Ringing Like a Bell

Summer's nearly over. In just a few days, all the concerns about the new school year will rush in, and I'll be consumed by it completely. For now, I find myself languishing in a lovely middle ground. I have rested from all the demands of last year, and since the new year is still several days away, I'm in a good place. I'm a tiny bit bored in a pleasant sort of way, which is what led me to re-watch an old romantic comedy I already saw years ago -- New in Town .  I remember watching the movie when came out in 2009, but there's something about it I forgot. It slipped my mind that one of the characters in the movie is an uncomfortably exact reflection of me. Let's just say it isn't Renee Zellweger's character Lucy -- if only. As I saw the film again a few days ago, I was transported back to 2009. The first time I watched the movie I was transfixed -- not by the plot, the actors, or any kind of amazing special effects. On the whole the movie is just wha...

I have a good memory for faces but not always for names. My husband teases me unmercifully about it. He wobbles his head around in imitation of me and says, "He looks familiar!" It all started one night when a new episode of Cops was coming on. During the brief intro clip montage, I saw the face of a guy from my hometown. I perked right up and said, "Hey! I know that guy!" Sure enough, near the end of the episode, there he was being arrested during Mardi Gras. It happens all the time. Sometimes we'll be out somewhere in public, at a restaurant or a store. I'll turn to my husband and say, "I think I know that guy -- He looks so familiar to me." Then the waiter or clerk will say, "Hey! Remember me? You taught me five years ago!" My husband just shakes his head and says, "I swear. We can't go anywhere." It is a small world after all. Sometimes I'm sure he thinks I'm making it up, but I do really recognize peop...

Part I A week ago we had a "Bell" style family disaster. Bailey puked. First, let me say that it was really late on a Friday night, which is the lowest point of my week, and we also just finished doing our taxes. I was exhausted, to put it mildly. I'm the sort of person who progresses through a few stages of tiredness. First, I get quiet. Then, I get grumpy. If I make it out of the bad tempered stage, I finally make it to the everything no matter how serious or stupid is riotously hilarious stage. That's how tired I was last Friday night. "I'm going to bed," I announced. It wasn't a question or even a comment; it was a public service announcement thrown out by me to my husband and our dog. About that time, my husband was letting our dog inside to sleep on her decade-old subzero sleeping bag. She refuses to sleep on anything else. He gave it to her when she was a puppy, and despite the purchase of doggy beds in every imaginable color, si...