Sept. 8
Campus event with Mo Mowlawm (Northern Irish secretary of state) includes 10-minute private interview, along with two Irish journalists. Impression: This is a person eminently suited to the task, no-nonsense but with a roguish, somewhat self-deprecating sense of humor. Goodness knows, she'll need all those qualities.
Sept. 5-7
We spend most of Labor Day Weekend in a flurry of house-cleaning and clothes-sorting, the latter a sure-fire way to comprehend just how much our two young ladies have grown in the past several months, and missing two of Mark McGwire's historic homers. Somewhere in there is a viewing of "Titanic" (on video), for benefit of LW and YD. The second time around, a realization emerges: the ceilidh band in steerage plays too damn fast, especially the polkas. But it also afforded an opportunity to better appreciate the Bernard Hills, Victor Garbers and Ewan Stewarts of the cast, who help ensure the presence of dignity, pathos and humanity amidst the pyrotechnics.
Sept. 4
Follow-up to "road anarchy" Aug. 31 entry: This time, the event occurs in full view of a local candidate for the state legislature, out on the hustings. Question arises -- if you're running on a "law and order" platform, do you whistle the offenders down?
Sept. 3
There's some kind of philosoeconomic principle at work here: We officially start giving the kids allowance, and concurrently institute a system of fines.
Sept. 2
Back to the Ole Noodle Factory. Two schools, two separate starting times now, which means we have two kids on two different schedules in the morning -- and which will no doubt accelerate requests for two bedrooms. Anyway, OD consented to have us accompany her and chum on walk to school, at the standard 10-paces-behind. Half an hour later, we escort YD to her first day, blithely ignoring (along with other "veteran" parents) rules concerning entrance and exit. Tiring, but generally satisfying start.
Aug. 31
Road anarchy: At busy local intersection during prolonged all-around red light, I watch in amazement as one by one several motorists in merging lane first tentatively, then brazenly inch out into avenue. What I wouldn't have given for a spare state trooper's uniform and intimidating sunglasses.
Aug. 30
Damned Quicken. It informs us we are living somewhat to excess. But no, I'm not selling my classic Marvel comics collection.
Aug. 29
A productive day, a fun day, flavored by cold English muffins in the morning, over-priced Italian ice in the evening, and Avia at night -- so goes Anniversary No. 11.
*Yes, we were served breakfast in bed. Lovingly made and catered, although we did have to put in requests for utensils.
*Later, first, and hopefully not last, excursion to Fenway with OD. We enjoy Wendell Kim's mad dashes to and from the third base coaching box, Pedro Martinez's gumption, and the ground crew's navigation of typically tricky New England weather patterns. (PS -- Sox win, 6-1)
*Still later, dear wife and I take in "The Sweet Hereafter" -- Dunno if it's what you call an Oscar-worthy performance, but Ian Holm is damn good here: A stranger in a town full of broken people, he is actually the most in need of healing. And Sarah Polley has come a long way from the days of Ramona, Beezus and Picky-Picky.
Aug. 27
There will be no, repeat NO, comment here about the alleged "Lewinsky cigar."
Aug. 26
*Book completed: "Bone Dance," by Martha Brooks -- didn't realize until I looked at the back cover, about halfway through reading, that this is intended more as a "young adult" book. Generally economical narrative, which makes the spiritual episodes more distinctive. Also effective in that it is neither squeamish or exploitative of the idea of teen sexuality. Definitely a future consideration for our budding readers.
*Viewing: "Blink" -- interesting premise, but a rather disappointing Maguffin (IMO) halfway through. Didn't raise my enthusiasm any about Aidan Quinn. But, OK, I'm a sucker for Madeline Stowe; if she's serious about developing her Irish fiddle skills, I'm perfectly willing to escort her to a seisun or two and...what's that, dear? Yes, I'll take out the trash now.
Aug. 25
Ripped from today's screaming, etc. (specifically, the NY Times):
*Scientists in Australia have apparently come up with a protein that can be injected into sheep and essentially make them able to shed their own wool fleece. So much for all the sheep-shearing songs...
*Article on scientific wagers notes that Stephen Hawking (Cambridge) once bet Kip Thorne (Caltech) that a certain star was not a black hole. In 1990, Hawking conceded defeat and paid Thorne: He bought him a subscription to Penthouse. Yeah, I get it for the articles, too.
Aug. 24
Atlanta-like weather as we enter the last week of summer vacation, enjoying temporary dog-owner status as care-takers for Tasha-down-the-street. Much to my surprise, OD seems able to restrain Tasha from acting upon her various impulses during walkies.
Aug. 22
Concert: Les Barker, at house in Lexington -- Ah, Les, the antithesis of the fiery, over-the-top poet. He has that informally apologetic quality to his stage presence, which makes his off-the-cuff responses all the more funny. Anyway, he did a lot of old favorites -- "Cosmo, the Fairly Accurate Knife Thrower," "Spot of the Antarctic," "I Can't Find My Camouflage Net," and, of course, "Deja Vu" -- plus a few I'd not heard yet. Purchasing the "Roverdance" volume was a foregone conclusion [see entry for 6/20/97].
Aug. 21
Sigh. Reality is truly no fun, sometimes. Less than 18 hours after our return, OD's bike is stolen from our driveway. Then, friend informs us that their kids all have head-lice, which prompts massive laundering, vaccuming and shampooing operation in our own household. Of course, there's also the real-world version of "Wag the Dog" taking place in Afghanistan and the Sudan -- but at least Clinton's not talking about "terrorist subversion of my precious bodily fluids."
Aug. 8-18: So We Sang the Chorus From Atlanta
The Gate City was, of course, hazy and humid -- and considerably larger than in 1991, especially on outskirts of Buckhead. Good times, albeit far too brief, with Martha and Pat (mother and stepfather-in-law, respectively) and I discover that Pat and I may well have had ancestors on opposite sides at Gettysburg. Other moments:
*Six Flags Over Georgia: all set for roller coaster rides for the next several years, thanks to breath-grabbing excursions on the Viper and Mind Bender. Warner Bros. floor show tribute contains odd juxtaposition of songs and wardrobes, such as Gay '90s vaudeville attire during a rendition of "Old Time Rock and Roll." Anyway, all of us emerged happy, tired and wet (thanks to the water rides).
*Coca-Cola World: oh, what the hell, we thought. Worth it for the ad campaign histories alone -- "Sprite Boy"(c. early 1940s to late '50s), with his perpetually-fixed impish expression, would have been quite annoying to behold on a continual basis. Highlight: sampling sodas from other countries -- thumbs up, Paraguayan pineapple and Mozambiquan ginger ale; thumbs down, Italian bitter aperitif.
*This is followed by quick trip through Atlanta Underground, ending at a plaza dotted with young hip-hoppers, who exhibit vocal-accompanied dance moves worthy of a folklore project.
*Atlanta History Center: YD, with usual gusto, takes up tour guide's challenge to find representations of swans in rooms of the Swan Mansion.
*Turner Field and Braves Museum: impressive -- even the player's clubhouse putting green has a photo backdrop of the course in Augusta. The museum has all the little minutiae you'd want in a sports archive, but for me the highlight was a preserved clipping of a 1915 Boston Herald announcing the debut of Braves Field -- and, near the bottom, reporting on the Boston-area girls baseball championship held at none other than the local town playground.
*Lots of good ole Southern cooking, including catfish and black-eyed peas.
*Jarring vision in airport's Disney Store: Video of Tigger, er, singing, accompanied by Solas and several cute-as-a-button female step-dancers. What's next, a Michael Flatleyesque Muppet on "Sesame Street"?
Also:
*Viewing: "Madeline" -- Frances McDormand has Miss Clavel right down to the raised index finger, and the film's infectious enough to enjoy. But, if this is indeed supposed to be Paris in the '50s, why is "super" bandied about as an all-purpose superlative? And how can there be an ambassador from Uzbekistan?
*Book completed: "Lady Moses," by Lucinda Roy -- complexly drawn characters who interact in complex ways. Refreshing to read a book on diversity within and without from a British, rather than American, perspective.
