[They say that truth is stranger than fiction. And you can't make things like this up. Well, you haven't followed Cha McCurley around. She leads what we might call an "interesting" life. This is just one of her stories. You can look forward to many more! - ED]
My oven was broken on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, that day when it’s plain unpatriotic not to do something Turkeyish.
Normally I do some prep cooking in advance of the holiday but couldn’t because of the fear of flames shooting from my electric oven.
So on Thanksgiving I had to do it all and have the holiday grub on the table by 12:30, since my husband announced that he had to leave for work at 2:30.
Time was a-wastin’!
As Snuffy Smith says, “Time was a-wastin’” so I got up, let the dog do her stuff, threw a pizza in the oven for my grandson Bug and my stoical husband and took a quick shower. It was pepperoni, which is Italian for turkey.
After tossing on some clothes I scurried to the kitchen to check on the pizza. Still a lump of dough and frozen tomatoey goop.
I had not put on any makeup or done my hair, so of course my husband’s son Chris chose that exact moment to ring the doorbell.
I yelped hello as I dashed back into the kitchen to keep him from turning on his heel and fleeing in horror. Pizza: Beginning to resemble something edible.
Sir Chits-a-Lot
When the coast was clear I went back to the bathroom to make myself presentable but Chris (Sir Chits-a-Lot) was just beginning to get comfortably settled in. Every time he comes over he roosts in the bathroom for ten minutes or so. I mean really?? Is he trying to tell me something??
I suddenly froze in my tracks when I realized my trampoline-size knickers and parachute-grade bra were laying on the closed toilet seat along with the other clothes I had taken off before showering.
Now think about it: When you undress you take off 1) pants, 2) top, and finally, 3) unmentionables. So guess what was on the top of the heap?
Yep.
I was mortified. All I could do was utter a prayer that the skiddies weren’t showing.
When Chris eventually came out, I couldn’t make eye contact. I mumbled something incoherent, pointed toward a bedroom and slinked away.
Once I heard him plop his bulk into a living room chair I ducked into the bathroom and finished my so-called beautification process.
Smoke Alarm! Pizza’s Done!
I didn’t come out until the smoke alarm alerted me that the pizza was done.
Instead of “resembling edible” the pizza resembled charcoal, at least around the curled-up edges. It was so dry and hard I was tempted to get the hatchet to cut it into slices.
Nobody seemed to notice it, though. They just sat there grim-faced, tearing chunks off their blackish, withered slices and snapping their heads back to swallow. It reminded me of dogs eating peanut butter.
I don’t know what Chris had to say when he got home, and I’m afraid to even think about it. It did take him a while to come back over, however.
Anyway, it’s done and gone. As I often say, “It is what it is.”
{ 0 comments }
Be brief, be blunt, forget: Auden’s words on self-examination
by Mike Nichols on April 28, 2013 · 0 comments
in Commentary
W.H. Auden
At first reading, Auden seems to be directly contradicting Socrates’ famous statement, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” Is that what Auden is really saying? Let’s take his statement apart to try to discern his meaning:
“Be brief, be blunt, be gone” is a well-known maxim among those Christian churches that practice confession of sins to a pastor or priest. Usually, there is a set period of time for confessions with a number of people to hear. A dawdling confession gums up the works, making others wait, and the priest tardy for later appointments.
Once the priest hears the confession, a prayer is made for forgiveness, then the sin is literally gone as if it had never been committed. Confess, pray, be forgiven. Quickly. And don’t linger.
“Be brief.” Some self-examination takes place over a period of time rather than briefly. Auden is not saying to short-circuit longer self-examination, but not to prolong it unnecessarily. The “on the one hand, on the other” of a scrupulous conscience does not lead anywhere, and prolongs self-examination past the point of its being beneficial to that of being harmful.
“Be blunt,” or get to the point, and don’t spare yourself. Auden seems to be saying not to avoid self-examination, but when all’s said and done, come to a resolution and move on. Being blunt, or honest, with yourself avoids many of the pitfalls of self-examination, particularly when it descends into prolonged rumination and a vague guilt.
“Forget.” As mentioned, the point of confession is forgiveness, and forgiveness means sins are wiped away to a state of sinlessness in which one can literally forget that the sins have occurred. However, we are much more likely to forgive others than forgive ourselves. A scrupulous self-examination prevents forgiveness of oneself by drawing out the process without any resolution, decision or penance.
“The scrupuland is a nasty specimen” disdains the one immobilized by scruples as someone who can go no further in life until those scruples are resolved. And for many, that is never, which means that the person is no good for themselves or for others.
In summary, Auden doesn’t violate Socrates’ dictum; he doesn’t say not to engage in self-examination. He does say to get to the point and avoid scrupulous equivocations, which only lead to a state in which a person is no good to themselves or to others.
** The word Auden coined, “scrupuland,” apparently means one who is paralyzed by feelings of doubt or hesitation with regard to the morality or propriety of a course of action. There are two perfectly good words that he might have used instead: “scrupler,” first attested to in 1631, means one who is paralyzed by scruples. “Scrupulist,” first appearing in 1681, is one who participates in paralyzing scruples. “Scrupulant” doesn’t come along until 1938, and with the same meaning as “scrupuland.” The “-ant” is slightly more grammatically sound than “-and.”. But the way our language grows is through coined words, though “scrupuland” probably qualifies as a “nonce word,” one made up for a single occasion and not intended for general use.
{ 0 comments }