Are you there, God? It’s Me, Meemaw. We’re moving today – moving closer to the announcement for 2016. I’m so scared, God. I’ve announced before but suppose everybody hates me now because they’re not allowed to hate Barry. Please help me. Don’t let the electorate hate me.
But at least I have little Charlotte by my side now. Things just didn’t work with Chelsea. I could get her all the high profile internships and all graduate degrees and all the high salary jobs, but talk about your sow’s ear! I was distracted when she was a baby – by my role as the First lady of Arkansas lord love a duck! – but with this one I can devote myself full time , as my campaign schedule allows, to developing this future political superstar right from the start.
Hush little baby don’t say a word Meemaw’s gonna buy you a closet full of black pants and colorful suit jackets.
Peepaw is gone out looking for cigars. I guess he won’t have to look to far. Ha ha. If you know what I mean. BTW God – does Elizabeth Warren have grandchildren? Biden’s got a pack of ‘em and they’re all blondes, too. Please God let this little girl be a blonde and not a dark hairy monster like her father. So much more photogenic.
That’s all for now, God. Gotta run and set up my room in Chelsea’s apartment. You’d think for $10M they could have gotten place that already had meemaw quarters.
More later! Love, Hllary Rodham Clinton, aka Meemaw
I’m thinking of changing my tag line to the title of this post. I find that the phrase is unforgettable. Is it just me?
I mostly hate YouTube. I was doing my duty this morning and looking for anti-vaccination messages when I came across an entire genre I had no idea about before – the Don’t Eat [type of food] Again where the YouTubers show you the disastrous consequences of applying said food to various things that it was never meant to be in contact with in the first place. Frankly, I kind of like that Coca Cola is an effective toilet cleaner.
The anti-vaccination videos beat the same drum over and over but the anti-food videos are endlessly inventive. Irritating and misleading, but inventive nonetheless.
If it’s a girl, it will be Dorothy after Hillary’s dead mother. Dorothy Clinton Mezvezvez or whatever that guy’s name is.
If it’s a boy, it will have Clinton for a middle name. William Clinton Mezzzuzhah. Or perhaps an additional middle name – something like William Lincoln Clinton or William Roosevelt Clinton. You know, for use after the divorce.
No way does the father get any part of the naming process. Who wants to bet?
Frankly I think it’s more intriguing to predict if the child will have the mother’s bulbous nose or the father’s 5:oo shadow. But really, what I want to think about is the first official photo of Meemaw Hillary with her new grandchild. Whatever will it be?
I chose this big fat book based on a comment made by someone I occasionally read on the internet. I like big fat books in general and this one is about an intelligent socialite at the end of the 1950s who would rather do graduate work at Columbia University than get married when she finishes college as she is expected to do. This sure did seem like it had the ponytail for an interesting and smugly self-satisfied read. Looking at women’s lives and limited choices back then from a modern viewpoint and judging them by modern standards (said the modern woman who couldn’t think of anything to be after high school except a teacher or a nurse) seemed like just the thing to finish off reading season on the deck.
It’s filled with descriptions of clothing and shopping; make up and making out, descriptions of long lingering kisses and multiple, inventive and varied descriptions of ejaculated semen and where it lands. Did I mention that the author is a man? Did I have to? Also, there’s lots of references to poetry. And dreams – an endless stream of recalled dreams. (I don’t listen to people who recount their dreams in real life and I’m certainly do enjoy reading about them.)
My customary reading style is to open a book, get deeply involved and then shut out the world until the book is finished – an indulgence which is difficult to maintain when you have a husband who wants to talk to you and a job that demands 10+ hours a day. But I managed. I could hardly wait to get up in the morning and start reading while the coffee brewed. I took the book out on the deck with me before I started my workaday and then opened it again when I was done for the day. I read it at the beginning of cocktail hour and while my retired husband prepared supper for us. (There’s your modern woman right there.) I hate to quit reading by the clock and much prefer to stop at a chapter end or at least a break in the narrative.
I always have and always will crack the spine of books that I am reading because that is how I roll. I usually buy hardcover because of the stitched binding. The glue that holds paperbacks together cannot withstand my reading style.
But something happened today. After the morning inspection of my little lemon tree, I settled into my deck chair despite the dampness and brisk temperature. I got up to page 489 and was in the midst of one more description of the elaborate procedures involved dressing for dinner at the country club and I thought to myself what would happen if I just stopped right here? And so I did.
And do you know what happened? I did not feel compelled to start reading again. I realized that I was bored. And so I am giving up on the book right now and will return to the other one that I started which did not bore me I just didn’t get around to picking it up again.
So would I recommend this book? That’s a big N. O.
Lots of action this week around the little lemon tree.
First the bad news: the tree has black spot! Or something. Not sure if this is a bug or a fungus but whatever, I got some neem oil and sprayed the heck out of it this morning. Neem oil, I am given to understand by the thousands of words I have consumed on various Meyer Lemon Tree discussion forums, is an insecticide, miticide, and fungicide so that should take care of whatever it is.
Thanks goodness I became aware of this before I brought the tree inside for the winter. I doubt I would have been spraying an insecticide, miticide, and fungicide around in the kitchen. I have time to spray it two or three times out on the deck before the cold weather sets in. I would have sprayed it sooner but USPS made a lie and said the package was undeliverable on Sept 21 at 1:15 pm because no one was home. Which #1 was Sunday and #2 we were sitting very near the front door. I am not going to get worked up over this but really, online arrangements that don’t quite come off are exhausting me.
Secondly, little flower buds are busting out all over. Isn’t it wonderful?
buds and black spots
Third, I have returned (truth: Sami has returned) all of the pots I brought home for the little lemon tree because I found the perfect pot of my dreams in Home Depot and here it is:
This pot suited my needs. The #1 criteria was that it should be lightweight so I don’t have to add the weight of a heavy pot when I wrestle it in and out of the house – only the weight of the dirt and tree itself and citrus potting mix is quite lightweight. This pot is some kind of composite material but sturdy and not as heavy as real stone by far. #2 was it should be somewhat classy and non-offensive in design and #3 was that it should not cost a fortune. This one looks the appropriate type to have a tree growing out of it.
I was so happy to find this and to see that Home Depot can tell you not only that it was in stock at the nearest store, but also that is it located in the Outdoor Gardening department and then gives you the exact shelf location. But of course they are liars and there wasn’t single one of these pots anywhere in that store or in the next one that I went to because of the same deception. At the third store where the website says “quantities are limited”, I found 14 of them.
I must tell you that it is absolutely wearisome to be a consumer of goods in this day and age.
It’s me, the 5:00 pm version of yourself. Here are some things that I have learned over these past 9 hours that might help you. Trust me, I have been there and I know that experience is the best teacher. Sit down, buckle up and take notes.
First of all, stop saying yes to everything. I know it’s slightly more difficult to follow this directive because nobody actually asks you to do things- they just send an overnight email with a big !for your immediate action and expect it to get done.
Second, don’t take out your frustrations on the people you depend on. The dullards and incompetents will drive you crazy and make you want to scream, but scream at them not at your trusted partners. Know that sometimes it will be hard to tell the difference between these two groups. And of course, you are not so much a screamer as a wicked tongue that can burn bridges forever.
Next – brace yourself for this one – know that your job is not your identity. It’s your security and your means of providing food and shelter and you are probably not ever going to be hired for anything else again if you blow this one BUT DON’T LET THAT STOP YOU from acting out your frustration out into live conference calls, ill-advised emails and smart-assed instant messages that are monitored by Big Brother. Who wants to live forever anyway, amirite? You’ll feel better and that’s what’s important , isn’t it?
Finally always have a good breakfast. And have it at breakfast time. I know you didn’t eat at all until 2pm today, so do take the time to do it up right. Here’s the breakfast I we had yesterday. It fits all possible definitions of “good”. But you were there, weren’t you? In fact, you brought the raspberry vinegar didn’t you?