Another pirate post

Argh, I’m cranky. When I’m cranky, I turn into a pirate. Not an adorable endearing one, like Alan Tudyk in Dodgeball, and not a dashing screwball one, like Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean, and certainly not a gentlemanly swashbuckler like good ol’ Errol Flynn. I only wish. No, I just turn into an ugly, snarling, scarfaced mongrel who wants to take out as many people as possible before crawling back into her island cave, and I don’t mean to dinner and a movie.

As you can see, my number one aim in life is to bring joy to those around me.

Jesse and I are in a fighty stage, and without Scott here to act as a buffer of goodwill we’re like cold, raw steel clanking together. (Beware the pirate analogies, maties.) This morning I slid behind the steering wheel of the Volvo to find that last night, Jess’s friends had put baby powder in the shallow, narrow tray in front of the vent and had turned the heater on full blast. It looked like we’d hosted a cocaine party in Beverly Hills. I inhaled baby powder all the way to school and back; I’ll probably die of the White Lung. I’m so pissed. The car is already a crapsty, what with all the kids’ garbage and clothes and loose cds strewn about. I’m quitting today. Again.

Plus, the ants are back. Yay spring. I don’t keep the kitchen counters perfectly wiped, okay? It could be they’re scrounging for food, but actually, I think they’re mostly looking for water, because when I poured some into the coffeemaker, about eight of them floated to the surface. I had to clean the thing out, which is NOT something one wants to do when one’s been inhaling baby powder and wants some coffee, now. One was quite put out.

I do occasionally bask in a bright spot, thankfully, and one is the book I started yesterday. You’ve seen the movie The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, right? Please tell me you have, because it’s a classic, albeit a flawed one. Alan Arkin was amazing as John Singer, the deaf-mute. However, directly under the title, it should say something like, “Loosely based on the germ of an idea for a story caught in a momentary gleam in the author’s eye” because the movie has very little to do with the book. Nearly nothing, honestly. Usually something like that drives me insane, but for some reason, this time I’m able to keep the film and the book separate. The book’s simple structure and its multi-leveled characters are riveting, and it’s helpful seeing a couple of the actors in my mind’s eye as I read. I’m finally holding a page-turner again, and in fact, stayed up ’til all hours last night enjoying it.

I’m also thoroughly enjoying my role as pusher and supplier for my daughter’s newfound addiction, Angel. She’s been staying up with me in the evenings to watch it, and I had the immense - yea, unfathomable - joy last night of watching her face at a heart-dropping and pivotal moment I already knew was coming. I love her, because she actually screamed at the tv. You know, obsessions are about 10,000 times sweeter when they’re shared.

Like blogging. We’re 10,000 maniacs, y’all and I. Well, maybe 10 maniacs, but you get what I’m saying, right? I adore you all, and think of you even when I’m away from the computer. kiss hug. xo