Skip to main content
I have a confession to make. Ready?

I really don't like Seinfeld. Let me make that stronger, in fact. I dislike the show. It is funny. It is hilarious, really. I've probably seen every episode. The writing was great, the actors, the directors.

But I don't like it.

(Interestingly, I've done an informal poll over the years and most – as in all but one – of the people that I've found who have disliked Seinfeld have been female.)

I also don't like talent shows of any kind, particularly if anyone I know is in them. I've paced a lot of hallways in my life waiting for talent shows to finish. My heart in my throat, my fingers ready to go to my ears (lest I hear anything).

Then again I've been known to run out of the room during crucial plays of professional ball games (so I won't see my team "fail"). I missed several of the Patriots' key plays two years ago as a result. And there's no way I can bear to sit and watch the balance beam competition in women's gymnastics. "Ack, any moment she's going to slip and her career will be over!" But – I'll return to see the replay of her fall.

The suspense kills me.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

This has been a very long week -- perhaps 16 or 17 days, at least. I have been offered -- and accepted -- my younger sister’s finished basement for the next year and a half. This will be a major cost-saver for me and a big help for her (she has two toddlers and is expecting a baby in August.) So that was a humongous start to the week. My other sister and her teenaged son have had to make some really hard decisions. She gave me permission to quote her: “spent yesterday at the hospital with my son. about eleven hours. sitting here writing and rewriting this entry trying to find just the right words. how to explain-- he is not healthy. he is mentally ill. he is not safe at home. none of this really covers it. so here's one image from the day. we walk into the east wing at maine med escorted by security. the very nice guard LOOKS like a skinhead but actually has incredible kindness and compassion for my snarly boy. he tells us gently that he has to check ian for weapons and sharp o...
Life is a little tough these days. Taking a break. I will be back with more tales of grasshoppers and compost heaps and scrabble games soon.
From the warnings in the back of the Life textbook: If one sleeps over at one’s old house to take care of one’s own kids while their dad is on a business trip, and if one is pleased with how calmly and smoothly everything is going and has gone and seems to be likely to go in the future, one should not be surprised when one’s silly dog decides to have -- oh, what should we call it? diarrhea? -- in the master bedroom on the white carpet. One should be careful not to say anything too terribly vile to the dog while scrubbing away at germy spattery spots with old white gym towels. Note: one should be especially alert to the smirking meanness of the universe. The universe has been known to send along vicious wasps to sting one on the ring finger of the left hand, causing one to nearly faint from anxiety.