Letters to Holly

Thursday, May 11

Back to normal

My feet still hurt. Wah.

I came home to find Your Sister asleep, and I putzed around the house for a while. She kept sleeping so I watched a two-hour show. It was soon 8ish, and it was my turn to make dinner. I started it, gently woke her up, and asked if she wanted to eat. She got out of bed about 8:30. It’s not unheard of for her to come home from work and sleep until the next morning. We finished dinner right as another head-trip episode of “Lost” started. I soaked in the tub with the recently arrived Esquire magazine.

We caught the 11 news to see if the local station did any kind of follow-up on the student alcohol story. Rumors abounded at school yesterday that it would be some sort of bombshell, but again nothing was there. Their website doesn’t have it either, which again confirms what I told Your Sister yesterday: No local station will take the time to explain how being sent home by a teacher isn’t a punishment. This is a non-story despite what teacher fears and student hopes may design. The top school story not involving molestation is about kids flashing The Shocker during a senior group picture. While the school deems the hand sign so vulgar that it will blur them out of the photo, the station started its report with footage of a student making the sign for the camera.

Picture of the Day
The cover of the new Wonder Woman comic series. She got some hips.



In the news
In what will surely fan rhetorical flames, a new report says the NSA is getting private, domestic phone records from the big communication companies. The database tracks numbers dialed, names of the callers, and length of conversations. But this is a broad wiretap, exactly the kind of thing that lead to the earlier debate about warrants and secret courts. I can understand and accept statistical tracking, but it’s another incremental movement toward open conversation eavesdropping by the state, and that’s icky enough to raise hackles among even those of us who break out in hives when we hear fascist conspiracy theories.

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A stunningly good idea has been introduced in the Senate with Hillary Clinton and others signing on: The minimum wage would rise at the same rate as congressional increases. This is such a good idea that I can’t believe any Congressperson came up with it. It won’t pass, of course, and that allows the Democrats to label the GOP as folks who will ensure they get more money but not waitresses. The new publishing cottage industry of knocking Hillary because she’s a woman is so blatantly misogynist, I hope she wins now just to see all the exploding heads.

Wednesday, May 10

Nous jouons au basket-ball

After much exchanging of notes and email, we had our plans for the night. A local gated community would host a picnic for the French group and, while Your Sister and I wouldn’t drive anyone else there, we would take two gals to their host families. I got home early from work and had a senseless argument with your tired and stressed sister as she couldn’t decide if she could go or not. She was pooped. But she went. Then we argued about what to wear. I supposed this would be a fancy shindig, but “picnic” said casual to her. I compromised and wore black jeans.

Before we left, we taped the local news to later watch any report about her school. One of our buddies sent two kids home after smelling alcohol on their breath. They had apparently snuck home, drank wine and come back to school. A brat decided that wasn’t enough punishment for them and called the local ABC affiliate to say the teacher had let them get away with it. They sent a camera truck to the school to get the scoop and tried to interview students after school. The teacher was scared. But the only mention we found was a 20-second blurb on the 6 p.m. broadcast, and not only did it feature no video or quotes from anyone, but what they ran apparently wasn’t what happened. The teacher wasn’t named, the kids weren’t named, and the report stated the kids were suspended. End of story. This is the same affiliate that tried to make hay from an online picture of a local gal flashing a camera in front of a firetruck. That didn’t pan out either.

Anyway, we got to the picnic and discovered that while the lake was lovely to see, we were freezing. The food was precooked and warmed but wine and hamburgers aren’t the greatest combo, you know. We sat with Valerie and Florence and Freddy and chowed down, huddling to stay warm. We offered to sneak them off to a coffeehouse (the local coffee isn’t up to their standards, but they found decent cigarettes). Then we noticed some of the teenaged gals were playing basketball and Freddy started joking about playing, even dropping the name “Tony Parker.” He’s the Frenchman playing for the San Antonio Spurs (and dating one of the “Desperate Housewives” actresses). We had enough to eat and were cold and bored. Thus, we played. Three guys against what became six gals. While we were all terrible, the guys knew the sport enough to score more points. And we were taller. To compensate, the girls started tackling us, especially Your Sister, the hellion. My shoes were not made for basketball, and I played in my socks while some played barefoot. We were out there for two hours, and then the host families started yelling for everyone to stop and go back home. We dropped off Florence and took Valerie back home to nurse jammed fingers. Freddy, I learned is a goalkeeper for his soccer team, which explains why he was good at leaping and catching the ball.

This morning, with sore feet and tender calves, I watched their last Brevard Rotary Club presentation. They met at a posh country club, and I was the only non-rotarian. I was pounced upon quickly. Who are you? Why are you here? Want to be a member? If you’re not a member, how did you host someone? I had never seen one of the meetings before. It was a stately breakfast, and Valerie has me sit with her and her Hendersonville host, a guy named John. He was her host on their first American stop, five weeks before. The meeting started with the Pledge of Allegiance and a prayer and soon moved to introductions of new people, including me. [stand] “Hi, I hosted Valerie. Um … hi.” [sit, head down, keep eating] The group donated what’s called Happy Dollars for a later drawing for half the pot. The presentation was quick as it was a short PowerPoint-aided autobiography of each French visitor. That’s when I found out Valerie did theatre too. John was a natural talker and made comments the whole time. That done, the meeting was over. That’s what they were doing officially on their trip. A dozen times in 5 weeks. We took pictures and hugged goodbye and I drove back to work. I’m gonna miss that gal. She was fun. None of the crude French stereotypes was on display. They were charming and funny, they collectively smelled good, and they at least sampled local wines. No snobbishness.

Picture of the Day
The French group. From left, a local Rotary person, Giles, Florence, Gigi the group leader, Freddy, and Valerie. I’m about two inches shorter than him.

In the news
The new PlayStation 3 has been announced to cost about $500 for the basic unit. Screw that.

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According to recent polls, Bush’s approval rating is around 31 percent.

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You know that guy who tried to hold his breath for nine minutes? The guy who wanted to set a new world’s record in a giant tub in the middle of New York? The publicity hound? Yeah, him. He’s a fucking loser. At least when Houdini was doing escape stunts, he was trying to rally the immigrant poor to believe they could do anything they set their mind to. David Blaine? He wasn’t to be the next David Copperfield. As if one wasn’t enough.

Tuesday, May 9

Mangeons le diner

The Asheville clubbing did not happen as the group discovered that it was a set-up: A local gal just wanted a date with one of the French guys. The rest of the group wasn’t interested in watching. That’s the scuttlebutt anyway. Instead, Valerie had dinner with the five of us last night at our place.

Your Sister made a sausage pasta dish and Valerie helped with the salad. Kathy, Travis, and Tonia brought strawberry shortcake. Tonia and Valerie started speaking French to each other right away. [Valerie has learned these words while traveling in N.C.: junk, crashing (getting sleepy), mess, huge, cute, and worn out.] Dinner went great. I burned a copy of They Might Be Giants’ Flood and offered to make a CD of Ray Charles for Valerie. She seemed to like my portfolio and my studio. I showed her pictures from my trip to France and showed the others my theatre and high school pictures (the hair. my God, the hair).

Picture of the Day
Tonia, Valerie, the wife, Travis, and Kathy.


In the news
After the jury failed to give him the death sentence, Moussaoui now says he believes he could have gotten a fair trial in America and wants to rescind his guilty plea. He thinks the jury might not have bought into the federal charges, and he might have walked. The judge says it’s too late. I agree. Moussaoui ignored his defense team’s efforts the whole way and only now does he want to trust them. Idiot.

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The resignation of Porter Goss and executive director Dusty Foggo from the CIA seems to spring from a growing bribery scandal more than his inability to manage the agency. The Wall Street Journal broke the story of congressional bribery stemming from Duke Cunningham’s recent trail and jail sentence. Goss and Foggo allegedly took part in high-stakes poker games (not so bad) that involved concealed bribes and hookers for congressman (a little more bad). The kicker: This happened at the Watergate Hotel. Yes, THAT Watergate Hotel.

Monday, May 8

Le Mission: Impossible

Mission: Impossible 3 is a heckuva movie. It starts hard, keeps a frenetic pace, and doesn't get dumb. It's a tight, tight film without the kind of breath-catching scenes one might expect. We understand the investments of the characters only as much as needed to work the plot and hook the audience. There is no fat to trim. Great action sequences, and, because his screen time is kept at a premium, Phillip Seymour Hoffman is a credible, spooky villain. To be honest though, you could plug anyone into the Tom Cruise role, and the film would still work. He provides nothing except a determined glare and his standard agape expression that signifies he's thinking on his feet. The supporting cast is charming, but one wonders if the lead actress is supposed to look exactly like Katie Holmes. 'Cause she does, and that makes even the most casual of gossip consumers (hi there) wonder if we're supposed to cheer for the real-life couple as we watch these characters jump through hoops. Before the film, we got to see the trailers for Superman Returns and Pirates of the Caribbean 2, and they look even better on the giant screen. Nacho Libre looks like a scream. When the film ended, the theatre people immediately turned on the house lights and cut off the projector in the middle of the credits. It was the most jarring a gesture to make, short of being picking us up and heaving us onto the sidewalk.

On Saturday, I tidied up the house and lawn and did the laundry while Your Sister worked at school. We watched Titus, the Julie Taymor adaptation of Titus Andronicus. She thinks it's easily Shakespeare's worst play (it's also his first), but the production design is dazzling. Anthony Hopkins and Alan Cumming compete to steal the show, but Jessica Lange is fascinating to watch. I never expected to see her deliver Shakespeare, and she does it right. I finished up Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. It doesn't feel like 700+ pages, but it's one seriously dark story. The last quarter is as spooky and dire as anything one could possibly write in a kid's book. The next books I read in the series will be the first for which there isn't a movie adaptation. All of the books so far have been vastly superior to the films, and Goblet has so much more in character, plot, and substance than the corresponding film. Still, it's 700 freaking pages. I can use this to crush garlic.

On Sunday, we met Valerie. She arrived in Brevard about 4:30 and we picked her up at a local church parking lot. Her French Rotary club arrived there from Black Mountain, and we got to meet all seven members of the group. They’ve been in the area for six weeks, meeting other Rotary Clubs and seeing the sights. They are all, except for Freddy, tiny people. Slim and short. But they have great attitudes and are thoroughly, infectious cheerful. They are conversant in English to varying degrees. Valerie isn’t the most proficient, but we can talk without much problem. We brought her to the house and set her up in the guest room. We got to know each other a bit as Your Sister and I argued over how to make tomato mozzarella salad. Valerie is a professional artist, creating trompe l’oeil paintings for houses and businesses. She also just had her first painting exhibited in a museum. I tried out some French and apparently didn’t sound too bad. She showed us her portfolio, and I showed her a copy of the comic story I did last year – the published dream story, not the as-yet-unpublished Podunk tale; the publisher dropped the ball on that one.

About two hours later, we went to a gathering at the Averette’s house. She teaches French at the high school, and he’s a town lawyer. He helped us close on the house, and he officiated the formal wedding. The party was for the local Rotary and French clubs to meet the visitors. The host families don’t speak French, so this was the touring troupe’s chance to talk easily. Valerie told at least one of her group that I spoke French and, well, wackiness ensued. There were maybe 30 people there, and Your Sister and I were in the minority who was not fluent in French. I can follow along sometimes, and I can answer a little if asked a simple question. That’s it. So I snagged the perfect position for the evening: bartender. Folks came up, picked their poison and I doled it out with small French phrases and cheers. Sante is short for a votre sante which means “to your health”).When they say merci, I offer a certainment. This is what I did the entire time. I got to talk to some of the kids of the adults and Your Sister sat with me to eat. One of the kids is her student and said I was rumored for a time to be an imaginary creation of Your Sister.

We got home about 10 o’clock. It was colder last night than expected so we offered Valerie the electric blanket. She didn’t know what this was, and we assured her we both used it and survived. It was safe. She joked about meeting her friends today and them smelling something burning. I dropped her off at the local bakery and she had her first croissant since leaving France. The group has a set schedule, but it’s pretty flexible. We asked Kathy, Travis, and Tonia to come over tonight for dinner with Valerie, but Valerie may join her group in a trip to Asheville for clubbing. The local organizer is to let us know who’s doing what, and I told Valerie to do what strikes her, and we’ll work around it.

It’s going well. The concern I had about conversations and attitudes was unfounded. We’re not subjecting her to wings ‘n’ rasslin, though. She’s been through enough.

Sketch Day

It’s getting there. This is my first crack at drawing your head. Don't worry; it'll get better. I found some online reference pictures of the Han blaster, and I’ll redo that next.