WHAT NOW?

It’s Complicated.

It’s been that kinda May: half of our clan have birthdays; nearly every non-profit in the city hosts an annual event; there’s Mother’s Day; J.Walcher Communications celebrated its 15th anniversary. We could only nod to Passover, which we missed by a day.

The birthday kids of May; well, the problem is, they’re no longer kids. Yeow. And by now, they have nearly everything they need, so it’s pretty hard to conjure up creative presents. Jean and Joe gave Uncle Mike socks. (Yawn?) But Uncle Mike rose, so to speak, to the occasion: “I wore my new Calvin Kline socks today,” he wrote to them. “They are uplifting, my mood is better, I am more friendly to people, and everyone is impressed by the positive new me. Plus, I am taller. Thank you.”

The clan can be here for hours, but they never notice anything – they laugh, eat. Drink. So, why were they moved to comment on the golf ball that lives in the dish dryer in our sink? “Mommmm?” I found it; I saved it. Now it’s mine.

The land-line rings incessantly, unfamiliar voices – recorded and live – grimly or cheerfully urging us into decisions we don’t want to make or money we don’t want to send. C’mon, awreddy!

You’ve probably been excited to read this far, per no mention of Trump. Not yet. Who can help it? May was the bonanza; how many magazine covers did he make, television appearances, reruns of his appalling attitude, rude opinions, dismissive attacks? Yet, we’re publicists; we’d give our ear for such ink. Or, air. So what if it’s 99 percent negative? Good name recognition.

Thank me for not listing the gruesome adjectives about him that I can barely resist repeating. Yet, to show you what a good sport I am, here’s a joke: “Did you hear that two of Trump’s three wives were immigrants? …” Rats: I can’t remember the punch line. I asked the Mr. – he remembers everything.
“I can’t think of it,” he said.
Me: “Who would know?”
Mr.: “What’s-his-name would know.”

Maybe it’s May.

The San Diego Council on Literacy’s “Eat. Drink. Read.” took place at Liberty Station. It was outdoors, fenced area, superb cuisine from a few dozen purveyors and restaurants. How could one go wrong? Well, it was May, and it was outdoors, and too many of us didn’t bring our sweaters.

I may recover in June. We’ll go to see music-master Rey Vinole play for the Horse Shows at the Fair. How do you play for horse shows, anyway? There’s swing, rock, Latin, march, western, great American song book show tunes. Eighty-ninety tunes per show, he says. All to the beat of the hooves; have we clearly underestimated horses? They’ve got rhythm! But, says Mr. Vinole, any horse that can’t keep the beat can be dismissed. Not the rider, but the horse. That’s life.

In the meantime, I’m still writing this in May. And we’re going to see the documentary about Anthony Weiner. That should cheer us up.

Category: Local News