My 304th class starts tomorrow. I tried to rest a bit this week, and I did pretty well. The you-must-be-productive-always voice in my head did pressure me to get some things done, like getting rid of some useless recipe books and filing some recipes I did want to keep, but plenty of things went uncleaned, unfiled, undone.

The Sacramento French Film Festival started, and most of it’s virtual, so I’ve already watched several of their films and shorts. I’ve also discovered Netflix’s great series Feel Good, finished Lupin, The Handmaid’s Tale, Kim’s Convenience, and The Kominsky Method, read a bunch of New Yorkers and sci-fi novels (the former on the hammock), watched Kevin Kline and Meryl Streep in Dear Elizabeth (a virtual staged reading), and decided that the music editor on Loki jumped the gun by using “Holding Out for Hero” in episode 2–it’s a boss-fight song, as we know from Shrek 2, so it needs to come later, when the first two lines will have a lot of significance in a confrontation that’s surely coming.

Dante and I also stumbled across a great pre-code comedy yesterday, Design for Living. A woman can’t choose between two suitors, so she lives with both of them, but they all keep violating their “gentlemen’s agreement” on “no sex.”

It’s been terribly hot (think 109), but I’ve managed to walk every day, even though it meant get up much earlier than I needed to on my week off.

I tried a few new recipes–one great curry, a nice asian sauteed spinach, and one so-so curry. I’ve got a new chicken recipe in the crock pot now. And this was also the week I had my first air-fried okra of the season.

Finally, I invited Facebook and Twitter to pressure me into buying a few wraps/kimonos. They obliged.

Happy Pride, Solstice, Juneteenth, and Father’s Day Weekend!

Here’s a picture of me, wanting to imitate my (Grand)Daddy and using Mr. Potato Head’s pipe to do so.

Last weekend, I finished grading my SCC lit class, which leaves me with just three courses for the next three weeks. And then I’ll get a whole week off before my summer courses start. (My goal, in addition to finishing my three courses successfully, is to prep my June course well enough that I can actually take that week off from work.)

The end of the SCC lit class could have gone better. One struggling student cheated on both her last paper and the final. Another, who needed an A+ on every remaining assignment to pass, skipped assignments, turned in a research paper without any research in it, and then turned in an incomplete final AFTER I’d turned in the grades.

(Did he tell me he needed another day? Of course not. That would entail communicating with me.)

My comedy students’ final is soon, so I need to write my routine, since I’m the MC.

A beloved colleague brought my attention to a temporary fix the DOE might have for people like me, who paid an incredible amount of money to the “wrong” plans. So I’m filing for that. Do they want ink signatures from UCD to prove I have worked there all this time? They do. Is the website confusing, because it says I’m not eligible since I, like everyone else, is in automatic Covid deferment, but then also have a paragraph about how I should ignore the giant warning on every singe page about that, since they’re the ones who deferred me? Yes.

I tried Jupiter Rising, but didn’t like it. Tried Invincible. Might like it. Tried Hacks with Jean Smart. Fucking loved it. Started Ted Lasso. Will binge more soon. Couldn’t quite get through Army of the Dead last night. Started and finished this season of Shrill, which is awesome. Watched Jason Alexander et al in The Sisters Rosensweig via Zoom and The ABCS of Love via the Sacramento French Film Festival.

I’m mourning Paul Mooney and Charles Grodin.

My upper division students are struggling, because I’m making them write a grown up argument (one in which the thesis is actually debatable (for reasonable people) and defendable, and one that works to inform and persuade its intended audience, and one that fully and fairly engages with counter-argument).

You’d be surprised how many draft theses are unconstitutional, EVEN AFTER I SAID IN THE VIDEO ABOUT THIS THAT THEY SHOULD NOT MAKE UNCONSTITUTIONAL ARGUMENTS.

I spent 9 straight hours giving feedback on drafts on Thursday. Then, I tried to join some high school friends for a Zoom reunion, but I felt so sick with exhaustion that I had to go lie down.

The most stressful thing this week, though, was another visit with my TMJ dentist.

I told his assistant that I wanted to talk about getting a lower night guard and/or a dental device for mild apnea (since the dentist is convinced my tongue is in the wrong place when I sleep). The dentist was dismissive of anyone who’s vouched for lower guards. (“Well, I guess your friends have made literally thousands of upper night guards like I have, right?”) But he agreed to let me have a lower one and “run [my] own little experiment.”

But, I said. If you think I need that apnea dental device, shouldn’t I get that and not use any type of guard?

We came to consensus on trying that first. I have to do a sleep study for insurance to approve it.

Then he brought up all the other things he wants to do: the frenectomy, sawing down some of the protruding bones in my mouth, braces, etc.

I said I’d like to go in stages since I have other doctors who want to do things to my body that are also extreme.

We left that conversation with him knowing nothing more about me, but with me knowing about all of his surgeries. Sigh.

He said to get the sleep study done and then we’d do a scan for the device.

When I was alone again with the assistant, who had been in the room the whole time, he tried to schedule me for a scan for a lower night guard.

“That’s not where we landed,” I explained. “We need to schedule a scan.”

“For braces?”

No.

Once I got him to realize we were trying for the apnea device, he wanted to get the device going right away.

“Don’t I have to get the sleep study first?”

“I don’t think so. They’ll want to study you with it in.”

“But the doctor said I needed the study before insurance would authorize the device.”

“Oh, yeah. That makes sense.”

He scheduled me for a scan next week, saying we can do the scan without authorization, but I don’t trust him, so I’m calling tomorrow to talk to someone who can parse conversations better.

Overall, though, it was a good week.

My son and I celebrated the end of his first year in grad school with a sushi feast.

A beloved friend got me an amazing gift:

And I am celebrating that, as of last night, it’s no longer been a year and seven months since I’ve had sex with another person.

Yay vaccines!

Charles Grodin just died, which makes me incredibly sad. I thought about writing a eulogy, but then I remembered that I wrote about him years ago, on a now-defunct movie site. Luckily, I had it backed up in my files:

Charles Grodin is a comedy god.

Either you’re now wondering who he is, finding his name vaguely familiar, or recognizing him and disagreeing with my assessment. OR, you know comedy and you know what I’m talking about.

Grodin (born Charles Grodinsky) had a few moments of outrageous comedy in his career, but what defines him is the mastery of playing the straight man. It’s harder than many think, especially when the other characters sometimes get more attention.

It might be easier to talk about straight man/not straight man using Eric Idle’s terms (1):

“There are two types of comedian . . . both deriving from the circus, which I shall call the White Face and the Red Nose. Almost all comedians fall into one or the other of these two simple archetypes. In the circus, the White Face is the controlling clown with the deathly pale masklike face who never takes a pie; the Red Nose is the subversive clown with the yellow and red makeup who takes all the pies and the pratfalls and the buckets of water and the banana skins. . . . the White Face is the controlling neurotic and the Red Nose is the rude, rough Pan. The White Face compels your respect; the Red Nose begs for it. The Red Nose smiles and winks, and wants your love; the White Face rejects it. He never smiles; he is always deadly serious.  Never more so than when doing comedy.”

If you’ve ever seen a movie with Charles Grodin, you can picture his white face, pinched perfectly as he delivers lines with perfect dry wit.

How dry was his wit? Well, the one time he hosted SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE, they “themed” the show (something that happens on MUPPET SHOWS more than SNL). The “theme” was that Grodin would play himself, as an actor who hadn’t prepared and kept messing up his lines. How did this experiment in postmodern SNL go? Grodin was so convincing that the audience didn’t like him (why hadn’t he prepared? they asked themselves) and he never hosted again.

You can still see Grodin working today, but I want to explore what I consider his best period: the early 1980s.

SEEMS LIKE OLD TIMES (1980). This is one of my favorite comedies of all time. Grodin plays Ira Parks, a lawyer attempting to turn politician.  He’s married to another lawyer played by Goldie Hawn. And their life is fine until her ex-husband (Chevy Chase) shows up, running from the law. It’s a pitch-perfect film, written by comedy master Neil Simon. Poor Ira has to fight for his job, his wife, and his sanity. I’d probably pick Chase’s character over Ira, but that’s because I make romantic mistakes. The only disappointing thing about this movie? You never get the recipe for Chicken Pepperoni.

THE INCREDIBLE SHRINKING WOMAN (1981). Grodin is Vance Kramer, married to a character played by Lily Tomlin. This movie was ahead of its time with its concern about the chemicals leaching into our bodies everyday (what makes the wife shrink) and animal testing. Tomlin is our fabulous red nose to her supportive white face husband. (They thought about doing this movie in 3D; I’m glad they didn’t).

THE GREAT MUPPET CAPER (1981). Faithful readers will know that I love anything Muppet, so how could I go wrong with Grodin playing Nicky Holliday? His red nose partner here is Frank Oz (as Miss Piggy) and a whole host of muppets. Holliday falls immediately in love with Miss Piggy, but we know her heart is always reserved for Kermit. Sad when the white white can’t even get the pig:

THE LONELY GUY (1984). Many argue that this is Grodin’s finest film and he is wonderful opposite Steve Martin. The screenplay is by Neil Simon. Martin plays a guy who learns how to be lonely (single) from Warren (Grodin) when he’s dumped. Martin is able to parlay his knowledge into a successful book and eventually romance, though his teacher is not so lucky. This movie shows Grodin hosting a party with celebrities—well, with life-sized cut outs of celebrities. Never has so much energy gone into loneliness. His life is summed up here: “I remember after I saw ROCKY, I ran out in the park jogging, shadow boxing. Some guy came up to me and punched me right in the face.”

THE WOMAN IN RED (1984). This film was directed by Gene Wilder, who was also the star. It’s basically a treatise on the inevitable attraction you will feel to other people, even after you’ve promised your fidelity to another for life. It’s fun to watch Wilder chase Kelly Le Brock, though you’re never quite sure why she lets him. Grodin is the buddy (aptly named Buddy) and is hilarious.

Playing the white face to Chase, Hawn, Muppets, Martin, and Wilder’s red noses is something to admire. I also have a soft spot for Grodin in HEART AND SOULS (1993), where he plays a ghost with unfinished business that only Robert Downey Jr.’s character can fix. 

Next time you’re watching comedy, appreciate the white faces. And go watch some Grodin. He deserves it.

(1) This definition comes from Eric Idle’s sci-fi comic piece, THE ROAD TO MARS: A POST-MODEM NOVEL. One of the characters, a robot named Carlton, who happens to be a “Bowie” model, writes his dissertation on 20^th Century comedy. If you like Idle, sci fi, and comedy, check out the novel.

I got my second vaccine! I could tell it was going to fuck me up, because I got numb in my arm, neck, and face right after the injection. Luckily, I had planned taking the next day off, which ended up being my only day off in Spring Break.

It was perfect for bingeing The Bureau, my new addiction.

My son and I have also decided to rewatch this little show called The Simpsons. Since we only get through a few a week, it will take a few years.

I saw two stand-up comedy shows and caught this month’s Sacramento French Film Festival offering, The Fantastic Journey of Margot and Marguerite, which was, as hyped, fantastic.

I did my taxes, got everything ready for UCD classes to start tomorrow, pulled my hair out over two problematic students at SCC, and attended a webinar on equitable grading.

I tried two new recipes:

Tumeric Black Pepper Chicken with Asparagus

Pork Chops in a Lemon Caper Sauce

And I got another air fryer.

Yup. Another air fryer.

I got a small one to experiment with a few months ago, and I fell in love with it. Lately, I’ve been disappointed that when I want to cook meat, potatoes, and a veg, I have to choose just one for the air fryer. I’m also thinking ahead to summer, when I will want to cook without heating up the kitchen. The air fryers don’t add much heat to the kitchen, and food cooks really fast in them.

My first night with two air fryers, I put a layer of green beans down in the big one, topped with a grill layer of chicken breasts.

The smaller air fryer got the potatoes. In 20 minutes, I had this:

I also discovered that I don’t have to do a boil and slow roast of pork ribs for them to be tender. They take 20 minutes in the air fryer.

Finally, Graymalkin got a new box. He’s a very happy boy.

This last week kind of exploded on me. I got a last-minute assignment to teach an intro to lit class that starts next week. I’ve taught the class before, but not online, and not just in 8 weeks.

But I think I worked out how to do it, and I’ve just finished the Canvas shell, so now I can think about what else I did this week.

The Best:

Ellen Forney gave a talk to my writing students, which was wonderful in all sorts of ways, but possibly the best was when she admitted that she was apprehensive about how to do Marbles after she’d decided to try. My students often think good writing just happens, when it’s extremely difficult. Being reminded that even great writers struggle was important for them.

I had cleaners come in and give my house a much-needed reset. Between my ridiculous dust allergies and my awful back, I just can’t do the deep work. My house never stays clean for long, but having it somewhat cleaner helped me focus while my mind was spinning with the lit class.

I decided that because I get SO excited when it’s time for a new issue of Science Fiction and Fantasy, that I would treat myself to a subscription to Asmimov too!

I also started The Girl Who Could Move Shit With Her Mind, by Jackson Ford, which kept me up way too late last night. Can’t wait to finish it later!

Finally, the boy and I binged the last few episodes of The Watch, which we adored.

The Worst:

My body is unhappy, which isn’t unusual, but I was rocked by neck and shoulder spasms so badly the other night that it made me nauseated.

I don’t like the way I talk to myself. As I’m in the throes of an amazing story in SFF, a negative voice is berating me for having so many unread important news articles, biographies, and texts for classes. It tells me I’m fat. It makes me feel guilty for hiring cleaners two or three times a year, berating me for laziness, though I can objectively say I’m not lazy.

The Meh:

Coming 2 America was fine–mostly a nice nostalgia piece.

I was going to get my second Covid shot next week, but due to my allergy shots and some bullshit about my allergy office being closed over Spring Break, I had to push it back a week.

My pain clinic wants to put cortisone into my lumbar facets, but those can’t be done until awhile after my vaccinations, and my bursitis treatment has to wait until a couple of months after the lumbar treatment.

Ultimately:

I’m reflecting on this year. One year ago today, I flew back from a conference in New Orleans, to a changed world. It was the last week in the quarter–we were given the choice to move that week online. We cancelled Book Group. I haven’t eaten in a restaurant or hugged my California family in a year.

This week, Ellen Forney said to me, about our getting on well in a Zoom meeting, that she thought we would, after she googled me.

Ellen Forney, the amazing author of Marbles, googled me.

Getting to have a conversation with her was one of the best things that happened to me this year.

I haven’t been good about blogging lately. Like everyone, I’m tired and torn in a bunch of different directions.

But I still want to talk to you, so I’m going to start a weekly (hopefully) best and worst list, inspired by The Bloggess’s Weekly Wrap-Up, which will likely be about the media that’s kept me sane.

The Best I’ve Watched Lately:

• The Watch
• Wanda Vision
• Resident Alien
• Ramy (especially the Ne Me Quitte Pas episode, which can be watched on its own)
• the Calvin episode of Flack, which can also be watched on its own
• Nomadland, which finally helped me visualize Wall Drug

The Best Podcast Episodes

• All of the Parts of the “DC Sniper” debunkings on You’re Wrong About–I didn’t know what this story was about at all–I don’t think any of us did.

Best New Bands/Artists I’ve Stumbled Across:

• Danielle Durack
• Tele Novella

Best Books lately:

• The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern
• A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Mass
• Mira Grant’s Parasite Trilogy
• The Witch’s Heart by Genevieve Gornichec

Best moments of the week:

• Geeking out with Ellen Forney
• Hosting the Invisible Disabilities Show for UCD
• Learning a student got the internship she wanted
• Getting my first dose of the vaccine
• Talking about mon chatte in a new stand-up routine with my students

The worst moments:

• Trying to combine a paprika lemon chicken and a garlic lemon chicken recipe–why did it turn gross?
• Learning that Paul, the best doctor I’ve ever had, is retiring.

I tried listening to S Town this week. I wasn’t captivated.

There was nothing wrong with the storytelling.

It took me a while before I figured out what was wrong.

I’m from a place like that.

S Town, for “Shit Town,” is Woodstock, AL, which is four hours north of where my stepfather lives (and where I did K-12). It’s four and a half hours north of my ancestral home, which we call Pinelog, as it’s surrounded by Pinelog State Forest and Pinelog Creek. Pinelog’s not a town–we have to use the post office in the closest town, Ebro (famous only for its dog track), even though they’re technically in another county.

When I heard the subject of S Town speak, I thought, yup. Sounds like a bunch of my cousins.

The subject’s home is hard to find. So’s the one I grew up in. Google maps can’t see it through the tree cover. It blends in with the rest of the forest, the rest of the swamp.

One of S Town’s main industries is logging. Same for where I’m from.

S Town, in other words, was very familiar. Too familiar.

And that’s why I couldn’t get into it.

The producer is astounded to hear people openly using racial and homophobic slurs, when they know they’re being recorded. I’m sure most of the audience is too.

And all I could think was yeah, that’s part of why I left.

It’s exotic to the NPR audience; it’s not at all exotic to me.

Still, if you ever wonder what my accent might have been, give S Town a listen.

I was in need of comfort a couple of weeks ago, so I binged Downton Abbey.

And despite its complicated relationship with all the -isms, it was comforting.

However, I have some thoughts.

1. Edith is stupid and whiny. I just can’t with her. I try to sympathize; I really do, but her constant unhappiness is usually her own damn fault. We’re supposed to contrast her to her “selfish” sister, Mary, but Edith is far more selfish. She should have considered that she would have been hurting her whole family when she ratted Mary out. She shouldn’t kiss married farmers. She shouldn’t take a baby away FROM TWO DIFFERENT MOTHERS WHO LOVE HER. She shouldn’t ruin the Drewes’ marriage or make that family have to leave the land they’ve been on “since Waterloo.” And after doing all of that, she shouldn’t have still been complaining at the end because she doesn’t get to do whatever the fuck she wants. None of us do, dear.

2. Marigold is too big. In way too many scenes, she looks older than her cousins.

3. I can’t tell George and Tony apart. I was frustrated when I first watched this, but I thought I would do better the second time through. Nope. When Mary talks to one of them, I have to hope that she’ll say his name or that someone will bring up pigs.

4. The most disturbing image in the show is Rose’s clavicle. How can any of these men want to kiss her when her skeleton is trying to leap out of her body?

5. The show does well in exploring both overt sexism and emotional labor expectations. As I often explain to my students, shows made now but set in the past represent our values. We are to love Carson (he reminds me so much of my (grand)Daddy), but we are to side with the women and the lower class characters who want more equality of opportunity. There are many overt examples, but on this rewatch, I was drawn to all the moments in which the show focused on protecting men’s feelings, on coddling them, on keeping things from them because they couldn’t deal with them.

A lot of this is seen with Carson, in fact. His wife can’t tell him he’s being a sexist asshole when he demands a second shift from her at home. She and Mrs. Patmore have to trick him into seeing how difficult that shift is instead.

Just like they have to strategize about how to break the news to him that Mrs. Patmore won’t be taking his financial advice. Mrs. Hughes sums it up perfectly: “I wish men worried about our feelings a quarter as much as we worry about theirs.”

My reluctance to marry, to live with someone, to even date right now, is largely predicated on this bullshit male behavior, since every man I’ve lived with has expected me to be a maid of all work while working more than full time, while also being the household therapist, personal assistant, fluffer, etc.

6. As much as I might fantasize about being Violet Crawley when I’m older, I’m going to be Martha Levinson. She isn’t pretentious, she turns down unsuitable suitors, and she enjoys a good meal, unapologetically.

7. Whatever happened to Michael Gregson’s wife? The whole point of him going to Germany was to be able to divorce her. He says several times that his wife, away in an asylum, doesn’t recognize him. Even if we take him at his word, I want to know what happened to her once he died. He left everything to Edith. So who’s paying for the asylum? Who’s making sure this woman is safe?

Edith, of course, never considers her for a second. Because, as noted above, she’s a selfish cunt.

8. Mary should have killed Mr. Green. It would have been so simple. Wait for him to come to Downton. Beat him, stab him, or shoot him. Explain to the police that he tried to rape an upper class woman. The end.

Now that Moira Rose is off my tv set, who will be my new role model?

Carolyn.

She’s a workaholic who doesn’t follow other people’s rules about when it’s okay to drink.

Her adult son still lives with her.

She shares my thoughts about breakfast:

“I can’t stand breakfast. It’s just constant eggs. I mean, why? Who decided?”

She has lovers all over the world, but she doesn’t want to live with them:

“Divorces are easy. It’s marriages that are impossibly hard.”

The BBC even has a video of what a bad ass she is:

https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=1776626545812540

It’s time for gin & tonic.