Skip to main content

Magic Band-Aids

In case of an emergency, the average Joe carries a Swiss Army Knife, a first-aid kit, an endless supply of hand sanitizer ... I'm partial to safety pins and baking soda.


My mother's go-to Band-Aid is of the less-typical variety. It's a virtual encyclopedia of Seinfeld tucked discretely in her memory bank -- always handy should a friend or family member or complete stranger fall victim to any number of life's little mishaps.

Mom's remedy for everything from scraped knees to grape-juice stains begins like so: "Did you ever see that episode of Seinfeld ..."

"She's a real sidler!"

I was taking a cup of juice to Ashlyn the other morning, and Lily -- in a hurry to get to the sofa -- made a shortcut between my legs. It wouldn't have been a problem had she scurried on through, but she stopped  right in front of me.

My pinkie toe caught the heal of her boot, and -- snap-crackle-pop -- I was flat on the floor gritting my teeth; reminding Angry Me that Lily is a sweet, adorable 6-year-old who didn't break my toe on purpose.


"She's a sidler," Mom informed me. "Remember the episode of Seinfeld where Elaine has the annoying coworker who sneaks up on her and makes her spill her coffee and takes the credit for her work?"

I pondered briefly and shook my head, "no."

"Elaine gave him a half-empty box of Tic-Tacs so he couldn't sneak up on her," Mom continued. "You could do that with Lily -- make her keep them in her pocket."

Comments

  1. You could put them in Lily's pocket .... but Ashlyn would eat them!!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

I showed you mine -- it's your turn now.

Popular posts from this blog

The insecure writer's support group

The ground is important -- for several reasons.

Among them

Gravity makes no sense without it -- there's no mandate that science be logical so long as our scientists are the smartest smartypants on the planet, in which case "because I said so" is an acceptable explanation. The ground is important, because it's something to build on -- a starting point, a foundation.

I respect the ground, because it has on occasion fallen out from under me, and it's rather unsettling to watch your life in free-fall mode -- to see your accomplishments disintegrate in an instant or a decade in some cases. It all depends on how fast you're falling.

Most of us drop in slow motion. We'll catch a ledge or an up draft every once in a while and think "this is it!" But then we go on falling. Or do we? Is the "bottom" just a figment of our imaginations? Can we lay new ground wherever we choose?


Ask Alice

None of my friends growing up were impressed with Disney's…

Writers get laid

Writers get laid -- or they would if they tried -- because people -- especially women -- are impressed by the phrase, "I'm a writer." It's romantic.

Introducing yourself as a writer insinuates substance and depth of character; people like that. They don't know why, except that one-dimensional characters on T.V. sitcoms and big-screen romantic comedies prattle on and on about the whole package -- a good looking, funny, intelligent single with rock-solid values and money.

People admire the skill and dedication it takes to be a novelist or a journalist or a screen writer  -- "I always wanted to be a writer," they tell you with stars in their eyes.

Whether they know it's a myth or not they imagine us in rich, thrilling lives with sports cars and beach houses and Louboutin shoes like Carrie Bradshaw. So the woman at the grocery store doesn't feel bad when she puts back the US Weekly she read cover to cover before she checks out.

Or downloading unauth…

My favorite geeks

Imagine a little girl in pink granny glasses. Her haircut gives her a boyish look and she’s dressed in a purple checked sweater with red high waters and electric-blue duck shoes. A couple of kids on the playground tell her how cool she looks, and -- not comprehending their sarcasm -- she smiles brightly and thanks them.
That was me -- the dork in ginormous glasses. I answered to many names in elementary school -- loser, duck feet, four eyes and a few others I'd rather forget -- smart, pretty and fashionable I was not. It felt like the end of the world back then. All the popular girls braided each other's hair during story time at the library while I picked my nose and talked to myself. 
I'm not ashamed to admit it. I was a dork -- as big a dork as it's possible to be -- and it gave me character. I think Lester Bangs said it best : "Good-looking people don't have any spine. Their art never lasts."
No one called 4-year-old Paris Hilton -- or Lindsay Lohan or B…