Hard Times . . .

We’ve had an extra-busy several weeks, commencing with the replacement of all the flooring in the upper story of our house in mid-September, and continuing with two rounds of out-of-town guests, furious coding as I closed in on writing a paper at work, the arrival of my brother from his global wanderings, seven back-to-back board of ed meetings, a whirlwind trip to Pennsylvania, apple picking and cider pressing, the bi-annual Civil War re-enactment at my dad's park, the usual round of unrelenting doctors’ visits, and some dentist appointments thrown in for fun. 

Last week, even more than the ones that came before, was a bit of a doozy.  The boys had their annual well-child appointment Monday morning.  Shots!  Crying!  Treats at the grocery store!  Afterward, I headed to the dentist for a filling, and continued on to a 5-hour meeting starving and unable to chew or control my puffy tongue.  Not my best day ever.  I figured I would coast through the week from there, but the universe has a sense of humor, so I came down with a stomach bug on Wednesday morning and spent two more days starving and miserable.  In fact, I was reduced to behaving like a three-year-old, complete with the all-starch diet and a tantrum.  I’m trying to look at this as a learning experience that has given me insight into my childrens’ behavior.  Still, it’s rather rough on the ego.

In other news last week, I finally gave up trying to fit organized exercise outside the house into our chaotic schedule.  I broke down and bought a set of Zumba DVDs, so that I can do some fun cardio during naps.  I was excited when the DVDs arrived, but I was horrified by the packaging, which seemed to have resulted from a head-on collision between the boxes that normally contain Barbie’s Corvette and off-brand feminine hygiene products.  Scary. 

On the day of my dentist visit and puffy tongue, I was able to spend about an hour at the public library without the boys, and I picked up a copy of Studs Terkel’s Hard Times.  I figured that reading about the Depression during the immediate run-up to a presidential election would let me reflect on the state of the American political system even more bitterly than usual.  Sometimes it’s fun to wallow.  As it turned out, the book was fascinating and oddly inspiring, and I carried it around the house with me reading snippets here and there all week. 

Tuesday evening, Dane came home from work into the usual pre-dinner-baths-bedtime chaos.  At some point during the kid-wrangling, I looked up to see him staring our a side table with a look of incredulous horror on his face.  My Zumba DVDs were lying there in all their hot-pink glory.  I started to stammer out an excuse: “I know they’re horrible . . . . Doing aerobics during naps is a total house wife cliché . . . . I just have to get some endorphins . . . ” etc.

But he said, “WHAT are you reading???”

I looked at my innocent library book, sitting beside the DVDs.  “Um . . . Studs Terkel’s Hard Times?”

“What?!”

“Studs Terkel.  Hard Times.  Classic oral history of the Great Depression?”

“Who is Studs Terkel?”

Dane is an avid pubic radio listener -- much more so than I am -- so I was amazed that he wasn't familiar with Studs.  “He's a famous author and historian.  Do you really not know who he is?”

“Does he know he has a PORN STAR name?”

“How could you not know who Studs Terkel is?”

“How could he not use a pseudonym??!  Studs!”

“You call yourself an NPR listener?”

“Hard Times!”

As a direct result of this conversation, NPR will no longer be sending Dane mugs and tote bags.  Also, I can never look at the cover of that book the same way.

STUDS TERKEL in HARD TIMES.

Oh dear.

So, all and all, not a totally bad week.