But she never lost her head…

Kate’s school had a walkathon over the weekend, to feed dollars to the hungry PTO. Of course we participated; we are, if nothing else, good school citizens. Kate walked 15 laps, about two and a half miles, and one over the number she needed to get the gold award for participation above and beyond the call, etc.

It was a festive event, with lots of kids and parents and teachers and even a DJ, who played walking music — uptempo early-to-mid-career Beatles, the Backstreet Boys, Abba, etc., and songs with “walk” in the title — “Walk This Way” being the one that played while we were doing our part. We were done halfway through the event’s four-hour length, and headed off to Target. By the time we got back, it was 3:55 and presumably the only people left were the parents and other adult volunteers, because by then the DJ was playing “Walk on the Wild Side.” While it has the word “walk” in the title, I couldn’t help but wonder if anyone was actually listening to the lyrics.

Of course, in a world where Iggy Pop tunes can be used by a damn cruise line for its commercials, is anything off limits? Don’t think so.

A lazy weekend, but not really. We closed up the lake cottage Saturday, which consisted of pulling the boat and its stakes out of the water, raking and burning all extant leaves, turning off the water and blowing all moisture out of the pipes, and (Alan’s favorite part), unbolting the toilet so that it can rise and fall on the frost-heaving floor all winter long. Doing jobs like this reminds me of why so many people are razing their summer cottages and putting up year-round homes they can retire to — sitting vacant and cold all winter long is hard on a house, particularly a flimsy little summer cottage, and for what the land they’re sitting on is worth, you might as well.

Saying goodbye to the cottage for another year is a little sad, but I cannot tell a lie: It’s always a bit of a relief. No more decisions on our weekend plans — share the child with her relatives at the lake or be selfish and stay home? Over the years I’ve gotten to where I like our long stays up there in August much better than our random weekends. With no full bathroom in our cottage, we have to bathe in the lake, and after about three days of this I stop bothering with hairstyling and, most days, makeup. In the lake mirror, I look at myself and think, you look kissed by the sun. Then I get home, look into my unforgiving bathroom mirror and say, fix your damn hair. Also, your feet are dirty.

Now I have to get to work on my pathetic excuse for a screenplay — five pages due by Wednesday — and, of course, watch “Carnevale.”

In the meantime, bloggage:

Funny story in Slate about America’s butt-crack epidemic, which is particularly acute in A2, where you have dense concentrations of young women and their peculiar fashion sense. The opening anecdote happened to me in almost every detail last spring in NYC; I love when I see my boring self reflected in the chronicles of popular culture, at least other than Country Woman: America is in the throes of a crack epidemic. Sitting in a booth with a friend at an excruciatingly hip restaurant in downtown Manhattan a few weeks ago, I glanced up to see a fleshy forest of crevices and multiple folds of skin and G-strings that three women in their late 20s were displaying for the world. It was then that I knew: This low-rider style has gone too far.

Also, if you’re not equal to the Album Cover Challenge — 60 albums stripped of their artist-and-title details, and you try to recall whose is whose — well, join the club. I got about five of them. Pathetic. I’m so old.

Finally, you always wanted the lyrics to “Baby Got Back” in Latin, didn’t you? Thought so.

More later and/or tomorrow.

Posted at 8:18 pm in Uncategorized |

8 responses to “But she never lost her head…”

  1. James Burns said on October 13, 2003 at 7:09 am


    Shouldn’t that be: Carniv�le?

    I hate hate hate hate hate that show after giving it a proper evaluation. Crazy preachers, dwarfs, dust bowls and Oakies; what’s not to hate? I want my HBO money back.

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  2. Marci said on October 13, 2003 at 9:38 am

    Baby Got Back, translated into Latin… I have no words.

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  3. Nance said on October 13, 2003 at 9:40 am

    Well, I have to say, it’s rapidly losing me. Too much David Lynch, not enough plot. Also, there’s something weird about Michael Anderson’s (he the dwarf, for those of you not watching the credits) delivery. His voice is so Modern Socal, it’s strange to hear him droppin’ his Gs and using all that carny slang. He needs a dialect coach.

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  4. Colleen said on October 13, 2003 at 9:53 am

    Amen on the butt crack thing. How come it’s ok for young women to sport butt cleavage in the name of fashion, when plumber’s butt is a well known derogatory term? I remember all too well seeing a half moon while trying to eat at Pizza Hut. Yikes.

    Say no to crack.


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  5. John Ritter said on October 13, 2003 at 10:10 am

    I drop off my son at HS every morning and observe quite a number of young miss butt cracks and/or exposed thongs. I just assume that it is a generational thing and try not to read too much into it.

    As for young children taking a “Walk on the Wild Side”, that reminds me of the pre-schoolers singing Three Dog Night’s “Joy to the World” at my church (circa 1973) for Sunday morning service. Even though I was a mere lad then, I thought it was somehow inappropriate for 4 year old kids to sing about “making sweet love to you” and “alway [having] mighty fine wine”.

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  6. Sister Pam said on October 13, 2003 at 10:30 am

    I would have to say that I’m with JC above on Carnivale. I’ve watched it since it started and it’s just boring. Last night, the Harlot was killed and I just KNOW that Ben (the guy with Pet Sematary powers) is going to bring her back to life. Then what? Because there’s always a heavy price to pay for such power, just ask the owners of that demonic cat. There’s also “The Stand” sub-plot going on between the preacher and the guy with the cloudy eyes. It’s so predictable that it’s getting on my nerves. So I’m parting ways with that series.

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  7. TSO said on October 13, 2003 at 10:53 am

    In order to bend down and hug someone without exposing herself, my wife’s niece looks like a participant in the old ’70s game Twister. Very awkward for her, but I suppose it increases her flexibility.

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  8. danno said on October 13, 2003 at 2:56 pm

    That’s one of the things I loved about the lake, bathing in the lake itself(with Ivory soap of course, only one that floats!) Sitting down on the pier and leisurely soaping up, making lather hair styles, then jumping in and feeling oh so clean!! Not too mention the occasional muck baths we used to take too! As a kid, who would have thought that muck-type baths or rubs would become fasionable??!! We just thought it was cool and gross!!!! I MISS THE LAKE!!!!

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