Getting Your Hate On

One of my favorite movies ever is The Grass Is Greener, with Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr. (Bit of video here.) No one’s seen it except for me and I’ve only been successful in talking a handful of family and friends to watch it. It’s not that it’s boring or tragic or anything else that would dampen the mood. It’s just old school: it was a play, so it’s chatty and even though it came out in 1960, it talks like it came out in 1940, a la The Philadelphia Story.

You should watch it. You’ll love the butler. Everyone loves a clever butler.

At any rate, that’s not the point I was getting to. The point I was getting to is a throwaway line near the beginning. As the parents pack their kids off to stay with an aunt (conveniently getting them out of the way of the promiscuous hijinks to follow), Hilary advises the chaperone about her small daughter’s diet: “There’s a hate on against milk puddings.”

I can only imagine what milk pudding is and I refuse to look it up because it sounds bad enough as it is. I love that phrase – “There’s a hate on…” – and I’ve kept it and used it and never gotten a second glance when I have because the meaning is clear even if the usage is antique.

Where am I going with this on a Saturday morning? Well, I’ll tell you. I’ve had a hate on all week. Against wealthy moms ignoring their noisy children in Chelsea Market (spoken to), against the New York drizzle (unaddressed), against WiFi charges in expensive hotels in D.C. (I am not alone, apparently), against Amtrak noisiness (grrr), against matinee audiences on Wednesdays, against cheap acting and bad playwriting, against our messy apartment, and the pressures of (not) planning a wedding, against going out and against staying in, against being on the road and against being home.

It’s a pretty universal hate I’ve got going on. Can you tell?

It’s very irritating being this irritated.

So that’s why I’ve been a little absent from the writing this week and last. Well, not absent from writing. I’ve been writing. It’s all just crabby writing, that’s all. And there’s no point in taking others down with me.

Onward and upward though, right? Today’s the day. Time to buck up, straighten the spine, pull up the socks and face into the wind (or is it the other way?) Anyway, excelsior!

(That means, “Ever upward,” and it’s the state motto of New York. Which I think is cool. And appropriate.

You know what the state motto of California is? Eureka. As in, “I have found it.” Lame, no? They got here and they’re staying. No further effort required. Geez. This place. Man.

Sorry. That’s the hate coming out again. Never mind. Let’s get back on track.)

Excelsior! Saturday! Hooray!