Lately I’ve been thinking I should try posting more frequent, shorter blogs. My average is over nine hundred words, and many people like to read short blurbs more than full essays sometimes. Communists.
I don’t like “Modern Family” as much anymore. When it first aired, I thought it was the funniest show I’d seen in a long time, and everyone I knew agreed with me. The Emmy for best comedy was well-deserved. Every week, it had me laughing out loud, which is rare. I come from a long line of people who say “That’s funny” instead of laughing. When V was a baby, she was a very late smiler and an even later laugher. All of my on-line mommy friends were writing about their offsprings’ adorable smiles and heartmelting laughter. I had nothing. She did smile and laugh eventually, but I swear to you that my 21 month-old often looks me in the eye, smiles, and says, “That’s funny, Mommy,” instead of laughing. At least we know she’s mine.
What I don’t like about “Modern Family” is that many of the characters have become caricatures. The writers created an interesting fictional family with unique and multi-faceted characters. Now, they’re all just “types.” There’s the Type-A Mom, the Slutty Teenager (she’s a revamped Kelly Bundy), the Overly Precocious Kid, the Prissy Gay Guy, and The Amusing Foreigner. And I would probably still enjoy the show, except for the storylines with Cameron and Mitchell, the gay couple.
It’s not what you think. It’s because they don’t seem to like each other. Mitchell seems positively contemptuous of Cameron. The two of them are constantly trying to one-up each other with bitchy comments and put-downs. There’s no affection between them that I’ve ever seen. Just a power struggle. It’s uncomfortable to watch, but even worse, it’s not funny.
I still laugh at the Sofia Vergara character. Odie seems to like her a whole lot. I’ve rarely seen him take so much interest in an actress. I also get a huge kick out of Phil, although I always feel sad that such a genuinely nice guy is with such a castrating bitch of a wife. I’ll never forgive her for the way she hurt Dr. Jack Shepherd. Overall, though, I’m worried that the show is rapidly going downhill. The writers are falling back on obvious gags and stereotypes instead of exploring the complexities of the modern family in an interesting and funny way. They still have me, though. I haven’t given up on them yet. Besides, Odie won’t let me. He thinks that Sofia woman is really talented.
The Friendly Pedant by Mrs. Odie 
Writing, Camping, and Heartburn Treatments
I don’t write as often as I want to. I put a lot of pressure on myself to be interesting and funny (and to avoid overusing “a lot”). But I just checked out Heather Armstrong’s latest post on Dooce, and she clearly doesn’t pressure herself to be either, so maybe I should just write whatever is on my mind.
It’s been raining for a few days, off and on. Some friends of ours headed up to Big Sur to camp today, despite the rain forecast. I keep thinking about them and their 19 month-old baby, wondering how the camping trip is going as I listen to rain splattering on my deck and thunder rumbling through the mountains. God, how I wanted to be one of those hip, granola mommies that camps with her kids. I wanted it so much. And I’m not her. It sounds so terrifically inconvenient to camp with my kids. No running water, no flushing toilets, no Nick Jr. But I’m sure we will someday. With two kids, it will probably be the only kind of vacation this family of public school teachers will ever be able to afford.
My heartburn is unreal. Sometimes, when it flares up, I actually look at the sky and say, “You have GOT to be KIDDING ME!” The only remedy that gives me any relief is one I was extremely skeptical of when it was suggested to me. I have a wonderful colleague, a fellow teacher, who is easily one of the more entertaining men I’ve ever met. He’s a conspiracy theorist, among his many talents, and he despises “the establishment.” One of the biggest targets of his ire is Big Medicine. One day, I was complaining about my heartburn (long before I was pregnant – I’ve suffered from reflux since my teens) and he told me to swallow a few teaspoons of apple cider vinegar.
“The hell, you say. Acetic acid for my acid stomach?”
“I know,” he empathized. “It seems counterintuitive. No doctor will ever tell you about it, but it’s the cure for heartburn. pharmaceutical companies can’t make any MONEY off it, though. They want you to keep buying those pills that make the condition WORSE and never cure you. Trust me.” I asked him if it tasted bad. If it hurt. He smiled grimly. “It’s intense,” was his answer.
I have to be honest. I thought he was nuts, and I didn’t try it. Not for a very long time. When I finally did, it was because I already had some in the fridge for curdling soy milk to make vegan “buttermilk.” Yes, I really did that, and yes, it was as awful as it sounds. Suffering miserably from reflux, without a single Prilosec, Tums, Pepcid, Zantac, or teaspoon of Maalox in the house, I grabbed the bottle of ACV and took a shooter to the head. The pain that flared up in my stomach when the vinegar hit it curled my toes and made me run around the kitchen muttering, “Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod…” And then a few seconds later, I felt this bubbly, neutralizing feeling, and the pain was gone. It stayed gone. I took a couple teaspoons of ACV several times a day after that, ate smaller meals, avoided tomato products, and considered myself cured.
No one is paying me to say this (I WISH!). A bottle of ACV (organic, unfiltered) will cost you less than five bucks, so nobody stands to get rich. I swear to you, though, if you have heartburn, try it. I’m not going to lie to you, it is not a pleasant cure. Swallowing a pill is far more pleasing. Nevertheless, I stand by it and recommend it to everyone who ever mentions heartburn. You can mix it with water and honey to lessen the burn and sweeten the taste, but for me, I like to feel it working, and it’s better straight.
When I got pregnant, I was convinced that this treatment wouldn’t work anymore. So far, though, it really does help me. I do keep a bottle of Maalox by the bed for middle of the night attacks, though. Nobody’s perfect.
Share this: