(One of)My Worst Nightmares

So today I'm wearing a cute and breezy long silk top. Almost a tunic I guess, paired with kicky jeans, smart shoes and a snazzy belt. Yes, snazzy. Feeling kind of casually lovely, buoyed by it being Friday, I left for work. At the far too early time of 6:45 am today I got on the N train at Atlantic Ave and as usual, there was no seat to be had. But seeing the large clusters of people doing the pole dance, I opted to move further in and simply hold on to the overhead bar. Almost immediately a mid-20's-ish guy offers me his seat. I'm flummoxed for a moment, but I gratefully thank him and sit down. I proceed to have a conversation with myself about his action. Wow, you never see men in NYC acting in this traditional, old-fashioned way. What would it be like if more men behaved like this? Followed quickly by the feminist in me and 'well, it's nice to not have to stand, but I certainly don't need or want men doing something nice just because I'm a woman' blah, blah, blah. And then halfway across the Manhattan Bridge it dawns on me: he thinks I'm PREGNANT. This stupid fucking shirt (and my gut) makes me look pregnant. While the gesture was nice of him, it's a bit of a blow to my self-esteem. Now I just need to actually be pregnant so I can justify my gut. And walk around like an asshole with my hands on my lower back.

This Little Light of Mine

When I was 2 or 3 I got my first turntable, used mostly to play my books on record(Ding!). My favorite was Thumbelina, even though the music during the kidnapping scene always scared the bejesus out of me.

And speaking of bejesus, I owned, and according to my mother thoroughly enjoyed, a large collection of Little Marcy albums. For those of you luckily not in the know, Little Marcy was the ultimate in Creepy Christian Puppetry and frankly, it's a wonder I'm not more mentally deranged from her. On that last link, go through to Lil' Markie, who we actually listened to in bible school. The evil genius behind Little Marcy was Big Marcy Tigner, a failed musician with a voice that reminds me of chewing on tin foil. High, sharp, child-like and cringe-inducing.There was even one song where she essentially "dueted" with Smokey the Bear. My collection is still at my mother's house with the exception of a couple of them which I found as an adult at thrift stores.

My childhood listening habits were formed entirely out of my mother's album collection, with the exception of Marcy. I blame her for that creepshow, but all she really knew was it kept me from constantly talking her ear off, which was my usual pasttime. I usually listened to the Bee Gees, Dave & Sugar (the bland, "country" Tony Orlando & Dawn), Emmylou Harris, Dolly Parton and Willie Nelson. A note on Dave & Sugar, despite the fact that most of you have probably never heard of them, they actually won the Country Music Association's Vocal Group of the Year for 4 years running, 1976-79. I can't find the exact album cover I'm looking for, but it was awesome. It was like the old Olan Mills photos my brother and I always had taken with his floating head in the foreground and my smaller floating head in the background, all against a misty black backdrop.

The music we listen to as kids does influence us to some degree certainly. If anything, I know that in my teens and early 20's, I shunned anything resembling country, classic or not. Somewhere in my mid-20's, I began to embrace the solid country of my childhood and now in my early 30's I derive most of my comfort from that music. Unlike Listmaker, I don't have record of my annual song listening habits, but I wish I did. I can only hope to expose my kids to a wide variety of music without scarring them with through maniacal Jesus loving puppets.

Idiots On Parade

I am definitely not a summer lovin' kind of person. I was born in the middle of Death Valley on a 112 degree day. I suppose that did something to make me despise sweating when I'm just sitting there. But fall and winter are something else. The leaves, the snow, the cute sweaters. Colder weather is cuddley and romantic and fun.

One more reason now to look forward to winter is the NYC Idiotarod. I remember hearing about it last year and being very intrigued and now I think we're putting a team together for the 2006 race. If anyone has heard when exactly this year's race will be held, I'd love to know. Now we need to come up with our theme, team name, etc, which is half the fun!

Pleasant Island

What is the world's smallest independant republic?

Apparently it is the Republic of Nauru in the South Pacific.

Now, I am not the walking, breathing geography savant that my husband is frequently accused of being (mostly by me), but I don't think I'm a total idiot either. But I had never heard of this place until yesterday. I am now working with the Ambassador to the Republic of Nauru on a thing at work. Once I got off the phone with her and was dealing with her assistant I had to wear my ignorance for the world to see because I didn't even know how to spell it, let alone find it.

So now I know.

Unless your name is Flo

Am I alone in feeling utter irritation at random people calling others "Sweetie" or "Honey"? I deal with people on the phone all day at work and every day I am inevitably referred to by one of these annoying, pedestrian, condescending names, always by another woman. I even work with a woman who addresses many people by these names (usually Sweetie) and she is only a year older than me. Is it intellectual laziness? Hell, that's not even intellectual. How hard is it to use someone's name? One time I got so ticked off on the phone at a woman who repeatedly addressed me as "Honey" that I called her "Dollface". Psychologically, economically, what do you think the reasons could be for this way of addressing another adult? It doesn't bother me as much if I'm in a diner and it's a waitress (thank you very much Polly Holliday), but in a business setting?