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Jump into this cup, I’ll add some blueberries, and we’ll be all set.

As fascinating as it sounded, we passed up the opportunity to go to the Fire Extinguisher Museum in New York City this weekend in favor of The Museum Of Television And Radio.

I may be sour and cynical and dourly waiting for January second when all this idiocy will be over, but I’m a complete sap when it comes to the prospect of watching The Charlie Brown Christmas Special on a big screen in a big city in December with my sweetie. We had our shower, I wore my Lucy Dress in honor of the occasion (no, I’m not a Peanuts fan, but have had a special place in my heart for Lucy ever since hearing the song about how she’s going to grow up and have a Queendom on the “You’re A Good Man, Charlie Brown” album) and we logged out. Todd checked the voice mail and his face fell. “We can’t go today,” he said, and sighed. “I have to go into the office and help with this problem they’re having. Want to come?” I said sure, and talked on the way about how strange it is to see him in Efficient Business Man mode because it’s a part of his personality that I almost never see, the same way he rarely sees me in Efficient Web Design Woman Mode.

People depend, to a certain extent, on both of us. Todd to wave his magic wand and solve problems, me to provide, well, whatever it is I provide here — a laugh, or a sniffle, or just a different perspective. Todd says he’d rather have his boss than mine any day, that the Rotted Monsters demand a hell of a lot more of me than his boss does of him. It was strange to see how much people admire what he’s able to accomplish, I think it startled me a little. I mean, I know he’s wonderful, I guess it didn’t cross my mind that everyone else knows too.

After everything was straightened out and we were too hungry to think we went in search of good food. Don’t be taken in by a big chili pepper on a Thai restaurant sign, or a “vegetarian corner” section of the menu. We were. The results were two disappointed people with icky stomachs. To console ourselves we went down the road to a coffee house where I saw my name on the blackboard menu. No matter how many times it’s happened, I’m still surprised when I see options like “Blackberry Sage Tea” or “Desert Sage Tea” (both of which sounded pretty good, actually, but I think it would be too bizarre to order them myself). I ordered an espresso and Todd ordered a double espresso. This took more preparation than you might think on my part, because I am an absolute moron when it comes to ordering something to drink. This started when as a child I tried to order sake in a Japanese restaurant because I thought it was that yummy soup with tofu bits in it and was insistent until the waitress, unable to help herself, started laughing and explained that sake was an alcoholic drink. To this day I don’t even look at the beverage section of the menu, I just order Coke or 7-UP and to this day I feel embarrassed about the sake. Yes, yes, very psychologically healthy of me, I know. As I’ve said before, I’m snotty about coffee. What I haven’t admitted is that I’m not a very good coffee snob. I basically know enough to get by and to appear knowledgeable, but when presented with a menu of coffee drink choices I don’t even know how to pronounce most of the options. After mispronouncing “cappuccino” (geez, not to mention misspelling it, I asked Todd just now and no, it is NOT spelled cuppacino) at the best coffee house in town I listened carefully to Todd as he ordered espresso and learned how to pronounce it and that’s the only coffee drink I order. So the man behind the counter told me that they didn’t have single espressos, only doubles, and did I want something else? I told him a double would be fine. “We do have half-cafs,” he said, getting out the cups, “If you don’t want all the caffeine,” which made me laugh harder than he probably thought it should have and I said “Believe me, I want all of the caffeine.”

On Sunday we were both feeling grumpy and out of sorts and couldn’t decide whether to go to a computer show or to New York. We had the Nothing’s Funs, which is an evil insidious disease that’s not only difficult to overcome but highly contagious as well. The problem with Nothing’s Fun is that everything that previously seemed like the most interesting, fun, fantastic way to spend the day suddenly turns dull and boring. If you decide to go out and spend the day the way you originally intended to after contracting Nothing’s Fun you’re so busy taking your internal temperature trying to figure out if you’re having fun or if you’re bored that you’re too distracted to have a good time anyway. The worst is when someone around you has it and you mistakenly ask them what would be so boring or uninteresting about doing whatever it is you’ve planned and by the time they’re finished explaining they’ve passed the dread disease on to you too. Sometimes, however, it can be overcome by sheer will and cheerfulness, which is what eventually happened. Unfortunately by then it was too late to see the Charlie Brown special, so we decided to go to the computer show instead.

Do you think the two women in the spike heels and green velvet dresses with borderline illegal hemlengths handing out fliers for Bill’s Internet Provider knew why they’d really been hired? Oh, yes, their great wealth of computer knowledge. Doubtless.

From the silliness file:

(Sage and Todd are sitting in a restaurant where a christmas carol medley is playing on and on and on over the stereo speakers.)

Todd: D’you know what the worst thing about christmas music is?

Sage: No, tell.

Todd: It never gets any better. If there’s a bad rock song on the radio that you don’t like it’s okay because you know it’s eventually going to go away. But that christmas carol you hated in 1982 is the SAME ONE you hate in 1996.

Recently a woman told me that she’d like to do what I do, be home and write during the day, then added that she considered herself a feminist and couldn’t believe she’d just said that. Curious, I asked what gender had to do with it, and she said that given the feminist goals of achieving positions in business, legal, and financial fields that being home and writing didn’t qualify as being a feminist. I’ve been mulling the concept over in my mind and trying to figure out what bothered me about it, and I finally have. Suppose my journal entry for tomorrow were to read something like this:

I was talking to my friend John on the phone and he told me that he’s seriously considering getting out of the rat race and pursuing his dream of staying home and painting. His wife Mary thinks that it’s a terrific idea and given how much she loves her job doesn’t mind a bit being the one to bring home a paycheck. Me, I’m unimpressed. People have been telling John — and rightly so — that his goals and dreams as a man should be focused on achievements that will bring in money. Yeah, painting is nice, but will that put food on the table? How can he do this and still call himself a man? In my eyes he simply won’t be masculine anymore, and I won’t be able to view him as the strong, courageous man I did before.

Ugh. I had trouble even pretending to be that closed minded. My point is that if I were to believe that, to write about it, no one would agree with me. (Or, god, I HOPE no one would agree with me.) People would say that staying home and painting had absolutely nothing to do with his masculinity and that he was very brave to follow his dreams. Societal ideals can only be taken so far. Yes, it was difficult for me to reconcile myself to not getting up every morning and making money. It was difficult to reconcile myself to not only not making money, but relying on Todd to do that instead of me. (Think about it: if I were in a lesbian relationship would people tell me I was going against feminist principles by relying on another woman’s money?) What I realized years ago, however, was this: that if I went out and got a paying job solely because I was afraid of what people would think of me that I would be just as guilty as those women who don’t go after a career as a doctor or lawyer or stockbroker because they’re afraid that people will tell them they aren’t feminine enough. ”

© 1996 QN Podcast (formerly Quirky Nomads).