WHAT? MONDAY

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Today's What? Monday question might require some creative thinking for you, but it's healthy to think creatively, or to just plain lie.

The question is

What TV show or movie could be based on your life?

I chose this question because it's easy for ME to answer it.

Here are some hints about the TV show based on my life:

• It's only on in reruns now.
• It's about a mom and daughter.
• I look just like the mom and Someone I Love is prettier than the actress who played the daughter, and you'll simply have to take my word for that.
• I was the fastest talking, most fun mom on TV.

Did you get it? Did ya? Did ya? Huh? 

Yes, you did: The Gilmore Girls.

Damn. I look good, don't I? I know you think that's Lauren Graham a.k.a. Lorelai Gilmore, but it's really me. Lauren Graham looks just like me.

And this is the actress who played my daughter Rory, and yes, she is almost as beautiful as Someone I Love.

Now, how do I know this show was based on my life? While it's true I don't own or operate an inn, I could if I really wanted to. I used to talk fast when I was on the debate squad in high school. Lots of men adore me and I have sex with quite a few of them (just kidding, Someone I Love). Someone I Love and I are very close. Someone I Love really did go to an expensive prep school, where she was the valedictorian. But instead of majoring in journalism (dumb choice on Rory's part with newspapers going down the toilet), SIL majored in math and physics.

So now I know you can totally see that Lorelai Gilmore and I are one and the same and The Gilmore Girls was based on my life.

Can't you imagine me saying, as Lorelai and I said on the show: 

Lorelai: So, let me get this straight. Uh, you and some guys who actually know what they're doing are gonna come over and fix my house, and I can pay them back whenever I want? 
Luke: That's right. 
Lorelai: 'Cause I'm Tony Soprano? 
Luke: Only scarier. 

[Lorelai has had to throw Emily an impromptu bachelorette party and invited all the women from Stars Hollow. Emily is now drunk] 
Miss Patty: So, Emily, tell us about this party of yours tomorrow. 
Emily: It's going to be fabulous. Isn't it, Lorelai? 
Lorelai: Ab fab, sweetie darling. 
Emily: Isn't she hilarious? I never have any idea what she's talking about, but she's so entertaining! Like a chimp. Isn't she like a chimp, Gypsy? 
Gypsy: Please make your mother stop talking to me. 
Lorelai: If only I had that power. 

[Lorelai answers her cell phone] 
Lorelai: Hello? 
Emily: You get over here right now! 
Lorelai: Who is this? 
Emily: This is you in twenty years! "Who is this?", I swear! 

Rory: Mom? 
Lorelai: Oh. 
Rory: You're happy. 
Lorelai: Yeah. 
Rory: Did you do something slutty? 
Lorelai: I'm not that happy. 

Luke: Rory's not here yet. 
Lorelai: Then you'll have to entertain me until she arrives. Okay Burger boy, dance. 
Luke: Will you marry me? 
[Lorelai is taken aback] 
Luke: Just looking for something to shut you up. 

Oh man, don't you just love all the hilarious things I said? I crack myself up. The last quotation is particularly apropos because there's this man, not named Luke, and he asks me to marry him all the time. Almost every day. At least once a week. Or he used to once in a while but doesn't anymore.

Did you find this post confusing? I hope not. It's just the way Lorelai and I are.

Now, how bout you, baby?

What TV show or movie could be based on your life?

Give it some thought. Be creative.

Infinities of love,

Lorelai Lola

P.S. You may have noticed we have 98 followers. I really want 100 followers for Christmas, so if you're reading but not following, please do so, or convince a friend to follow. Or threaten someone, if necessary.

A IS FOR APPLE

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Recently a friend and I were talking about the crazy names some celebrities give their kids. He said he had heard some really wild names, and he wasn't just talking about the way people say, Can you believe Gwyneth Paltrow named her daughter Apple?

That conversation reminded me that I wanted to write this post -- about how much I love the name Apple.

I was not freaked out when Gwyneth and the guy from Cold Play (he doesn't have a name; he's just the guy from Cold Play who's married to Gwyneth Paltrow) named their daughter Apple. I thought, That's beautiful.

You know how you have certain associations with certain names? I used to have a next door neighbor named Chuck, and it took me a long time to get used to having a brother-in-law named Chuck. Chuck 1 was unbearably creepy. Chuck 2 was a good-looking, nice guy.

But at first I associated Chuck 2 with Chuck 1. Although I grew to like Chuck 2, please Dear Lord, don't let my babies grow up to be cowboys or name my grandchildren Chuck.

Well, I love the name Apple because of the person I associate with said name.

The fruit is O.K. too, but I really loved the person.

When I worked at the nursing home, we had a lady who was batshit crazy. Walk past her and she'd say, for no reason, I'm gonna cut you.

One night a colleague and I were taking care of her and she reached out and grabbed my face with her long fingernails, digging them into my cheeks. You'd be amazed at how strong old ladies are. If my colleague hadn't been there to pry Crazy Lady off of me, she could have done some real damage, other than upsetting me.

Crazy Lady's daughter came in every single evening and checked on her mom quickly. If she found anything lacking in Mom's care, she pointed it out and requested that the problem be solved.

But she never spent more than a few minutes with her mom. Most of her time was spent walking around the floor greeting the other residents and hugging the staff members. This woman absolutely radiated love. I always felt so good after hugging her. She made my evening.

One night a co-worker and I were chatting about how wonderful this woman was. The co-worker was an old-timer who had been in the business for years. He knew everyone's background. He told me that the wonderful woman's mom had killed two of her own children when they were young.

He said she had abused all of her children horribly and the remaining children had been taken from her by the state.

I asked, They why does her daughter come to see her every evening?

Because she is a truly good Christian woman, he said. You know she doesn't spend much time with her mom. She checks on her but doesn't stay with her.

I pondered this and thought about how the daughter didn't just talk the talk; she walked the walk -- and they were in the footsteps of Jesus.

Of course, her name was Apple.

Infinities of love,

Lola

CINDERITAVILLE

Gentle Readers,

Now that I have all of you depressed and terrified with the story of my broken back, I hope you'll spend some time this weekend checking out our very positive friend, Cinderita. She will help you feel better: I promise. And the particular post to which I've provided a link compliments a number of bloggers and one is named Lola. Could it be moi?

I don't know, but if it's not me, I think I'd better do more sucking up so I've rewritten some song lyrics in honor (actually I should write honour because she's Canadian) of Cinderita:

Happy again to be at Cinderitaville.
Even found my lost shaker of salt.
Some people claim the world's improved and we have Rita to thank,
And we know
It's because of her hugs.


I hope you have a lovely long weekend.

Infinities of love,

Lola

THERE'S A LOT I DON'T KNOW

Gentle Readers,

Favorite Young Man was but a babe in arms, undergoing the inspection of two older women. They admired his tiny blue terry cloth shorts and top.

The shorts are getting too small, I said. He won't be able to wear them much longer.

They felt the waist band of the shorts and replied, Why, all you have to do is take out the elastic and blahblahblah make them bigger.

I don't know how, I said.

YOU DON'T KNOW HOW? they screeched.

No, I don't know how. I don't know how to sew.

I thought they were going to have heart attacks and die on the spot and rather than be responsible for calling the paramedics and have to clean up the damn mess because most people barf when they have heart attacks so I bade them a fond farewell and prayed to God I would never have to look at their stupid faces or hear their screechy voices again  for them to be healthy, wealthy, and wise.

Yes, there's a lot I don't know. It's really easy to say that something is easy when you already know how to do it. But what's easy for me, like writing a blog post or creating a Web site, maybe somebody else wouldn't think it's so easy.

My skills are pretty limited, and I blame it on my mother, as we all must blame our mothers for something that's wrong with us, but don't go getting any ideas Favorite Young Man and Someone I Love.

Mother made my older sisters cook and clean, but in general, as the youngest, I was not allowed to do anything. I would not do it right.


I did not glory in my place of honor as Mother's baby who did not have to do the work. I knew my sisters hated me for it. I actually tried to step in and help at times. Once when I was home alone, I --GASP! -- washed the dishes. Mother yelled at me for not getting all the dish soap out of the cups and I was told to never do it again.

If I tried to wipe off the kitchen counter, I got it too wet -- as if it would never dry. I was not allowed to add an ornament to the Christmas tree because I would not do it right. I couldn't even put on a single fucking strand of fucking tinsel.

So, here I sit at my computer. I don't know how to sew. I don't know how to can corn. I don't know how to do this, that, and the other thing because Mother wouldn't let me and I'm still afraid I won't do it right.

BUT . . .

You want your Chaucer read in Middle English?  I'm your woman.

You need some great quotations from poetry or Shakespeare or want an original poem for a special occasion? I'm your woman.

You need a 14-inch article? Give me the facts and in 20 minutes it's yours and will require little to no editing.

You need a wound cleaned and bandaged? I can do it as well as any doctor and I won't get grossed out and barf.

I have my talents. They just don't involve sewing machines or putting food in jars. It's not a problem. There are people you can pay to alter clothes. It's their job. And -- I know this one is hard to believe but I swear to GOD it's true -- you can buy food already in jars at a store that's meant especially for selling food in jars and cans.

I think Mother was proud of me for a couple of reasons when I was young: She loved it that I was very thin --didn't know I was anorexically thin -- and people quite often commented on how cute I was. Mother would whisper to me with delight about how someone behind her had been whispering about me, Oh she always looks so cute.

And if Mother were here today, I don't think it would bother her that I can't sew or can food or do a lot of the things she did. She would be thrilled that I finished college and that my writing has been published in magazines and newspapers. She would show strangers on the street my byline.

She would go on and on about how hard working and good looking Favorite Young Man is and what a cutie Little Chick is and how sweet LL, RL, AR, and NL are and how talented and beautiful Someone I Love Is and oi! she would love Brilliant Buff British Boyfriend.

And she would still think I'm cute, especially since Sam cut my hair in a wedge recently and it's absolutely the most adorable hair cut I've ever had.

Yes, there's a lot I don't know.

But I managed to jump in and learn how to do a few things and then teach my children how to do those things and then they learned even more on their own.

Best of all, I know how to love, and I love God, my children, my friends, and my dogs. And I know that the more I love, the more love there is. The supply of love is never depleted because you've shared it. Love expands constantly. It's a law of physics.

That's why I have . . .

Infinities of love,

Lola

A WOMAN'S HEART

JUST TO LET YOU KNOW  IT'S CHRISTIAN WOMEN WEEK  AND YOU SHOULD SEND THIS TO ALL BEAUTIFUL CHRISTIAN WOMEN  When I say that 'I am a Christian', I am not shouting that 'I am clean living. I'm whispering 'I was lost, but now I'm found and forgiven.' When I say 'I am a Christian' I don't speak of this with pride.  I'm confessing that I stumble and need Christ to be my guide. When I say 'I am a Christian' I'm not trying to be strong.  I'm professing that I'm weak and need His strength to carry on.  When I say 'I am a Christian' I'm not bragging of success.  I'm admitting I have failed and needed God to clean up my mess.  When I say 'I am a Christian' I'm not claiming to be perfect.  My flaws are far too visible, but God believes I am worth it.    When I say 'I am a Christian' I still feel the sting of pain.  I have my share of heartaches so I call upon his name  When I say 'I am a Christian' I'm not holier than thou, I'm just a simple sinner who received God's good grace, somehow!  Today is Beautiful Christian Woman's Day. Pretty is as Pretty does but, Beautiful is just plain Beautiful..  I'm supposed to send this to Beautiful Women, and you are one of them! If you share this with other women, you will boost another woman's self esteem, and she will know you care about her!  Be Blessed, Be a Blessing.  A woman's heart should be so hidden in Christ that a man should have to seek Him first to find her.

THE QUESTION OF THE DAY

Gentle Readers, I simply must know: Does love exist?

Or is it something poets and greeting card companies invented?

Do we merely experience a chemical reaction when we are attracted to someone and we mistake it for love?

Love (maybe),

Dumped First Wife