Category: The Heinous Shrew

"Another boring romantic, that’s me."

Ms. Parker has often joked that in the game of our friendship, when points are scored for visits to the other’s home, I have thus far beaten her by a score of 5-0. Not one to be shutout, though, last month, Ms. Parker made the score 5-1 when she led off the third inning of our lives with a solo blast to left-center. For my baseball-challenged readers (read: reader) out there, that means she hit a homerun; and for those of you who are figuratively challenged by metaphors (or is that metaphorically-challenged, figuratively speaking?), that means she visited me in Vermont. Inspired by my close proximity to Ben and Jerry’s (or was it the other way around?), Ms. Parker and her cousin, Cousin J, drove up north to the land of cheese, maple syrup, gay marriages, and me (listed, of course, not necessarily in order of preference).

After a day spent sampling Vermont’s finest, the three of us settled into an American Flatbread restaurant booth where Sarah the L joined us, marking the first time those two Round Table friends had ever met. We ordered salads, a few drinks, and four different types of flatbreads split between two pies from our waitress who happened to be a friend of Sarah the L and proved as much with a hug. At some point during our meal, The Heinous Shrew walked by our booth on her way to crash her friend’s date. Later that night, Ms. Parker commented on how small our small city was and that she would hate to live in such a place where encounters like these were the norm. I think she’d probably go so far as to suggest that this is the same personality trait that makes her, in her opinion, a person whom the homeless find “unapproachable,” which, incidentally, recent trends would seem to suggest is a trait I don’t possess (but that’s a comment on my city’s homeless situation, which is best set aside for another blogging day).

Ms. Parker’s remark made me question my own reality: do I enjoy a city small enough that the aforementioned random encounters occur on an almost daily basis? Or would I rather live in a town with so many bars that hardly anyone knows my name? What’s my perfect balance of community and privacy? This is a question I’ve pondered on many occasions and quite often in the three weeks since I started this blog entry. And until four days ago, I didn’t have an answer. You see, I never know when I’m going to find the inspiration to write a blog entry, and when I finally start one, I never know how it’s going to end. My creative process resembles that of a junior high school metal shop class: countless bold ideas, quite a few stops and starts, and a finished project that never resembles the original plans. (That I’m even capable of producing a complete and coherent sentence is a sort of miracle in and of itself.)

Typically, most of my blog entries begin on my walk to work, an 8-minute jaunt filled with sounds of school children (if I’m on time), school bells (if I’m not), construction workers beginning their day spent fixing up a recently burned house, cars accelerating a little too fast for a side street, and the city busses idling as they wait for their respective passengers. Like that metal shop class, this walk doesn’t exactly overflow with inspiration. Thankfully, it’s what I learned in elementary school (how to be creative) and college (how to tell a story) that lets me utilize this time. And so, I spend my time daydreaming about my life, finding patterns and themes within that life, figuring out if they’re interesting to me, and then slowly attempting to make them sound interesting to you. Sometimes I end up with a finely crafted metal basketball hoop, and sometimes I end up with a pointless piece of scrap metal with no ending in sight. Whatever I end up with, though, you can rest assured it wasn’t what I originally planned to make.

My continuing struggle with the writing process was on my mind recently when I heard the claim that writers are a great source of wisdom because they spend their lives observing human nature in an attempt to accurately reproduce it on the page. The theory is that anyone who studies humans to the point when they know exactly what a fictional character would do in a hypothetical situation must understand nonfictional people in realistic settings. I hardly ever feel bold enough to offer a dissenting view in someone else’s house (especially this particular house), so I chose to keep my opinion to myself and instead share it here: I don’t agree.

I think writers only know what their characters would do in a situation simply because said characters reside in the imaginations of said writers. Claiming that an understanding of their character implies an understanding of society is not unlike claiming to know what another person is craving for lunch simply because you’re craving corned beef. And besides, to believe that this is proof that writers know the answers to most of life’s questions is to ignore how imperfect the lives of these writers are. We can’t answer most of our own questions, so how could we possibly answer yours?

In an effort to have some of my questions answered, and for reasons maybe Ms. Parker, Sarah the L, and Robin Williams would understand, last Sunday afternoon I found myself sitting next to Mary (nicknamed for various reasons) in a church she and her friends had started a few years ago. This is where I heard the theory about writers having answers, and this is where I met an assortment of characters whose (nick)names will have to wait for another day. And through these characters, I Ultimately found myself sitting side-by-side Mary in a Wednesday night discussion group, in front of a coffee table on which the homeowner had placed a coffee mug that had printed on it the name of Papa Benchly’s church. After quick Sherlock-Holmes-like detective work, I discovered that my father was a mentor to the homeowner. A small town, indeed.

The group’s discussion centered on the question, “What is church?” and at one point, a debate broke out regarding how many people were needed for a church to exist. Some claimed you needed a community to help your faith grow; I posited that only one person was needed “to go to church.” Mary’s view was that a person can only evolve (spiritually or otherwise) so much through the lessons he/she learns from personal mistakes; that to evolve to his/her full potential, a person needs to learn from others as well. I won’t say that I changed my opinion, but I will confess that Mary and the others convinced me that it does, in fact, take a village to evolve.

And that’s when I realized how much I loved feeling part of a community and the random encounters that accompany such a relationship. I don’t think I ever feel as alive as I do when one of my trees falls in the forest and my friends are around to hear it. Through these moments, I find joy, the answers to my questions, the inspiration to write, and sometimes even the perfect ending for my blog.

BBGE Recap, Episode II

August 19, 2008 – The Russian’s new house (Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortensen)

For this recapper (Mr. Benchly), the Best Book Group Ever (BBGE) began at 6:15 p.m. when he realized he had forgotten to make a salad for BBGE. After a quick trip to the store during which he planned a salad that would require the least amount of work, Mr. Benchly placed said salad in his mother’s wooden salad bowl and wondered aloud whether or not anyone in the book group would notice such a grown-up kitchen dish coming from such a non-grown-up. Unsure of which house was The Russian’s, Mr. Benchly looked around and saw a number of BBGE cars parked on a corner and assumed they were on to something. He walked through the front door to discover The Russian, The Canadian, CAT, The Heinous Shrew, The Professor, and The Mother had already arrived. Any other time and he would have been embarrassed by his tardiness, but not while carrying a grown-up salad bowl. The Dean was busy being a dean; The Newbie was busy sleeping off her exhaustion.

The book group spent the first hour or so chowing down on appetizers on the kitchen counter (brought earlier by The Dean[?]). The salsa reminded Mr. Benchly of the salsa CAT served during a recent visit to her house, which was left over from a recent party at her house. The Dean was at this party and so Mr. Benchly’s theory was that The Dean brought this same salsa to the recent party at CAT’s house. It was fruity and good. There were other appetizers but this recapper didn’t try any because he wasn’t sure how to eat them. Other book groupers ate them, though, so he’s pretty sure they were good.

At some point, discussion turned to CAT’s recent trip out west with her soon-to-be live-in boyfriend, CAT Lover. After a few details that would subsequently be proven by other news to be inconsequential but which this recapper still remembers (e.g., CAT got free Cliff bars), CAT revealed that CAT Lover complemented the romantic setting of a gorgeous and isolated Wyoming mountain top with a question whose answer instantly made him CAT’s soon-to-be live-in fiancé, CAT Lover. Book group was pleased. As was CAT. And then The Dean showed up and CAT gave him the abridged story (sans the part about Cliff bars), and The Dean gave CAT two hugs.

Other book group relationship news included The Heinous Shrew’s decision to move into a new apartment with her boyfriend (aka, our veggie eggplant entrée chef) in the South End of Burlington. This recapper called her a traitor to the Old North End (ONE) while ignoring the not-discussed fact that he had also moved out of the ONE. The Heinous Shrew seemed happy with her decision, though slightly bummed that she would now have to cross Pearl Street for the first time in 13 years(?). There would be more relationship discussions, but not before dinner.

Dinner was served after 8 p.m. and consisted of said salad in the said grown-up salad bowl by Mr. Benchly, the aforementioned eggplant dish by The Heinous Shrew’s boyfriend, brought by The Heinous Shrew, a cheese/tomato veggie side by CAT, chicken and Cornish game hens by The Russian, Great Harvest bread by Great Harvest brought by The Russian, and wine brought by The Canadian and The Mother. It was decided that yet again, the BBGE had compiled a delicious dinner. After a quick walk down BBGE nostalgia lane in which we determined that our little book group was nearly five years old, talk turned to The Dean’s recent house guests who resisted the temptation to not pass gas in his house. CAT and The Mother thoroughly enjoyed The Dean repeatedly saying “fart.” At this point, and maybe in an effort to prove that book group wasn’t just about fart jokes, The Professor segued into a discussion on the book, which, unfortunately, it appeared as though only three and a half of us had read (The Professor, The Canadian, and CAT, plus half of The Dean). The Professor, The Canadian, and CAT gave us a very descriptive and rewarding panel recap and discussion of the book. For this recapper, it was like BBGE meets Cliff Notes. It should be noted that this panel discussion inspired The Mother to think about borrowing the book. Also worth mentioning is that she wouldn’t be able to borrow it from The Canadian because The Canadian had borrowed it from the library per CAT’s suggestion.

The post-dinner conversation over dessert brought by The Professor, ranged from The Russian’s tales of tails and how close she and her boyfriend are to opening their doggie daycare business, to The Heinous Shrew trying to give away her 1-year-old drunk girl cat (so named because he was acquired last year from a drunk girl downtown), to The Russian trying to give away her parents’ furniture (which both The Heinous Shrew and Mr. Benchly were interested in for their respective reasons), to the Front Porch Forum’s ability to find this recapper’s blog, to The Dean’s recent adventures in dating. We discussed The Dean’s options (Bachelorette #1 and Bachelorette #2); some of us liked #1 while others liked #2. The Heinous Shrew mentioned that The Dean should consider who was the easiest one to plan a date for and that’s the one he “should do.” This recapper was amazed at how red The Heinous Shrew’s face turned at the realization of what she had said. And thanks to the wonders of the Internet, we even saw a picture of Bachelorette #1 who, most everyone agreed, was super cute. The Heinous Shrew was dubious and claimed the picture could just be an optical illusion. The Russian then showed us two options for her new business logo and per BBGE standards, some liked the blue while others liked the green. The Dean was dubious because colors always look different on a computer screen.

After settling down and choosing our next book, meeting time/location, and food/wine bringers, it was time (9:45 p.m.) for book group to come to an end. And as this recapper left The Russian’s house with his mother’s grown-up salad bowl in hand, and as he drove home to his parents’ house where he’s staying until he moves into a new ONE apartment with a new roommate September 1, he thought of all the changes happening in the BBGE’s relationships, whether spoken or not. A lot happens in a month and he can’t wait to hear everyone’s updates next month.

The BBGE, and Bob’s your uncle

As some of you may know, I’m a member of Burlington’s best book group ever, appropriately titled the Best Book Group Ever. Started many years ago through random connections on Friendster (the Myspace of 2004), the BBGE now consists of nine members: The Dean, The Professor, The Canadian, The Heinous Shrew, CAT, Mr. Benchly, The Russian, The Mother, and The Newbie. With this steady Who’s Who of Burlington cast of characters in place, invitations to join are rare and not taken lightly. Mine came via CAT two years ago, and thankfully, I have yet to be kicked out. Since then, only The Newbie has accepted an invitation.

After our most recent gathering, I took it upon myself to write a recap for the BBGE’s private website. Because I had fun with it, and because I’ve been slacking with the Blogger posts lately, I thought I’d share it with you, my faithful reader. And so, without further ado, I give to you a rare glimpse into the Best Book Group Ever…

May 20, 2008 – The Newbie’s house (The Attack by Yasmina Khadra)

For this recapper, book group began in the Old North End when four ONErs (The Professor, The Dean, CAT, and Mr. Benchly) gathered at CAT’s house so that we could carpool to The Newbie’s house. (The Professor came bearing a fishbowl surprise veggie dish from The Heinous Shrew who could not attend.) Mr. Benchly was impressed with how environmentally conscious all of his carpooling book groupers were since The Newbie’s house was only two or three miles away near Oakledge Park. At this point, it was revealed to him that The Newbie’s house was actually in Essex, 20 minutes away, and Bob’s your uncle.

At sometime near 7 p.m., the ONEr carpool express arrived at The Newbie’s newbie house, which is in an area of Essex nearly as wooded as Oakledge Park, but populated by not nearly as many drunk college kids. The ONEr carpool express arrived a few minutes after The Mother, and a few minutes before The Canadian. The other book group member, The Russian, could not attend, and Bob’s your uncle.

Our appetizer hour was spent circling The Newbie and her husband’s new cardboard kitchen island on which olives, cheese, crackers, wine, and champagne were placed. (Mr. Benchly was pleased that there was a bowl in which to place the olive pits, as this is always a matter of social anxiety and distress for him and usually prevents him from enjoying more than one olive at a party.) Champagne was poured and we toasted to The Dean’s new deanship, The Professor’s new tenure, and The Heinous Shrew’s ability to get her boyfriend to make her book group dish.

The pre-dinner/pre-book discussion ranged from whether or not any book group members could be classified as Dignified Middle Aged (DMA), to the recent home improvement work done to The Newbie’s newbie home, to The Russian’s upcoming housewarming party, to CAT’s housing situation, to The Professor’s drug-dealing neighbors, to an explanation of the phrase “and Bob’s your uncle” (a phrase this recapper so desperately wants to understand), to The Mother’s new job at the Front Porch Forum, and to many other topics this recapper can’t quite remember. It should be pointed out that this recapper had two glasses of wine, two more than his usual.

Dinner was served at a little after 8 p.m. and consisted of the aforementioned fishbowl surprise veggie dish, a salad by The Canadian, asparagus by CAT(?), a Russian (?) chicken dish by The Newbie, and bread by Mr. Benchly by Red Hen Bakery. At this point, discussion turned to the book, and, disappointed by a lack of segue, CAT shared with us the segue she almost used before dinner. The Newbie, The Professor, The Dean, and CAT were quickly identified as the book groupers who had read the book. There was some speculation that Mr. Benchly had not read the book as a sort of retaliation against those who didn’t read his book for the last meeting. These rumors proved to be false. This recapper sensed that, all in all, the four readers enjoyed the book, and their discussion lasted 10–15 minutes (?).

The post-dinner/dessert discussion turned into a vent session about bad grammar (thus making this recapper extremely paranoid), as well as a confessional on past crimes of book groupers, which, for the sake of privacy and intrigue, will not be revealed in this recap. Needless to say, though, The Canadian should now be referred to as The Canadian Criminal. We then voted on CAT’s book selections, planned our next meeting, said our goodnights, headed home a little after 10 p.m., and Bob’s your uncle.