I read a disturbing article in The Oregonian the other day that started out like this: “The famous flamingos of Nakuru are fading away.” I had no idea where Nakuru was, but found that it’s in Kenya and is a lake that is disappearing due to environmental problems. The lake has lost about half its water in the past few years. Many birds have relocated to other lakes which are also shrinking. Many carcasses litter the dried sections of lake beds. The entire article made me very unhappy as I think flamingos are beautiful creatures.

But then, to my dismay, I find that the company that makes the pink plastic flamingos is going out of business! The Orlando Sentinel states: “The pink plastic flamingo, a Florida-inspired icon that has been reviled as kitschy bad taste and revered as retro cool, is dead at age 49.” Union Products, the manufacturer, was scheduled to close November 1 due to increased production costs. Robert Thompson, professor of popular culture at Syracuse University says: “As iconic emblems of kitsch, there are two pillars of cheesy, campiness in the American pantheon. One is the velvet Elvis. The other is the pink flamingo.”

The birth of the pink flamingo began in 1957. By the ‘70s, it had become a symbol of bad taste and was considered trash culture. But by the ‘90s we had learned to make fun of pop culture items and appreciate them. Now the pink flamingos are no longer a symbol of trash culture but a combination of kitsch, history and elegance. And I must say, I have done my part in bringing them to the forefront.

A few years ago I found one in a funny little shop and snapped it up. Now it sits along side my fern and watches over the rest of my flowers. I was hoping it would inspire the other residents in my condo group to do the same thing, but no one has. They have completely ignored it. I’m wondering if they think it’s just another crazy thing I do such as raising goldfish and a bullfrog on my deck until a raccoon ate them . . . or could it be the fact that after it rains I pick up the night crawlers and other earthworms I find on my sidewalk and parking lot and put them back on the grass to keep them from being squashed by cars or people. I don’t see anyone else doing that. Whatever the reason, I wasn’t able to promote pink flamingos around here. I guess I’m the only one who appreciates kitsch, history and elegance. The way I look at it, it’s their loss.

Now I’m thinking of finding a velvet Elvis to put on the window behind my flamingo. I couldn’t get more cheesy or campy than that!

The Oscars

I wasn’t planning on writing about the Academy Awards, but I’ve seen so many pictures of the dresses on entertainment shows that I just had to say my piece. First of all, I think Ellen did a wonderful job. She has such a laid-back style and is never mean or sarcastic. She is just plain funny! I began watching about 2pm on different channels-- switching back and forth-- until the actual awards began. By that time, I was rather groggy so I had a Lean Cuisine to put some life back into me. The Lean Cuisine was a good idea – that way I didn’t have to take time away from the Oscars to cook a meal from scratch. As if I needed an excuse to have a Lean Cuisine!

The Red Carpet walk is the highlight.. The people began arriving at least two hours early, and the women spent all their time twirling and shuffling around. The women all had to be interviewed and tell “who” they were wearing – I don’t think anyone cared “who” the men were wearing, just so long as they weren’t naked. I can’t imagine standing on that carpet for two hours, turning this way and that, looking over one shoulder and then the other, smiling and looking like you’re having fun. And just think about all the illegals in the sweat shops, rushing around making copies of the beautiful gowns as the ceremony is going on. Their knock-offs will be ready in a couple of days for the common people to purchase at a fraction of the designer price. How wonderful! But what really got me was the hair. Nicole Kidman and Gwyneth Paltrow each had long, long hair that was pulled over to the left side and over the shoulder. I don’t know if they were hair extensions or not, but it was too long. Watching Gwyneth for two hours on the Red Carpet, I saw her keep pulling her hair over her shoulder so that it covered her left boob! It was that long. There were many, many shots of her doing that throughout the evening. How does she sleep with that long hair? Will it ever wrap around her neck and choke her in the night? I think what I’ll remember about this year’s Oscars was how good Ellen was and Gwyneth and her hair.

Gwyneth, Gwyneth, Gwyneth . . . please cut a little off before you strangle yourself!

I watch a lot of television so I see many commercials, and lately it seems as if much more time is taken up by them. I think pretty soon there will be 25 minutes of commercials for a half-hour sitcom with only 5 minutes of sitcom. I try to use commercial time to go to the bathroom, but I can go only so many times in an hour. The other evening a commercial came on for some prescription medication – those are always killers as they drone on and on about the side effects. This one started like, “Possible side effects could include muscle aches, headaches, backaches, earaches, sinus problems, faulty vision, acid reflux” . . . at this time I decided to go to the bathroom, take some clothes out of the dryer, fold them and put them all away in their proper places. Upon my return to watch the rest of my program, it was still continuing with . . . “erectile dysfunction, Prune belly syndrome, nausea, diarrhea, stroke, heart attack, narcolepsy, acne, bad breath” . . . it never ended. I gave up and turned to another program where I saw my favorite commercial.

As I said, I watch a lot of commercials and some are quite good. I love the one with the little girl – about 5 years old – being placed in her car seat by her dad. She is talking non-stop and swinging her legs. Even when he shuts her door to go around to the driver’s side, you can still hear her little voice from inside the car. I don’t know what she’s talking about, but I love it! I also don’t know what the ad is selling . . . probably some sort of car. I don’t look at the purpose for the ads—I look at the ad to see if it’s funny. If everyone were like me, there would be no money in commercials, would there? However, I do have my favorite one. It stars Dennis Haysbert who is a very good actor – he was once our president on “24” and has starred in many films and television programs. He’s also extremely good looking which certainly helps. He’s speaking for Allstate Insurance and he talks about how good it is . . . blah, blah, blah . . . but at the end is the part that really gets me. He always ends by saying, “That’s Allstate, Stan.” Isn’t that something? It’s as if he’s actually talking to Stan. But I feel like Stan could be me and he’s talking directly to me. So that’s one commercial I don’t mind watching.

I don’t have Allstate – I have State Farm and don’t plan to change. But I love the fact that I am being spoken to personally in this ad. I feel like Stan and I are one.

The above picture is a re-enactment of an experience I had at a neighborhood Laundromat. I am the re-enactor and my friend, Diane, is the camera person. This incident happened after I tried to fit my comforter into my Maytag to wash it. I tried pushing it down as hard as I could but couldn’t get the lid closed as it was just too bulky for my machine. I finally gave up and dragged it out to my car and set off to the Laundromat where they always have huge machines. Not having been to one of those before, I had to figure out just what was expected of me. I finally found a machine, stuffed my comforter in, plunked a bunch of money in it and turned it on. I was the only person there, so I read a book for a while and then stood and watched it go round and round in the dryer – very relaxing, I must say. . . I could have dozed off very easily.

I remember I was adjusting my panties as they always ride up and make panty lines. I hate when that happens, and it wouldn’t have if I’d been wearing my thong. But I couldn’t find it . . . I think someone stole it. If I had been wearing it, I wouldn’t have been pulling at my panties when I heard a voice behind me say, “Do you mind if I take your picture?” All I could think was that I was being filmed for a segment of “Dateline NBC – To Catch a Predator,” and it was Chris Hansen standing behind me with a full camera crew! So I let out a screech and whirled around, but it was just a guy with a camera phone standing there. I pulled myself together and told him I didn’t want my picture taken. He left and I was once again alone.

But it made me realize that you can be filmed on the street, in a store, in a park or almost anyplace and not even know about it. You could be picking your nose – everyone does it from time to time, not that there’s anything wrong with that -- and find yourself on YouTube as one of its most watched videos. That scares me. Does this mean we should always conduct ourselves as if we were in church, never adjusting panties or picking our noses? I don’t want to live like that and just hope I never see myself on the internet doing something weird. But then I never do anything weird – just ask my friends.

We all get unwanted phone calls, but lately I seem to be getting more than my share. My mortgage company calls regularly, trying to give me money. But I think that requires my paying it back on a monthly basis, so I ask them not to call me anymore . . . but of course, they do. I also get telemarketers calling from India, The Philippines, Burma(Myanmar now, I guess) and even Texas which is no big surprise. They always start with a long silence before a foreign voice comes on at which time I immediately hang up . . . sometimes even before I hear the voice. Sometimes the same people will call me over and over again, and I completely lose it, screaming and ranting and then hanging up. I may have chased some away by doing that. The other day I received a call from a very nice-sounding man who asked if I had been a victim of mail fraud. I told him I hadn’t to which he answered that was good. Then he asked if I had a locked mailbox and did I take my outgoing mail to the post office. It was then that I hung up on the nice man.

Yesterday my phone rang and I answered it as I occasionally do. A woman asked, “Is this hot lips?” I laughed and told her I really couldn’t answer that. So then she laughed and said, “Oh, I see – I hit 59 and I wanted 69.” So then I laughed again – quite a bit, in fact. She then said she had been calling Hot Lips Pizza! And I replied, “Wow! So I’m Hot Lips 69?”

I think I can live with that.

It must be spring already!

Several months ago I wrote about standing on my front porch and watching Larry, my pigeon, mate with his girlfriend. I guess it was his girlfriend, but I had never seen her here before. It was beautiful to watch all the foreplay which consisted of a lot of dancing around, but the actual mating was just a matter of seconds. They flew away immediately afterward and I never saw them again. I was devastated, but I eventually got over it.

The other day I was standing in the same place on my porch and witnessed two mourning doves that live here doing the mating thing. I didn’t witness much foreplay as I guess I didn’t get out there at the right time. But when they got to the mating part, it lasted only about two seconds. What is it with these birds anyway?

So after that I came in and decided to get on my treadmill. I sometimes watch Animal Planet while I’m working out, and this morning the program was about the mating habits of crocodiles! I just couldn’t get away from the mating thing. Of course I watched it, and it was very interesting but extremely scary. The male crocodile opens his mouth wide, and that in itself is terrifying as he has such big teeth and so many of them. He then snaps it shut which makes a loud bang to attract the females. I don’t understand that at all, but then I’m not a crocodile. The females are very territorial and don’t let unwanted males around, but they also signal if they’re in the mood. They open their mouths really, really wide, showing all their huge teeth, and keep it that way for a while. It is horrifying! I’ve never seen anything like it. The whole thing almost made me fall off the treadmill! I guess the actual mating part takes place under water and goes on for hours . . . even days.They are such huge animals and so extremely ugly that it’s difficult to even think about sex after watching them. In fact, the whole thing gave me a headache which seemed quite appropriate for the situation!

Teri has a birthday!

Today is Teri’s birthday. I found this picture of her in one of my mom’s photo albums, and it brought tears to my eyes. Why do I get all teary-eyed when I look at old family photos? I think it’s probably because they bring back so many memories of times past that I may have forgotten. But looking at just one picture can bring back those memories - - some happy and some not so happy. I have many pictures of my girls with their dad and with my folks. Those were good times, but they make me sad because their dad and my folks aren’t around anymore. But I love this picture of Teri as it reminds me of all the love and good times we’ve had through the years. So I don’t think it makes me sad . . . it’s like when I tear up at a Hallmark commercial. It’s good tears.

I’m going to visit Teri and her family pretty soon and will have more pictures for my albums. This time I hope I don’t have to be in charge of the kitty litter boxes because I got quite confused the last time I was there, and the whole process became quite catastrophic! If cats are so smart and clever, why can’t they learn to go in the toilet? Or why don’t they make tiny little toilets for cats? All that scratching around in the kitty litter is disgusting.

So have a happy birthday, Teri, and I’ll be thinking of you. Now I’m going to get out of this room with all the albums that I’ve been sniffling over and go pour myself a glass of wine. Then I’ll see if there’s anything on TV worth watching like maybe the 25th repeat of an old Law&Order episode. That’s one franchise I hope never quits! Those never make me teary-eyed.

I just read about the man in Reedsport, OR, William Roderick, who thought a snorkeler was a nutria swimming in the Smith River and shot him in the head! How could anyone mistake nutria for a snorkeler or any person? They don’t look the least bit like anyone I know. I have seen many nutria on the shores of the Willamette River and swimming near the shore. I have never been tempted to shoot one – I don’t have a gun which takes care of that. And I have never thought, “Gee whiz, that looks just like a snorkeler/nutria. Maybe I should find someone who does own a gun.” I know the nutria is not wanted here, but I’ve never heard of this happening.

The victim, John Chessman, was shot with a .22 caliber rifle – right smack in the head. When the shooter realized the nutria was actually a person, he helped Chessman out of the water. He is now at OHSU in stable condition. Roderick is now in prison for second degree assault and also felon in possession of a weapon, possession of methamphetamine and marijuana. It’s no wonder he couldn’t tell a nutria from a man! Snorkelers should take note of this just in case the shooter is released and still has possession of his rifle. He may go nutria hunting again. Maybe there should be signs along all the river banks advising snorkelers to wear Day-Glo outfits that would look nothing like nutria.The snorkelers should form a study group and then have a fund raiser to help defray the cost of their new Day-Glo uniforms. I’m not a snorkeler, but I think it’s a good idea. But don’t ask me for money.

When Teri, Mark and Harry lived in Manhattan, they spent many enriching hours together at museums, art galleries, zoos and other educational establishments, but they always had time for fun and relaxation. One of their favorite places was Central Park where they could take long walks, visit with people from all over the world and just enjoy nature. This was one memorable moment in Central Park when Mark and Harry were examining a big pile of horse poop in which they had almost stepped. Harry wondered whose it was and how it got there. I’m sure Mark explained about the horses, dogs and even people who occasionally left deposits in the park.

Harry’s mom couldn’t go that day as she was at the flea market, shopping for more chenille outfits to wear around the house. Since her career had come to a brief stop when she had Harry, she needed “home clothes.” She was hoping to find one just like the outfit she wore on one of my previous posts when she was riding the subway with Harry.