The return of Mrs. Davila

Mrs. Davila is one popular lady. I--or rather, she--got another call the other day:

fundraiser woman: Hello, this is so-and-so from such-and-such charity. May I speak to Mrs. Davila, please?

me: I'm sorry, there's no one here by that name.

FW: Oh, my apologies, she must have had your number previously.

me: That's okay. Have a nice--

FW: Wait, while I have you on the phone, are you the lady of the house?

me: I am.

FW: As I said, I'm so-and-so from such-and-such charity, and we're asking for your support--

me: I'm sorry, I don't make donations over the phone. Please take my number, and Mrs. Davila, off your list. Bye.

Smooooth.

2009 Report on My Balls

Okay, I admit: I totally neglected this blog for five months. I kept thinking how I really ought to post things, and then I never did, and I really have no excuse for leaving you, dear reader, high and dry for so long--

--except that in the meantime I've been running after a 1-year-old (who is newly walking!), getting dressed up three times a week like a therapist again and being paid nicely for it besides, and finding myself trapped in the time-sucking vortex that is Facebook. Yes, despite my insistence that it would be bad for me professionally to be on any social networking sites, I signed up for Facebook. (And I play a mean game of Scramble, if I do say so myself.)

But this evening I decided it really was time to rejuvenate this blog. And what better subject than my balls?

As previously reported, my balls continue to be quite the awesome delicacy. This year, my balls are more dense than fluffy, although they are by no means cannon shot. The broth is half vegetable, half chicken, and is accented with slices of carrot. I'm proud to report that Tovah is a big fan of my balls.

On that note, Mrs. Gerbil and I realized that this is really the last year that we can talk about my balls. We fear that Tovah (who is already frighteningly intelligent and possessed of a weird sense of humor) will tell her preschool teachers that her favorite food is Mommy's balls. So, starting next year, we will be having plain old matzo balls on Passover. But this year I shall feel free to wax especially rhapsodic about my balls--at least until the leftovers are gone.

Other things Toni Braxton wishes could be reversed, but hasn't immortalized in song

- Unrip My Jeans

- Unburn My Toast

- Untrip My Fuse

- Unsteal My PIN

- Unspill My Drink

- Unlose My Phone

- Unbounce My Check

- Unshave My Head

- Uncrash My Car

Not a dirty word

Every time I hear or read about some Republican's beef with Obama's reference to "spread[ing] the wealth around," I wonder all over again what is wrong with this idea.

"What's wrong with a little socialism every now and then?" I ask myself.

"Oh, right," I answer myself. "I'm a socialist!"

You are a Social Liberal (76% permissive) and an... Economic Liberal (8% permissive) You are best described as a: Socialist Link: The Politics Test on OkCupid.com: Free Online Dating Also : The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

A matter of opinion

I present a pair of guide words from our phone book:



I suppose it's all in the ear of the beholder.

Proctered and Gambled

I have fierce brand loyalty where toiletries are concerned. Though Mrs. Gerbil thinks I am unnecessarily finicky about such things, I simply will not settle for store-brand skin care, dental care, or feminine hygiene products. But for all my desire to cut costs wherever and whenever possible, I am a creature of habit, and a lot of times the store brand just isn't the same.

A lot of my favorite toiletries are made by Procter and Gamble, and I've been using the same P&G products since high school (i.e., half my life). Consistency may be the hobgoblin of little minds, but for me it's a source of warmth and fuzziness. So if my beloved products aren't up to snuff, you bet your bippy I'll be upset. And what do I do when I'm upset? I rectify stuff.

Many moons ago, I called P&G about cat food cans that wouldn't open, and for my troubles I (or rather, the cat) was rewarded with eighteen vouchers, each good for one free case of cat food. That is a whole freaking lot of cat food.

Several weeks ago I restocked our supply of nice, lotiony Puffs tissues. Tissues with lotion in them aren't good for wiping up spills or cleaning one's glasses, but they sure are good for protecting my sensitive little schnozz. Imagine my unpleasant surprise when I discovered that one of the boxes was full of coarse tissues! The P&G representative asked whether the tissues contained the proper amount of lotion, "because sometimes the lotion doesn't get on them." Oh, they were lotiony, all right. And mysteriously scratchy. For my troubles, P&G sent me a voucher for three replacement boxes of Puffs.

Recently I bought some more of my favorite unscented Secret deodorant. At about the same time, I noticed the smell of tropical fruit every time I went to nurse Tovah. None of us uses any products that smell like tropical fruit, so I was completely at a loss for whence this smell was coming. Then one morning I figured it out: it was my supposedly unscented Secret. WTF? (At least it wasn't phantom chai.) My sensitive little schnozz did not appreciate the bait and switch, but I feared I might get myself blacklisted with P&G's customer service. I know I'm in their computer system, because despite my careful spelling-out of my name each time I call, they always address mail to me with the same misspelling.

Not surprisingly, my need to rectify things won out, and I called P&G about my disturbingly fruity unscented deodorant. The representative was all apologetic, especially when I alluded to my sensitive little schnozz.

Well, today I received my replacement vouchers, with a predictably misspelled address label. I'm pretty certain I've been blacklisted. P&G thanked me for being a valued customer by enclosing a sample of heavily scented laundry detergent.

Mel Gibson is stalking me

...and he's not doing it very effectively.

Cases in point:

1) In 2002, M. Night Shyamalan's rather disappointing Mel-Gibson-vs.-aliens flick Signs was filmed in and around my charming old historical hometown. But I'd moved from my parents' house to Cleveland a little more than a year prior. Sorry you missed me, Mel.

2) Last week, scenes from the new movie Edge of Darkness were filmed at the book depository of my alma mater, a location also known as the Bunker because it is, well, an old military bunker. I've never actually been to the Bunker, but it's about five miles from our house and I drive past it several times a week. Sorry you missed me again, Mel.

3) Tomorrow, more scenes from Edge of Darkness will be filmed at the old county courthouse, in downtown Northampton. I go to Northampton frequently. In fact, Tovah and I drove through Northampton yesterday and today, and we saw all sorts of cinematic equipment being hung on the courthouse. We also saw throngs of people standing around and watching said equipment-hanging, and police standing around and watching said throngs of people. Partly on account of the filming (and the concomitant traffic delays and even more pronounced lack of parking), and partly on account of lack of need to go to Northampton, I won't be going by the courthouse tomorrow. Mel! Your timing sucks.