Snap Judgment

Ellen DeGeneres  went to a sports thing.
She and her wife sat next to former President Bush and his wife.
They did not yell, hit, or tweet at each other.
Someone won the game.

I remember when this would not have been news.
We have changed.

There are people that view the scene I described as horrible.
It must be evidence that neither Ellen or former Pres Bush have any deep-seated beliefs.
If they did they would have duked it out during the game.
Or maybe scowled at each other.
Stalked away in high dudgeon
(High dudgeon. I’ve wanted to use that since I first read Little Women!)
Or something.

Other people see this as a watershed moment of brotherhood… or at least tolerance.
People can sit and watch a sports thing companionably
even if they think the other person is deeply flawed.
Okay.

Ellen has used the monologue on her TV show to explain that being kind to each other means being kind to each other….
even if you don’t agree with everything the other person believes.
There was much clapping and head nods.
Sincerity and straightforwardness is shown and we come to our senses.
Blake Shelton (The Voice)
and Dean Cain (the cute TV Superman from 1993)
are among the celebrities that support her level-headed tolerance in being kind to Bush.
(Y’know, even Michelle Obama accepts candy from the man. I mean….)

But The Hulk isn’t happy.
He can’t even.

Mark Ruffalo wants Bush to be brought to justice for the crimes of the Iraq War.
Vanity Fair
(the magazine, not a Marvel superhero)
wonders if Ellen is out of touch with reality.
Actress Jameela Jamil,
formerly a clapper and nodder for Ellen,
has flipped and now stands with Ruffalo.
Jamil didn’t learn of the monstrous President in school,
and now educated,  is understanding of the Bush rage.
(I don’t know that American students are versed on the Prime Ministers, so British-born Jamil has a point.)

So, maybe it’s a slow week.
Maybe we have run out of indignation due to,
I dunno,
anything that is happening politically right now.
Turks and Kurds.
Syria.
Tariffs.
Ukraine.
The revolving staffer’s door of the White House.
Poverty.
Illiteracy.
Maybe people righteously angry at Bush
are only upset enough to hit Twitter when he is seen with Ellen?
Maybe.
Maybe Ruffalo et.al. have been waiting for THE perfect time to emote.
Man, I don’t know.

War is bad.
Kindness is good.

I’m holding on to that, OK?

(This post is part of the #31DaysOfWritingChallenge2019.)

 

 

Flip Me

A not-guilty-at-all indulgence on Sundays
is to watch-listen to a Flea Market Flip marathon while
doing chores/cooking/laundry/and general putzing around.

If you’ve not seen this show, here’s the premise:
two teams of two compete to find stuff at a flea market
and create three items that they will re-sell for profit.
They are spotted the cash,
get a chance to have a pro group to help them with the carpentry and tools and paint and all,
and have Lara Spencer moderates the competition.
The duo that has the greatest profit wins.

They pack a lot into this show:

• buy dirty dusty stuff for a few dollars
• trash talk each other and abuse the competition’s artistic talents
• lots of ladders made into lots of unladdered furniture
  (seriously: I’ve seen ladder shelves, ladders coffee table, ladder chairs, ladder mirrors, ladder picture frames, ladder sofas)
• strange and wonderful lamps made from musical instruments and hats
• dressers torn apart and made into non-dresser items
• thrift store polyester fabric upholstered onto broken chairs that sell for hundreds of dollars
• watching people uncomfortable with selling try to close a sale is painful

From a crafty point of view it’s interesting, but not practical to duplicate.
Unless you have a totally stocked shop,
trained minions that can use the tools,
a savvy associate to tell you that a pop of color goes best IN the drawers not ON the sideboard,
an angel investor to get you started,
a skilled makeup artist for the close-ups,
and an industrial-sized pop-up tent for the flea market.
And a good supply of ladders,
milk canes,
irregularly-shaped safety glass that coincidentally fits your furniture in need of a see-through surface,
chalk paint,
and vintage maps, tea towels, aprons, and Mad Men draperies for that special touch.

Still, a girl can dream.

The thing that really draws me, though is watching rusty, weary, discards get burnished and brightened.
Given new purpose.
A breath of life.
The belief that THIS new form is the perfect use of the materials.
That it will be staged and cleaned,
celebrated and polished,
lovingly described,
stage-lighted,
praised,
and increased in value.

On my sluggish days,
(You know those days?
Your roots are staking a claim on the middle of your head,
the lines in your face look ironed on,
no matter how hard you try one eye looks a bit better when you put on mascara, so you compensate, and now you have clumpage?
C’mon, it can’t just be me.)
it can be easy to yearn for a make-over.

But I’ve had them before, and they rarely stop at skin deep.
Just like on the show,
sometimes a makeover means losing parts you once though essential.
I’ve seen dressers lose their drawers, tables ditch their legs, and countless other furniture mauling.
But in the end a new product emerges.
I’ve had that.
Destinations I’ve thought were certain-sure have been re-routed.
Things held dear to me have been removed.
Relationships I’ve cherished have rusted
(some from tears and others from lack of contact)
and contacts don’t quite connect anymore.
I’ve had periodic refreshes and deep cleaning to change into something new.

Like the lamp that needs to be re-wired ten times before it works,
the side table that just WON’T sit straight and level,
the sofa that needed all of the stuffing removed AGAIN to eliminate the lumps,
sometimes the change takes time.
I don’t think it could make syndication,
but for me it’s the show of my lifetime.
I can’t wait to see how everything works out.

(This post is part of the #Write31Days challenge.)