"Good Wife," Good Life

Spoiler Alert: If you have been away in a cave in Borneo, isolated and without access to television, the internet or social media of any kind, and have not yet heard what happened on The Good Wife last week, do not read further.

I had a pretty great week and someday I’ll tell you all about it, but right now I want to talk about The Good Wife.  Last week’s episode of The Good Wife was mind-blowing.  It was game-changing.  It shook all that is The Good Wife to its very core.  Did you see it? No?  Well, go right now to your DVR and watch it and then come back so we can talk about it.

Now, I could go into a long explanation about what happened on this episode, but it all boils down to this:  They killed Will.   Yes, Will Gardner, Alicia’s never-the-right-time love, former boss, and the male lead of the show, is dead.  He was gunned down in the last few moments of the show in the courtroom by a deranged client he was defending. We didn't see it coming. We didn't even really believe it when it happened.  I figured that he would recover from his injuries.  But it became clear pretty quickly that he was not merely dead, he was positively, absolutely, most sincerely dead.

I wanted to know why they killed Will.  Since it seemed unlikely that the creators thought this was a good idea simply to advance the plot, I wondered if the actor wanted to leave the show. As it turns out Josh Charles decided he wanted to leave the show after the fourth season when his contract was up, but the producers convinced him to stay on for one more season so that they could plan his exit.

How lucky we all are that Charles agreed.  What they wrote for the character of Will this season was more interesting and compelling than anything we had seen in the first four seasons of the show.  And Josh Charles more than did it justice – I think it was his best work of the whole series.

But now Will is dead and what will happen to the series?  Oh, I don’t know but it’s going to be good.  In this week’s episode, we started to find out, along with Alicia and the rest of the characters, what went down in that courtroom.  We saw Alicia trying to make sense of the senselessness of his sudden passing, and desperately trying to determine what he felt about her as he left this world, all the while knowing that she will never really have that answer.  We saw the other characters beginning to grasp the loss of their friend, each dealing with it in their own way. 

It was gut-wrenching, heart-breaking, riveting, and….totally fictional.  Well, seriously now, Will Gardner was not a family member or close personal friend. Heck, he wasn't even real. After my initial shock and denial when I realized that Will Gardner was indeed dead, I skipped right over the next three stages of grief (anger, bargaining, and depression) and came to acceptance in the space of about three minutes.  Because it is not real, I can be excited about how this shakes things up in the series, and to see where this takes the other characters in the hands of some of the best writers on television.  Trust me, I will be on the edge of my seat waiting for next week’s episode.

Of Human Bonding

What was that  unfamiliar sensation I felt as I was biting into my daily oats-and-chocolate breakfast bar? Upon inspection, I found half of one of my dental bondings nestled nicely in the bar, camouflaged as one of the oats.

I didn't have time to waste mourning the loss of this bonding which served me well for 25 years.  I have a prominent smile (which some dentists insist upon calling an "overbite").  The sooner I got it fixed, the better. I carefully removed the half bonding from the breakfast bar.  The aptly-named. Dr. Goode (my wonderful dentist who made the bondings in the first place) would have been able to reattach it, but alas he retired long ago. After pausing just a moment to fondly remember Dr.Goode, I started Googling "Cosmetic Dentists" in my area and taking names.

What a hassle, I thought.  After all the trouble I go to every day to look average-at-best for the public. All the face-washing, moisturizing, make-up, hair styling, brushing and flossing and now this.  Now I had to take the time to get my tooth fixed.

Hey, wait a minute, maybe I could be like Daft Punk, pioneers in the electronic music field who were dressed in full robot gear complete with helmets when they took home Grammy Awards for Record and Album of the Year!  I had no idea that Daft Punk existed, but that's why I watch the Grammy's - to bring myself up to date on pop culture that I would otherwise miss.

My mind was racing after they accepted their first award.  Did they always dress in robot suits? Why? How did they sing in those helmets?  Did anyone know what they looked like?

My Facebook Friends filled me in.  The members of Daft Punk are reclusive, eschew their celebrity and wear helmets to maintain anonymity and to make a statement that they want their audience  to concentrate on their music, not on their appearance.  They rarely perform in public.

I was skeptical. Perhaps it was just an elaborate gimmick, designed to actually gain the attention that they claimed to avoid.  Besides, they looked ridiculous.

Now I thought maybe they were onto something.  I too would like to be appreciated for my contributions not my appearance.  I could just put on my helmet and go.  How liberating!

Then again people might judge me on my ridiculous costume, just as I did with Daft Punk.  They might just think me Daft.  It's just as well, I guess.  It would cost me a fortune to get helmets to match every outfit.

A Big Huge Plus-Sized Rant

May I start off by saying that I do appreciate that most stores are now stocking plus-sized clothing, because I still have bitter memories of the time that I tried to find a party dress for an office Christmas party back in the 90’s.  Long story short, I was forced to embark upon a quest throughout the tri-state area before finding a forward-thinking little dress shop in downtown Canonsburg that was plucky enough to carry some party dresses in a size 16.

It was a dark time in my life, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the fashion retailers all believed that no one would invite a larger woman to their party.

Although we’ve come a long way, baby, things are not perfect.  I have a few pet peeves that I really need to get off my chest.  In the spirit of helpful cooperation, I will also try to dispel some misperceptions some  stores seem to have about their more zaftig would-be customers.

1)      Plus-sized clothing segregation.

It is never very encouraging when I can’t find a plus-sized department, but it really sticks in my craw when I ask for directions only to find that the plus-sized clothes are located on a different floor than the rest of the women’s clothing in a corner through the housewares and the luggage just past the maternity clothes. 

The implication here is that they are ashamed to have larger customers (and pregnant customers for that matter) and they certainly don’t want them to mingle with the rest of the clientele.  We are not second-class citizens and I am pretty sure that we won’t scare other shoppers away.

2)       Token Plus-Sized Clothing Selections

More often than not, when I complete my pilgrimage to the plus-sized departments in these stores, my efforts result in finding about rack-and-a-half of the most basic clothing. 

Clearly they must think that because I am larger than Kate Moss that I don’t need or want “fancy” clothes, but nothing could be further from the truth.  I am just like other women.  I want a decent selection of fashionable clothes for different occasions from which to choose.

3)      Plus-sized pantyhose only available in Control Top.

I realize that in a sad turn of events in the fashion industry that pantyhose have fallen out of favor, but I still like to wear them.  Curiously though it seems that very often pantyhose in my size are only available in Control Top, because they are convinced that women of weight must only want pantyhose that will make them look smaller.

Let me tell you, and I cannot be too emphatic about this, I do not want my top to be controlled.  I want my top to be comfortable and I cannot overstate how much I enjoy breathing. While we are on the topic, I think the waists of most non-control top pantyhose are far too tight, so how about some waists that are cut larger and allow for some stretch?

Oh, I could go on, but you don't even want to get me started about the unavailability of shoes in wide widths.

Now I'm not unreasonable. I don't expect all stores to be as perfect as Dress Barn or Nordstrom.  Dress Barn offers equally stocked plus-sized and regular clothing side by side and offers the same styles in all sizes, and Nordstrom.... 

Oh, excuse me.  I must run.  My Personal Stylist from Nordstrom is on the phone now letting me know about an upcoming sale event, and offering her individualized assistance in helping me to find whatever my plus-sized heart desires.

What's in an (Unusual) Name?

Seeing next to none of the nominated films never stops me from enjoying a good Oscars telecast, and this year's show gave me a lot to like.

The absolute highlight of the entire broadcast was when Jared Leto, winner of the Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his role as a transsexual in Dallas Buyers Club, (which I haven't seen, of course) delivered the most beautiful and eloquent acceptance speech I have ever heard. Complete with a beautiful tribute to his mother, who was his proud and emotional date, it moved me to tears.

Ellen was a zany and lovable host, taking selfies with and passing out pizza to the celebs in the audience. I have to admit I worried that someone might spill some pizza on a million-dollar gown, and I didn't see anyone tuck their napkins into their necks before eating. See why I think we need a Save-the-Clothes Campaign?

I particularly liked the musical performances- Pharrell Williams' joyous Happy, U2 and Bono's soulful Ordinary Love, and Bette Midler's lovely Wind Beneath My Wings in memoriam to those who left us this year. In honor of the anniversary of The Wizard of Oz, Pink delivered a powerful performance of Over the Rainbow wearing perhaps the most spectacular red ruby dress I have ever seen, complete with a backdrop of scenes from the film and Judy Garland’s kids in the audience. I would say it was perfect but I hang out with a lot of Serious Musical Types who insist upon pointing out that she breathed in the middle of words and phrases while singing, a grave offense in Vocal Performance Land. Well, okay, but did you see that dress???

After all that, the thing that everyone keeps talking about is the fact that John Travolta called Idina Menzel "Adele Dazeem" when introducing her performance of "Let It Go" from Frozen, which went on to win Best Song. For a minute I thought that Idina cancelled at the last minute, and that pop sensation Adele was filling in for her. Was Adele's last name "Dazeem?" I wondered.

Now, I don’t know what happened. Maybe John didn’t want to wear his glasses on stage at the Oscars so he misread the teleprompter. Maybe the script on the teleprompter was created with an Apple product and that troublesome Autocorrect changed "Idina Menzel" to "Adele Dazeem" and John just read what was given to him.

Or maybe "Idina Menzel" is an unusual name and people mess it up all the time. Because that’s how it is when you have an unusual name. Trust me, with a maiden name like "Ciraulo" I know. People can’t spell it or pronounce it, and after a while you just become accustomed to having your name mispronounced or spelled incorrectly all the time.

But really a name doesn't not have be unusual to be mangled.  People have called me "Shari" or "Cheryl" in place of my fairly common first name of "Sharon."  I had a friendly acquaintance for a few years who routinely called me "Cindy."  I was jubilant at the thought of having a simple last name like "Wolf" – but Mr. Rip warned me that people would want to put an "e" on the end of it, and they do. All the time. 

Just like anyone with unusual names, and most professional performers used to working on stage in live theater, Idina came on and sang the song just as though John had introduced her by her actual name.  I haven’t heard that Idina herself has made any comment on the incident, so I am guessing that she’s used to it.

As for me, my Travoltified name (courtesy of Facebook) is Shannon Cunningwham, which I actually like a lot more than "Cindy Cirulla Wolfe." That might just be my new pen name.

　

　
　
　

The Save-Our-Clothes Campaign

I try to fit in by following the rules of etiquette in our society, but it doesn't always work out.  I mean who made up these rules anyway?  Was it Emily Post?  She died in 1960.  Her legacy is now being carried out by Peggy Post, her great-granddaughter-in-law.  What does she know about it?

I don't know about the rest of you but I think the general rules of etiquette need to be revisited and adjusted now and again. Take, for instance, the generally accepted practice of placing your napkin on your lap when you are eating in order to protect your lap from spills.

The problem is my spills never make it that far.  There is a lot of space between my mouth and my lap, so when I spill my food while eating (an unbelievably frequent occurrence) it invariably lands somewhere on my shirt. It never even comes close to that napkin. 

I try to adjust to accommodate this misplaced protection.  I sometimes choose foods in restaurants that are less likely to result in spills.  I eat with my left hand on my chest, Pledge of Allegiance style, while wielding my utensil in my right hand so that the hot soup spills onto my hand instead of my clothing.  This is an imperfect solution as it can be painful and somewhat dangerous to my hand, but we have all made sacrifices for our appearance, haven't we?

Despite all my best efforts, the sad result of this senseless napkin misplacement is lots and lots of permanently stained clothing.  Not all the cold water, Shout wipes or stain removal treatments in the world can avoid this no matter how diligently and optimistically I continue to apply them.  It breaks my heart a little every time I need to discard a perfectly good shirt because of a stain that simply will not come out.  I've taken to stocking up on inexpensive tops - I consider them to be disposables.

Meanwhile the restaurant's napkins remain pristine.  

There is one logical and remarkable solution to this problem.  We could just tuck that napkin into our collars while we eat, or better yet, restaurants could provide their patrons with those light plastic bibs they give us when we're eating sloppy seafood.  Maybe I'll start a campaign to make it socially acceptable to wear your napkin where it makes sense!  Keep on the lookout for the online petitions, and the Facebook page,  where you, too, can join the fight for the Save Our Clothes Campaign!

When I told Mr. Rip of my idea for a campaign to address this problem, he asked why I didn't just wear my napkin wherever I want. Of course, I could do just that, but I'm afraid that people would think I look ridiculous, or that it would be totally inappropriate and breaking etiquette.

"Why do you care about what other people think?" he asked.

Well, that is the million-dollar question, isn't it?  While I have some theories, getting to the bottom of that would probably take years of intensive and expensive therapy.  It'll be easier to try to change the rules, or just buy some more cheap t-shirts.