Pontificum Scriblerus

We all know this about me: I am easily influenced, highly impressionable and moderately obsessive.  But even I am surprised. You see, I read a book. To put this in context, this is probably the first non-science book I read in several months.  I was on vacation, and a friend lent me her Kindle.  Upon her recommendation, I delved into The Paris Wife, by Paula McLain.  It is about Ernest Hemingway's first wife and their beautiful yet wrenching love story, marriage and demise.  I don't even know very much about Ernest Hemingway, and have not read much of his writing because in high school, when I took American literature, I happened to have a very anti-establishment teacher (ironically, educated at Harvard and Yale), who concentrated mostly on African American, feminist and gay/lesbian literature instead of "dead white male" literature.  She had a vendetta against "dead white males."  While others read The Great Gatsby, I read Olivia Butler, the name ...

Leaves fall, lights dim, mice die. Why try when I know No- vember brings failure? A swatch of sky and rain. How you throw dirt over a sinking feeling! The sun, a magic number, arbitrarily looms in the distance... The clock is ticking, wasting time, what harvest will I reap? How foolish! It's dark, where am I, how did I come to be here? Don't know. Will I stay?

So, we did go to Paris. And it was not good. I was irritable and couldn't sleep much, and was somehow scared and made uncomfortable by all the people and grandeur of Paris, to the point where its charm was lost on me completely. I felt at the same time fat, unfashionable, tired, cold and sweaty. I even remember saying, "Why is this the most romantic city in the world again?" Hubby's parents came up to join us. They planned to hang out with us for a few days, but couldn't stay too long, because his grandfather was still in the hospital or in a rehab, status post total hip replacement after his fall and fracture. Unfortunately, on the second night, during a really nice dinner at some place that had no signs in English, and no staff that spoke it (a good prognostic indicator), my mother in law got a phone call. She said into the phone, "He died?" Just like that, out of nowhere... She seemed emotionless at the time. What do you really say to a pers...

It's because I got the iPhone, and I can Shazam and buy songs on the spot! Suddenly, I'm all about discography and lyrics and artist bios of bands and songs that have been around for ever, and I never thought twice about them. I get into things very quickly, and then try to stop me, I'm like a goddamned run away train (pardon the pun, Soul Asylum). Take Song 2 by Blur. Released when? I may have still been a teenager. When grunge was grunge and men were men. Actually, I think this is just after the grunge era. The song is very well known, and according to Wiki, their most recognizable in the US. And yes, I used to drive with BCN blaring (RIP, dear old friend), and yell out "WOOO - HOO!" along with the music, and yes, it's been played and played, but only the other day, did I put that funky iPhone right up to the car speaker and Shazam the darned song and find out who wrote it and try to figure out why they did. Let me just confess, Shazam has migrated ...

When we were in immigration, that surreal and wonderful 4 month hiatus from either real life, be it Russian or American, we ended in Vienna during the week between Christmas and New Year. It was an absolutely magical week. Vienna, to us, freshly released from the cinder block world of communism, was in and of itself magical. We arrived, we got dropped off at the pension in the middle of the night, we fell asleep - still soviet. We woke up - free! We looked out the window to see "Kindermoden" children's fashions and "Mondo" supermarket. We went outside without hats or boots because it was 15 degrees Celsius in middle of December, and the streets were squeaky clean. We purchased baking yeast because we thought it was butter, and we bought a pastry to share between three people: it was the best thing we'd ever tried... Everything glittered. It was Christmas season, and the city was decorated, but not only that, there was also crystal everywhere. S...

I'm sick of talking about Tamoxifen and how much I hate Fruitless and Fabulous. Also, I'm sick of work-related autoflagellation driven by my own apathy and their subtle abuse. How about a post about a song? Generally, I will learn the first verse, and then my short attention span takes over and I start talking on the phone. But if there is a song I really like, then I am apt to look up the lyrics, learn them, and then try to figure out what they mean. Which is kind of pointless, because a lot of the time, lyrics don't make the song per se. But I'm like that. In fact, it used to piss off my mom back in the day; we'd watch a movie together, or I'd read a book, or we'd see a painting, and I'd say, "Oh my GOD, this is obviously so symbolic, but what does it MEAN!!" She'd always say, "Maybe it doesn't have to MEAN, maybe it's just enough that you realize it's symbolic!" By the way, and off topic, about my mom. It...

Well, aside from the narcissistic nature of the previous story (I mean, seriously, 2000 words about a case of food poisoning?), there are also some cultural gems to be had and learned in there. I think I need to emphasize them. Please go back to tushenka. You can see, that the first time I mention it, I made the word a link. Mostly, when I was looking for a website to link to, I was just looking for an appropriately gory picture of tushenka, and didn't actually read the content. Today I went back and read it, and it's just fucking hilarious!!! So, because I'm such a nerd, and it's 11:30 on a Friday, and I'm too weak to be out, but too well to be passed out, I actually found and used an insta-translator, and translated the page for your entertainment and pleasure, my English speaking friends. But also, and especially, my RUSSIAN English speaking friends!!! Just goes to show, nothing is as good when taken out of context!!! Never mind that I'm now crying whi...

Today, I was driving and listening to Possum Kingdom by the Toadies. I was totally rocking out to this song, and getting a little turned on because the beat is kind of rhythmic and the lyrics are very sexual . I'm thinking, wow, this guy, he sounds hot! "I'll not be a gentleman... Give it up to me..." Hot! But what's up with "Do you wanna die?" Is he using "die" in the Shakespearean sense? So I decided to come home and google the song. Imagine my surprise to find out that the song is apparently a big controversy! Possum Kingdom turns out to be a lake in Texas, which is surrounded by local folklore, and the song is based on that. It's not about sexy love, it's about rape and death. Or Vampires. Then I YouTube'd the video to the song, and if I had a glimmer of hope that it was figurative, it was squashed there. A body bag is dragged out of a lake. In it, is a block of ice. A faceless man carves a woman's face in the ice with an ic...

Last week was the coincidental overlap of Passover and Easter. I was on call, and absolutely miserable secondary to getting called in 3/4 nights to deal with people swallowing things (Liquid Plumr, thumbtacks, metal clips), so completely neglected to plan or even attend someone else's Sedar. I mean, my Sedars are usually symbolic anyway, but at least I direct a nod towards god and the rest of the tribe. Not last week though. Last week, I mostly celebrated freeing metallic objects out of people's insides, not freeing, you know... the Jews... On the other hand, Sunday was Easter, and we went to mom's for dinner. She made the most delicious lamb. Then I found out that lamb is the traditional food for Easter, apparently. Oops. On the third hand, the lamb was served with tsimis, which is a Jewish passover dish of carrots stewed with dry fruits (100% leavening free). We also snacked on Matza - but on Easter Sunday. I'm so confused. Basically, as always, I am caught in an iden...

This year, and this was totally classic, I dressed up in all black, and a hot hot Russian lady-style shearling, got all perfumed, and got in the car with 3 of my equally handsomely attired closest friends, and we raced up the freeway to a town far far away to the north, to a soiree our other friend was having. It was close. Real close. 11:45, we were antsy, speeding through silent streets, yelling at the GPS. 11:55, we called our friend to make sure we had a place to park. 11:57 she called us to tell us that the door was open and we should come right up and join the fun. 11:59:27 we were all running up the icy driveway to the sound of Chariots of Fire in the background..... . . . . ....only to slam our noses into a LOCKED DOOR!!! ... and to hear the rest of the people upstairs yell "Happy New Year!" Then I had to make out with my bff bc husband was too far behind. At least it's a story I'll tell my grandkids. I hope this doesn't indicate the vein in which this yea...

My friend Deepa is so cool! Last year she met David Sedaris and he laughed at her dirty humor!! Imagine my excitement when she rang me and suggested I go with her to this year's series - I'd appreciate it more than her husband - and it would be the first time we'd see each other in 5 months! (Goddamned suburbs) I was coming up with witty things to say all day. XXXXX!!! Fail!!! We went up smiling stupidly like little girls about to ask a boy out, and couldn't think of anything better to say than "It was just my birthday." He said, "And how old did you turn?" And we made it a million times worse by answering "How old do you think?" Ugh. Lame-o. We didn't interest Mr Sedaris in the least, not even for 20 seconds. He was so done with us. He signed our books, and even before he was finished he was already looking towards the snaking line for the next [hopefully] more interesting fan. To add insult to injury, when told that I was n...

What does it say about me that this is my new driving song for when I'm getting psyched up to go to work? Perfect for Monday mornings... First heard it in the crisp February air driving to moonlight at night, and laughed. Reminds me of winter... I'm not all that twisted, though. I'm just impressionable. My current favorites playlist is a little something like this: "We Looked Like Giants" - Deathcab for Cutie - oldie but goodie; sweet; makes me emotional. "Believe" - Bravery - I like the sound, and it takes me right back to California and the convertible. "Satellite" - Guster - California again. "Wraith Pinned to the Mist and Other Games" - Of Montreal - Let's have bizarre celebrations!! When I hear this one, I think of dancing around like a child, maybe even in the rain, for fun, to see if you can get dizzy, without a care. "Little Bit" - Lykke Li - her voice is dreamy; I just discovered this song, I have no idea what ...

The day started out just like any other: wake up begrudgingly, make coffee, read the news, hop in the car, peel out of the garage and onward about 15 miles over the speed limit... Minus that last part: I got stuck behind a solid convoy of yellow school buses. Then, it dawned on me, that it was the first day of school in my town. So, since it was "illegal to pass while lights are flashing," I ended up having some time to think - mostly about school and first day at school. In Russia, the first day of school is always on September 1st (the last day is always May 31st), and it is a huge celebration, especially for the first graders, who are commemorating their first day of school ever. The day even has a slogan: " Perviy raz v perviy klass ." (First day, first grade). We wore uniforms in those days, which were just awful: a dark brown wool dress, and black wool apron over it. Everyone had 2 of them, you'd wear it for a week or two, then wash it, wear the other one ...

Now, I'm not saying I'm a genius, or that medicine is life and life is medicine for me, but some things are just ridiculous. I'm talking about House, MD, the TV show, of course. There are a lot of medical shows out there, and they're all inaccurate, but at least bearable. But House... Once you get past Hugh Laurie's asshole attitude and roguish good looks, the hot model thin interns in spiked heels and full make up, and the fake suspense, you, or at least I, realize how absolutely ridiculous and criminal the medicine in this show is! Have you considered....... LUPUS?? Oh, it's a bone marrow tumor! Start whole body radiation!! No, It's not a bone marrow tumor, there's schistocytes in the blood, stop whole body radiation, it's DIC, start plasma exchange! Wait! She's got an infection in her back from her bra clasp!! And we irradiated her, and now she must DIE! We're gonna inject her with 300 cc of morphine! Oh, and by the way, I'm popp...

It was the week after 9/11. Everyone was in shock, and climbing out of their own personal hell however they could. In my mother's case, the shock manifested itself as a long-forgotten buried sensation of physical visceral fear that used to be part of the daily existence for everyone in communist Russia. For most of the American society, it translated into a sudden burst of sincere patriotism. American flags of all sizes were everywhere, and for the first time, even the most bitter of cynics were regarding them completely void of irony. Patient #1 was a mom with her 5 year old son. He had amblyopia: one eye sees better than the other, and you have to patch the good eye to strengthen the bad eye. Here was a little boy who could only see out of his bad eye. "He knows," said the mom, "that some very bad people did a very bad thing, and hurt a lot of other people. But they have been caught, and punished and there is NOTHING to be afraid of." The little boy bli...

Some say Bostonians have a chip on their shoulder, and well... it's true. But... http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/29/sports/29boston.html?em&ex=1201755600&en=e809004b3df7c033&ei=5070 Goodness. That chip is huge. And bitter. And that is NOT a compliment.

More on disturbing art. When we went to the Pompidou in Paris, there were two pieces that really jumped out at me. One was the Woman with Throat Cut sculpture (below). This is the other. Alice , by Balthus. According to the plaque next to the painting, the model for the painting was the wife of a friend of the artist, one Betty Leyris, who was scandalously recognizable when the painting was first displayed in 1934. (don't quote me on the date). I was looking at this painting, knowing that there was something... something... very unsettling about it, something making me recoil away from it and evoking some very unpleasant feelings, the origin of which I couldn't quite place. Seemingly, it's just an image of a young woman brushing her hair. But look at her. Separately, the features are lovely: the blond hair, the light eyes, sensual breasts, full lips. However, put together, it creates a very unpleasant feeling. The thick legs support a too-thin waist; the outlined belly bu...

When communists outlawed religion and with it Christmas in Russia, back 100 years ago, people had to find ways to conserve a legal way to maintain their holiday traditions. So the Christmas habits were transfered to a different, secular, date: New Year's Eve. Complete with a tree, decorations, presents, and a santa-like figure, called Ded Moroz (Grandpa Frost). For some reason though, instead of a Mrs. Claus this dirty Russian old man has a leggy young hottie dressed up in a moderately pornographic outfit. He also holds a (symbolic) staph, and carries a giant bag of presents. Get your mind out of the gutter, people. She's his grand-daughter. Despite the tongue in cheek duo, I have only the best memories of Russian New Years in my childhood. Around the weeks preceeding, the snow would turn blue, storefronts would get sparkly, the smell of evergreen would fill the air, and everything seemed posilutely magical. You couldn't help but get butterflies. My parents always got toget...

This time, we coincided with the Santo Tomas feria in Bilbao, so we decided to go check it out. It takes place 2 days before Christmas, sort of like a pre-Christmas practice party. It's basically an outside fair and food market that takes place by the ria Nervion downtown Bilbao. Obligatory aldeano outfits are worn by children and adults alike, there is folk music and live roosters. Also, lots and lots of pork. It takes place in the Plaza Nueva in the middle of husband's home-city. We get out of the metro in the old part of town. People are everywhere; they're donning green kerchiefs and are obviously inebriated (it's 11am), so we know we're close. He doesn't say anything, but as we seem to be wandering about rather aimlessly, I ask him where we are. Flushing and mumbling, he admits he completely forgot where the plaza is. He's Bilbaino! That's like forgetting where Times Square is to him. Asking for directions?? Are you fucking crazy? So we never found...

Txangurro, pronounced "changurro," is a crab salad with a home made mayonnaise sauce that is served inside the crab shell, passed around the table and eaten with a spoon. In my husband's family, this is purely man's work. While mom hustles around making most everything else, dad calmy and purposefully sits down, shells the crab, makes the mayo, makes it all pretty. I will not pretend like I've made it or even know how. It's man's work, like I said. But here's a link: http://www.turismoa.euskadi.net/s11-12375/en/contenidos/j_gastronomia/0000002969_j1_rec_turismo/en_2969/2969-ficha.html I don't think this is 100% authentic, like, I don't think ours was baked, or had any brandy in it, but it gives you an idea. I'll bug dad in law for his special recipe, and then post that. Shocking lack of txangurro out there on the web. Now, if you can find real crabs, I'll be super impressed.