The other weekend, Brian and I took a trip to the museum park of the North Carolina Museum of Art. We also took the dog, and the camera!
It was a HOT day.
There were some really interesting sculptures at the park, like this one:
Gyre, by Thomas Sayre
And of course, this one:
Crossroads/ Trickster I, by Martha Jackson-Jarvis
It was only after we got home and looked at the pictures that I realized the Freudian implications behind the last two. Freud-larious!
Thirsty Puppy
A good time was had by all, but we probably should have thought to bring water.
It’s not that I don’t love you– I do! But lately I’ve been doing a lot of writing for The Examiner and the Perpetual Post. I’ll be back around here shortly– I haven’t really left.
-Molly
Now that I have a camera (thanks, Karen!!! I owe you ten!), I have a burning need to show you how cute our dog is.
Ok, so he was Brian’s dog first. But since Brian and I have been together for 4 years, Charlie the dog has known me for over half his young life. Also, I feed him, I pick up his poop, and I log hours of time walking him all over the neighborhood. And I love him to bits. LOOK HOW CUTE HE IS:
Best Puppy Ever
And here:
LOOK AT THAT FACE
I’m just saying, how can you not love this dog? I don’t know any possible way.
Epecially When He Does This
Having never had a dog before, it’s been a great experience. Particularly a dog like Charlie, who is sweet, good-natured, undemanding, and wants nothing more than to be loved. It really puts things into perspective sometimes, and reminds me what is important in life. Seriously, this dog barely ever barks, waits patiently to be fed, walked, and petted and never puts up a fuss about anything. He’s a big furry ball of unconditional love.
Love Please
Ok, I’m done. For now. I just wanted to share my Saturday Warm Fuzzies with you.
I’d like to devote my next several posts to the female humorists I’ve loved and admired since early childhood. Here’s to you, ladies! You helped make me who I am today. It’s ok, I forgive you.
First up: Erma Bombeck.
You were one of the first humorists I ever read, at the tender age of 9 or 10, and I’ll never forget how excited I was to discover your voice. You wrote about being a housewife and raising a family in the suburbs—not the most scintillating subject matter, but you made it funny and real. You were humbly self-deprecating, but you also had a sly wit and a way with zingy one-liners. As a child growing up in New York City, the life you described was far from my own experiences, but you made it tangible, and I wanted to read every book you wrote.
Reading your work now almost twenty years later, I have a slightly different perspective. I still love your shrewd observations and gentle wit, but I also see you as a bright, passionate woman who loved her children and her husband but wasn’t sure exactly how she was supposed to spend her days as a housewife. Someone who struggled to find meaning in her life in an age when raising a family and taking care of your husband and your home was supposed to fulfill your every need. You knew better, Erma, and you recorded your struggles with wit and wisdom, with charm and devastating humor.
As a little girl, reading your work taught me that women can grow up to be funny and smart, and to bring wit and life into whatever they do.
Formula One Racing CEO Bernie Ecclestone said in a July 4 interview with The Times of London of Adolf Hitler: “…he could command a lot of people able to get things done.” The comment has drawn massive criticism from Jewish groups, with one German Jewish organization calling for a boycott of Formula One Racing.
Howard and I present two views of the controversy in this week’s Perpetual Post.
MOLLY SCHOEMANN: Say what you will about Bernie Ecclestone, the man knows how to walk on the sunny side of the street.
I mean it. I know plenty of perfectly good, honorable folks, and yet I would be hard pressed to say anything nice about many of them. In fact, I’ll admit, I can be a little overcritical and judgmental sometimes. I lose sight of what’s important, and forget to stay positive. But not Bernie. He’s got a good word to say about everyone—even Hitler!
And not just a slap-dash compliment, either. No half-hearted “He wore his suits well” or “I hear he was a decent painter.” No, Bernie Ecclestone went the extra mile with a thoughtful comment on Hitler’s superior abilities as a commander. The man clearly doesn’t let himself get caught up in the details—Ecclestone looks at the whole picture, and for him, even the darkest, most despicably evil cloud has a silver lining. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear Ecclestone add that Pol Pot “knew how to dream big,” or that Mao Zedong “was always the life of the party”. Here’s someone who knows how to look on the bright side of mass-murder!
It is rare to come across such an upbeat outlook during these gloomy modern times. We are so quick to judge one another—we barely give decent people a chance to prove themselves, let alone cruel, despotic tyrants. So what a breath of fresh air it was to hear Bernie Ecclestone compliment Hitler! He truly does think outside the box of humanity.
A couple of weekends ago, my little sister and I got together for a mini Schoemann family reunion. As typically happens under such circumstances, when relatives spend several days in close quarters, we ended up making a stop-action animation movie starring Shark Bites fruit snacks. As she notes, it was our first collaboration on stop-motion animation since elementary school. I helped with the first few seconds of footage, but the inspiration and the editing were all her. Nice work Sarah! Watch it here.
Dear Readers,
I’ve recently begun a stint as the Raleigh Fresh Foods Examiner on Examiner.com. I’ll be sharing delicious recipes there several times a week. Check it out! (Yes, that picture may look familiar. Truth is I don’t have many pictures of myself where I’m not either eating or drinking).
Cheers,
Molly
Jillian and I debated the Twilight series in the Perpetual Post. Don’t judge me. Read her side here.
I never intended to read the Twilight series, but a friend of mine sent a copy to me in the mail. Really. I’m not making that up to defend myself. She called and asked if I’d read them yet, and a week after I answered “No, why would I?” an Amazon.com box with the first book landed on my doorstep. As is the case with many addictive substances, the first one is free because once you’re hooked you’re willing to pay anything. ANYTHING. Lucky for me the next two books were already in paperback, but I actually forked over $24.95 for book 4, which at the time was only available in hardcover. I’m not proud to admit that I elbowed a tween in the face to grab the last copy at my local Borders.
Now, I don’t like to get off my high horse as far as books are concerned. It’s smug and comfortable up there, and I get to say things like, “This novel is devastatingly honest and luminously haunting”. Movies are a different story; I love trashy movies and I live for Lifetime movies of the week. But where books are concerned, aside from the occasional pulpy bestseller, I like reading good books. So finding myself becoming drawn into the rainy vampire world of Twilight left me feeling conflicted, namely because it invited my long-obscured twelve year old self out of the shadows to frolic. While reading all four books (in about a month), the war in my head sounded something like this:
28 Year Old Molly: “I’m extremely skeptical of this series. It’s a like Sweet Valley High meets Count Chocula cereal. The main character is a whiny brat and I don’t care if she lives, dies, or gets laid, which she probably won’t, because the author is a Mormon. Why am I reading this? It just reminds me of high school, and I don’t need to remember high schoo—“
12 Year Old Molly: “SQUEEEE!!! She’s the new girl in town and the hottest boy in school is in loooove with her because even though she seems like an average girl to everyone else he knows she’s SPECIAL and he can TELL.”
28 Y.O.M.: “Yeah, right, he thinks she’s special. He thinks she’s a pork tenderloin in converse sneakers. This girl moves to a new town and the only friend she can make is some creepy loner who becomes fixated by her and watches her sleep at night? Why are we teaching young girls that it is acceptable for them to date controlling men who isolate them from their friends and family? Obsession isn’t love! It’s a warning sign! And what does he even love about her? She’s a drip!”
12 Y.O.M.: “OMG! Bella is lonely and angsty and feels like she doesn’t belong—kind of like me! I bet that if Edward went to my school, he’d totally fall in love with me and watch me sleep because deep down he can tell that I’m not like other girls.”
28 Y.O.M.: “Their relationship is based on nothing! He’s weirdly dominating and discourages her from hanging out with her best friend! She gets injured in every other chapter due to hanging out with him and his family and then hides the bruises from her father! How is this ok?”
12 Y.O.M.: “He doesn’t want her hanging out with Jacob because he’s a werewolf and they’re natural enemies. But Jacob is also hot, even though he’s younger than her. Jacob is in love with her too and she kind of loves him even though he’s not Edward, kind of like how I love Jonathan Taylor Thomas but I also love Zachary Ty Bryant. And then she has to choose between two guys! Just like I do! Sort of! In my head! Are you on team Edward or team Jacob?”
28 Y.O.M.: “Team Jacob all the way. He has the best one-liners. Also he treats her like an actual person and not some fragile collector’s item. But I sort of think Edward is hotter in the movie, but Jacob is hotter in the book—you know what? We are not talking about this.”
12 Y.O.M.: “I wonder if that really quiet boy in my physics class secretly realizes how special I am and is in love with me. I wonder if he can smell me from across the room and it makes him weak and his life didn’t begin until he first saw me. I wonder if he’ll invite me to prom.”
28 Y.O.M.: “Remember how she ends up not going to college because she’d rather hang out with her sparkly vampire boyfriend and lie to her parents? Remember how she feels like her life is empty if she’s not with a boy?”
12 Y.O.M.: “Boys are yummy.”
So I guess you could say that I can see both sides here.
Jillian, Akie & I took on iPhones vs Blackberrys vs Nothing in Thursday’s Perpetual Post. Read the full account here.
I will readily admit that I have spent little time fondling either a Blackberry or an iPhone. And I don’t really have anything against either one—yet somehow, my ambivalence comes across to devotees as a thrown gauntlet. Yes, your iPhone is neat. Yes, I’m impressed by the ingenious App you just downloaded for free. I’m sure it’s already saved you lots of time. Look how quickly you found us a local restaurant. ENOUGH ALREADY.
Sure, tell me more about your iPhone. How long have you had it? What do you like to do with it? How has it changed your life? I’m sorry, but listening to someone tell me about their iPhone is only a little more entertaining than hearing them talk about their children. I have to feign the same kind of enthusiasm. “Aw. He’s adorable! He sure has your apps.”
If I ever got an iPhone, I’m sure I’d like it; just like if I ever had a child, I’m sure I would enjoy being a parent. But if I’m not ready, don’t push me. I’ll get pregnant/switch to AT&T when I’m good and ready—and not before. The relentless pressure I receive from both parents and iPhone owners has left me a little bit leery of the concept of either.
And don’t get me started on the Blackberry. I know even less about it than I do about the iPhone—probably because the Blackberry appears to be the phone du jour of the successful business person, and I don’t really know any of those. None of them will return my calls. From what I can tell, having a Blackberry gives technology junkies yet another device to cradle 24 hours a day and consult obsessively. I can’t imagine that this would benefit me. Forget about having access to email and Facebook updates—I already cradle my boring, normal cell phone 24 hours a day and check it obsessively for text messages. I thrill to the vibrating sound my phone makes when I’ve gotten a text message, even when it’s a message from my boyfriend that says, ‘did u finish the milk?’ If my phone gave me access to weather updates, breaking news and movie times I would probably stare into its screen like Narcissus gazing at his reflection in a pool until I perished. I don’t really want a device that enables me to be even more obsessive-compulsive about my cell phone than I already am.
And no, I don’t particularly need a phone that connects me to email and internet. I’m not a doctor. I’m not a lawyer. If I can’t access the internet for an hour, no one suffers except for me, and it’s the kind of suffering related to having to socially interact with other people.
Speaking of socially interacting with other people, has anyone else noticed that the more time they spend hunched over a cell phone, the less that happens? I can’t help but wonder whether cell phones have become tiny social crutches. Alone at a party and not sure who to talk to? Just whip out your iPhone and play a game of virtual pinball or pull up a map to the nearest liquor store. Sitting by yourself in a coffee shop? Why not grab your Blackberry and check your email one more time. People will see you and think, “She’s here by herself, but she’s doing something with her phone, so she probably has lots of friends.”
When you’ve got your iPhone, you’re never really alone. You’ve got a wee digital friend by your side! Your iPhone always wants to hang out with you. Of course, you pay it to, while your friends will hang out with you for free. But you can’t play Snood on them, and they can’t instantly update their facebook statuses for you, except by telling you how they are– which can take minutes. I guess it’s a tradeoff.
I Heard Tell 