Mrs. Dude Abides…Barely

Dearly Beloved gave me a birthday break when he let me post his stories about his cattle ranch/college days.  Not that I post regularly anyhow, but having something new without having to write it was fun.

DB was grateful for your compliments and your comments about starting a blog of his own, but I can’t imagine him ever wanting to do so.   His writing these days is mostly in the form of e-mails to family.

His notes to our son and sons-in-law and their responses can sometimes be hilarious to me when he shares them, even though I don’t speak their language.  Phrases and wisdom from The Big Lebowski are common, but repetitive, since there is little quotable material from that movie which isn’t laced with f-bombs.  Such pithy statements  as this aggression will not stand, man… special lady… dabbling in pacifism… adult beverages… the dude abides… and most certainly, the concerns about peeing on the rug. Peeing on the rug was an act of aggression in the movie.

I feel responsible for their obsession, since I was the one who spotted the review of the movie about 14 years ago and thought it was something DB might enjoy.  I remember walking out of the Minneapolis theater with an apology for selecting such an awful movie on my lips when DB, gushed something like, “That was one of the best movies I’ve ever seen!  I can’t wait to tell the guys (son and SILs) about it.

The movie, written and produced by the Coen Brothers, is supposedly based on Raymond Chandler’s The Big Sleep.  Lebowski became a cult favorite long after it was released and spawned books and blogs about it. There’s Duderonomy,  a Dudespaper, and even Dude conventions.   Thankfully, DB has not gone that route, but Lebowski still has a place of honor in our house.

Some of DB’s notes are about retirement, as in, “I’m having an adult beverage and watching basketball.  How’s work today?”  He also imparts wisdom on marriage and life in general.

Here’s one he shared with me last week:

Subject: Learn from the Master
Tomorrow is the wife’s birthday.  She’ll be 51.
I’ve made a few bad choices on her presents over the years.  The crockpot year, Newark Airport gift shop picture (which she hung over the toilet), and there’ve been others.
This year I’ve hired someone to clean the outside windows, rather than me.  They’ll be here Monday.
She’ll be thrilled.  I’ll give you a report.

          Elder dude

I was thrilled, (a) that the windows were going to be cleaned and (b) that DB wasn’t going to get on that ladder himself.  It was raining last Monday, so the window washer didn’t come.  Looks like this Monday wasn’t good for him either.  Still, if it keeps DB off that ladder, I’m willing to wait.

In the meantime, it’s our inside windows that are looking worse every day.  They’re filled with nose prints.  We have been keeping granddog Ivy for a couple of weeks and she has taken it upon herself to be on full squirrel alert.  She stands, nose to the windows, and when she sees a damnsquirrel she races to the door to go outside and chase them away.

Think I don’t love that?!

DB has enjoyed every minute of her visit.  Having an active dog around, especially one with a personality like Ivy’s, has delighted him.  They go on long walks together.  They play ball.  Ivy sleeps by his side of the bed.  He dreads having to take her back to her peeps.  

Recently, I was seated on the sofa working on my laptop, my feet on the coffee table.   Dearly Beloved was sitting on the loveseat at a right angle to me.  He wanted a glass of water, so he stood and nudged my legs with his knee, saying, “Will you move your legs for a minute so that I can get by?”

I looked up, surprised.  It was much easier for him to go in the other direction. There was a wider path and my legs weren’t blocking it.  But wait… I looked down and saw that Ivy was lying on the floor and knew instantly what he was doing.

“You’re asking me to move so that you won’t have to disturb the dog, aren’t you?”

Mr. Romantic looked around and realized sheepishly that,  ”Uh… yes.  I guess I was.” 

Honestly!  It’s a good thing the man does not wear a toupee.

I’d be tempted to pee on his rug.

Seriously! About This Movie!

Regal Theatre gave us 14 points yesterday for seeing the Coen Brothers’ latest movie, A Serious Man. I think we deserved more.

Dearly Beloved loves the Coen Brothers. The Big Lebowski? A cult hero to the guys in our family who dudespeak with ease.  DB, son, and sons-in-law know–and quote by heart–most of the lines and have given each other Lebowski t-shirts.  One has even gone to Big Lebowski conventions for several years.  (Yes, they’re real and yes,  ”Uncle Dude” attends.)

I would rather pluck nose hairs than watch that movie again.

It isn’t that Coen movies are BAD, it’s that even the funny ones are painful to watch!   Just looking at the characters can depress me.   They’re too familiar to be funny– people I avoid because I know I’d become a babbling buffoon just trying to get a conversation going.  Mending socks would be more stimulating.

So many bad accents…so many stiff hairdos…so much plaid!  Just watch the movie trailer!

After the first 20 minutes or so of this one, I tried to send DB to the restaurant next door for a bottle of wine and a straw. Another 20 and I was crawling down the aisle, begging strangers to lend me a pocketknife so I could slit my wrists.

After DB pulled me out from under the seat where I was attempting paper cuts on myself with the popcorn bag, he whispered that he’d make it up to me.   In the meantime, he kept grinning at the movie.

I WISHED for someone’s cellphone to ring.

I pulled my sweater up over my eyes.  It was a v-neck.

Eventually, having to concentrate on keeping my eyes from crossing or rolling back in my head offered some distraction.

I watched the last half in a fetal position in the aisle, beating my head against the wall.

The story, in case you haven’t heard, loosely retells the story of Job, 50′s America style.  JOB, for goodness’ sakes! Think cursed Jewish physics teacher with sullen, bratty teenagers,  morose Uncle with sebaceous cyst, and unloving wife with cement hairdo.  Happy talk, huh?  The Coens did an outstanding job of sharing the pain with their audiences.

The women in the audience had a reaction similar to mine and totally different from the men’s.   At least I didn’t talk back to the screen like some of them did.   No!!!… Yes, she did!…Don’t do it!…Oh gawd, no… !

In Lebowski-speak, the dudettes were not abiding.  I could feel the vibes of at least 20 women wanting to cause bodily harm.   One woman was beating her husband with a hairbrush.   Several were bleeding from the eyes.

DB gave it a B.  He may have rated it even higher if he had not had to keep taking sharp objects away from me.  The NYTimes gave it a noteworthy review and said, “You don’t have to be Jewish to like this movie, but it will hurt more if you are.”

Really?  It hurt plenty.  Maybe I should give lox and bagels another try.




600 Miles from Home

That’s how far away our oldest daughter, son-in-law, and two oldest grandsons live from us.  We don’t see them nearly enough.  The route takes us around mountains:

Around some

THROUGH  mountains:

THROUGH

Across rivers, which means BRIDGES!  Both hands on the wheel, eyes straight ahead, DB,  ’cause I’m closing mine!

ACROSS

Indianapolis has some beautiful, classic buildings and impressive war memorials:

Buildings

Daughter Boo has always been the frugal one in the family.   She loves turning trash into treasures.

Bottlecap and corrugated metal flag

Bottlecap and corrugated metal flag

A leggy plant

A leggy plant

Son-in-law doesn’t like this one. . . an old, broken door with crushed wine bottle panes.  He says it still looks like a broken door.

Wine bottles get new life

Wine bottles get new life

Son-in-law frequently quotes lines from The Big Lebowski.  Our other daughter’s children don’t know his real name.  They call him Uncle Dude.

This is NOT son-in-law.

This is not Uncle Dude.

The garage window that isn’t, really.

Garage door

This side of the garage is strictly for the birds.

garage wall

Daughter Boo does her trash to treasuring during long Indiana winters.   She loves gardening in spring and summer.

Bottle trees and castor bean plants grow with equal vigor.

Bottle trees and castor bean plants grow with equal vigor.

Sometimes topiaries aren't, really.

Sometimes topiaries aren't, really.

With WHAT???

With WHAT???

The tomatoes are edible, but not the mushrooms:
Magic mushrooms

Magic mushrooms

Little boys aren’t the only creatures making funny faces here.
trees make faces
Autumn crocuses?  Croci?

Autumn crocuses? Croci?

Looks like I was wrong about the mileage. Only 598 miles.   It’s not nearly as far as I thought.
sign