The Shakespeare Wars!

25 10 2006

I’m neurotic when it comes to picking up my children on time. One benefit of being divorced from my previous job is that I have plenty of time to get to the school to pick up my kids and bring them home home home to me. Usually I can get in about 15 minutes of knitting and, much like my dear Kitchenner Pal, I have NPR on. This afternoon I particularly enjoyed a book review by Maureen Corrigan of Ron Rosenbaum’s book The Shakespeare Wars. I love Shakespeare, truly and deeply. I will always read and enjoy Shakespeare. I have a complete works edition that was printed in the 1850s which bears the inscription, in lovely handwriting, To Anna, From Harry. It’s beautiful.

So this review. It was wonderful! If there’s one thing I appreciate, it’s an acrobatic but natural use of the English language. During her review, Maureen Corrigan used the phrase “theory-encrusted treatises.” I even figured out how to use the voice memo function on my Treo just to be able to say out loud that wonderful phrase, and to have it recorded so that I might use it later on. However, that phrase is not organic to my vocabulary so I most likely won’t use it.

Theory-encrusted treatises! Encrusted brings to mind something wonderful covered with another something wonderful. Blue-corn encrusted salmon with buttered pecans! Diamond-encrusted platinum band! (JungleJim, do you ever read this?) That phrase made me giddy, and made me miss so desperately the Shakespeare classes I took at UWSP with the always delightful Michael Steffes. I rather hope he Googles his name and ends up here. “Theory-encrusted treatises” denotes a satisfaction and enjoyment, a hearty digging-in with rolled-up sleeves. Maybe a napkin tucked under the chin, fork in the left hand knife in the right, and heck yes I know I’m talking about a review on NPR about a book written about Shakespeare and his works. Wonderful, absolutely wonderful. I need to tell Santa that I’d like this in my stocking!

Speaking of rolled-up sleeves, I’d like to mention something I saw yesterday, which was my grandfather’s 85th birthday. Happy Birthday again, Pop! My grandmother asked me to pick up a carrot cake from one of those chain, mega-discount, membership required stores. I won’t mention any names, but it’s not Sam’s Club. It’s the other one. As I stood at the bakery waiting for the bakery department worker to scribble “Happy Birthday Lou!” on the cake, I watched with grand fascination as other bakery workers mixed something on a huge table. It looked like gigantic mounds of dried fruit and, as it turns out, actually was mounds of candied fruit. Now, I’m rather finicky when it comes to people touching my food or what has the potential to become my food. I prefer to eat in restaurants in which the kitchen is not visible. (Except for Waffle House.) That way I’m blissfully unaware of Hygienic Atrocities which are more than likely being perpetrated against my meal. These people at Store X, these people mixing FRUITCAKE, had plastic gloves on and I watched this with satisfaction. But then I watched at they really dug into their pile of candied fruit and quickly became horrified. These fools were elbow-deep in candied fruit. This means that whatever benefit the rubber gloves provided was neatly and instantly undone by the fact that the bare arms of these employees were smudging ALL OVER THE CANDIED FRUIT. There could be arm hair in your holiday fruit cake, should you choose to buy it from this particular store. And for all you know these bakery workers may have wiped their noses with their forearms, as people do when they don’t have a hankie handy. I was repulsed, and quite glad that the carrot cake I was about to take to Pop had most likely been prepared by germ-free robots in science fiction clean rooms. That’s what I choose to believe.

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7 responses

25 10 2006
Ladylungdoc

It’s great to be nerdy, isn’t it. BTW – nobody else has EVER used any public toilet that I utilize. Ever. Not even one of your germ-free robots.

26 10 2006
P del F

Darling, I love reading your words.

Missing you. How’s the toe?!

xx

26 10 2006
Linnea

Theory-encrusted treatises! You should start a contest for best phrase usage and “bake” the phrase into everyday conversation. So delightful. And man, I miss NPR.

The only good fruitcake is a dead fruitcake, and those bricks of candy and arm hair (eww!) never die. Like the Undead. Under your Christmas tree.

26 10 2006
Karen

Must. Not. Read. Blogs. During. Breakfast.

Ewwwwww. Double Ewwwwww.

26 10 2006
pennykarma

Uuuuhhhhnn!!! Fruitcake is foul enough without being peppered with snot-encrusted arm hairs.

26 10 2006
Bezzie

Listen to Penny, she’s the expert on foodborne body hairs.

Arm hair encrusted fruitcake.

Sorry, I couldn’t resist.

26 10 2006
oldladypenpal

You know, come to think of it that one guy did appear to be enjoying himself overmuch. Are we SURE it’s armhair crapped around that candied qumquat?

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