Now You Are….Three! Happy Third Birthday to Phantom Noise In Ordinary Time!

I nearly forgot we had a birthday! I was reminded because Sunday was Bastille Day, and I recall penning (tentatively) the first entry the next day. I’m thrilled and delighted to celebrate three years of ink and toil. I’m also terribly pleased with the steady growth of readership, fans, and support. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

I wish I had time to write more and often – don’t we all wish for more time? I am making a promise to myself to DO IT!!! Not merely fret about not writing.

I want to thank the many friends who have contributed in various ways to our little home here. Especially my wonderful friend, dear Blanca, who has and is getting me organized and sorted out, AND contributes her excellent artistic eye, web-mastery, and overall wisdom. Stay tuned she has more for us soon. Thank you all. And a special thanks to all who wittingly, more often unwittingly, contribute the raw material for what I write here.

So, there you have it: deep gratitude, more and better & Oh, all the places we shall go!

Love, Love, Love…everything in THREE!

Clare

Here are three favorites you may want to read: https://phantomnoiseinordinarytime.com/2017/02/12/josh-brolin-a-volvo-commerical-walt-whitman/

https://phantomnoiseinordinarytime.com/2017/04/23/the-house-on-the-hill/

https://phantomnoiseinordinarytime.com/2018/09/19/1942-the-penny-dropped-stargazing/

Deadline Alley

“City Desk? Clare Irwin speaking. Don’t bother with a rewrite, man, take it direct! Ready?”

It’s the end of June and I haven’t much to show for it, so here goes nothing…’cause I got nothing. Nada. Zip. Truthfully, I have too much and my brain can’t decide what’s next. So for the feeble sake of getting one more post in under the wire — my “writing more” self-imposed rule — here goes not much.

May and June, like last year, marked my return to people and places for rites of passage: graduations, proms, and this year weddings! A wonderful addition. Actually one wedding. The other was mysteriously, via text (a real etiquette violation in my book), cancelled due to a “family emergency” with no other information forthcoming. This wedding everyone was instructed to wear pink which was annoying until my dear friend, who has lots of gorgeous clothes, came up with this little number to borrow: 

My friend pointed out that Joan Crawford would not approved of the wire hanger!

The other wedding went off without a hitch. Unfortunately for me, it was in Miami and I could not attend. It was small, intimate, on the beach, barefoot, good food, close friends – perfect! And two of the sweetest people I know. So that was lovely.

As were the graduations of my favorite teens and early 20 somethings. And prom! This year all the rage was something called promposal. Promposal was explained to me by three different attendees and I still don’t get it. What I do get is that it’s an exhausting amount of work (and an inordinate waste of time), with the added opportunity for public humiliation. So we’re down!

Let’s see what else: You haven’t lived until you listen to an 18-year-old recount his group trip to Disney World, with minor adult supervision, which was a mix of endless discussions over EVERYTHING, heaps of drama, and peppered with who threw up on what ride. They’re planning a day excursion to the nearest Six Flags/Great adventure…a Zagat’s guide of the best rides on which to “blow chunks?”

Various: college trips, preparing to leave for college for the first time, vacations: Ireland, Wales, a cruise through Mitteleuropa, the Hamptons, Vermont, and Ohio…well why not?

“City desk? This is Clare Irwin, take it direct! I’m staying put and looking forward to hearing everyone’s excellent adventures.”

Be Magical & Love,

Clare

Baby You Can Drive My Car

It’s the time of the season when I turn in my leased car and endure what I regard as the torture of visiting car dealerships with their attending salespeople…I’m beginning to think it’s a special kind of moron who does this work. After that exercise in futility…I pled insanity and fobbed it off to the men in my life.

I get it! This is a luxury problem and I deserve a nosebleed from being on my high horse! But…yes, here comes the but…it is irritating on many levels. First and most significantly is the cars all look alike – half the time I can’t tell them apart. There are no color choices except for what my friend calls the mud slide – with a couple of hideous new colors that car companies push.

Here in the nouveau uber-burbs the car that is everywhere is Subaru. I am beginning to think all housewives or middle-aged women are issued one upon arrival – a new twist on the Welcome Wagon. There are the upper-end cars which don’t look that different from one another either, except maybe Maserati, Porsche and Jeep. Then to find one that isn’t driven by an asshole you know or see driving one – no options remain! Ever since it was pointed out that the Tesla logo looked like a diagram of a woman’s cervix in a medical textbook…I can’t take it seriously.

Don’t get the wrong idea  – I’m working within a budget, which is fine because I’d rather spend, or save, money on other things. Someone once asked me, “If money wasn’t  an object what car would you want?” My answer was, “One with a driver in the front seat!” Not that I’m channeling my inner diva…well a little…I don’t care what kind of car it is…I don’t like driving. I’ve been driving since I was 15, but I’m not a comfortable driver – especially in the congested area where I find myself living.

If I were asked that question now my answer would be the same but also different. My dream car is a vintage truck that I drive off road most of the time. I’m sitting with the windows open, my dirt-kicked cowboy boots up on the dash (?) whistling with two fingers – or even better no fingers – (a skill I enviably I wish I had), for my junkyard dog who jumps into the bed of the truck or the passenger seat, and we drive off into the sunset. That is what I would like.

Where did I get such a notion? Nevertheless, I find it attractive. The end result is that I will be the owner of a VW…not of the original incarnation, but a newer, sportier…whatever: marketed to Generation Z – a coveted group. And, it’s white! A color that I envision for retirees in Florida or places like Orange County, California. This VW is a year old and has 5,000 miles on it, so be grateful, right?

…”There’s one more thing, I got the pink slip daddy!”

Happy Driving, 

Clare