Hey Asshol!

Have you ever watched a foreign movie with characters whose names translate obscenely into English?

Saturday, Tennisfiend and I watched Scarlet Sails, a predictable and sugary sweet adaptation of a traditional Russian fairytale. The main character is a naive and (unintentionally) delusional seventeen year old girl named "Asshol." Although IMDB spells her name "Assol," the subtitles added an h which, along with the distinctive pronunciation, sent me into an 87 minute Beavis and Butthead paroxysm.

Perhaps because of her name, every scene seemed to include at least one character shouting “Asshooooool!” across an expansive meadow of wildflowers. When they introduced a kindly old man named “Doushe,” I though that I might die of laughter-induced tummy cramps. Initially offended, Tennisfiend joined in my mirth during the last 45 minutes of the film. Hee!

Cheery Stuff

Five things that made the past two weeks great despite a cold:

1. Master and Margarita: This five DVD Russian miniseries based on Bulgakov’s famous novel dazzled us for days! Visually striking and (generally) faithful to the book, the cast performed splendidly. Despite critic's complaints related to CGI/special effects, I enjoyed the little person in a furry catsuit playing Begemot and the lack of sophisticated special effects. Movies can still be captivating without blasting your retinas off with state-of-the-art CGI (I hated the Star Wars prequels). To further delight me, Igor Kornelyuk's music sounded like an outrageous fusion of Danny Elfman, Carl Orff and Oktoberfest music. Whoa.

2. Our New Years Tree: Yep, we kept it up waaaay past the traditional January 14 disassembly date. Last night when the pizza dude came by, he gave us an odd look, since the tree still blinked cheerily in our living room. At least we were listening to The Cramps instead of Winter Wonderland.

3. Ewbliette, My Savior: Since Ewbliette lives very close to my favorite healthfood/grocery store, she kindly shopped for me while I babied myself to avoid full blown bronchitis (I seriously steer clear of antibiotics). When her car pulled up the driveway, I trotted out to greet her and I almost fell over laughing as she hopped out of her car sporting a professional looking blue surgical mask. Anyway, bless her for the shopping, coughing pillows, cough drops and good cheer.

Bonnie May

4. My Gramma, the Goth Chick: My Gramma’s birthday recently passed and as I browsed through her old photos, I recognized that my enduring love for the macabre and somber came directly from her. With a pang, I realized how sweet my teenage years would have been if she survived. She would have embraced my dark and dramatic inclinations not as an understanding parent tolerating a phase, but as a former sister of a kindred movement, two generations past.

5. Guys Gone Wild: When you are up late coughing/sneezing/sniffing with Steven Colbert reciting the Threatdown in a manner that’s strangely provocative, you can easily tire of the obligatory Girls Gone Wild commercials. Entrez Guys Gone Wild. Oh. My. Goodness. I seriously doubt that they market the program for thirty-something cold-suffering women with unkempt hair and red raw noses. Nevertheless, it’s so nice to see. Please, boys, frolic on!

Happy Birhtday Mom!

I'd like to thank my Dad for digging up these two photos of Mom.

Mom descending to scubadive off the Great Barrier Reef, Australia. Here's a photo of a poisonous sea snake she took on this dive.

The morning this pic was taken, Mom's left ponytail froze to the side of their tent.

Olympic Observations

Every time the Olympics roll around, I watch the opening ceremonies anticipating a certain cheese factor. When Athens hosted the most recent summer games, their opening ceremonies were the most spectacular I’ve ever witnessed.

Stylish and sophisticated, they paid tribute to the history of Greece and the Olympics with dignity and good taste. The Athens Olympics also cost the country over 12 billion dollars, so I didn’t hold my breath for Turin’s opening ceremonies. Anyway, here’s my little commentary on Friday’s ceremonies:

• Maybe I’ve seen Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Sex one too may times, but the white hooded performers looked like sperm on ice.
• If I had a deep throaty voice like Mary Ann Carrillo, I would pick up every time a telemarketer called. Heck, I’d even moonlight as a telemarketer! “Hello, this is the XYZ Policestate Foundation, what are you wearing...”
• Fire the person who recommended the skating pine trees and revolving cows.
• The skiing man composed of ice skaters made my evening. It worked better than all of the other skating combined. Whee!
• American Olympiads have the most beautiful teeth in the world. • I want the sun and moon balloons for my backyard.
• Luciano Pavorotti needs to tone down the coal black beard and hair dye. • Fireworks! You can never have enough fireworks!

Happy Birthday Fontessa!!!

Fontessa i Mariachi. Mesilla, NM.

Dearest Fontessa! Happy Birthday! We love you very much! This photograph is very beloved to us because you have such a lovely smile! I miss you very much! Kisses Bestfiend

Doragaya ,

C' dyen razdyeneye!!! Mwi tebya ochen'n lyubem! Etot photografiya nam ochen' priatna, patamuschta ti tak ulybaitsa! Ya teba silneeya po skychat'!

Patsalouie!

Bestfiend

Look What I Found!

, do you remember when this was taken or what we were doing with your boot in the bathroom of O'Ryan's? Hee!

Happy Birthday Dad!

I can't resit the impulse to share a few photos of my Dad in hats over the years. Today is his 73rd birthday!

Dad in 1935.

Dad with buddies in the Chemistry Club, circa 1952. He's the one with a beret, and yes, it's a real beret, from France even!

Dad on vacation outside of Ouray Colorado, playing Flamenco guitar. (2003)

Fienderversery 2006

Making googly-eyes in 2005.

We've been together for eleven years! Yay! To celebrate, Tennisfiend took off a half a day of work and we went hiking at the Chihuahuan Desert Museum. A five mile stretch of road leading to the museum was so rutted that it jiggled my spleen into my left ear. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful sunny day, perfect for hiking.

For dinner we had a sushi and champagne festival on the livingroom floor, lit by every candle in the house. We ended the evening cuddling on the couch watching Russian children's cartoons and sharing oranges.

She Would Have Been 98

 My folks traveled a frequently when I was little, so my paternal grandmother spent a great deal of quality time with me. Telling scary ghost stories was her specialty, although I would beg to have her recount the Rabelaisian adventures of my imaginary friend, Bucko, who had a penchant for crapping his pants. Once, while playing Robin to my Batman, she broke her little toe in a fall while crossing a ladder stretched over a "dinosaur" pit I dug. I was so lucky to have her in my life. I love you, Grand-mam and I miss you very much.

Airbed Adventure

Sunday

7:PM Tennisfiend’s cold becomes exponentially worse. Fiendish propaganda from the Vick’s and Robitussin did not deceive us, especially after $22 of medicine seems to actually increase his coughing and sneezing.

Midnight Continued and interminable coughing and misery for Tennisfiend. When he’s awake I pour infusions of red hibiscus, honey and lemon down his throat. When he’s asleep, I listen to him cough and wriggle, outlining the nasty letter I will to write Theraflu in my head.

Monday

3:AM  After three hours of composing mental letters and contemplating smothering my mate with a pillow, I drag my fool self up to bake muffins and get some work done. Clicking away on the computer, I can hear muffled coughing in the background. I feel ashamed for being (temporarily) unsympathetic.

7:AM  Miracle cold improvement! Sunlight vanquishes his worst symptoms.  I theorize that his cold is a purely a nighttime phenomenon genetically engineered and mass distributed by big business to sell Nyquil and Robitussin p.m. After breakfast, I take a nap before starting my own busy day.

11:AM So much for my theory. He left work early and I crawled into bed to sleep for the remainder of the afternoon. I’m cranky, so to increase my suffering, I pick up when my Mom calls.

4:PM  I suck. Can’t get any quality work done and I’m preoccupied with getting sick. I make chicken noodle soup for Tennisfiend and take vitamin C. Succumbing to irritability; I become petulant, ruminating on how aggravating my mother is and avoiding reaching out to my savior, Ewbliette.

7:PM  The vampire cold is back, but watching the Australian Open has but a big smile on Tennisfiend’s face. He insists that I sleep in my office until his coughing subsides. (Yay!) I drag out our two Aerobeds hoping that one will inflate and we divvy up our bedroom accoutrements. Custody of the vaporizer, air purifier and ginormous down comforter go to Tennisfiend, while I walk off with our dog Misty and four pillows.

8:PM Both airbeds fail. Further investigation revealed that a release valve was improperly closed, so one bed was finally salvaged.

8:30  Dogs love airbeds.

9:PM  Bedtime! The evening has taken on an adventuresome aspect. Next to my Aerobed, our camping clock and a flashlight wait expectantly. If I had graham crackers and marshmallows, I’d make S’mores and put on some bug spray. I read Cosmos for a half hour and turn in.

Tuesday

12:30 AM  Brrrr! Sleeping on an air mattress is like sleeping on a glacier. I can feel my body heat slowly draining away. I place an extra fuzzy blanket over the mattress and that does the trick. The bedroom light is on and Tennisfiend coughs in the background.  I make us some herbal tea, but he’s asleep when I bring it to him.

4:AM  Sleeping on an air mattress is like sleeping on a melting glacier. The bed has partially deflated, so I wake up with my butt making floor contact. For some reason, this seems outrageously hilarious. Filling the bed makes a racket that startles Misty into an alarmed grunt, adding to my amusement.

8:AM  Tennisfiend calls in sick for work and after breakfast we both go back to bed. My nose tickles and throat is sore. I wonder if I will be sleeping in my office when it’s my turn to cough all night. Probably so. I’ll add graham crackers and marshmallows to my shopping list.