Catalogs Drive Real Estate Dreams

Haiti. The Massachusetts election. Haiti. Rain on the Golden Globes. Haiti. Dog Bites Firefighter Saving Dog's Life. Haiti. And so it went. Not a great week to even think about a catalog. Then came the Supreme Court's decision on corporations. Now all I can think about is one catalog in particular: the Vermont Country Store.

I Wanna Live in the Vermont Country Store

I wanna live in the pages of the Vermont Country Store.

I simply can't live in the real world no more.

I want to fill up my ears with Vermont Maple Butters

And never hear another word that Sarah Palin utters.

In the VC Store I can buy Camay and Lifebuoy soap,

To wash the mouths of those who tell another Tiger joke.

I can eat Sky Bars and Chuckles and Mallo Cups till I'm full.

I'll sit on chenille bedspreads; wear socks of No-Itch merino wool.
Creamy Lobster Bisque and chowders will keep away the cold.
Health care is now up to the guy who did the nude centerfold.
(So who cares if my arteries explode?)

A Circulation Toner firms me up without me moving a muscle.
Life is good in VCS land: no texting, no blogging, no hustle.
I want to live at the Vermont Country Store.
That's all there is; there isn't any more.

My Book of Why

Being a children's writer, I often find great "why" books. It's always fun to find good books with simple explanations to the infinite mysteries of childhood such as: Why do I sneeze?  Why is the sky blue? Why do worms come out when it rains? Why do stars twinkle? I often find these question books in catalogs. This is a great one I just ordered from Amazon.

I wish I had time to write a question/answer book for kids my age. I have plenty of questions, but no decent answers. Don't you ever wonder:

• Why do eyebrows go gray first?
• Why is it always a mistake to switch to the short check-out line?
• Why does it hurt so much when the clerk calls you "M'am?"
• When did you first notice the backs of your elbows resemble elephant skin?
• What made you think you would enjoy your high school reunion?
• Why do young, hunky men have no interest in you unless you are in cardiac arrest?
• Why don't you have the guts to ask the foreign manicurists what they are laughing at?
• Why would Jamie Lee Curtis need to eat yogurt to have a B.M.?
• What are the odds of you making it to the Smuckers jar on the Today Show? (Would these odds improve if you ate that yogurt?)

Please send me your own queries. Maybe we can do a book... Why not?

Princesses, Frogs and Boys

I needed to see Disney's new "Princess and The Frog" movie for my work. Lacking my own grandchildren, I invited my friend Bonne and her six-year-old grandson Noah to go. Yeah, I know anything with the word princess in the title is probably a chick flick, but that's part of Disney's genius. They usually manage to please all genders. I figured a boy's reaction would be interesting. When not-yet-princess Tiana started belting like Susan Boyle about her dreams and how she was going to work to make them come true, Noah was pretty fidgety. But once the physical jokes came along, he got into it. Then came the part with the "voodoo" black magic. There was a scary villain and even scarier voodoo heads, a talisman that needed blood to work, and dark shadows with long arms to reach out and "getcha." Frankly, I was a bit creeped out myself. 

Every time the black shadows came slithering across the screen, Bonne leaned over and said to Noah, "You know this is all make-believe, don't you?" He nodded yes. I was glad Bonne took the lead in this, because I think I needed reminding, too.

When the movie was over, I hoped the black magic scenes had not marred him for life. When asked his opinion of the movie, Noah said it was a good movie about "two frogs who fell in love and got married in Bugland." This kid could be the next Ebert. Then he asked for quarters to play the video games in the lobby. I accompanied him. He went directly to the game with the life-size hunting rifle attached. He slid in the quarters, put the rifle on his shoulder and began shooting as if he were in "Deliverance." Realistic screams and groans came from the speakers; heads and other body parts exploded with buckets of blood. Noah racked up a high score. The kid couldn't get enough of it. The moral of this story: when it comes to boys who ultimately turn into men and not frogs, they still do the voodoo that they do so well.

P.S.
To make sure I work in this town again, I want to say that The Princess and The Frog is a wonderful flick. It's a delight to see hand-drawn animation again. The re-creation of New Orleans is charming and the music is so dancy-dancy, you long for more of it. My mouse ears especially go off to Disney for their emphasis on the theme that wishing on a star is not enough--you have to work to make dreams come true. Although the film technique is retro, that message is very today.

Digital Immigrant Confronts Digital Decade

Twenty ten. Don't say two thousand and ten because that would take too long. Our kids are digital natives; we are the immigrants. They can text with their thumbs faster than I can pick my nose with my pinky. We are the greenhorns, trying to speak the new digital babble. Some days I feel so out of it, I can practically feel a babushka on my head. Except this time the new country came to me, instead of me having to cross an ocean. In my country I spell "anytime" the old way. The text spelling is "netym." Big improvement, huh? But I am learning. I know what OMG and LOL mean. Some acronyms still stump me. Is BFF Best Friend Forever or Big Fat Face? 

One of the biggest catalog items this year was the voice-activated coffee-maker. I like the idea, since buttons and digital settings are beyond my grasp. (I wonder if ones made in different countries respond to different languages...) Yet with all the amazing gadgets that were designed in the "digital decade," they still have not perfected a voice-activated television remote. We recently got the Sony Bravia 52-inch TV and let me tell you, Simon Baker (The Mentalist) is even more adorable in that size. (I hear from people who have seen him on location that this may be life-size for him.) The problem is that we now have the digital box, the DVD, etc. We also live in an "over 50" community that includes Turner Classic Movies in its basic cable. (Many residents don't remember anything that happened after 1949.) I have always been an old movie buff. But once we got the fancy schmancy TV, I couldn't figure out how to find TCM on it.

Today, on his last day of vacation, my techie husband Erik made up his mind that he would teach me how to find TCM on the big screen. It's just a matter of handling the remotes, he said. He called me into the living room, sat me down in front of the TV and handed me this chart. 

I tried to follow the directions. Honest, I did. I got video showing Bing Crosby dancing next to Fred Astaire, but the audio had them on the 20 yard line, third down with seconds to go in the third quarter. There I was with my babushka again. I felt nostalgic for rabbit ears with tin foil on them.

 Fortunately, I still have a voice-activated husband. "Fix it," I said. And he did. He got Fred Astaire off the goal line in time for Bing Crosby to sing "Blue Skies." Speaking of rabbit ears, did you ever see the loppers on Crosby? Give me Simon Baker's twinkly eyes netym.