Related messes: Teenage wasteland
A roll of ribbon, a few yards of cloth, some construction paper, a wreath of ivy and some plastic combs. A little cutting, a little glue, a couple of knots.
Andromeda's mother packs her daughter and her little friend Athena into the chariot for the trip to school. Later, she will be called back. Both the princess and the goddess have left their props behind.
Still, it was finished. Another boulder pushed to the top of the hill. With any luck it would stay there.
Perhaps Dionysus, the god of
parenting wine, would stop by later to congratulate her on a job well done. And the Olympic-caliber bickering would cease long enough for her to enjoy it. She will wear laurels in her hair. There will be toasts in her honor. And the laundry baskets will be empty!
This is what is known as a Greek myth.
This can't be accidental. The woman has advisers, right? Political consultants, public relations people, friends?
So who is it who allows this woman to take the national stage with a tattoo on her hand that says whatever you do, don't take me seriously... ? Or words to that effect.
Because if you are Sarah Palin - an ambitious woman whose chief, and possibly insurmountable political liability is that she comes off in public as not very bright - writing stuff on your hand as a crib sheet for a question and answer session is NOT AN OPTION.
And don't misunderstand me: one of my closest friends is a woman who happens to write stuff on her hand. We don't even let her be president of our playgroup. I am just kidding. Our playgroup never even had a president. It was more of a parliamentary system...
Anyway, my point is this: there is nothing wrong with working from notes, even notes on your hand if that's what you prefer. Unless you are Sarah Palin. This is so glaringly obvious that even the dumbest marketing intern working in the office of whoever came up with the new Dockers campaign could not fail to see it.
It has to be deliberate.
Someone in her posse is trying to save frustrated tea-drinking conservatives from their most desperate impulses. Roses are red, violets are blue, I can't think of any other explanation, can you?
For her game-changing performance as the politician's woman scorned, South Carolina first lady Jenny Sanford has us fawning in admiration.
Not only does she manage to castrate her creepy, lying Appalachian Trail hiking, soon-to-be-ex husband Governor Mark Sanford in a memoir The New York Times calls an "elegant evisceration" - she does it without ever seeming to relinquish the high ground.
Why expose the father of her children as a "laughably cheap, self-absorbed, soulless, cheating, first-class jerk?" asks a reporter. Because he's a laughably cheap, self-absorbed, soulless, cheating, first-class jerk?
But Jenny merely looks puzzled. "It's not the book that put him in a bad light," she says.
And later in the interview there is this: "He didn't have a lot of experience courting women, let's just say." Take note Mrs. Spitzer: a kick in the cojones doesn't get any more elegant than that.
Of course, as campaign manager for Mark Sanford's three congressional and first gubernatorial elections, Jenny Sanford does have to answer for her role in foisting this guy upon the citizens of South Carolina. But if this book is half as entertaining as it looks, they might be willing to forgive her.
Photo: Roses are red, violets are blue... the best revenge is in hardback at a bookstore near you.
Here we are just barely having escaped from last weekend's Emergency Parenting Quest, (the so-called "hoodie shortage") and another round of deadlines and adventure is upon us.
This one, as in so many EPQs, arises out of one of those inspired lesson plans in which teachers pretend not to realize that Dress Like a Character from History/Literature/Greek Mythology Day is really just Homework for Parents. (And who do we think we are kidding here with our use of the gender-neutral "parents"?)
Thankfully, this assignment falls during a week in which, except for the Clarinet Supply Checklist, Competitive Baton and Pom Pom Twirling class registration, Class Schedule Change permission slip, 450-page Math and Science Academy application, freshman English composition editing, Emergency Lunchroom Account Replenishment and an orthodontist appointment, I am relatively free.
Even so, there is no time to waste. We have less than a week in which to assemble an Andromeda costume for the sixth-grader's Greek Mythology Character day.
The Princess Andromeda, I learn from my lazy googling, is best known for having almost been eaten by a sea monster sent to punish her mother for bragging that she was hotter than the sea nymphs.
Andromeda is chained to a rock and offered up as a snack in hopes of appeasing Poseidon, who was really irritated by a mortal suggesting that she was even in the same league as a sea goddess. Oh no, you di'nt. At the last minute, she is rescued by a big strong man, they go on to have many children and she spends the rest of her life filling out permission slips and driving to soccer practice.
Not necessarily the most inspiring character in Greek mythology. But this is going to be the easiest costume ever.
Andromeda by Sir Edward Poynter (left) and Gustave Doré (right).
CoverGirl and Olay want to know: Tell us what you do to live agelessly!
People are always asking me how I manage to stay so youngish and vibrant well into what should rightfully be my declining years, if I were not one of those hateful skinny bitches with a personal trainer and a calendar full of salon visits.
I laugh and open the gift certificates for expensive spa and beauty treatments that I have asked them to bring and say "I don't know what you are talking about! Just the other day, I thought I saw a gray hair!"
But when they insist on knowing my secrets, I tell them:
Live, love, laugh; do not concern yourself with age! After all, you are only as old as your last birthday and it won't be long before things like that are going to slip your mind anyway, along with the location of your car keys and the names of your neighbors. I am just kidding, I say. I crack myself up. Which may explain some of those little lines around my eyes...
Seriously, I say, the important thing is... Then I go through a list of cross-stitch platitudes about wisdom and fine wine and agelessness, all of which is meant to convey the idea that age is really just an attitude that has nothing to do with whether CoverGirl's Simply Ageless concealer does or does not settle into the fine lines and wrinkles across your ageless face.
Because agelessness is kind of a mixed message when you think about it.
Photo: A tiara and a scowl add a little glow to any makeup routine. You're welcome.
Posted at 11:24 AM in The Underachiever's Guide to Everything Worth Doing (Halfway) | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBack (0)