Sunday, July 27, 2014

Get a Blog: Help! I'm Leaking Famous People.

Get a Blog: Help! I'm Leaking Famous People.: I think the change of life is hitting me. Not the hormonal mood swing type. Well, yes, that too, but this blog is about something else. I ...

Monday, July 21, 2014

Help! I'm Leaking Famous People.

I think the change of life is hitting me. Not the hormonal mood swing type. Well, yes, that too, but this blog is about something else.

I used to be considered one of the foremost authorities on TV and movies in my own circles. (For the record, I never claimed music or theatre.) But these days my hippocampus seems to be on hiatus. I think I've taken a deep dive in my knowledge of all things celebrity. It used to be if you needed to know Doogie Howser's BFF, I was your girl (Vinny, played by Max Casella).

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Did you know all the castaways on Gilligan's Island have last names? Some we knew all along: Thurston Howell, III and Ginger Grant. But how about Jonas Grumby? That's the Skipper. The Professor was Roy Hinkley. Mary Ann's last name was Summers. And Lovey Howell, well, just Lovey.

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But now I recognize my gift is atrophying and as far as I can tell the demise is due to a 3 ingredient recipe. Here's how you make it.

Losing My Mojo
a frozen beverage

  • 1 part: aging memory
  • 1 part: onslaught of cable channels, social media and the internet
  • 1 part: people who are simply "famous" for reasons I don't understand, know or care to know
  • Add ice (not Rob Van Winkle, Vanilla Ice) and toss in the blender.  You now have a delicious summer concoction of what it feels like to see your prowess be sucked through a bendy straw.

It's really a sad dose of reality that my best cocktail party babble is behind me. I always thought I'd be hip and cool and be able to carry on a celebrity-driven conversation in any situation. But how far can I get when I honestly don't know the difference between Kristen Cavillari and Lauren Conrad.

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Other than Kim, I know no Kardashians by sight. And I've loved Amy Adams since Wedding Crashers until I realized she was actually Isla Fisher.

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Could it be only a matter of days before Dermot Mulroney and Dylan McDermott face the same fate? Someone help me.

Thursday, July 3, 2014

Cool Mom Wannabe

Now that school has been officially over for a couple of weeks, many of us have settled nicely into our summer mode. 

The time of chilin' and talking about humidity. Making half-ass plans and then keeping/altering/canceling as the day dictates. It's a 2-1/2 month excuse for letting go of the get-in-the-car/gotta-be-somewhere/running-late-again we perpetrate the rest of the year.

I can totally do this. Stay up. Sleep in. Seat of my pants-flying. I'm cool. Leave the dishes. Ice cream for dinner. Another sleep over? Sure. Skip the hair brush. Day 3 on those socks? See if I care. 

All this structureless time should be cathartic. A power down and a reboot on the "time to the make the donuts" monotony it seemed we'd never shake. Not to mention the daily happy dance of knowing the Vera Bradley lunch boxes are hidden away for months.

But the truth is: I suck at summer. This new groove does not come naturally. Flexibility and go-with-flow are like me at synagogue. I nod along, but really I'm an outsider. As far as summer break is concerned, I realize I'm wound a bit too tightly and I'm afraid If I don't relax soon I'll ruin it for everyone. 


Camden and Duke
Luckily I've pinpointed my major downfall: I can turn a molehill into a mountain in 2.0 seconds. Particularly if that molehill is messy. For a week in June we fostered two of the cutest puppies not sold by WebKinz. My kids were mushy and gushy in all the right ways and and took great care of them. But for some reason, all I could focus on was each and every piddle puddle and poop swirl not dropped outside. Even the piles that successfully landed in the yard stressed me out. My kids made it known that I managed to suck the fun out puppies. That's so sad. Insulting. True. Fun and puppies seemed Crazy Glued together, but apparently when I'm around it's just worn out Velcro and I pulled those right apart. My name is Ellen and I'm a buzz kill. 

If it's true that admitting you have a problem is the first step, then I already feel a smidge less cranky. I will honestly try to take it down a notch and not wish away these precious remaining 53 days of summer. Oh, I gotta run. I think I just heard a blob of brownie batter hit the counter.