Go See “A Serious Man”

Saturday Paul and I went to Indianapolis to visit a man who had had his leg amputated, and since we were in the big city, we decided to go see a movie. We went to “A Serious Man” with absolutely no knowledge about it–had no idea who was in it, who directed it–we just wanted to see a movie and it looked like it was getting good reviews.

When it was over, my initial reaction was, “Wow, I do not understand this movie,” but it is one of those that makes you think and mull it over for days and days. “A Serious Man” takes on the very serious question of the human condition and a person’s relationship with God. But since it is a Coen brothers flick, it is also at times hilariously funny. It sent me back to the Old Testament to read the book of Job, and I think the movie makes more and more sense to me. It is brilliant, funny, tragic, and altogether wonderful.

Larry Samski becomes Everyman–a Jewish Everyman trying to see a rabbi so he can figure out why things are going so horribly wrong in his life and what he can do about it. The message on the goy’s teeth, the Grace Slick philosophy, the Bathsheba next door, and the uncle who has to keep draining his boils all blend together into a movie you will never forget. Go see it–and then let me know what you think.

How’s that tasting for ya?

I have noticed a dark turn to my restaurant-going. In the past, a waiter might say something like, “Can I get you anything?” or “Is everything all right?” Lately the question has been, “How’s everything tasting?” or even the more horrible “Does everything taste wonderful?” This strikes me as being intensely personal (s/he is asking about my tastebuds!)–not to mention unhelpful.
How is one supposed to respond to “How’s that tasting for ya?”
1. It’s yummy.
2. It’s too salty.
3. The texture reminds me of sand and pinatas (an actual response to the same question when Greg was 9 and I wanted to know how he liked dinner–followed by “Please don’t ever make this again.”)
4. It has a subtle bouquet.
5. Don’t take my word for it–here have a little bite yourself!
Is there a way to thwart this trend? Probably not. In the meantime, it saves the waiters actually having to do anything for you–which they might have to do if they asked what you needed. In the future I am going to say, “I’m just curious–were you trained to ask that?” as my response. I’m heading toward curmudgeonhood at a rapid pace.

A truly phallic fungus

I took this picture in front of my house. It is commonly called a “stinkhorn” or a “devil’s dipstick.” I’m not kidding.

Beneath the Serengeti (Cameroon) moon

Recently we had some houseguests from Cameroon who brought Paul a traditional outfit to wear. I thought I should share this photo with the world–the world definitely deserves it. Chester is sitting on the sofa on the right side of this picture. He’s looking askance.

Pickled Pigs’ Feet

Sarah K. once bought a jar of pickled pig’s feet to see how long it would take her husband to notice them in the cupboard. After several days (correction, Sarah tells me it was more like a month), she put them on the counter, then the middle of the table, and finally brought them to Derek’s attention (I believe he claimed they were not that unusual, considering Sarah’s penchant for cooking unusual things).

In the spirit of that experiment, I’m going to see how many months it takes for Paul to see this mention of him. Should I feel bad that he doesn’t ever read my blog?

Simon and Chester

I have two new cats–Simon and Chester. I got them just a couple of weeks ago. They are about 8 years old and very fat–Simon weighs 13 pounds and Chester weighs 19. Simon is part Siamese, with blue eyes, and is the most loving boy! He likes to jump in my lap, have his ears scratched, and purr. He also likes to put his bottom in my face, which I don’t like as much as I do scratching his ears–I’m trying to teach him not to do that. Chester looks like Morris the cat–he’s a big tabby. He’s a little more standoffish than Simon, but still, he is pretty friendly.

I had forgotten how much I love to have a friendly being at the end of a hard day–not that Paul’s not friendly, but cats don’t know about any of your faults. They don’t care if you were mean to a coworker, if you yelled a cuss word at another car, or even if you forgot to pay one of your bills. They love you anyway.

I love my cats.

Who is that darling little boy and who is letting him play with that knife?

OK, can you tell who this is? A tiny hint. It is about 1958. Isn’t he adorable? Doesn’t this explain his lifelong fascination with knives, lathes, and other dangerous equipment?

Flip That House?

I spent the greater part of July in Utah doing essentially what I do every day at my job–bossing people around. My brother and I decided to buy our dad’s house from our two sibs and do some fixing up, with an eye to selling it in about a year. I don’t think either one of us is really in it to make a lot of money–for me, it was primarily emotional–that, and wanting a really big project to work on!

I arrived in Utah June 22 and returned home July 20. During the time I was there, my brother and I got a
TON done on the house. It sounds rude, but there’s a big advantage to having some money to spend during a recession. I was able to get multiple bids (quickly) and get projects done and completed quickly. There were ads on the radio stations that I heard over and over again saying, “If you have the means, now is the time to help your neighbors by spending your money.” I helped my neighbors in spades. The main floor of the house has had the walls repaired, the ceiling textured, and everything painted. We took out the kitchen ceiling, repaired and reinforced beams (including having a hydraulic jack that lifted the sagging roof) and put in more insulation over the entire attic. We removed everything from the kitchen, moved electrical for the stove, and added 4 new outlets and installed 8 can lights in the new ceiling. We took out the bushes in front of the house and put in new landscaping, re-roofed the patio, and put in a new circuit box. We also bought cabinets, countertop, sink, new stainless steel appliances, and arranged to have a plumber create plumbing for a built-in dishwasher and water to the icemaker in the refrigerator. We trimmed the back tree that had dead branches. I cut back the overgrown grass and put weed killer on a lot of it (that is not going to last very long, but it made me feel better! ) Paul D. fixed a toilet (that was a 5-hour job that involved injury!) and Paul H. put in a new faucet in the pink bathroom to replace the one that was leaking (that one almost required an emergency call to the utility office, since we realized we didn’t know where the main water turn off valve was! I put in a cement ridge in front of the basement door to try to divert water, and spot painted that back bedroom. I also scraped and spot painted some outside places that were peeling. It was a lot to do in just a little over 3 weeks! In fact just looking at this list makes me tired.

Here’s a photo of the front of the house with the bushes removed and the new landscaping. There’s still lots of junk on the porch from the kitchen:

On the last day I was there all I had to do was wait for the cabinets to be delivered. In the time it took me to go put my shoes on, the driver had managed to slip his brakes and slide into the ledgestone wall in front of the house with his semi. The driver was infuriating–he immediately tried to pretend it wasn’t really damaged and started trying to replace the stones (which of course made me furious). The shipping company has assured me they will cover it–but now I need more bids, etc. and I’m not around to follow up and harrass people about how they’re doing their work the way I was when I spending my full effort on it! Here’s the poor wall:

I’m a bag lady–going through garbage

Today is a new low in life. This morning I went to the dentist to have some work done on an upper tooth, and the dentist shot me full of so much novacaine (or something) that it literally deadened my right eyeball! Of course I had no pain, but I also could not move the right side of my face. It made me look weirdly demonic–with no wrinkles on the right side (as if I’d been pumped full of Botox), all of them having migrated to the left side.

It has now been 5 hours, and I still have a crooked face.

I decided (because I am crazy) to run an errand at the local Wal-Mart over lunch (don’t judge me–they had everything I needed under one roof). After I had bought my things, I decided to grab a quick sandwich at Subway. Thereby disastor visited.

After a thoroughly tasty veggie max, I went to my car, only to discover I didn’t have my keys. I went back to several places I’d been, and I realized people were talking to me really slowly–as though my mental capacities were diminished. The more I tried to ask in my slurred way where my keys might be (I was sent to automotive, because someone thought I wanted keys MADE), the worse it got.

I finally realized there was no other option than that I had thrown them away, when I had wrapped up my tidy little mess after I finished eating. So there I was, drooping face, going through garbage! Two Chinese guys sat at a table watching me with great sadness, or worry, or something, and when I finally triumphantly fished them out, I felt compelled to explain to them that they were my keys, and I must have accidentally thrown them away. They now looked scared.

I hope this day will be over soon.

Poor Possum with a Ponderous Pouch

This morning I went for a little walk around my yard–it was early, and I was just quietly looking at all the little growing things, and seeing which little things had popped out of the earth, and which were bigger than the day before. Suddenly a possum came running toward me. It startled me, so I moved into the road. It realized I was there, and decided to climb through the metal bars of my fence. Just one problem. The possum’s middle was gigantic, and she couldn’t get through the bars. Poor thing. She probably thought she was like she was BEFORE she was carrying around a dozen or so little possums.

I watched as she struggled, trying not to laugh, because she was baring her teeth at me and obviously frightened, but it looked so cartoon-like as her front claws dug a hole on the other side of the fence as she tried to get through. She gave up and backed out–and then tried to go through an identical space just to her right! Amazingly, after 5-10 seconds of struggling, she finally got through the second time. Maybe some of her babies moved around.

I found out that possums have the smallest brain to body ratio of any mammal (which explains a lot!) I also found that they usually have 16-20 babies that are just the size of a grain of rice. After they are born (just a couple of weeks after the mother mates) they make their scary way across her hairy belly to the pouch. Many don’t make it, and the mother only has 13 nipples, so if they don’t find a nipple to attach to, they will also die. About 2 months later they are big enough to leave the pouch.

Talk about interesting. I hope I see her again tomorrow.