What was your favorite part of the Labor Day telethon? I think Andrea McArdle really brought it on home singing Tomorrow, but you can’t escape the magic that is Robert Goulet.
I need a life. A life that does not recall Jerry Lewis telethons from 1976.
So how was everyone’s weekend? I hope you went to lots of large parties and gatherings. One of my friends had an Instagram Story that just read, “I’m unfollowing anyone who isn’t socially distancing.” I was all, yeah, man. You tell ’em. Then I didn’t do it myself because I wish for people to like me.
But speaking of distancing, I went out this weekend. Not anywhere crowded, but, for example, to CVS for my drugs, which I did not get because insurance isn’t covering it and it’s $370 and stay tuned for a June Begins With a Very Pissy “Yes…,” call to my pharmacy in a few.
I did other important errands, such as get tacos to go, and that’s the first time I’ve been in a restaurant since I think January. You know when I think the last time was? Whenever Kobe Bryant died. I was at that same taco restaurant, and why so fleshy, and they announced it on the TV, there. I know it’s shocking I even know any athlete at all. I know him because of the cheating scandal and that really great pink ring he got his wife after.
The athletes I know. Let’s list them.
Well, there’s Yvonne Goolagong and her iron-poor blood. Is she a gymnast? I don’t know. Was she in the iron man whatever it is, ironically?
Billie Jean King.
Refrigerator or some other appliance. That guy. Refrigerator-someone.
Um. Is that it?—oh! OJ Simpson! He was an athlete! He was like a volleyball player, or did he do jousting? Maybe he was famous for jousting.
Mark Spitting! Spitter? Spitzer? Something having to do with spitting. Mark Sponge? Mark Spiker?
See? I have a wealth of sports knowledge.
In other news that’s less dull than sports,
Any athlete who has scandal or blood lacking in iron, I know. Also, I am TRYING to type around Forest’s tail, which has chosen to SWISH across this keyboard irritatingly.
ANYWAY, in other news that’s less dull than sports and cats, I took the week off. I took the week off because other than having surgery I have taken no vacation this year. I am cranky and dull-headed and not doing my best work, so I decided to take the week off and do all sorts of work.
But at least it’s different work. I’ll be taxing a different part of my brain. I think. I have a whole giant list. I already got started. Yesterday I organized my hope chest. I know that is a ludicrous task and who care, but it’s been bugging me. I had a bunch of framed photos in there, with ’90s frames, and I took those all out and got rid of the frames. I had my year-2000 special Monopoly in there, all scattered about, and I got it all put back together and placed it in a drawer for easy access in the case of millennial Monopoly emergencies.
I dragged the area rug out from the computer/kitten room, scrubbed it outside like a washerwoman, then cleaned the whole floor in there. I did the same in the laundry area.
Then I sent thank-you notes to everyone who sent an Iris donation. That took almost two hours. Then I painstakingly went through each donation to look for a note that read, “I’d like a reading” and made a NEW list of people to read. I have 50+ people to do tarot readings for, with donations ranging from $5 to $200, and am doing my best to fit it in where I can. Am hoping to do all of them this week and be done. I told this to my mother who said, “Oh, I’d like a reading.”
So then I went ahead and shot self out back.
Also on my list is to redo my metal chair, which I said I’d talk about last week and never did. When I lived in LA, Marvin and I had a deal where we’d have to agree on purchases of more than $150. I was out one Saturday, probably driving down Ventura. When I first moved to LA we lived in the Valley, a thing I tolerated politely for two-and-a-half years before I found us our most excellent place in much-cooler Silverlake. Anyway, for those first two-and-a-half years I spent a lot of Saturdays driving down Ventura. There was actually a lot to see. Many little shops and so forth. I saw Roger Daltry in his convertible once going down Ventura. Also I saw Kristy McNichol at Marie Callender’s. She wasn’t inside a frozen dinner. It’s an actual restaurant.
It’s too bad I didn’t have a blog then, because I often saw celebrities and it was exciting and then I would forget who I saw and if I had a blog back then, dialing into my AOL, I could have told you and had a sort of record. I mean, Kristy McNichol stays in your mind. But I saw many others.
I saw Cuba Gooding Junior at Rite Aid. And Scotty Baldwin at a fancy outdoor mall over in the rich part of town. Oh, and once we were at a tiny restaurant in our neighborhood and Johnny Cochran walked in and my mother-in-law, fmr., GASPED across the room. Never has anyone gasped more gaspily than my mother-in-law, fmr., at that moment.
Ohmygod anyway. So somewhere in LA I saw this old metal chair, the kind your gramma had, for sale at some old shop. It did NOT cost more than our agreed-upon $150 limit, but whatever the price was I lied to Marvin about it by a good $30, I remember that. I brought it home and put it on our balcony in our Valley apartment. As Valley apartments went, we were on the end, which was cool, and we had two bathrooms, which was the only time we ever did in 16 years of being together.
Eventually, that chair chipped, and if I were a good blogger I’d dig out a photo I can see in my mind, of me in that chair circa 1999, with really dumb hair. I would also find you the photo of Marvin with a can of pink spray paint, painting that chair for me once we lived in North Carolina.
Found it. I guess he was priming it.
The pink paint chipped, so I painted it again, in about 2013.
So now what I have is a chair that’s chipped in pink, blue and turquoise. I kind of like it, actually, but the rust bugs. So I plan to paint it right this week.
I have many, many other tedious tasks to get to this week and I plan to bore you with them all. Two or three are not doable by me, or rather I do not wish to learn how to do them because one involves possibly seeing snakes, so I have texted my ridiculous handyman, Alf, who replied that he could do these “if I manage to remember.”
“That’s extremely professional,” I texted him back. “Did they teach you this communication technique in handyman school?” I have yet to hear back from him re this.
Anyway, further reports as developments—you know.