The Academy Awards

The Academy Awards are not happening until Mar. 5, but they've been in the entertainment pages for a long time. People are excited about Jon Stewart of The Daily Show hosting. People wonder if Isaac Mizrahi will grope actresses again. There is talk that some of the movies nominated are out of touch with what the general public has seen. That has always been the case, critics argue. Brokeback Mountain has been talked to death.

As you can see, I have read every article relating to the Academy Awards. The date is marked on my calendar. I thought about having a party that night, but realized that would prevent me from hanging on the actors' every word. I can't very well shush my guests all night, can I?

Sure, I'll get annoyed when the E! "reporters" ask the stars what they are wearing, as if any of us normal people care who designed the clothes. Personally, I am too busy making snotty comments--a la Joan Rivers--about actresses who are my age but look 10 years younger.

"Oh, this outfit is a disaster," I say. "An utter disaster." Then I can't think of anything else bad to say because, in truth, they all look glamorous and spectacular to me.

So I am prepared to watch the Academy Awards, except for seeing any of the movies.

But whenever I think about the awards show, I think about less glamorous accomplishments that happen all around us. You might sit beside someone on a park bench and never know that he performed the first heart transplant. Or invented the bomb pop. Not to compare popcicles to medical advances, but my mom actually met the man who invented the bomb pop and as a kid, it made me wonder about the secret accomplishments of people I passed on the sidewalk.

A couple people come to mind this week for their accomplishments. My Aunt Mo just raised $170,000 plus for her children's school by putting on an auction. This involved soliciting businesses and individuals for gifts, supervising volunteers, overseeing a huge dinner and all the details that go into planning a party for hundreds of people. Meanwhile, she took care of her four school age children and brought dinner to my husband and her husband countless times while they renovated my grandparents' kitchen.

Vicki, who commented on this blog yesterday, heads a not for profit organization that provides dance lessons for poor children. This is in honor of her daughter, Emily, a dancer who died in a car accident while in college. The Web site is www.emilyfoundation.org.

My mom, who comments on this blog everyday, takes care of my children on Tuesdays so that I can work, or in some cases, obsess over finding more work. Yesterday, she also spent three hours frosting my hair, putting up with my paranoia that it looked like yellow yarn. I'm sure she loved the part when I said, "I look like a muppet, don't I?" as though she had never frosted anyone's hair before and had no idea what she was doing. In fact, she has been responsible for every faux blond in our family at one time or other.

My 15-year-old cousin Addie, who walked into a clothes boutique, asked for an internship and now is designing her own dresses based on a vintage style she found at the thrift store next door. Now, if she ever becomes a famous designer, I will be coaching the E! people from the couch. "Ask what she's wearing. Ask who the designer is."

Others who read this accomplish more in a day than I do all year, unless we're referring to how many blogs they write, for which I have few rivals, sadly.

Finally, I have to mention our Beta, Fish Face. He survived a "fin cut" from my son who was under the impression that fins were the same as hair and should be trimmed evenly. Then our cat knocked over his bowl and he spent an entire morning on dry land. Now he lives safely on top of our refrigerator. He is a very special fish and deserves recognition, too.