Elvis's birthday, among other topics
January 08, 2007

Two short paragraphs in the paper, to sum up the life of a 76-year-old. Probably the last time he�ll ever get his name in the paper.

And our local rag managed to fuck it up royally.

In addition to the obligatory typographical error, they also got the funeral date wrong!

So I�m a bit crabby at the moment

It looks like there are a good many people who want to say their goodbyes to Papa. His former employer re-scheduled a business trip and is closing the plant so all employees can pay their respects. And some good family friends are flying up from Florida to attend. What�s hard for me to handle is the fact that my parents aren�t coming. Apparently work and the grandkids are more pressing matters.

You know, I really should be used to it. At the ripe old age of 43, after a lifetime of coming in dead last in importance, I should not be upset that I still get shafted. It�s okay, because it has to be, right? I come last after three sons, three grandsons, and a granddaughter (sexism is pretty rampant in my family) and that is just how it is.

But goddamn. It still hurts.

Spouse called it right when he told me his brother would merely announce that �He�s not my father!� Well, along with �Get off my property and leave me alone!�, that turned out to be the direct quote. All the other boys kind of expected that reaction too, but I think they all feel relieved to have met the obligation of informing him. It just didn�t seem right that he didn�t know.

On Saturday, we got up and headed to Milwaukee to clothes-shop. After stopping at Papa�s former employer to get them updated on stuff, and stopping for coffee with P&E, we hit South 76th in Greenfield. Spouse was able to find a new dress shirt to fit him at Penney�s, but their women�s wear was shopped out. So we went over to Catherine�s. I don�t normally shop there; the clothes are way too �old lady� for me, and overpriced to boot. But I figured I might find something suitable for a funeral there. I was quite wrong, but I tried.

After lunching at Red Robin (K-town is getting one of these, and after eating there, I think they�ll fit right in down here. Booze, Salt, and Grease.) I went to Borders to spend my Christmas gift (and then some!). I upgraded Sense and Sensibility to DVD, as my old VHS copy was crappy. And I also picked up �Thoroughly Modern Millie�, because I�m in a musicals mood and I love that old Julie Andrews chestnut. And bowing to pressure from fellow readers, I got a copy of �The No.1 Ladies Detective Agency�.

Then it was time to return to the matter at hand, so we decided to give Fashion Bug a whirl. I was already figuring we�d have to drive all the way across Milwaukee to Lane Bryant, but the Bug was just up the street, so I decided to try.

And lucked out. 4-piece �wardrober�, $79.99. Black with a white pinstripe and a white collar on the jacket, slacks, knee-length skirt, and even the white shell top to go with. The Bug never lets me down in occasion-related emergencies. It�s suitable, fits well, makes my butt look smaller, and came in under a hundred, which is really all I can ask.

That settled me, but Spouse decided we needed to head a bit farther West, as he knew a place where he could get some new black slacks that would fit him. And he did, quite painlessly. After that, we headed home. I stretched out for a while, but actively avoided napping. About six, I got up and dyed my hair while watching �The Producers� on HBO. And once my hair was done, I sat down and beaded a necklace with black beads and a pewter Celtic cross pendant to wear with the new suit.

I crashed Saturday night without bothering to eat�the Red Robin didn�t sit very well.

While Spouse sat down to pay bills, I, due to the frenetic running around of the previous two days, really did have to knuckle down and attack the house. In addition to the previously mentioned TWO passes through the kitchen, I did five loads of laundry, straightened, swept, vacuumed, and dusted.

Let me set the stage. Way back in the 1990�s, when we were brand new homeowners, all starry-eyed and innocent, we replaced the bathroom light fixture. High on the fumes of the DIY store, we picked out a beautiful model. An art-deco masterpiece, with a shade made of 36 individual hollow glass rods fitted into an acrylic frame. Sparkly and elegant and awesome.

Let me repeat the pertinent fact in all that: 36 individual hollow glass rods. All incredibly fragile. All delicately balanced in their frame, suspended high above the hard porcelain sink.

Cripes, what a pair of bright green idiots we were!
Every time we need to replace one of the three bulbs this fixture holds, this shade must be carefully dismantled, rod by rod. Same goes for cleaning.

Well, naturally, we take the sane course in dealing with this fixture. We wait until ALL the bulbs burn out. This usually takes about three years. I don�t really understand why, but the bulbs seem to last for wildly variant lengths of time, even though they are all put in new on the same occasion.

But once we�re fully in the dark, we take it apart, clean it, put in the new bulbs, and reassemble. WE. This takes two people, a step-stool, slightly more patience than either of us possesses, and about an hour of our time. Talk about paying for your sins.

Of course, I fully intend to tackle this by myself one of these days.

Oh my. How clumsy of me.

Evidently Spouse was in a cooking mood yesterday, because he made his very delicious chop suey recipe for dinner. All I had to do was steam some rice. And clean up after, of course. Having already met my maximum of two loads of dishes per day, I rinsed & stacked, then abandoned the kitchen to play Bookworm till bedtime.

I�ve really gotta stop, so I�m ending this entry with a quote for today from Gary Busey in that epic film, DC Cab:

�I don't work January the 8th, 'cause it's Elvis' birthday. Oh hunh-hunh!"