PolackPappy, ever the star

I made the mistake of asking PolackPappy what he was thinking at Thanksgiving dinner. "Well," he announced to the table at large, and then proceeded to share how when he was in college he went with his fraternity brothers to help load turkeys onto a truck in Nebraska and naturally this freaked the turkeys out and some of them had such large breasts that they had heart attacks and died. But the frat bros got to keep the dead turkeys! And then they decided to steal some live turkeys as well and dispatch them themselves.

Ahem. This was akin to, although not quite as inappropriate as the time PP showed me an album from a fishing trip he took to Bermuda with his friend Evil Fred. Most of the pictures were what you would expect. Except for one featuring the two of them, bare-ass naked save for straw hats, with their arms around one another grinning like fools.

Anyhoo, here are a couple of safer PP shots from Turkey Day:

Kissing Cousin S


You can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friend's nose.

Your Dad's nose, however, is up for grabs.

Turkey Day Highlights

* Second Cousin M's filthy-talking stuffed parrot on a swing, which he mentioned to me early in the evening. "You have to listen when there are no kids around!" True to form, he did not forget, and after dessert found me, shooed the four-year old out of the room, and switched the button from filthy to extra-filthy. (The parrot has two settings.) I will give you the edited version here: "Polly wants a &^%^&% cracker." Polly wanted other inappropriate things that I will not mention.

* First cousin M commenting that McMumsy and PolackPappy were getting a "little frisky" on the sofa. Mm's hand was on Pp's thigh. For New Englanders, and especially our family, this is equivalent to full-on making out.

* PolackPappy's new Christmas carol. It's a work in progress; he's hoping to have it complete for Christmas Eve. It's called "Dingle Balls" and is sung to the tune of "Jingle Bells." Here is a sample: "Dashing through the snow/With my butt hair full of &#it/Shaking side to side/Trying to get rid of it."

Happy Turkey Day!

In honor of Thanksgiving, some pictures of my little turkey, for whom I am very thankful. Have a wonderful day!

Bookie

I've been having really good luck at the library lately. I go to either a Somerville or Cambridge branch; I am equidistant from each, in opposite directions. The latter is dingier with a better book selection while the former is quite clean and neat and has better DVDs.

I just returned a new take on Robert Pirsig, written by, I think, a Canadian (I am too pooped to Google him and confirm). It was quite decent. I pointed out the book this book was inspired by to Walnut at a bookstore a couple of weeks ago; she figured she was too old and jaded for it now and she's right. It's a book best read in college, I think. Or maybe best read by people like she and I in college. Sort of like how if you've passed 17 you've also passed the age at which you should read Dostoevsky, or so I've been told.

In place of the Pirsig I got a Studs Terkel memoir; he died last month and has since been all over the podcasts I listen to, including one I played today while stuffing pierogi. I recently read another great memoir by a woman who worked at Per Se, a fantastic (and fantastically expensive) New York restaurant. And I am working my way through yet another memoir by an escaped FLDS polygamist wife. And and there's still Bonk from Mary Roach in the hopper. And and and I have yet to spend a 25-dollar bookstore gift card but when I do it will be on something by Jane Brox and something by Soren Kierkegaard.

It's great having lots-o-books in the hopper. And now I am going to go lay on my sofa of mindfulness and read one.

Rethinking Crank-pants

As I was walking to yoga tonight, after dutifully pressing the button for the crosswalk, and waiting until the light was red, I stepped into the street. And some Volvo-driving maniac went rolling on through the light. I slapped the side of his car with my hand and muttered "red light, asshole."

Now old McPolack would have felt guilty about putting meanness out into the world.

But the new, improved McPolack is grateful she has an outlet for her crankiness. I listened to an interesting podcast about revenge and forgiveness the other day, and one of the speakers talked about how we have a biological drive for revenge -- and that it has helped us out in some cases. You wouldn't want someone to keep hitting you over the head with a club; revenge helps prevent that from happening.

Of course nowadays we have the poh-lice, but still. My point is this: There is dark and light in all of us. Perhaps it's not the greatest idea in the world for me to smack the cars of strange men and call them filthy names but this was a metrosexual yuppy in a Volvo. I promise not to hit anyone driving a Buick.

That is all.

Wacky Whack-A

Indian Apples

It's pomegranante season again and I am a happy camper. I just cracked open the second one of the year, under water, letting the seeds sink to the bottom and the peel and pith to the top.

When I was little PolackPappy would bring them home as treats; we called them Indian apples. Thankfully this was not any sort of ethnic slur as the Indian referred to the country in Asia, not the tribes killed off by our founding fathers (among others). Next to the apple half filled with peanut butter and studded with raisins (McMumsy's answer to dessert six days a week, and on the seventh day there was ice cream) it was my favorite fruit. Why? Because Pp served it to us in halves, in a bowl, and I would sit and stain my fingers red picking the seeds out one at a time. I loved the honeycombed layout. You just kept eating, and eating, and eating and just when you thought there was nothing left to eat you'd find another little red juicy crunchy tasty nibbly bit.

Good times, man. Good. Times.

Killin' em with kindness (and I mean killin' in the non-violent, non-aggressive, warm and fuzzy sense)

Well at yoga today, as is wont to happen, there were three people in a row that could very easily fit four. So I asked the lady in the middle if she would please move her mat one way or the other. Then I had to ask her again as she was laying down with her fingers pressed on her eyes. I think she heard me the first time. My first thought was bitch, please. But I decided instead to thank her kindly. Yoga's one of those places where meanness almost seems worse because part of the whole point of yoga is to cultivate inner peace.

Of course I am guilty of having my off days as well and, in fact, I almost never speak to anyone at the studio. And I have been going there for three years now. I don't know if it's because it's Boston, or it's me, or it's yoga, but I'm pretty OK with it. With the not speaking, I mean. The bitchiness, not so much. So I'm working on it. Less bitch, more friendly. Expecting nothing in return.

Meow.

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The time, it flies faster

Well stick a pop-up timer in my fanny and stuff my body cavity with seasoned bread, I can't believe it's almost Thanksgiving! And me without my pierogi supplies. I was commiserating with L earlier today about how weird the holidays become once you are an unmarried, childless woman of a certain age. Your parents are older, and everyone else is married or has kids of their own. L has it worse than me, though. Her mom is going to Foxwoods for Thanksgiving. I am blessed with being able to, for the 35th (!) time in a row, hang out with my extended McFamily, who I lurve, lurve, lurve, LURVE.

Anyhoo, mildly panicky feelings about spending the rest of my life alone aside, I am excited for Turkey Day, and am exploring new pierogi filling options. Nothing too crazy, mind you; I'm still sticking with potato-and-cheese and then some form of kapusta. But I may go for queso blanco instead of farmers cheese. I think they're pretty much the same thing but I still like the melting pot idea of a Spanish cheese in a Polish dumpling.

Church Lady

Well I have continued going to church pretty much every week since the start of Lent. I figure if I am asking God for help, the least I can do in return is show up for an hour once a week. This past week it was all about sharing what you have with the world and not squirreling it away. It's a good message and one that resonated with me, especially since I found myself identifying with the person in the Gospel who got sent to the naughty chair. Long story short, regardless of how much or little you have, you should share it. And in my experience, whenever I am feeling particularly low on anything, going out and giving some of that thing away causes it to come back, quickly, in multiples. Yet the less I have of something, the less inclined I am to share. Because I am freaked out that I'll end up with nothing. And because there's still part of me that doubts all this. I think that's healthy, to a degree. Blind faith isn't faith at all.

Anyhoo, that's just one of the things I've been ruminating on.

Sistahs: Sample e-mail exchange

From: Dr. Moo
Subject: Re: editing
To: McPolack
Date: Saturday, November 15, 2008, 10:17 PM

how bout this, think my mac is too cool for your computer, had to save it as a
less cool file so your windows could uderstand. What version of windows do you
have?

Hope you're having a good weekend. its 61 and raining here. Tess has gas
and chloe just sat with her anus on my shoulder with her tail slapping just
under my nose.

From: McPolack
Subject: Re: Re: editing
To: Dr. Moo
Date: Sunday, November 16, 2008, 10:17 AM

That worked. Be careful about biting the computer that edits you.

The other night I was laying on the sofa reading and Daphne jumped up and managed to stand so that her butthole was rightinmyface. Like closer than it has ever been and I started laughing because I could not believe it. She must have been so happy with herself.

No gas here. I am getting ready for church.

Smell ya later, alligator.

Ta-Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

I finally did this in yoga class today. It was up against the wall, but still.

I could never interpret in my body the "floating" you're supposed to do to get into the position. Kicking is an absolute no-no. I am quite bottom-heavy and the thought of any of that (sexy, thank you) junk doing anything resembling floating seemed nigh impossible. Until today. When I, well, floated up into it.

A Rock and a Sock: Deux

OK so I accidentally posted the first video second and the second video first. So you should watch the video UNDERNEATH this one, then watch this, then watch the Finis. So sorry.

And, some background: My dear friend Walnut and I went to the Hahhhhhhhvahd Museum of Natural History on Sunday. (That's where I took the photo of the pocket weasel.) Walnut purchased for us a geode. A geode is a magical thing. On the outside, it is ugly. But inside there is a beautiful surprise. Can you think of some other things that are this way? Quasimodo, perhaps? Hmmm.

Anyhoo using the power of technology (read: the camera Dr. Moo gave me for my birthday), and some help from Walnut, I shot this series. As it involves rocks and there are rocks on mountains and there are mountains in Banff, that is the film festival I am sure they will one day play at.

Enjoy!

A Rock and a Sock: Une

A Rock and a Sock: Finis

Sorry so quiet

But I've been using my giant brain for other things.

Also I need to reserve some space in it for figuring out how to convert the videos I made on Sunday so I can show them to you here. They involve a sock:

And a rock:


And they are fantastic.

(**&**#$$^!

I spent my entire workday making changes to the wrong file...which means more than likely that I cannot bill for my time.

Also, I am getting sick again. I blame the adorable children of my friends for this. I am rethinking their adorableness. The words "vile" and "germball" come to mind.

I know it's not the end of the world but when you live so close to the edge days like this make you feel pretty testy.

Boo.

Not recommended for pants pockets

On the cutting edge of the new world of work...

...is where I play. Today I edited a project for one client while instant-messaging with another. I have never met either of them in person and found both projects through networking. Pretty neat stuff!

How I helped Barack Obama win...

...with galobki (which is Polish! and lots of Polish people live in Chicago!)


and my magical socks.

I just witnessed history in the making...

With L and Carmen and sweet Daphne-Moon filling my living room I saw my vote counted with millions of others to elect this country's first African-American President. And the right choice to lead us.

I'm in awe and mostly speechless.

Go us! It sounds especially hippy-dippy but I swear I can feel the power of this day in my heart.

I hope you did, too!

Halloween in Fancytown

Well just in case you happen to be in Beantown on October 31, looking for a place to trick-or-treat, Beacon Hill is the place to be. Lots of beautiful brick homes all decked out and their residents sitting out on their stoops with big baskets of candy. This is Max, child of A and S, who were kind enough to invite me to tag along on his first Halloween. He went as a bunny. We went as the farmers who found him our cabbage patch. We toured the neighborhood for awhile, stopping to get candy from Little Brother and his wife, and then the fellow above insisted we get a shot of him with the best-looking baby (and mommy) he'd seen all night. Then some friends of A and S very kindly invited us in and fed us a wonderful meal and we got to watch the action on the street from inside. It was a great night!