gfrancie | 5 things to talk about (Reply)

mockduck has asked me to speak on five subjects. Thankfully she didn't ask me to do it without hesitation, repetition or deviation. And I don't have to compete against Clement Freud.

On Typos
They happen. Some are amusing and some are foolish. I don't dwell upon them too much; especially on livejournal. I make them all of the time because I prefer to jot down the thought at the time and move on with my life. For some that is a great travesty and it goes against their high holy religion of Language, grammar and punctuation. I suppose this is why I have never warmed to Lynne Truss and her smug head girl act. Yes yes yes it is important to communicate well and it isn't terribly professional in certain environments (like journalism and certain financial institutions where a misplaced dot might cause a great calamity) but in the casual world of on line journaling, a typo isn't going to ruin my world and I suspect it might not ruin yours terribly; unless you are some sort of Orthodox individual. Some are. We all have our personal things that wind us up. I don't get too worked up about such things. Language, grammar and punctuation are living things and aren't handed down from some infallible creature. (yet some people act like a bunch of fundies) Much of it is based on current fashion and it changes o'er time. (see look what I did there...quaint isn't it. Quaint like a cottage owned by a woman who spins her own wool and makes cream teas.) So what might be a typo now might have been common and accepted writing once upon a time. Maybe I am engaging in a historical homage you typo fascists. Oh and that is another thing that drives me up the wall. That need to correct the typos and point out your clever cleverness. How about refraining you uptight frigid bore??? I know I know it is just so nice to share that you know things but most people do not care. They don't. They don't care to hear your precious correction. Who do you think you are? Paris Gellar? Well you aren't. Now go sit in your corner and re-arrange your various style manuals while the rest of us are having our drinks and having HOT SEX ALL OVER your sacred MLA style guide. Will you want to touch it after I have done things on that guide that may be illegal in the state of Alabama or some other peculiar Southern State that has banned the use of "marital aids". Yes I am that sordid you motherfuckers!!!!!
FIE ON YOUR TYPO CORRECTING FETISH!!!!
So. Typos are a fact of life. Much like my habit of going off on tangents and having sex in weird places or on people's personal property.
Let me tell you, Sherwood Forest has never been the same. Or that one area in Cambridge...

On Soup
My Mother once described a cream of carrot soup she had in a long gone local French restaurant. She said it had so many layers of flavor and it is something she will always remember. Somewhere I have a menu or something that she gave me from the restaurant. I was given this as a child and I would take it out and look at the offerings. It was truly exotic to me. I have had a few memorable soups in life. There is this kooky Italian restaurant that I like to go to now and then that has reliable food. One of the head servers was someone I grew up with and had been my dancing partner when I was about 9/10 years old. He had the look of Baryshnikov about him at the time and he was gay as a hat. I recall him having silver ballet slippers. Now he works up the masses on a Friday night and always makes it a party. We always have a nice chat when we see each other. Anyways one night in that restaurant they served this carrot garlic soup that was just so damn satisfying. It had a large crouton with a dollop of chevre. It wasn't exquisite-looking but it was just the right mix of flavors. They haven't had the soup since. Or at least they never have it when I am there. I keep asking/hoping.
Another soup I recall was at the Salish Lodge. They brought you a bowl filled with prawns and scallops and bits of salmon and then poured the cream soup over the seafood. It was a genuinely decadent meal and it was the small details like this that completed the experience.
Despite memorable soups sometimes there is nothing more comforting than a tuna melt with tomato soup on a rainy winter day.

On Chain Stores
I have two standards regarding chain stores. Some I consider to be held in high esteem if they are a local chain and have a particular history with a place. For years the Bon Marche was a local Department store and they were okay to like because it was founded by a French immigrant in the late 19th century. Some of my family had worked there. I spent a little time working there and again it was local. They were the ones to buy Frango chocolates when Frederick & Nelson's closed. Frederick's was the Department Store here in Seattle for many many years. They represented everything that was classy, smart and glam. Again I had family who worked there. My Great-Grandfather worked there. (he worked also in San Francisco as a Linen Buyer) The staff there treated everyone very very well no matter who they were. I had the pleasure of working with people who had worked there once upon a time when I worked for the Bon. These were people who taught me a great deal about customer service, the skill and talent that it takes to work in service and the art of talking to people. There was an older lady who worked in better dresses who taught me how to talk distraught women down from the ceiling when they were trying on gowns that didn't quite work. (you get to play shrink and agony aunt in many dressings rooms.) There was a very funny older gay gentleman who worked in displays who told me great stories about starting at Frederick's in the good old days and what things were like. Frederick's is gone and now the Bon is Macy's. So one doesn't hold the same allegiance anymore. Now Starbuck's is an interesting situation. Yes it is very local. I have had many friends work as baristas over the years. (good job to have when you are going to school) And I know someone who works at Corporate. While the coffee has never been much to write home about -there is something that is strangely comforting about its existence when you are in certain unpleasant places like airports. You spy a Starbucks in an airport and you can think, "Right. I can get a so-so cup of cocoa that will be vaguely coffee-flavored and a slightly boring scone." Also if you are in the know, you can always ask for a Valencia Mocha (even though it isn't on the menu) and they will know what you are talking about and make it for you. I like mine tall. I don't need a beverage the size of Mount Rainier to make me happy. After all I am going to be stuck on a plane and I don't need to pee every five minutes. Starbucks is a strange lifesaver in a place like the Dallas/Fort Worth airport where everything drips of disappointment and there is a touch of bile at the back of your throat. It seems to represent everything ugly about America and progress. Though I did forgo a Starbucks in a Milan airport for their local stand. I remember having a truly amazing cappuccino at like six am. And a pastry filled with nutella. It was heaven.

On Canada
Canada is an easy source of jokes for Americans. Americans view Canada like a quiet sibling who for the most part behaves themselves at family dinners. Canada will get down and get wild but they would rather not do that in front of Mom. It smacks of poor taste. Canada seems to provide America with a lot of comedians. I sometimes wonder if comedians are part of NAFTA. Do average Canadians complain about the loss of home-grown Comedians south of the border? The way Americans complain about the loss of jobs to Mexico? I suppose sometimes they are glad to be rid of certain gits. You can count on a Canadian to point out if some famous person is Canadian. the once Canadian writer David Rakoff (ha ha bitches we got him now. He's ours!!!!) talked about that. He became an American citizen because during the Bush years as it seemed a little scary to be a foreign national wandering around freely in the States. But you know at heart he will always remain Canadian. That sense of politeness and he lacks that urge to be overtly crass. I am not slagging off my citizens. It is kind of a mix with Americans. We can be equally crass and braggarts but also genuinely friendly and optimistic. I sometimes wonder if the second choice for a motto, "In God We Trust" was, "It ain't bragging if it's true." (hard to get that on a coin as it is quite a few letters.)
But back to Canada, I have always enjoyed my visits there -especially when the exchange rate was more in my favor. It goes back in forth. Much of the 80s we had tons of Canadians coming down to spend money. They were famous for being lousy tippers. Then we spent the 90s up in Canada drinking their duty-free booze and buying large quantities of ketchup-flavored crisps and tylenol with codeine. I grew up across the water from Canada and one of the pleasures of growing up so close to that hockey-loving nation, is that you get to watch their television. My early childhood was spent watching Mr. Dress-up and The Friendly Giant. Later on The Friendly-Giant was replaced by Fred Penner. I enjoyed Fred Penner (he was this bearded guy who played the guitar and hung out in this sort of hippie-hide-away) I later found out he was referred to as The Giant Killer. Ouch. You see The Friendly Giant had been on for years and years in Canada. A true institution for many children when they were growing up. Look up. Look waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay Up. And then to have it taken away was cruel. Now Mr. Dress-up was kind of a Canadian version of Mr. Rogers. (in fact they knew one another and thought very well of each other) He hung out with puppets, drew pictures and they put on some plays. My Uncle Chris SWEARS there was an episode where Mr. Dress-up had an argument with a puppet over who would get to wear the gold shoes. (He also claims there was an episode of Mr. Rogers where Mr. Rogers expressed his irritation with Mr. McFeely.) Must have been Casey. Casey lived in this tree-house out back with his dog Finnegan. Yes I recall such details.
Canada is a land of earnestly funny people who are rabid about Hockey Night in Canada, and they all profoundly apologize for Lynn Johnston's brain being taken over by zombies. It happens.

On Favors
Mind if I say Favors. I don't want to appear tooooooooooo utterly utterly. I am American and I am already a little uppity and silly and if I was to start spelling favors a different way, plenty of my friends would go, "now who the fuck do you think you are?" I am mostly thinking about party favors. Those little treats that must be handed out as you leave because apparently being invited to the party wasn't enough. Sure we feed you, entertain you and provide beverages but now you want a present too? Geez. Birthday parties when I was a child offered a wide assortment of favors. Usually cheap little toys, bottles of bubbles and some candy. It was satisfying. In recent years I have attended some other parties for small children and the favors have become more impressive. As the host are you supposed to compensate the invitee for the cost of gas and the present they brought for the guest of honor? That is my only guess as to why the favors have become so over the top. Maybe when I start throwing parties for my children I will just hand out cheap favors. that is right I haven't thrown my child a party. I am a horrid Mother or something. I have nothing against parties for very tiny children but it does seem like an awful lot of work for someone who barely remembers that day. It makes sense to invite family about to gaze upon the child and remark, "aren't they adorable" and watch them try cake for the first time. Always a fun occasion. But to turn it into a three-ring circus always bewildered me. Maybe I am of another time? Or I haven't bought into the birthday industry yet. It is just part of the wedding/baby industry. If you don't have something or do something your life experience will be ruined ruined ruined. Maybe I am just a grumpy person. I recall liking my 8th birthday party. I think there was popcorn and lemonade. We played outside as it was a rare mild day in December. We played a few games, ran around like mad people as children are inclined to do and then had cake. It was a sheet cake from the grocery store. It had roses and some ballerina figures on it. It was pretty awesome and I loved it. The kids were sent home with a few favors. (candy, a cheap toy, bottle of bubbles) And it was good. Most of my birthday cakes growing up were made by my Grandma. Usually some sort of Angel Food cake with lots of berries and whipped cream. And Ice cream too. (she worked for a dairy company that made ice cream) I LOVED her Angel Food Cake. She always brought nice presents and she and My Mom would take pictures. I loved birthdays with my Grandma. Maybe children today don't have talented Grandmas who can bake terrific cakes. Poor children. And so the parents try and make up for the untalented Grandmas with over the top parties and expensive favors.
What we have learned here is my Grandma was superior to pricey themed parties.
Just as I long suspected.