accidental feminist

Master of Her Own Destiny October 22, 2007

Look, I know, it’s been 10 days; and before that, it was 10 days. It’s just that work is crazy, and I was in the hospital (maybe you heard) and I’ve just had a lot on my mind, and…oh, I know, there’s no excuse. Well, hopefully this will whet your whistle:

Earlier tonight, Dina was rifling through the card and envelope drawer…

Dina: I need to write a card for Dillon.

Me: Who’s Dillon?

Dina: He’s in Kindergarten.

Me: Oh. Sounds good.

I help her pick a card with a bunny on it that says “Wish I could just hop on over and see you”, and she asks me to help her spell the following: “I like you. Would you like to become friends with me?”

As she is addressing the envelope, Yosef asks her: Who’s Dillon?

Dina: (defiantly) He’s the boy I’m going to marry instead of Eli (her boyfriend from last year with whom she had a torrid falling-out that involved him forbidding her to dance with her friend in the school kitchen, her defying him because she quite likes to dance, and him proclaiming that they were no longer friends).

Me: Ah, so you’re sowing the seeds now…

Dina: (triumphantly, pantomiming spreading seeds across the ground) Yes, I’m sowing the seeds!

You hear that, Eli? You are, like, so yesterday’s circle time.

Homecoming! October 12, 2007

It’s weird teaching high school sometimes. How can I explain? Well, you know all of those awkward, strange, beautiful, and painful moments you experienced between the ages of 14-18? Imagine having to vicariously relive them every year of your life. Having to awkwardly feign school spirit, having to watch as teenage relationships bud and blossom, then crash and burn before your eyes, all hindged on who gets asked to a 3-hour dance in the gym? And, to make it all the more ironic, you teach at a school that is in the same conference as the one where John Hughes went to school. So not only are you reliving high-school memories past, but you’re reliving the collective high school memories of an entire generation of Americans. To those of us who lived through it, this is what a school library looks like, this is what happens at the Von Steuben Day Parade (that’s right, Von Steuben Day), and this is every high school boy’s dream girl.

ER (but not as sexy) October 8, 2007

Yes, y’all, I had a brush with my chronic disease over the weekend, and I prevailed! Nothing like getting an abscess lanced without any painkiller to perk you up on a Saturday night. Yummy! And now that I’m home, I want to thank all of you who called, texted, emailed, visited, and just thought well of me these past few days. And to those of you who didn’t know about my little incident…(as I put on my best Jewish Bubbe voice) I didn’t want that you should worry. Better you didn’t know. Anyway, who am I but an old women, already? You, you’ve got a life yet to live, bubbele. Don’t mind me. I’ll just be over here bleeding on the carpet…

blown away October 2, 2007

I came home late tonight from rehearsal and found this on my dresser:
And while I usually at least make a attempt to seem subtle about touting my daughters’ brilliance by way of irony or humorous anecdote, there’s no way to sugar coat this one: this poem is freaking amazing. I assume you can decipher the “creative spelling”. If not, you have no soul.

boogie woogie bugle a-hole October 1, 2007

For reasons I can’t quite get into now, I ended up singing this entire song (with the original lyrics, not my amended title above) in a show the other night. And then I got to thinking about it, and I started actually considering the narrative, and I got really pissed. Consider:
* Yes, it sucks for the Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy (BWBB) that he’s stuck in the army without his trumpet, but…
* He’s a selfish prick for allowing the captain to draft, what, at least two (if we’re talking a trio) or up to, I don’t know, 40 (if we’re talking Big Band) more talented musicans into a gruesome war from which they might never return just cuz poor little BWBB “couldn’t jam”. It would have been like drafting Joey Fatone* to fight in Iraq in 1991, and then Joey being like “I can’t “work it” without the other New Kids, you know, man?” And then Marky-Mark would have probably gone in solidarity, and you know he’d be the one to die, cuz he’s superbadass, and then we never would have had Entourage! Because some guy’s a little “down in the dumps”. It’s a WAR, dude! Suck it up and play that little no-valved trumpet!

*I love the fact that I wrote “Joey Fatone” (of N’Sync) when I obviously meant “Joey McIntire” (of NKOTB). I love it even more that no one even noticed the difference.