New Things Are Uncomfortable

By Amy Baranski

I completely forgot about the Fourth of July Victrola episode, in which Melissa told me she was nervous to sit and listen to my recitation. Her immediate reaction gave me that reactionary, confusing, and nervous feeling when she first read my slip of paper revealing this month's new thing: memorize and recite a classic poem.

You know, my Mom asked me awhile back how this whole challenge worked. In particular, she wanted to know how we came up with our lists of new things to try, and how we revealed them to each other.

The way it works is that each person thinks of six new things, and that means new things to her. Then the other person thinks of her own new things. Yes, there may be things that are not so new to one or the other. What's new about them is trying the thing for 30 days. It's a 30-day challenge every month. And the feeling is a little indescribable when you've got six things to which you dedicate six of your months. Six new things you did not decide.

We chose our new things independently, wrote them on scraps of paper, and pulled them out of a hat one-by-one over dinner this past winter.

As Melissa drew the slip on which was written "memorize and recite a classic poem" I heard:_____________

I had no idea one of my new things should elicit such a response. Of course I asked her and she said "Sorry, I'm just having trouble getting beyond that word 'memorize'."

New things are uncomfortable at times. New sheets aren't. New clothes aren't. New schools are (at first). New shoes too. New loves are, in that sensationally new and uncomfortable way. New ideas can be uncomfortable. New things disrupt.

Tea Party People Let Me Hear Some Noise!

By Amy Baranski

Somebody named me cookout coordinator. Maybe it was Mike or Carol Oliver...or Mike from down the block, or Mona...

I sloughed off the title for a few days. Figuring that we're just a rag-tag team of neighbors anyway.

Then I remembered my red cowboy hat.

And I was suddenly struck with the good sense to buy two American flags on sticks at the local Quality Food Center!

I just love parties with a theme. Get yerself a gettup and get on with it girrl. So after spending a good deal of time mentally assembling my Fourth of July outfit which went from star-spangled sexy, to country cute, to tomboy (and real quick), I thought about making a potato salad.

This cookout coordination is hard work.

Of course there had to be a moment to show off this hardworkin cookout coordinatin. What better than a good old soapbox to recite a classical piece from memory? And so it was the Declaration of Independence. But of course, after spending 4 hours in the morning dedicated to rote memorization of a few choice paragraphs I could barely recite the piece to Al (my congressman neighbor). He seemed amused though. "That's good stuff," he said.

It's still a mystery how I ended up half naked in bed with the overhead light on. Some things we'll never know. But, I did discover a gem of a text message exchange with my brother in which I thought he was reciting the Declaration of Independence to me. In fact, he said Happy Fourth. Same thing?

I was affirmed to see another Baranski had a line tucked away in memory.

Maybe I will join the damn Tea Party, for when a long train of abuses and usurpations pursing invariably the same object evinces a design to reduce [you] under absolute despotism it is [your] right, it is [your] duty to throw off your clothes and provide new guards to protect [your] future security.

Happy Birthday America!