Archive for the 'misadventures' Category

July 17, 2007 | Filed under: misadventures

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Monday was my very first official driving lesson. I’ve had my learner’s permit for a long, long time.

…and NO, I will NOT show you the picture, so DON’T ask, okay!

July 12, 2007 | Filed under: loves, misadventures

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or you PC-types can click here for Flash!

Chainsaws. The power tool made famous by horror movies. There is no scarier piece of portable machinery, as far as I’m concerned. So you can imagine my fury when I found my fiancee not only in possession of a dreaded chainsaw, but up in a tree with it. Please allow me to say it again: he was up in a tree with it.

Our local deli has a donation canister set-up at the counter for an unfortunate citizen who recently met with serious bodily harm while, you guessed it, going up into a tree with a chainsaw. I really didn’t want Brian to join him in donation-can-land. Hence the swearing.

At the end of the video you will learn of a new horror entering our lives — an evil far more horrifying than a chainsaw. And much, much, much louder.

“Spring Song” by Bridge
Brunswick Duo
Courtesy of Podsafe Music Network

June 12, 2007 | Filed under: la famiglia, misadventures

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…you can see forever! Well, not in my Nana’s apartment. You’re lucky if you can see across the room. She’s 86 years old and smokes a pack a day. Years ago, after a series of strokes, my Mother asked the doctor what she could do to help Nana quit. “Quit?”, he said, “why? She’s in her 80’s and loves cigarettes! Let her have SOME joy in her life!” or something like that.

Her walls and ceiling are stained a grubby beige. If her apartment were a sweater in a J.Crew catalog it would be called either “tobacco” or “nicotine”. Her upholstered furniture smells like a biker bar and the paintings have a thin coat of sooty film on them. In Miami, there’s central AC so it’s not like the windows get opened much. Being in that apartment for two afternoons took months off my life. It burns.

My Nana smokes like a stack (or does she?) and wants nothing more in the world than free cigarettes. So we did our part to help her realize her dream while sitting in her hazy apartment listening to On a Clear Day You Can See Forever on vinyl.

That’s what family is for!

My very favorite part of this video is when my Mom describes why she is angry with Philip Morris; NOT because they advised her 86 year old mother that if she cut 10 UPCs per day she’d have her free cigarettes in 20 days (am I the only one who finds that completely appalling?), but rather because most people don’t know what a UPC is, and it is not removed easily. The fact that little old ladies are being coached on how to maintain brand loyalty was sort of lost on her…but then again, she’s smoked since she was a teen.

Man, when they get you, they really get you for life. You’ve come a long way, baby.

This is the last of the Planet Nana series. Hope you’ve enjoyed my family foibles.

May 31, 2007 | Filed under: la famiglia, misadventures

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We continue our exploration of Planet Nana with a journey atop the planet’s surface. The terrain is somewhat rocky, bound on three sides by a turbulent sea. If one ventures too close to the shore and is not careful, there is the possibility of either getting caught in a riptide or having their body smashed against the jagged jetty, or both.

You shouldn’t travel to the Planet Nana without appropriate safety gear. The range is wide: you may need as little as a life-jacket or as much as full titanium body armor, depending on the thickness of your skin. Please choose accordingly.

May 28, 2007 | Filed under: la famiglia, misadventures

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After much planning and plotting Our Gang headed down to sunny Miami, Florida to visit my Nana on her 86th birthday. My Mother and her hubby, my Aunt and myself have all made this trip separately over the years with my visitation being by far the most lax, having gone once when I was five and then again at twenty (bad, bad, naughty granddaughter, I know). We have never made this pilgrimage as a family. The trip was to be brief–fly down Friday morning, fly back Sunday morning– about as fast and forceful as a blow to the skull with a sledgehammer, which is what we all felt like when we left.

We never knew what hit us.

Music:
Dill Pickles Rag (Xylophone Solo)
William H. Reitz
1922
Courtesy of the Internet Archive