Tits Magee – Back in the Saddle

Oh Terry.

Not much I love more than a favorite writer writing about a favorite subject.

Unless it’s a favorite writer writing about a favorite subject and then throwing in a page mentioning ME.

She practically turns inside out in delight.

Terry Darlington has written a third book, Narrow Dog to Wigan Pier, to follow up Narrow Dog to Indian River and Narrow Dog to Carcassonne.  I almost flew to England this summer in response to this: 

Terry and Monica Darlington and Transworld Publishers have pleasure in inviting you to the launch party for their new book 

NARROW DOG TO WIGAN PIER

 At Aston Marina, on the A51 south of Stone, anytime between 4.00pm and 7.00pm on Saturday the 23rd June 2012.

 Buffet, bar, visit the Phyllis May 2, signed books, whippets.

 We have so much appreciated your kind interest in our wretched books and we hope we will see you at the lovely Aston Marina on Saturday the 23rd of June.

 Chaste manly regards, love and muddy paws all up your jumper

From Tits Magee (to whom fear is a stranger), Monica X, Jim and Jess.

Alas, the launch coincided with my first day of summer vacation, and, as it turned out, a bad turn of health for my friend Terry/Tits.  (Much recovered, thank you very much and pleased to report according to the website.)

The book arrived, with help from a friend in London, though, in good time, and there, on page 305, Mr. Darlington writes about his correspondence with The Well Read Hostess, when she tries to decide whether she likes his writing or not in his first book (she does, much).  But I get ahead of myself, because page 305 is hardly the point.

Narrow Dog to Wigan Pier is more memoir than travelogue, but with the same stream of consciousness as in the earlier two books, and with the same dog love, but this time a touch more wistfulness.  Not softer – definitely not, I still laughed out loud, and Darlington deftly weaves autobiography with modern day journey. It’s like a second act Bildungsroman.  I admit it.  I love the man.  No worries, Monica.  He’s all yours.  He’s exhausting.  I think I want to be one of your dogs in my next life.  Maybe not the one who ends up hurt all the time.

Segue.

We have a plan.

It involves a boat.  And I think about it all the time, even though it is a long way off. It is one of those gut-check plans.  A double-dog dare kind of plan.  Which brings me back to Terry Darlington.  And his two dogs and his boat.  Nobody was every sorry for going for it, in love, in family, in friendship, in business, on land, on the water, in life. Right?

 

 

Choose Your Own Adventure

What’s this?  A Disney Princess whose primary trait isn’t her physical appearance or pathetic social situation or desperate need of rescue?  I’ve had to rethink my whole Disney Princess schema.  With one arrow from her quiver, Merida from Brave has shot the stereotype all to hell.

I'd love to give credit for this image, but I couldn't track the original source...I found it everywhere!

I almost didn’t see it, but it was hot and there were lots of kids around and they were starting to annoy each other.  I hadn’t shaved my legs or armpits and wasn’t about to get that act together to take them to the pool, so a movie it was.

1.  Scottish people are inherently funny, especially when they are not trying to be funny.  This, never would have predicted it but there it is, is also true for animated Scottish people.

2.   I don’t know who is doing what with those computer machines they have nowadays, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of this particular princess’s hair.

3.   Boys like this princess movie, even though they will say the do not.

My daughter was freaked out by the conflict between the mother and daughter in this movie, not to mention the occasional bear fight, and if you haven’t seen it, I’ll try to be vague, but whatever – go see it.   Princess Merida is independent and feisty and smart and brave and does her own damn thing despite the fact that her mother Knows What’s Best.  And her mother probably does, sort of mostly, know what’s best. So they fight, because that’s what mothers and daughters do.

Merida and her mother say some things they wish they hadn’t said and some stuff happens that scared the bejeezus out of my daughter, even though I held on to her and kept saying, “I PROMISE it will be OK.  The princess and her mother are going to figure it all out and it will be all better in the end.  I promise.  Because that’s what Disney movies do.”

My girl is smart as a whip and getting to be that age where daughters don’t entirely believe that everything their mothers say is true, and she only sort of believed me. Because that’s what daughters do.

But in the end, the mother taught her brave daughter what it really means to be brave and they figured it all out and everything was better in the end.  Because, after all, mothers do teach their daughters how to be brave.  That’s what mothers do.

At the end of the movie when my daughter was happy and smiling and relieved and full of popcorn and Sour Patch Kids, she looked at me and said, “You’re crying!  Why are you crying?”  And I said, “Because it was a really good movie,” and what I didn’t say is that I was crying because sometimes the brave thing to do is to show how you really feel.

 

 

 

I love you, mom.

 

 

The Rolling Stone Gathers No Moth

That fireball in the sky you see might just be my house.  After I douse the mofo in gasoline and light it up.

Since October we’ve had uninvited guests. 

Moths.

Of the pantry ilk.

You heard me.

October.

Animalia Kingdom, Arthropoda Phylum, Insecta Class, Lepidoptera Order,Pyralidae Family, Phycitinae Subfamily, Plodia Genus, Plodia Interpunctella Species.

Google that shit. 

It’s simple really, getting rid of them, according to most conventional wisdom.  Throw out any infested grains, clean out your shelves, vacuum.  Maybe put out a few non-toxic sticky pheremone traps.  Ta da!  Bob’s your uncle.  Problem solved.

Except not at all, as it happens.

Fast forward to June.  Mother. Humpin’.  June.

Moths.

Animalia Kingdom, Arthropoda Phylum, Insecta Class, Lepidoptera Order,Pyralidae Family, Phycitinae Subfamily, Plodia Genus, Plodia Interpunctella Species.

June.

Still have moths.

My cabinets are so clean you could perform surgery in them.  I have thrown out enough food to feed entire third world nations.  We cannot find any evidence of these bastard moths, their larvae, their eggs, nothing.  Where are they coming from?  No clue.  They turn up in the living room.  The dining room.  The hallway.  The bathroom.  The basement.  And yes, in the traps.  I’ve never seen one anywhere near food, of course, because that would make sense.

I’m living in a Stephen King novel and I am slowly losing my mind.

So last night we threw the food out again – not that there was any sign that there was a single moth egg in any of it, emptied all the dishes from the cabinets, and started washing.  We’ll wait a few days and then we’re going for the big chemical guns.  After that’s done, we’ll wash again, and then before we bring food back into the house (hello Wawa!), we’re going to do the same in every other room of the house, being sure to wash and spray down every baseboard, floorboard, and crevice we can spot.

And if that doesn’t work…keep your eye out for the fireball in the sky.