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Chetzi-Tushi

Friday, August 20th, 2010

Remember chetzi-PJ?

Welp, the other day, John was doing something, and he said he didn’t want to do it “chetzi-tush.”

M: What?

J: Chetzi-tush. Half-assed.

M: Oh my God. That’s genius.

J: Thank you.

M: Except it should be chetzi-tushi, pronounced chetzi-tooshi.

J: Okay.

M: You really have to get the “oo” in there. Spend some quality time with the “oo.”

J: Chetzi-toooshi.

M: Very good.

J: Thanks!

Later it occurred to me that if we want to do something whole-assed, we should say “meah achuz tushi,” which means “100% tush.”

Right? As in, “There’s no way I’m eating only one cupcake. I approach cupcake-eating with meah achuz tushi.”

I think it works.

Posted in John, Words | No Comments »

Birthday Bonanza!

Monday, July 19th, 2010

If you were me (I, technically, but that’s pretentious), what would be your first two choices for birthday gifts from your husband?

I’ll tell you what:

1) Removal of all caches and secret caches from home.

He did it! He threw himself into it! He drove around Berkeley and Oakland depositing things to their respective recycle-and-reuse-friendly locales!

Massive happy.

2) Purchase and installation of a miraculous black box that streams Netflix videos directly to my television.

This means I have “free” movies (welp, $8.99/month, but I’m already paying that) AT MY PERSONAL BECK AND CALL.

More specifically, this means I watched both Broken Flowers and The Edge of Seventeen last night, just ’cause. I had seen both before, which in both cases I didn’t realize until the opening scenes (I am aging), but I went ahead anyway.

Why? Because with Broken Flowers, I couldn’t remember boo, and with The Edge of Seventeen, I was enjoying one of the only emotionally authentic (not to mention very sweet) movies I’ve seen about teenage gaydom.

Wheeee! Johnny D., you are now and forever making my world a happy, hilarious, cuddly, sproingy, and better-than-Nutella place to live. I am in mad Monday* love with you.

*Monday also to include all other days of the week.

Btw, my actual birthday is 7/26, so the rest of you still have time to purchase gifts/compose odes of praise.

Posted in John, Movies | 3 Comments »

Volume

Tuesday, July 6th, 2010

Every morning as John heads out the door, he stops at my desk to say goodbye. Today he reported that he had a song stuck in his head:

J: If I had a hamster, I’d hamster in the morning . . .

(This was a reference to a hilarious and underappreciated Facebook status I posted a week ago.)

Then, together, we sang:

If I had a hamster, I’d hamster in the morning, I’d hamster in the evening, all over this la-and. I’d hamster out danger! I’d hamster out warning! I’d hamster out love, between, my brothers and my sisters, a-all over this la-a-and . . .

It wasn’t, shall we say, the most melodic of duets.

J: Clearly we have different notes associated with that song.

M: [Hysterical laughter.]

J: What?

M: [Tears of hilarity.]

J: What?

M: That’s not how it works! You don’t associate notes with a song. There are notes in a song, and you try to sing them!

J: [Chuckling.] Huh.

M: Seriously. You’re doin’ it wrong.

J: [Same chuckle, no admission of error.]

M: Your world is so loose and fancy-free. I don’t understand how anything ever comes together.

J: [Thinking.] Volume.

M: Oh, my God.

J: [Adorably self-satisfied smile.]

M: That was genius.

J: Thank you.

[Hugs and kisses. John heads out the door. I turn to the computer.]

[A moment later, he charges back through the door and heads to the bedroom.]

J: My face is too dry!

M: I’m blogging this entire thing. Right now.

Posted in John, La Musique, Rodents | No Comments »

Marriage: A (Very Short) Play in Four Acts

Monday, May 10th, 2010

I. MATCHY-MATCHY

This morning it became clear just how far John has advanced in his personal fashion lexicon when I misidentified his outfit as “matchy-matchy.”

J: It’s not matchy-matchy!

M: Sorry, you’re right. It isn’t.

J: Good.

M: But it is matchy.

J: Yes. That’s fine.

[Hug.]

II. CHETZI-PJ

When I was in college, I spent some time in Israel, and sometimes  Hebrew creeps into my conversation. For instance, “Lama lo.” Which means “Why not.” It’s much more satisfying than the English.

Lama lo? Give it a try.

So a few weeks ago,  John commented that I appeared to be ready for bed.

M: Really? Ready for bed?

J: You’re wearing PJs.

M: No, these aren’t PJs. This is chetzi-PJ.

J: Chetzi?

M: It means “half” in Hebrew.

J: Chetzi-PJ. That is very cute.

M: I know! I just made it up!

J: Chetzi-PJ!

We say it all the time now.

III. MONDAY-MORNING MATH

Last night, John learned a Life Lesson. Or at least, he added to his wisdom quotient on an ongoing issue. “But,” he said, “the suffering-to-wisdom ratio really wasn’t too bad.”

A new ratio!

Years ago I came up with the event-to-processing ratio, in which we measure the length of the event against the amount of time it takes to process.

For instance, if the relationship + breakup took two years, how long does the getting-over-it take? Of course that’s different for everyone.

Now we have the suffering-to-wisdom ratio, in which we measure the amount of suffering against the wisdom gained. Good work, Johnny!

IV. AGAIN WITH THE SECRET CACHES

This week when my camera battery died—I mean dead dead, not rechargeable dead—I was sure I’d stump John.

M: So, Sweetie.

J: [Lying on bed, staring at computer.] Yeah?

M: Where do you keep the irregularly shaped Lithium-ion batteries to be professionally recycled?

J: [Points with toe to shelf.] Right there.

Sure enough, on his bookshelf, there was a little pile. Hiding in plain sight!

M: Jesus Christ.

J: What?

M: You have a pile for everything!

J: I do.

M: Where do you keep the camel’s hair dusters?

J: In the basement!

M: What about the polka-dotted hydroculators?

J: In the backyard!

[Bed tackle.]

You might be amused to know that for my birthday (which is July 26, so you have plenty of time), I have asked John to remove all stashes and convey them to their intended destinations.

J: Even the ones you don’t know about?

M: Especially the ones I don’t know about.

J: They bother you?

M: They’re killing me.

J: [Giggle.] Wow, Sweetie. I had no idea.

M: [Giggle.] God, the pain.

J: [Laughing and reaching in for a kiss.] It’s hard to be you.

M: [Laughing.] I know, it is hard. But I get to have you.

[Fade to hug.]

Posted in John, Marriage | 4 Comments »

The Microheroics of Marriage

Wednesday, February 24th, 2010

I had this idea for a post about how John gamely accepted the new, brighter towels in the bathroom, despite having been perfectly happy with the previous towels, with which he found no fault. (They were drab.)

Then I remembered: I asked him whether he personally—as opposed to the racks, which have no say—wanted a new bath towel. And gave him a choice of color. And bought the soft, springy, stripey-green towel for him. Which turns out not to be as absorbent as one might like.

So, he was game. But I was nice. No heroics there.

Then I remembered about the Soy Creamy.

Trader Joe’s Soy Creamy, Cherry Garcia flavor. (It has a generic name, but we know what it is.) It comes in quarts. Well, a single quart. And for a while, I would buy that single quart and devour my half pretty much within a day. Sorrow and grief.

Then I came upon the idea of buying two quarts, the second belonging entirely to me, so that I could stretch the experience to at least several days. I think we can all agree: powerful innovation.

But folks, I do not get to Trader Joe’s very often. And the freezer, it keeps food fresh (”fresh”?) for weeks. That, I am told, is its job. So last week, I came home from the Joe with a big surprise for our freezer. And John.

M: Guess what, Sweetie? I got three Soy Creamies!

J: No way! Three?

M: Yup.

J: You broke your record!

M: I did break my record!

J: You’re a champion!

M: Gosh, thanks. I do feel good about it.

J: I can see why.

M: Do you think I even maybe broke the world record?

J: It’s possible!

M: Maybe I did. Maybe I did.

Posted in John, Marriage | 2 Comments »

Media Melange

Friday, February 12th, 2010

1) Fame. The remake. We saw it on PayPerView in our hotel room. Best part of the experience was watching John get increasingly angrier as he realized that no character development would be forthcoming. He is so cute when he’s angry at bad art! Or bad commerce! Whatever that sort of movie-making is.

Whereas I had expected pure schlock and was thus pleasantly surprised by the lack of mawkish dialogue. In other words, instead of sentimental pablum, Fame 2 is impressionistic gossamer. And they cheat you out of the songs! Where is “Dogs in the Yard”? Where is “Hot Lunch”? Even “Fame” gets ghettoed into the credits. Dumb choice.

2) An Education. Also on PPV. Very entertaining. Everyone’s right about Carey Mulligan; she’s wonderful to watch. But why has nobody mentioned that the Peter Sarsgaard character isn’t charming enough? He’s boring, even. And kind of pathetic. For Mulligan’s character to be interested in him, he’d need to be her equal in intelligence, if not knowledge. Or at least style. Or maybe just really sexy. Something.

3) Lush Life. I read a Richard Price book. (Go ahead. Reel in shock.) Years of listening to his interviews on NPR won me over to a genre I’ve otherwise avoided: the police procedural. And . . . I liked it. Dude writes good sentences. Crackling language—and language everywhere, not just the dialogue, which is what you hear about Price.

But I think in the end, the procedural stuff eclipses the characters. Which is a shame, because the characters are fascinating and well drawn. I’d have liked to have spent more time with them and less time in the interrogation room.

4) Cherry. I read the second Mary Karr memoir. (I am now primed for the newly released third, as was my goal.) I liked it even better than the first, which ran into the occasional sluggish interlude.

Cherry is about Karr’s adolescence, and even though her 1970’s East Texas milieu couldn’t be more different from Fitzgerald’s, there was something about it that reminded me of him. Maybe the dissipation. Or the ennui. Karr writes fantastically about altered states (which bodes well for Lit, about her alcoholism), and she has such a sensibility for the body, for translating states of feeling. For the sake of rhythm, I’ll put a few non-Karr books between me and Lit, but it’s in my queue.

And I know all five of my readers are practically peeing their pants for my take on Marry Him, so I’ll try to post that before too terribly long. I’ve already spent enough time sorting my thoughts that I feel some sort of income should attach itself to this project. Anyone?

Posted in Books, John, Movies | 2 Comments »

Three Squirrels

Thursday, February 11th, 2010

I’m long on bloggable material (two movies and three books, including this beguiling wonder) and short on time. So I’m going with St. John the Optimist.

John’s an optimist.

An irrepressible optimist.

You cannot keep that man down.

No matter (to quote a funny friend) how hard you try.

Sometimes I get a very precise image of his optimism: It’s a daisy, popping up in a field of grass. Things looking less than ideal? Sproing! John’s optimism pops up and bobs its pretty, sunshiney head.

Story:

Recently, John’s office moved from Berkeley to Emeryville. Their new digs are much larger and far swankier, so although they’ve got the desks and cubes in place and are fully operational, it’ll take some time to fill in the side tables, meeting-room credenzas, and wall hangings. And as Director of Operations, John is involved in this process.

So the other day, John and his boss head out to Ikea to score some auxiliary furniture. The boss cannot know that Ikea is a MAJOR MELTDOWN ZONE for John, where within about ten minutes he can be relied upon to deliquesce into a puddle of goo. I don’t love Ikea, either—nothing like the largest box store on Earth to mercilessly beat down your will to live—but sometimes, you gotta do. (Our strategy, other than avoidance, tends to be either warp speed or hand-holding.)

So anyways, the mission does not succeed. In fact, though John manages to keep it together perfectly well for whatever duration, his boss goes into a mini-spiral, and they come out on the other side of searching for major set pieces with nothing but a few desk lamps. Three, to be exact.

“I feel like we went hunting for boar and came back with a squirrel,” John’s boss says morosely.

“No,” says John. “Three squirrels.”

Sproing!

Thank you, Universe, for giving me a daisy of a husband.

Posted in John | No Comments »

Shut Up, Sheets!

Wednesday, February 10th, 2010

Whenever you tell people you’re going to Santa Cruz, they ask where you’re staying. That’s because Santa Cruz has a heaping shovelful of crappy suicide motels, two or three expensive B & B’s, and one swanky beachside hotel at $350/night.

And nothing else.

We have our favorite suicide motel, distinguished mainly by its perfect location and frequently functioning hot tub, but this time we went for the beach joint. Why? John had a two-night credit.

It was awesome.

It was also hilarious.

Case in point: We arrive, pull the car up to check-in, and immediately don’t know what to do. There’s a valet there, and he wants to unload our baggage and take it up to our room while also somehow simultaneously parking our car. We’re so used to unloading our own baggage and parking our own car that we ask to borrow the luggage cart.

“Sure,” he says, “I can take your luggage to your room.”

No, we want to take it. We love loading the luggage cart, and even more fun is driving the luggage cart down hotel halls! Plus maneuvering it into the elevator! Plus making jokes about how much luggage we pack for three days away!

But it’s not to be. The valet rules the cart. We apparently can carry the luggage up to our room (requiring several unseemly trips, as we pack in multiple smallish bags and have a 27-lb. portable freezer for my ice), or the valet does it. We go with the valet.

Who is humorless! While John parks the car, the valet and I travel together up to floor 7, where he unloads our stuff without once laughing at my hilarious jokes. Sigh.

Our room is a suite (gorge) with sliding glass doors and a balcony overlooking the bay (gorge), styled in chic mid-century modern, with accent colors of lime, lemon, and tangerine. Love! We even have a chocolate-colored bean bag (brand: Fat Boy) which John attempts a seat-dive into, only to be instantly spat out. (Hilarity.)

The bathroom mirror has two parallel strips of gray that turn out to be lights. The shower has a wand. The wallpaper is the exact same color as the ceiling paint, only textured. I didn’t even get that it was wallpaper until the second day!

Immediately I feel that all my clothes are wrong. To compensate, I change into sweats and get into bed.

This is where things get kind of sad. The sheets! Are loud! Very, VERY loud. They’re starched to such a crackly crisp that it’s impossible to make a move without creating a cacophony of rustling and crinkling noises. LOUD rustling and crinkling noises. GARBAGE-TRUCK LOUD rustling and crinkling noises. On the first night, I spend pointless minutes lying awake, afraid to change position for fear of waking John. And when he turns over, I bolt awake in earthquake hysteria!

Who could have predicted sheet-induced loss of sleep?

Anyway, we had a fantastic time, including two pay-per-view movies (more in a future post), an 11 A.M. hot fudge sundae, and some primo hot-tub-on-the-beach relaxation.

Thank you, Dream Inn. And please quiet the sheets!

Posted in Adventures in Travel, Complaint Dept., John | 3 Comments »

Favorite Cookie

Thursday, January 21st, 2010

John likes ginger snaps.

Who knew? He is not in general in the thrall of cookies, as I am. And whenever he makes his vegan millet chocolate chip masterpieces, I eat 3/4 of them in the first few days, whereas he takes a week to get to the bottom of his pile. (Then we start in on the raw dough, to same effect.) So it’s been a pleasure to see him reach for the ginger snap box again and again.

The other day:

M: Wow, Sweetie. You like ginger snaps.

J: I do.

M: I’ve never seen you eat this many cookies.

J: Yeah?

M: It’s exciting. I feel so met.

J: I think ginger snaps are my favorite cookies.

M: I think so.

J: You love cookies.

M: I am in love with cookies.

J: What’s your favorite cookie?

M: I think . . . vegan millet chocolate chip.

J: Really?

M: Those cookies are supreme.

J: [Face lighting up.] Wow, Sweetie! That’s so exciting!

M: It is?

J: [Celebrating a momentous discovery.] I introduced you to your favorite cookie!

M: You did!

[Pause. Collapse into hysterics.]

J: What?

M: [Howling with laughter.] Sweetie—

J: What?

M: You changed my WHOLE FUCKING LIFE.

Posted in Food, John | 2 Comments »

Husband/Toothpaste

Monday, January 11th, 2010

I don’t want to brag or anything, but John is something of a wizard when it comes to toothpaste. He can eke out every last morsel of paste from any style of tube, no matter how fussy. In fact, he gets all of my cast-offs, which he stretches to last for weeks. He probably never even buys his own toothpaste. (Huh.) We have a similar arrangement with soap stubs.

Anyway, so last night he finally reached the bitter, bitter end of a tube, which he had squeezed accordion-style into a flat fan, and when we were celebrating the moment when it would at long last sail into the trash, I said, “And I know what you’re going to do with the—”

Cut to a shot of the bottom left corner of the medicine cabinet, where there is a towering, spilling-over pile of toothpaste caps.

We both started laughing so hard we couldn’t speak.

“—cap,” I gasped at last.

M: By the way, what exactly are you doing with all of those caps?

J: They used to come in lots of different colors.

M: Yeah?

J: And then they realized, clearly, that there was a cheaper way to do it.

M: And?

J: Haven’t you seen Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?

M: You’re planning to build a giant castle of toothpaste caps?

J: Not me. Someone else.

M: Oh.

J: I was thinking I could bring them over to the Depot for Creative Reuse.

M: On the same day that you’re going to bring over the strawberry baskets and the old shoes, right?

J: Exactly.

[Hilarity.]

M: Sometimes I literally cannot believe the things you do.

J: That’s good.

[Fade to hug.]

Posted in John | 1 Comment »

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