Patsy Porco

Archive for November, 2017|Monthly archive page

Don’t Pass Gas in a Puffer Coat

In Humor, shopping on November 29, 2017 at 1:28 pm

As a public service announcement to all of you out there who are about to start shopping Screen Shot 2017-11-29 at 2.42.21 AMfor winter coats, you should know that puffer coats grab onto smells, absorb them, and hold on like a baby to a pacifier.

I went to a Korean-barbecue restaurant the other night and came out smelling like I had never left. My coat drank in the pungent scents and retained them like water. It’s two days later and that coat still reeks.

Which brings me to some other aromas that will stick to your coat like glitter to anything: body odor, bodily gases, perfume, and cooking smells. Basically anything that your nose can sense will move into your coat and start unpacking immediately.

My husband has asked me not to wear my puffer coat until it’s stink-free. He came at me today with a bottle of Febreze but I wouldn’t let him spray my coat for fear of staining it. So, for now, it’s hanging outside in the yard. I hope there’s nothing smelly out there.

Wearing a skunked coat would really stink.

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I Think I Love You

In David Cassidy, Death on November 22, 2017 at 2:41 pm

When I was 10 through about 12, I was determined to marry David Cassidy. So were millions of other preteens. We all thought that we, alone, had what David Cassidy needed in a wife. We weren’t sure what that was, but we had it.

I remember reading my Tiger Beat magazine and discovering a contest to meet David. All I had to do was explain why David would want to meet me, personally. I told my mother that I was going to win because I cleverly wrote, “David, you have to meet me because ‘I Think I Love You!'” My mother said she imagined that every young girl was going to use the title of his hit song in their plea to meet their idol. I was stunned. Really? Others would think of this, too? Well, it turns out that they did. And some other girl, who was not me, won that contest.

Teen and preteen crushes are powerful things. They twist up your insides and can bring you to tears. You think that you just cannot live without the object of your infatuation. You learn that love can be physically painful.

And then you move on … to crushes on real people, or older famous people. I worked with a young woman, when we were both in our late-20s, who was determined to meet and marry John F. Kennedy, Jr. It was lucky for her that her dream didn’t pan out.

I moved on to real people in my late teens and 20s … and to Barry Manilow. I was way too old to still have crushes on celebrities, but that didn’t stop me. I listened to his albums day and night. I even exercised to them … and forced my boyfriends to listen to them. I ignored comments from those who said he was gay. How could he be gay? He was going to marry me! Of course, it turned out that he was gay, and he was not going to marry another woman. (He’d been married to a woman in his younger days.)

Speaking of inappropriate crushes, I was in my 50s, and married, when I was infatuated with Robert Pattinson. Looking back, I’d prefer to think that I was infatuated with his Twilight character, Edward Cullen, instead of a young man in his 20s.

But, as they say, I digress. All of this reminiscing started with David Cassidy’s death. He brought many people joy with his music and his show, “The Partridge Family.” Both are firmly entrenched in the memories and psyches of multiple generations; kids born in the 50s, 60s, and maybe the 70s, as well as their parents, watched the show when it originally aired, and then later generations watched it in reruns, when their parents insisted.

Many are saddened by the passing of David Cassidy. Are we mourning the death of our youth, blah, blah, blah? No. We’re mourning the loss of David Cassidy.

Why? Because we think we love him.

Screen Shot 2017-11-22 at 2.38.33 PM

 

 

 

Second Impressions

In Humor, Theater on November 12, 2017 at 5:30 pm

via Daily Prompt: Black

I saw a play yesterday with some friends. It was a musical rendition of The Bridges of Madison County.

The theater was tiny, with a capacity of approximately 120 seats. The stage was small, but the area in front of the stage was utilized by the actors, which often placed them within inches of the front rows of seats.

There was a point when the lead actor, who played Robert Kincaid, was directly to my right, about a foot away. I had to exercise all of my self control because I was sorely tempted to whisper to him that he needed to get a new pair of black socks because the ones he was wearing were threadbare.

He was fortunate, however, that he was standing next to a pillar of self-discipline, for that reason … and also because he was very handsome. Other, less-controlled women in the audience might have been tempted to distract him with their cleavage or salacious lip-licking, or even money, regardless of what that would have done to the continuity of the play. Luckily, he was very accomplished when it came to staring off into the middle distance and ignoring the audience. I suspect that he has dealt with inappropriate comments or actions from the audience before.

Everyone in the play was very good. I especially enjoyed the comic relief offered by the neighbors, and the performances by Francesca’s husband and children. The young-adult orchestra was excellent, albeit a little loud sometimes.

The lead female, who played Francesca, had an ethereal beauty and a gorgeous voice. She was a pleasure to watch and hear. The lead male’s voice got stronger and more emphatic during the second act. Someone must have told him during the intermission that his good looks were only going so far … or that the orchestra was drowning him out. During the second act, when he started singing with feeling, and volume, the audience appeared to become more engaged with the play.

After the play, my friends and I all decided that the play was just okay. Some of my friends couldn’t get past Francesca’s infidelity and, therefore, they weren’t able to enjoy the play. Others had complaints about not being able to hear the actors above the music. Some of them didn’t think the story translated well as a musical, or didn’t appreciate that the story differed from the book and/or the movie. None of the complaints related to the acting, which was very strong and effective. I, personally, left the theater feeling ambivalent about the play.

However, my ambivalence kept me up all night. As I tried to sleep, all I could think about was the play. The actress who played Francesca made the audience feel her distress about giving up Robert in order to be loyal to the husband who rescued her from post-war Italy and gave her a good life, and to her children, all of whom she deeply loved. The actor who played the husband made us hurt for him when he struggled with Francesca’s unexplained angst. And we all internally cried for Robert, who was a lost soul who found his soulmate and couldn’t have her.

After a night of contemplation, I think I loved the play, after all.

I’m still going to send that actor some new black socks, though.

Bridges of Madison County

Photo by Heather Hayes

 

Knitwit

In Humor, knitting on November 10, 2017 at 11:06 pm

When God was handing out the analytical/logical part of the brain, I think I was off gabbing with a moron. Since I missed out on that part of the brain, I got the moron’s.

I cannot think logically, analytically, or mathematically. I often fall asleep trying to do math problems — like, if Movie Star X was born in 1964, how much older is he than Movie Star Y, who is 26? I then spend my dream running from Movie Star Y, who wants to kill me, while Movie Star X is somehow my son.

Things that are simple for other people are complex for me. For instance, I recently decided to arm-knit an eternity scarf. I saw a young woman wearing a pink one and I had to have it. Rather than tear it off her neck, I asked her where she got it. When she told me that her friend arm-knitted it, I wasn’t deterred, even though I had no idea what arm knitting was. I googled arm knitting and found a video that guaranteed that I could make an eternity scarf, using just yarn and my arms, in 30 minutes.

Screen Shot 2017-11-10 at 10.48.30 PMSo, I bought the super chunky, size 6 yarn and turned on the YouTube video that had step-by-step instructions, with some of them in slow motion. I tried to follow the host’s every move, but I never got past the first step. Every time the woman said, “And this is how the yarn should look in your hand now,” I looked at her hand and then at my hand and then pressed “rewind.”  After one hour, I was still on step 1, which was making a slip knot. By this point, I was supposed to have one scarf completely finished and another started.

Meanwhile, I had mounds of yarn all over my desk and the floor and nothing near a real stitch on my arm. Finally, I had a Eureka moment. The woman was facing me, so I should be doing everything that she was doing backwards. I immediately turned around, so that she and I were facing in the same direction. The problem with this was that I now had my back to the computer screen and had to twist my neck to see her, which meant I couldn’t see what my hands and arms were doing, which was nothing.

Then I decided to watch the video in a mirror. But the portable mirror I found wasn’t big enough to show the whole computer screen at a reasonable distance (I didn’t want to be watching the video from next door), and I couldn’t locate a table high enough for me to put the computer on so I could see into the bathroom mirror.

I’ve decided to put this project aside until I can find someone who can follow directions and who will agree to help me make my scarf.

In the meantime, I think I’ll talk to a moron. I’ve already got a mirror.

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