Interestingly, I've recently become very aware of all the things about which I've just learned but to which the entire world evidently beat me. This is always happening to me - I am the one at the cocktail party who says something like, "Oh! Did you hear that Al Gore has made some kind of film about the weather?" - not unlike your dear but befuddled great-aunt, the one who can't keep up with the Thanksgiving dinner conversation and in the middle of your nephew's explanation of his first grade art-music-gym rotation shouts, "Who went to prison" just having caught up on the bit about your cousin's wife from hours prior.
The latest parties at which my arrival has been delayed:
1) Beverley Nichols' entire body of garden and kitchen memoir. Nichols was an incredibly prolific writer whose witty takes on everything from roses to parliament are worth staying home to read. In my enthusiasm for Garden Open Today I sent an excited e-mail to a friend with a recommendation and an offer to send my own copy only to receive a "duh, Marsha" in return, along with snippets of messages which I'd apparently received well into the past that made not of the book's popularity among gardeners. Seems like everyone has made Mr. Nichols' acqaintance but me.
2) We've started a new thing we call "family movie night" and once or twice a month we all pile onto the futon with a bowl of popcorn (eating in the family room? Mom's done craaaaaazeeeee) and watch a, well, family movie. Making liberal use of Gnovies I've been able to "discover" new movies in the way that only a person who hasn't set foot in a cinema in six-plus years can. Virtually my entire family and most of my circle of friends were astonished to learn that I had not, until recently, ever heard of National Treasure which was a blockbuster of some note quite a while back. It was a really fun film. Total nonsense, of course, but nothing that I (a dedicated devotee of suspending disbelief wherever possible - and even sometimes when it's not) couldn't eagerly embrace.
3) I'd always wondered how the needlepoint bloggers 'round about the web made such cool designs on "blanks" (plain napkins, shirts, pillowcases, or whatever). I made a comment to a friend expressing my total admiration that someone could, say, cross-stitch a three-tone lilac onto a linen handkerchief. How could such a thing be possible, I wondered. How could I have been born so utterly deficient in spacial skills that this is completely beyond me? "Uh, Marsha," said A., eyes a-rolling, "You may want to google iron-on needlepoint transfers." So I did and now I know and am deeply relieved that I have not been denied some kind of handcraft skill bestowed upon the rest of the world. I am also now the proud owner of several iron-on cross-stitch alphabets.
4) Just this week I fell in
For my next trick, I think I'll call my mom and tell her about this great new television show I've discovered. They take a two teams of people and put them at some remote location, where they compete in all kind of immunity challenges and stuff. It's really neat!