I love the smell of Soft Scrub in the morning

‘An Advertising Executive cleans up’

To be honest, not having been raised with ‘Help’ (Hah! If anything, my sibs and I were the ‘Help’), I am a tad uncomfortable with same. For one thing, I never know where to go when the Cleaning Person is there. I feel a little odd going out for coffee all morning.

And there is that Lutheran Guilt Thing. If I’m not working (as in Earning Money), I feel funny not cleaning. (Though I don’t seem to have a problem spending The Dude’s hard-earned money on Starbucks lattes.)

Besides, I have a dirty little secret: I’m really really good at cleaning. And I kind of like the fact that when you’re done, everything looks gorgeous and smells good. Totally different from advertising.

In fact, I’m so good at cleaning, that one time, when I was ‘between jobs’, I toyed with the idea of starting my own cleaning business.

I have no idea what this sign was referring to. But Mom instilled in us all a strong (house)work ethic

Looks like Mom had my business idea even before I did.

In outer space, no one can hear you scrinch

‘On Misophonia, Hyperosmia, and other fun syndromes’

God bless the New York Times. In just one issue (yesterday’s) there were articles about annoying noises driving people nuts, kids developing allergies because their parents didn’t feed them nuts, and one about couples married over 65 years having more sex than younger couples. Which is probably driving researchers nuts.

Now, these are all topics dear to my heart. But I feel I just have to start with the Noise Thing.

As one says when one is diagnosed with Misophonia, ‘at least I am not alone’

It seems that researchers have identified a syndrome called Misophonia (‘hatred of sound’), which means, basically, that certain ‘selective sounds’ drive certain people, um, batty. The Times specifically mentions lip smacking, swallowing and ‘breathing sounds’. Don’t you just love that this is a ‘syndrome’?

Trainspotting

‘Celebrity sightings, and accessories after the fact’

Twitter was aflitter last week with Helen Mirren sightings. She was on the R. She was on the Q. Whatever the letter, she was on the subway. And she looked so amazing (she is 69! that can’t be her!) that her fellow riders sometimes doubted the evidence of their own eyes. You can read an amusing summary of their internet astonishment here.

So where was I when all this subterranean drama was unfolding? Alas, I was consumed with Scary Dental Issues (see ‘Is it Safe?’ for colorful detail). But now I’m ready for some rhapsodizing about la Mirren and some blathering about Celebrity Sighting in General (well in general in Manhattan, anyway.)

See, one of the reasons that celebrities love being in Manhattan is that Manhattanites ignore them. Completely. Famous People can walk around, stand in Shake Shack lines, ride on the subway — all in relatively unmolested peace. It is considered extremely uncool (and very non-New-Yorker-ish) to go up to the Celebrity of One’s Daydreams and say something like Continue reading

‘Is it safe?’

‘Mommy hit me with a plate’ and other dental tales

So. I was toying with an idea for a post involving Helen Mirren, whom I adore. But I’m smack-dab in the middle of getting a crown (and I don’t mean the royal kind), and dentistry is, understandably, on my mind. So Helen will just have to keep. Shouldn’t be a problem. She’s done very nicely so far (see awesome photo for proof):

Too bad we can’t see her teeth.

Speaking of which. Continue reading

Effing Puppy Love

‘Puppies and horsies and swearing, oh my!’

Ah, the Super Bowl! When two great foes battle it out for the prize. No, not that big honkin’ trophy. I’m talking about the TV remote.

See, The Dude and I record the darn thing, then spend the whole time wrestling over what to fast-forward: the football stuff (Me: ‘Is this the game with the pointy orange ball?’) or the commercials (Dude: ‘Who the hell is Mindy Kaling?’)

This cartoon, by the amazing Michael Maslin, from the incredible New Yorker, seems to sum things up nicely:

So We Whitmores usually end up wasting precious time rewinding and restarting, not to mention spatting. Thank goodness for the internet, where I can go to watch my favorites in peace.

Now, as for my faves, I’m not going to go into a whole ranking analysis of all that went on, commercial-break-wise this year. (Except to remark that I would have loved to have been in the room when that foot fungus spot was presented: ‘See, we’re going to put a football helmet on this big toe…’)

Instead, I’m going to give you more of what we all really want to see. That puppy, dammit. In case you’re a real Luddite and haven’t met this super-cute guy yet. Or (like me) you just can’t get enough, here he is again, in this year’s spot, ‘Lost Dog’: Continue reading

The (South) Polar Express

‘Discovering the Pole, without the Polarfleece’

Well, Snowmageddon was kind of a bust, at least here in New York City. But the wannabe-blizzard yesterday, during which I toasted my toes by the fire while reading Hilary Mantel (er, did loads of housework), did remind me that I promised to write about the South Pole. (See ‘Who is Lutheranliar?’)

See, I’m fascinated by the South Pole. I just love to read about those wacky Englishmen and Norwegians who duked it out trying to be The First to the Pole, oh about a hundred years ago. And I actually got to visit the Scott Polar Institute on the Dude’s and my trip to check on (er, visit) the Child in Cambridge last year:

: Exciting Cambridge Experience No. 1: visiting the Scott Polar Institute

: Exciting Cambridge Experience No. 2: watching the French Open in our room

It’s funny, though. When I tell people about my fascination, they invariably ask me if I want to go to the South Pole. No way! It’s really cold in Antarctica, and pitch-dark most of the time. And getting there involves being on a ship. Which of course would be on the ocean. Where scary creatures swim and rogue waves roam. Deal-breaker. Continue reading

On being (a) Yo Yo Ma

‘The Empty Nest has its Ups and Downs’

By now you probably know more facts about The Child than The Child feels comfortable about you knowing. But she’s off in Boston making a name for herself as a software engineer and therefore can’t roll her eyes heavenward in ‘My Mom is Oversharing Again’ dismay. At least not where I can see her.

: The Child at the computer in Boston

: The Child at the computer in my mind’s eye

So I’m going to riff a little about ‘parenting’. First, let me make my distaste for terms like ‘parenting’ clear. The use of nouns as verbs (‘crafting’, ‘birding’, even ‘blogging’) tends to make my own eyes roll heavenward. I mean, if I’m ‘parenting’, is The Child ‘kidding’?

But I must admit that I rather like my new not-yet-trendy term ‘Yo Yo Ma’, which I will explain shortly. But first, have you heard of Snowplow Parents? Continue reading

The King and I

‘Getting my Blue Suede Shoes(On)’

Last week the one and only Elvis Aaron Presley, bless his heart (and swiveling hips) would have celebrated his 80th birthday. (Big pause to take that in).

Now you Young People out there may need a bit of Elvis Ed (which you can find right here). But before you Wikipedia yourselves senseless, let me just say that, in his day, Elvis could have out teened-frenzied that Bieber Boy with one pouty lip tied behind his back (now there’s an image). And here’s an image of each; you be the judge. But do notice how Elvis didn’t need to resort to tattoos to look, um, hot. And he never posed in his (or Calvin’s) underwear. Not that I know of, anyway.

: JB struts his stuff in (almost) the buff

: While Elvis smolders with merely a glance

So. This story happened Continue reading

The Year of the Snake

Or, How The Child almost did not come to exist.

First, let me just say that, yes, I know that 2015 isn’t really the Year of the Snake. It’s the Year of the Sheep. Which doesn’t sound nearly as sassy. As a matter of fact, Chinese families everywhere have been working the calendar so that their babies’ births do not fall during the Year of the Sheep. (If you care, you can read why here, especially if you think I might be making this up.)

Well, anyway. It’s the 7th of January, and I know I really should have written this post last Wednesday, but it was New Year’s Eve and I was afraid everyone (but me and the Dude) would be out celebrating, so I posted that piece about ‘When Harry Met Sally’ instead. So sue me.

But back to me and snakes. Continue reading

Auld Lang Sally

‘A very Harry New Year to you and yours’

The Dude and I rarely venture out on New Year’s Eve (‘Amateur Night’, he calls it. Though I think it’s really because it’s impossible to get a cab.) You can see from the rather undignified photo at the top of this post that this was not always the case. (If it looks a little blurry, that’s because it is. Unless, of course, you’ve already started celebrating. In which case, it’s really blurry.)

Instead, we like to stay in and drink champagne and watch movies then drink more champagne and watch more movies. Though one year we did drink champagne and build a paper model of the Empire State Building on the coffee table. I think watching the movies is marginally more exciting.

Speaking of which, the movie to watch on New Year’s Eve is, in my humble opinion, ‘When Harry Met Sally’. It’s one of Nora Ephron’s funniest scripts and a much more successful directorial effort on Rob Reiner’s part than Continue reading

lutheran liar looks at life

alice's take on the world

I love the smell of Soft Scrub in the morning

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In outer space, no one can hear you scrinch

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Trainspotting

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‘Is it safe?’

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Effing Puppy Love

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The (South) Polar Express

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On being (a) Yo Yo Ma

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The King and I

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The Year of the Snake

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Auld Lang Sally

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