Blogging all about my cold resulted in the casting out of evil spirits and vapours from my body in only two days instead of the usual seven! Thank you commentors! Thank you lurkers who refrained from commenting! I hope those toxic powers were weakened by the Forces of Blogospheric Dispersal and ground into organic inert dust (now you know why Chemistry was not my best subject) - may they remain A Thousand Points of History!
The cold miraculously disappeared just in time for another visit from the Relatives from Outer Space, more accurately the most childish of them: the father. The Estranged Wife has returned from abroad to claim some visitation time with the daughters, and the custodial father suddenly had a free weekend. Memories of joyous Shabbat meals and home-baked apple pies chez Savtadotty flooded his being, and lo! he betook himself for a brief overnight visit to Tel Aviv during which he: babbled incessantly during the TV showing of "The Pelican Brief" which he had recommended we watch, spilled alcohol-laden mouthwash over my favorite piece of rosewood furniture, thereby removing the finish, left every light on in every room whenever we went out, insisted he be left alone to work for a few hours but then pouted that I was going to a movie without him, even though he wanted to see it with his daughter!
So for a two-hour interlude I saw "Million Dollar Baby" without interruption, and pretended you-know-who was the punching bag. As for the movie itself, Clint Eastwood isn't my dream leading man (even though he is the right age), and watching women beat each other up isn't any more interesting to me than watching men beat each other up, so I went to a movie about boxing only because it won those Academy Awards and a friend wanted to go just at the time I needed to escape from my houseguest: if I were giving awards, I would give that film an award for lighting, and for Morgan Freeman's voice. Next week: "Ray."
5 comments:
Thank you, thank you. I know, Smartmom, you have my Best Interests At Heart, and what you suggest makes sense in a rational, Americo-individuated way. But here in the hyper-emotional Mediterranean tribal climes, we don't do that because He's Family, and if we didn't have Family, we'd have nothing to complain about (it's the national sport!) and nobody to leave the dog with when we travel to visit our Mutual Relatives (the ones I really love) and no lifetime opportunities for the Pleasures of Revenge.
At the moment my best Revenge Fantasy is to find him a new Israeli wife who won't put up with the stuff he's been getting away with til now, but who will instead have the energy to put him through the Crucible of The Israeli Family Experience (the same one I'm allowing him to put me through now).
Never mind. The goat is gone. My house is quiet again.
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Magnific!
Nice Article.
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