My Lonely City

I asked my cousins, one night they spent with us, if they’d like one more bedtime story before they went to sleep. Of course they said yes, and the older girl asked me to read aloud a chapter from a book she’s been reading. It’s one of the Scary Monsters Don’t Do This or That series – I had one when I was young called Vampires Don’t Wear Polka Dots, which was actually pretty good. This one was Ghosts Don’t Eat Potato Chips.

Break for literary nerdiness: I recently re-read Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey, which is in many ways a satire on the Gothic novel. In it, the main character, who has read rather a lot of Gothic novels, is led, or rather pleased, to imagine that her friends’ father has murdered or imprisoned his wife who died of a sickness some years before. This conjecture, and her other romantic flights of fancy, not only lead her to behave imprudently, though with no lasting ill effect, but they also prevent her from perceiving the true character of those with whom she deals before that character is brought up forcefully before her attention. This same conflict – between the imagined and the real, the fanciful and the present – informs the Ghosts Don’t Eat Potato Chips book and series. The main characters are staying at a – rather verbally abusive, it seemed in the chapter I read – relative’s house, and think the ghost of her long-dead husband is living in the attic. Of course it will turn out to be someone fairly innocuous, and everyone will laugh about how silly the kids were for being so carried away. And then life will go on, until the next book. No point, just some fun comparisons.

First, there is something about winter – especially this kind of grim, grey, threatening wintery weather – that makes one wish to sound important. I am actively fighting against that as I write.

And second, the expression “cool beans.” Beans are, generally, not good cool – they are much better hot. Much, much, much. I can only think of two exceptions to this – Vegan Yum Yum’s Chickpea Mash (I could live off this and nothing else. No, really.) and rinsed black beans in a crisp summer salad, with some raw corn and balsamic dressing. Other than these, beans are meant to be hot. So the expression “cool beans” makes no sense. Is all I’m sayin’.

Well, my brother-in-laws’ birthday is today. My husband & I got him a card – we’re a card family – that featured the Penguin of Death. There are two things about him that you need to know, the card states. First, he is strangely attractive because of his enigmatic smile (the penguin has a smile; don’t ask me how they drew a smiling cartoon penguin without it looking entirely lenox, but there you go). Second, he can kill you in any one of 412 different ways. Anyway, you had to be there.

So I was thinking, could I think of 412 different ways to die? I mean, I could probably think of 20 or so, but 412?

Let’s see…

1. Shot by gangsters. 2. Forced to listen to … who should I pick on … Hanson for 24 straight hours. Remember Hanson? 3. Fall from a great height, possibly while swordfighting. 4. Speaking of swords, skewered. 5. Burned at the steak. Oops, stake. 6. Too much steak – cardiac arrest. 7. Smothered with a steak. 8. Rotten &/or mad cow steak. 9. Lung disease. 10. Eaten by sharks. 11. Eaten by leeches. 12. Eaten by bucket-vengeful walrus. 13. Severe cat allergies. (Not your little, piddling, stuffy nose and reddened eyes allergies, I mean swelling up like a bullfrog and sqeaking to an uncomfortable end, while the feline smiles its evil smile, preening, in the background.) 14. Drug overdose. 15. Drug Problem political blather overdose. 16. Jogging. 17. On an erupting volcano. 18. Killer spinach. 19. Killer rutabaga.

2. Mauled by a tiger. 21. Or a wildebeest. 22. Or a velociraptor. 23. Or – you never know – a washed-up marketing executive from New Jersey. 24. Battlefield Earth. 25. Eaten, in a genteel fashion, by Hannibal Lecter. 26. Eaten by a Horrible Lecturer. 27. Car crash. 28. While on a cell phone. 29. You likely deserved it. 30. Shot by accident by a “one shot one kill” hunter. 31. Shot while hunting with Dick Cheney. 32. Bubonic Plague. 33. Edgar Allen Poe + High School English Class. 34. Not even going there. 35. Glitter. 36. Bad dates. 37. Bad poetry. 38. Crushed in a trash compactor. 39. Sunstroke. 40. In November (f*ing Global Climate Change.).

3. Murdered by breaking-news- (or possibly severe-weather-) deprived local television station. 42. Poisoned blow dart. 43. Cancer. 44. Back broken by straw-wielding camels. 45. Trampled by wombats. 46. Pulverized over by a Transformer-ing Xerox Copier. 47. Flying wingman to Luke Skywalker. 48. Kidnapped by … whoever we’re marketing as nefarious kidnappers these days. 49. Run over by a tour bus. 50. Full of Canadians. 51. Stoned by rabid, sexually aroused mob of misogynist a**holes. 52. No way to make that funny. At all. 53. Severe papercuts. 54. I’m running out of ideas, here …

4. Let’s be a little more grim, shall we? Hung by the neck. 56. Electrocuted. 57. Firing Squad. 58. Lethal injection. 59. Beheaded. 60. Stoned. Wait, I already said that. 61. Impaled. 62. Knifed in the back. 63. But, having watched the extra footage from The Lord of the Rings, I know the sound one makes. 64. Anorexia/Bulimia. 65. Disco. 66. Suicide. 67. Knifed in the front, or side. Or possibly head, though … 67. Drowned. 68. In pasta sauce. 69. Strangled by a piano wire. 70. Poisoned by your fellow spy. 71. Crushed in a submarine. 72. Eaten by giant squid. 73. Improperly cryogenic-ly frozen. 74. Syphilis. 75. Motorcycle wreck. 76. Tarred & feathered. 77. Human sacrifice. 78. Holiday shopping. 79. Dehydration. 80. Family vacations.

Well, I made it to 80. Whew. Ooh, 81 – trying to fly an airplane upside down, through a barn! Thanks, Secondhand Lions.

Things that make me smile, laugh, or feel happy:

Hearing other people laugh. Especially if they can’t stop, or they sound kind of goofy. Especially if I’m sure they’re not laughing at me.

Discovering a tasty new food.

Eating tasty food, new or otherwise. Also, being told or finding out that something I’ve cooked is good.

Getting or giving a back rub.

Being barefoot on fuzzy, squishy carpet.

Adorable, flattering jackets on sale for SIX DOLLARS!!!

Hearing through the grapevine that someone thinks I’m cool, funny, interesting, or doing a good job.

Sea or river otters. There is, I am convinced, no more delightful creature on the earth.

Holding my own in a conversation about touchy subjects among people with widely divergent viewpoints – without anyone coming away feeling attacked, belittled, or misunderstood.

Remembering a funny event or story, and having someone to share the memory with.

Finding some common ground with my Dad.

When my car made strange, scary noises today, Jared and his Dad both dropped what they were doing and checked it out.

Reading optimistic, practical things.

Having so much to be thankful for and to enjoy.

(Does anyone else get the irony that my last post was not “intense, thoughtful, … unconventional … [or] inspir[ing]”?)

So my Best Friend (at least since 8th grade, which seems like forever ago, so the term actually almost applies, scary as that is) has had a spot of trouble with snoopy out-laws lately. No need to go into the details (nor would I be at liberty to do so even if there was a need), but I got to thinking. I might as well be considerate and save any similar nosies some trouble, if they take a notion to snoop in my direction.

I drink, but I don’t smoke. I curse like a sailor, depending on the company. I don’t do any drugs that have not been specifically prescribed to me by a doctor, and I never have. Except for occasional speeding and an illegal u-turn or two, I have never broken the law. Unless you count jaywalking. I didn’t drink alcohol until I was twenty-one, even when I was in countries (Mexico and New Zealand) whose drinking-age laws would have permitted me to do so. The worst thing I have ever done was made out with a boy who was engaged – engaged! to someone else! what was I thinking?! – on the way back from my senior trip.

I didn’t have sex until after I got married. (Yes, really.) I have never cheated on my husband. I love him very much, and love sharing my life with him. Most of the time it’s easy to love him; sometimes I love him because I promised him I would. Marriage is harder than I thought it would be, but it’s also more rewarding.

I sometimes hate spending time with my family – immediate-ish and extended – because I feel we have very little in common. I spend time with them anyway, because it’s the right thing to do.

I love God but Christians piss me off. I’m a vegan, feminist social critic with dozens of radical, half-formed ideas and almost no-one to bounce them off of. I complain a lot about being lonely and having no-one to talk to, but I don’t seek out any new relationships because I’m a lazy fraidy-cat a lot of the time.

I volunteer. I tithe. I pray. I read the Bible semi-regularly, though not as often as I ought to. I try to understand how God wants me to apply what I read to the way I behave. What I keep coming back to is this: Treat others the way you want to be treated.

I tip. I sing loudly in the car by myself. I sometimes preach sermons to people who are not, physically, present with me. I pick up paper towels that bastards in public restrooms throw on the floor. (Sometimes.) I wear underwear when trying on swimming suits.

I have a concealed-carry permit (somewhere). I enjoy shooting bottles and targets, and I’m pretty good at it. I doubt I could shoot a person, though, because I don’t want to be shot. Even in self-defense.

Sometimes I carry insects and spiders outside when they get in; sometimes I kill them. I don’t feel guilty. My cats are both declawed – though I wouldn’t make that decision again.

I lost my first child this year – a missed miscarriage six weeks after conception, discovered around four weeks later. It tore my world apart. I’m getting used to the pieces floating around, and I’m not trying to fit them together yet.

I think too much. But I’m okay with it.

Satisfied?

Your Hair Should Be Purple

Intense, thoughtful, and unconventional. You’re always philosophizing and inspiring others with your insights.

Except my bras are sexier.

Is here.

And, later: the second funniest is here.

I was going to send individual e-mails to everyone, but I realized I would just be writing the same thing over and over again. So how are you? Anything new and exciting? Keep me posted on what’s going on in your life. ~Christina (05/18/2007)

Hey Christina –

Things are pretty good. I miscarried our first baby three weeks ago, so they could be better, but there you go. I’ve just left one job (an administrative assistant for a Realtor in South Oklahoma City) and will be starting another – as a tech with Jared’s Dad’s telecommunications company, SKShemor – on Monday. I’m excited, but a little nervous, about that. Jared’s doing well & staying busy. His tag-printing business may be expanding later this year depending on how the state legislature rules on some pending temporary used car tag legislation. He’s not doing custom websites anymore, for the most part. We’re still on the board of CAM, helping prep for this year’s summer camps (the eighth year, can you believe?). I realized yesterday that I graduated high school six years ago. That was a jolt, rather; I’d thought I’d be … further along, you know? I’m not sure exactly what I expected from myself then, but I feel like I haven’t quite lived up to it, whatever it was. But things are good. I’ve become a vegan, which is something new and different (and I like new and different – I’m also finding that I like cooking, which is odder still). My closest friend since High School is moving to Texas with her fiance. And I’m thinking again, as I usually do when the weather starts warming up, about finding a hobby besides piddling on the internet and putting off doing dishes. How are things with you?

Yours,

Melissa

“Each year in the United States, there are an estimated 74,000 cases of turtle-associated salmonellosis in humans…”

Be afraid. Be very afraid.