooting just blocks from their venue. The bad news: There are roaches in my stairwell after last week’s rains, probably came in on somebody’s muddy shoes, or so say the pest control people. Ah well, into every life a little rain must fall.
The bad news: In an epic meltdown, UNC blew a 16-point lead to lose the Men’s NCAA Basketball Championship last night. The good news: I picked Kansas.
********
Anne Lamott has a good news bad news post of her own today, which I’m reprinting below without shame. This is good news for those of you who enjoy her stuff. But for those of you who don’t, well, bad news for you I guess. But I’m pretty sure you’ll get over it.
I am going to be 68 in six days, if I live that long. I’m optimistic. Mostly.
God, what a world. What a heartbreaking, terrifying freak show. It is completely ruining my birthday plans. I was going to celebrate how age and the grace of myopia have given me the perspective that almost everything sorts itself out in the end. That good will and decency and charity and love always eventually conspire to bring light into the darkest corners. That the crucifixion looked like a big win for the Romans.But turning 68 means you weren’t born yesterday. Turning 68 means you’ve seen what you’ve seen — Ukraine, Sandy Hook, the permafrost… and Marjorie Taylor Greene. By 68, you have seen dear friends literally ravaged by cancer, lost children, unspeakable losses. The midterms are coming up. My mind is slipping. My dog died.Really, to use the theological term, it is just too frigging much.And regrettably, by 68, one is both seriously uninterested in a vigorous debate on the existence of evil, or even worse, a pep talk.********
So what does that leave? Glad you asked: the answer is simple. A few very best friends with whom you can share your truth. That’s the main thing. By 68, you know that the whole system of our lives works because we are not all nuts on the same day. You call someone and tell them that you hate everyone and all of life, and they will be glad you called. They felt that way three days ago and you helped them pull out of it by making them laugh or a cup of tea. You took them for a walk, or to Target.Also, besides our friends, getting outside and looking up and around changes us: remember, you can trap bees on the bottom of Mason jars with a bit of honey and without a lid, because they don’t look up. They just walk around bitterly bumping into the glass walls. That is SO me. All they have to do is look up and fly away. So we look up. In 68 years, I have never seen a boring sky. I have never felt blasé about the moon, or birdsong, or paper whites.It is a crazy drunken clown college outside our windows now, almost too much beauty and renewal to take in. The world is warming up.********
Well, how does us appreciating spring help the people of Ukraine? If we believe in chaos theory, and the butterfly effect, that the flapping of a Monarch’s wings near my home can lead to a weather change in Tokyo, then maybe noticing beauty—flapping our wings with amazement — changes things in ways we cannot begin to imagine. It means goodness is quantum. Even to help the small world helps. Even prayer, which seems to do nothing. Everything is connected.But quantum is perhaps a little esoteric in our current condition. (Well, mine: I’m sure you’re just fine.) I think infinitely less esoteric stuff at 68. Probably best to have both feet on the ground, ogle the daffodils, take a sack of canned good over to the food pantry, and pick up trash. This helps our insides enormously.********
So, Sunday I will celebrate the absolutely astonishing miracle that I, specifically, was even born. As Fredrick Buechner wrote, “The grace of God means something like, “Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn’t have been complete without you.” I will celebrate that I have shelter and friends and warm socks and feet to put them in. And that God – or Gus – found a way to turn the madness and shame of my addiction into grace. I’ll shake my head with wonder, which I do more and more as I age, at all the beauty that is left and still works after so much has been taken away.So celebrate with me. Step outside and let your mouth drop open. Feed the poor with me, locally. Or, if you want to buy me something, make a donation to UNICEF. My party will not be the same without you.
Today’s Bacon
Today’s quote of the day comes from Sir Francis Bacon:
Philosopher. statesman, and 1st Viscount St Albans.
Oopsie.
Scientific methodology or no, that’s gotta hurt.
Shoulda worn long underwear, I guess.
NOTE TO SELF:
Always wear warm mittens while handling Today’s Bacon.
Ah well.
So sorry, Sir Francis.
Small consolation, I know, but…
Better luck next time!