So Kath's miracle worker of a Physical Therapist/Pilates Instructor/Masseuse/Personal Trainer lady has me figured out. It turns out that a lifetime of bad habits will catch up to in just about...39 years, give or take.
I was worried when I hurt my calf about the compensation factor. When you hurt one thing you favor it and compensate with another thing and then that causes compensation in something else and so on like a shampoo commercial. I didn't want to cause a chain reaction like that.
I have tight hamstrings. This is not news. I have had tight hamstrings since about the 4th grade and it feels icky to stretch them. As it happens the right answer to "What do you do if it feels icky to stretch?" is not "I don't." And yes, I did actually sort of say that to her. Fortunately she admired my honesty. Because of the tightness of my hamstrings I've been compensating with other parts of me, probably having to compensate more as I've been upping my activity level and expanding my range lately. The result is the weird sciatica related numbing stuff, the hip flexor issues that I haven't even told you about and the calf popping mania that's been the focus this week.
I've got instructions for stretching and a new toy and instructions for making a stretching block and a renewed outlook on life. I'll be OK and I can fix this and I'd really like to see Shelley again soon so she can cure me some more!
Thursday, January 31, 2008
So Kath's miracle worker of a Physical Therapist/Pilates Instructor/Masseuse/Personal Trainer lady has me figured out. It turns out that a lifetime of bad habits will catch up to in just about...39 years, give or take.
I feel weird sometimes talking frankly about my jobs, not because I'm giving away state secrets or anything, but because the world is a small space and you never know when I might be asking one of you to help me get a job and you'll know what a fraud I am! I promised Rich I'd tell this story, though, and since my confidentiality agreement has run out, I can.
I used to work for a guy who was so rich that he had 3 assistants. I was number 3, number 1 had been with him for ages and number 2 decided to leave at the same time that we were also searching for a butler to head up the homefront for the big guy. Without warning I was sent in to pre-interview candidates. I had never interviewed anyone for anything in my whole life. Telling number 1 that was simply not the right thing to do. She wasn't one for hearing excuses, you were just supposed to get the job done. Questions were acceptable but since I'd never done this before I didn't even know what to ask so in I went. After my first few she got the picture of what basics I needed to know and I figured out what to ask so that I could do the grunt work of checking that there were no unexplained gaps in employment and that the resume made sense in a general way and that the candidate could answer questions intelligently about the information.
That was all just for my Technical Merit scores. For my Artistic Impression scores I had to form an opinion. Luckily, being a writer and an actor, watching people and learning how they tick from relatively limited observation is practically in my DNA. I could always tell whether someone was going to work in the position and why. My whys weren't practical necessarily, usually it was a feeling based on people they resembled. The interview process went on for a long time and we even hired 2 different people who stayed on for short periods. Every time someone left it was clear that it was for the exact reasons I'd said we shouldn't hire them. The butler I vouched for remains on the job, as is the woman who took over my position. They're good eggs. I can't be much more specific than that.
Anyway, at the time of this story we're mid-interview process overall. We're tired, I'm getting resumes every day but also needing to pick up the slack on the job front so I'm not really reading them until I'm walking down the hall to pick the candidate up from reception. One day I pick up a tall, blonde woman named Sidney Biddle Barrows and I hit the interview room with her. We've just begun to speak when there's a knock on the door. It's number 1. This never happened. If she needed me she would have sent for me, not come herself. I went out to find that the receptionist recognized this woman's name and her face and employed Google judiciously while she was waiting for me to pick her up. The second I had her out of auditory range he was gleefully dialing up to number 1.
If you've clicked that link or were paying attention in the 80s (clearly I was not since her name rang not a bell with me) you know that Ms. Biddle Barrows was the Mayflower Madam (check out the price on the used copies). She was the original Heidi Fleiss and, from what I understand, she didn't waste her time with celebs, she went straight to the lower profile big money kinds of guys. Number 1 had been poring over her resume and had found some discrepancies and creative formatting that Google confirmed were covering for the period she spent in jail. Everything is highlighted for me and I'm sent off with the directive to give her a proper interview, because we can't legally dismiss her out of hand, but to make it clear that we won't be hiring her for some legitimate reason because we simply can't have her working with the big guy and all his sensitive information. This is a common thing for me to be asked in these jobs. "Ewe, that's a nasty interpersonal problem, we hate people and their problems, let's send Kizz, she's an actor." And I am, so I go and I try to do it well.
I actually spent a fair bit of time with this woman. By the time I got back I'm sure she knew that the jig was up but we were both committed to the farce by this point so on we went. Part of me wanted to get her to just tell me the truth because I would have found that impressive. The only thing I had to really work with as a legit reason for not hiring her was the missing and scrambled dates on her resume so I did ask, "There seems to be some time missing here, what were you doing then?" And here's where she lost me. She leapt out of her chair and her voice raised an octave as she said, "Is there? Where?" and sat on the desk and made me point it out to her. I don't remember her response but the leaping and the freaking were enough for me. I wish I could remember the title she used for herself during the years she was pimping for high rollers because it was really beautiful and understated, true but not blatant, but that confidentiality agreement took way too long to run out.
We ended up talking mostly about what she was doing at the time. She worked as an office manager on a trading floor in a boutique firm and she hated it, you could tell. Having just experienced the interview process with her, though, I knew that there was no way out of it. She wasn't getting any more book royalties since her name isn't high recognition (just high enough to keep her out of jobs), her madam money was gone, she had to work and yet no one could, in good conscience, hire her at a higher level position and we didn't even get far enough for me to wonder how she worked out the whole felon thing legally. In this kind of job they do background checks, it wasn't like it was going to be kept a secret. It was one of the most interesting and most horrifying interviews I ever conducted and I still wonder where she is now.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
I have an appointment with a physical therapist (recommended by the great and powerful Kath) tomorrow at 4pm. Since she doesn't take health insurance and she's not a doctor she heard my story and was able to squeeze me in for a 1/2 our evaluation within 24 hours. So glad I have health insurance.
It does feel a lot better, though not close to cured. Mentally I'll feel better once I've seen her and have a plan of action.
Tonight I start sending out publicity for the show. I really need this show to work.
So, I wrote that last post and I posted it and everybody and their dog started commenting and giving me the one helpful tip and my head was screaming "WHY HAS EVERYBODY MISSED THE GODDAMN POINT!!!!!" Acknowledging that my brain is a little fragile right now I didn't actually say that in response to any of the well-meaning comments. Which is good because...
Are you ever sitting around with people and you come out with something that, to you, is perfectly logical and clear and you get unmanned puppet eyes back? You bust out a heavy sigh and talk to them like they're 5 for not understanding you and they say, "Well, if you'd said that..." and you realize that you had been having the conversation in your head for a long time before you invited them in to join you?
That ever happen to you? It happened to me. (tm. Ron White)
I left out a very important part of the conclusion. I thought that I told you because I told you that I was willfully operating without Snopes' advice, which I do know exists. I know I write like I'm a complete idiot sometimes but it turns out I'm not, I'm only a half-complete idiot, maybe three-quarters where certain boys are concerned, sometimes seven-eighths if they give me chocolate and they kiss nice. But that wasn't enough. My bad. Totally. That wasn't the actual conclusion. After all this build up, the actual conclusion isn't really very important or exciting, it would have been very much better if I'd included it with the original post but here it is just to prove I'm not blowing sunshine up your poopy parts:
You can totally see this being true, though, can't you? Have you seen how stupid people are? I have been dealing with some seriously dumbass customer service lately. Nothing major, mostly small issues but they're so illogical that it makes my brain bleed and lord knows if I don't have time for a strained calf then I don't have time for a brain bleed. I went through a whole registration process to do live chat tech support for a certain unnamed fruitilicous computer company and they had to pass me to a higher level of support. Half of the shit they asked me in registration had to be repeated before that could happen. Why did you ask me in the first place? I got a quote for a travel insurance policy for my boss yesterday and I gave the agent a lot of info including my e-mail which she then used to contact me with the quote. When I called back 2 hours later to buy the policy she promised me that all our information would be kept on file in the event that we'd like to purchase another policy from them in the future. Then she asked me for my e-mail contact information. Wha guay ahida HHHAAAA?
So, yeah, it's from an e-mail that I got from a very redneck anti-city part of the world, it's probably not true. But there's a reason it's so believable (to everyone else but you, I know you, personally, are smarter than that) and isn't that fucking sad?
Update on the leg is that it feels some better. I've iced, I've stretched in the warm shower and I'm icing again. It's not fixed by a long shot but improvement is clear. I'll be exploring my options today and hoping that a call to my doctor, who is on the board of the theatre I'm renting from, with an explanation of my performance time constraints will yield results.
Thank you all for the good thoughts and suggestions, I will greedily absorb as many as I can get.
ChemE recently sent me this forwarded e-mail*:
Guess I will not be drinking Starbucks any more.
Recently Marines in Iraq wrote to Starbucks because they wanted to let them know how much they liked their coffees and to request that they send some of it to the troops there.
Starbucks replied, telling the Marines thank you for their support of their business, but that Starbucks does not support the war, nor anyone in it, and that they would not send the troops their brand of coffee.
So as not to offend Starbucks, maybe we should not support them by buying any of their products! I feel we should get this out in the open. I know this war might not be very popular with some folks, but that doesn't mean we don't support the boys on the ground fighting street-to-street and house-to-house.
If you feel the same as I do then pass this along, or you can discard it and no one will never know.
Thanks very much for your support. I know you'll all be there again when I deploy once more.
Sgt. Howard C. Wright
1st Force Recon Co
1st Plt PLT
PLEASE DON'T DELETE THIS .. ALLOW IT TO BE PASSED TO ALL IN MEMORY OF ALL THE TROOPS WHO HAVE DIED SO THAT WE MAY HAVE THE RIGHT TO CHOOSE TO SUPPORT THEM OR NOT!!!
For the record I'm not a fan of the current (or previous) war in Iraq, or of any of the other fronts being prepped. I do however support the troops who I believe are being screwed from many angles.
Starbucks has every right not to send free anything to anybody if they don't want to. I go occasionally but usually try to find a coffee house that isn't a chain if I'm going to go to one at all. However, when you're writing to people who are risking their lives and are asking for your kindness (I do find the request itself a little odd but not out of the ordinary) then you need to have someone with an actual degree or at least success in Public Relations reply. It's just good business. I mean, yes, a lot of people are dying in Iraq but some are coming back and all of them have families here so you're alienating customers by being all randomly self-righteous about it. What gives?
*For the purposes of this post I am assuming that this e-mail is legit. I know full well that it could just as easily be a hoax. For that matter I know there are plenty of reasons above and beyond this to keep from spending my money at Starbucks. But for now I'm just writing in a world that assumes this is all true and that the other reasons are irrelevant.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
You guys, I'm so discouraged I could cry.
I'm doing this show (screw it, no fanfare, I'm putting the press release at the end of this post because if I wait to post the details it'll never happen). I'm producing it, I'm doing a movement piece and I wrote a play which Audio Girl, MarkyB and I are performing. We're 2.5 weeks from performance. Tonight Pony Express (who is the lighting designer and who is my best 3rd eye) came to see me rehearse the movement piece and we were getting some great work done. It's a very short little thing and I'd done it twice and I had an idea about the soundtrack so I bolted up from a chair and ran the few feet across the room to my iPod and SNAP something happened in my calf. Something small like that happened in the same place in my calf the weekend that ChemE was here and it worked itself out. This was that multiplied by 10. Couldn't walk on it. Now it's still sore but somewhat less so after a couple of rounds of ice but way not better. I'm hobbling pretty slowly. If I wanted to do my walk to the subway tomorrow I'd have to start now.
I don't have time for this! I feel like I should see a doc tomorrow since I don't have time to be fucked up but I know that if I call my primary care I'll hear, "If it's an emergency then go to the emergency room. Otherwise we'll see you a week from Thursday." Is it an emergency? I could probably get in to see a friend's brother who is a Physician's Assistant but would my insurance cover that since it's not approved by my primary care?
About this time last year I started the great weight loss odyssey. Not 2 months after I did that, after I made a conscious effort to do better by my body I fell and fucked up my wrist, elbow and knee. Then with the cancer head and then the food poisoning and the antibiotic stomach and I'm still 5lbs from my weight loss goal and the time I've taken off of WW because of my head being cut open is prolonging this process frustratingly and now, when I really need my leg to work so that I can MOVE for a MOVEMENT piece...
The crying is understandable, right?
Healing vibes, please.
Here's the press release, I'll elaborate later:
Original Women Festival Opens At BAX/Brooklyn Arts Exchange In February
BROOKLYN, NY -- Original Women is a festival of new works by Elizabeth H. Robinson, Mimi Ferraro, Jennica Carmona, and Jessica Carmona-Baez. The event was coordinated by Robinson, and will take place at BAX/Brooklyn Arts Exchange (www.bax.org), a venue committed to nurturing women’s creativity, and will include a raffle to benefit the 10th anniversary of the V-Day charities (www.v10.vday.org). Performances take place at 8pm February 15 and 16, 2008 at BAX 421 Fifth Avenue (corner of 8th Street) in Brooklyn.
The evening will include:
In Short by The Reformationists (Mimi Ferraro, Ferg O'Sullivan, and Kat Fong). The Reformationists create rock music with a dark soul, an intense hunger, and a ticklish underbelly. Soaring violin hooks offset raucous guitar choruses. Haunting, playful vocals add intrigue. Lyrical madness abounds. Since their inception in 2007 The Reformationists have been reworking old songs and writing new ones in preparation for a full-length musical and visual rock experience. This short set is a sample of their newest material.
Elvira is an original theatre piece written by Jessica Carmona-Baez and performed by Jennica Carmona, which dramatizes the true story of Elvira Arellano, an immigrant turned activist at the forefront of the immigrant rights movement. Deemed by many the Rosa Parks of the Immigrant Rights Movement, Ms. Arellano’s story is an inspiration to all those fighting for equal rights, dignity, and respect for immigrants in this country.
Jessica Carmona-Baez is an actress, dancer, and playwright. A graduate of the Tisch School of the Arts at NYU, her many theatre credits include Nickel and Dimed, Platanos and Collard Greens, and R.A.W Street Theatre. Jennica Carmona is a New York City Based actress, dancer, and writer. She is also a graduate of the Tisch School of the Arts at NYU, and her favorite roles include Marela in Anna in the Tropics (Hippodrome State Theatre), and Sharon in I Just Love Andy Gibb (Pregones Theatre).
Wait Here is a new narrative dance piece by Elizabeth H. Robinson. Inspired by the Right Bastards song, “Alice Sits”, Wait Here is a portrait of those we leave behind.
Ariadne thought speed dating would be a harmless and simple way to ease into the dating scene. Turns out that the length of a date doesn’t lessen the potential for disaster. In Speeding Husbands, a new play by Elizabeth H. Robinson, we can relish these brief social disasters from a safe distance.
Ms. Robinson is an actor, writer, singer, dancer, and teacher based in New York City. She has performed in theatres around the country, including HERE Arts Center, New Perspectives Theatre, Phoenix Theatre Circle, Brooklyn Arts Exchange, Mugford Street Players, and many others. She received a BFA from NYU's Tisch School of the Arts and a postgraduate diploma from the London Academy of Performing Arts.
Friday, February 15 and Saturday February 16, 2008
BAX/Brooklyn Arts Exchange
421 Fifth Avenue
corner of 8th Street
Tickets $15, $5 students & senior citizens
I am in the throes of producing an evening of music and theatre in which I'm also performing. The short form of that sentence is: I'm busy. But I like putting things up on my blog and hearing what you have to say so when ProfDoc asked, "Is there anything I can do to help, you know, remotely?" I had a light bulb and said, "Yes, content please." So a guest blogger today. Anyone else want to contribute to the cause before my show (info posted here soon) goes up on February 15 & 16?
A little bit of the Mommy Blog, right here at 117 Hudson:
As of today, I have been a Mom for six months. Six months ago today, we met 15 month old ProfDocJr in the lobby of our hotel and he has been ours ever since. Or, rather, we have been his; he is in his 2nd year, after all: "MINE!" So to commemorate these 6 months of parenthood, I catalog the changes.
1. Less sleep. I feel badly complaining about this because PDJ usually sleeps through the night, or Daddy gets up with him, but those weekend mornings lying in bed until 8… 8:30… 9… Gone. And, we stay up later now too, savoring the quiet.
2. More laughter. That boy makes me laugh my ass off. Sometimes with him, sometimes at him. What else can you do when he's so proud that he put his coat on by himself? Upside down.
3. Less down-time and more appreciation for the down-time I have. Which for me is a good thing; I don't sit still well.
4. More Eric Carle & Dr. Seuss & Sandra Boynton. Toddler books rule! Even when I can recite them from memory. Mr. brown bear can moo. Can you, red bird? (ed. note: The Philadelphia Chickens CD linked here is awesome.)
5. More problem-solving. I almost hate to admit it, but this is my favorite part of parenting. Toddler is doing X. Toddler should be doing Y, or at least not doing X. How do I get Toddler from X to Y with the least amount of screaming, hitting, biting, scratching, kicking possible? It's not that much different than being a wife or teacher, really.
6. More homonyms. I go running up the stairs, disgruntled, because he's in his crib yelling "Poo!" When I go into his room and find him pointing across the room, I discover that he was, in fact, yelling "Pooh!" As in Winnie-the.
7. More fun grocery shopping. Never before has the huge cut-out of Tony the Tiger been so exciting. "Tony thinks you're GRRRRReat!" And it's now okay to say the name of every item I put in the cart, or keep a running dialogue of what we need to find next.
8. More appreciation for Daddy. Single Moms, I don't know how you do it. Daddy, you're shouldering at least your fair share of the load and doing a great job (even if I say otherwise due to #11 More stress/frustration/crankiness).
9. Less correct pronunciation. We're probably maiming his linguistic skills for life, but we've taken to adopting his pronunciations of words. Bopen the door, pease. Dank youm. Duckch (as in rubber duckchy). Melmo.
10. More of the same Having heard that being a parent changes you, I was curious about how it would change me. It has -- see #1-9 -- but it hasn't, really. Mommyhood isn't, and likely won't be, what defines who I am; it's just another facet that makes me me.
PS My hidden agenda here is to see how many other parent blogs I can get to link to Kizz. (ed. note: I love this experiment. I bet there are many parent blogs who will think I'm a nutter.)
(ed. note: I'm leaving the signature from ProfDoc's e-mails intact since I love it so. RIP The Class.)
"I'm going home. I need a dry shirt and a chocolate gorilla." (The Class)
Maybe they're more habits but it's muscle memory and all. I like it.
1. Here's how I used to get ready in the morning: Get up, answer e-mail, watch weather, shower, eat, dress, walk dog, feed pets, pack lunch, brush teeth, go to work.
2. Now I have to wear sunscreen and it's fucking everything up because I have to get the toothbrushing out of the way before I walk the dog or else when I rinse I rinse off the chin part of the sunscreen so now it's more like: get up, shower, answer e-mail, watch weather, eat, dry hair, brush teeth, sunscreen, walk dog, feed pets, pack lunch, go to work.
3. When I get to work I start my computer the same way every day: Entourage, iChat, Firefox, iCal, Addresss Book.
4. Within Firefox I'm also highly routine: Mac Mail, Juno e-mail, then a third tab where I check hotmail, then Flickr contacts and then put up my google reader to refer to all day.
5. Feeding the pets is a balancing act because the cats are always starving and therefore very pushy: Pick up dog bowl, get out refrigerated foodstuffs, pick up cat bowls, add raw defrosted food to cat bowls, add probiotics to cat bowls, add calming medicine to one cat bowl, add water or broth to cat bowls, mix cat food up and serve, crush joint meds for dog into powder, add probiotics, mush wet dog food around in that until it's mixed, free kibble from bungeed can where it is protected from the crazy cat, add kibble to dog bowl, add medicated wet food, serve to dog.
6. In the shower I've washed myself pretty much exactly the same way for years, since my mother made a big honking deal of washing your face before your lady parts: wash hair, put on conditioner, shave if necessary, soap body and rinse, rinse conditioner, wash face (face-specific washcloth), wash lady parts (lady parts-specific washcloth), final rinse of conditioner, squeeze excess water out of hair and exit. I can't even begin to explain the drying process.
7. I go to work via a plan every day, just not the exact same route. I walk following the path opened up to me by the changing of he traffic lights until I get to the subway, I ride the express train at the back (in this case not because it's near my exit but because there's a better chance of getting on a clearer car and maybe getting a seat), switch to the local for a stop and walk 2 blocks to work stopping if required to mail my Netflix at the corner.
8. Almost every night I have a pudding cup before bed as a treat.
9. The last walk of the night with the dog is always to the right out of the complex's entrance (unless another dog gets in our way), down to the bank parking lot and back inside. I do not have one of those dogs who goes right out the door and pees at the first tree.
10. Whenever I get a new CD I listen to it once all the way through in order before I add parts of it to playlists or anything.
Are you routine or does it wig you out to do stuff the same way twice?
Monday, January 28, 2008
Without your exquisite timing I might be the proud owner of a freshly exploded brain.
Again I say, thank you.
Recently Chili posted an informative snippet from Aaron Sorkin's imagining of Washington, DC.
I am now reminded that I have a decision to make when I get that tax "rebate" check in the mail. I can spend it on something shiny, the way the government wants me to, and "stimulate the economy." (I'm not 100% sure how that works and that's OK. I don't have to understand it to spend it.)
Or I can pay my credit card bill or my cable bill or put the money in savings until it's time for me to pay it back to the government next year.
I'm like the Scarecrow. I'm leaning both ways.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Miflohny always sends out a note urging all her people to get registered and vote. She also provides resources to help people research candidates and make an informed choice. Today she sent out a note about Vote Match. I've taken it twice and I got different results but not significantly so.
My number one on this second round is Hillary with a 65%.
My second match was Cynthia McKinney at 63% (she was first the first time I took the quiz). Third comes 55% Obama who was a little further down the first time but I can't remember exactly where.
Mike Gavel & Dennis Kucinich match me 53%.
Plummeting to 43% we have John Edwards.
Then we see some Republicans, sadly beginning with my former mayor, Rudy Guiliani, John McCain and Ron Paul at 30%.
Law & Order regular, Fred Thompson rings in at 23%.
The 15 percenters are Mike Huckabee, Mitt Romney & John Cox, all of which is a bit of a relief.
Alan Keyes comes in at 13%.
And a gentleman named Duncan Hunter brings up the rear by matching me 5%.
Some of you are, I hope, saying, "Who the hell are some of these people?" because I wondered. All I can say is, surely google will help us.
It was a bit of a revelation to me to find out where I matched most strongly. I still don't have any idea who to vote for. My mother called me from the polling place's parking lot on her primary day and said, "Kizzy, who should I vote for?" All my life my mother has made a huge deal out of a person's vote being extremely private. She's never asked me who to vote for or who I'm going to vote for ever. That is how freaking confusing this election is.
I'm going to keep learning and the final analysis will be when I pull the lever on the 5th. Well, the semi-final analysis, I suppose, final would have to be in November.
Let me give you all the rest of the links in Miflohny's post, because I'm sure they're all good resources.
Here's where you find your primary date.
This is On the Issues, the site about candidate issues that developed the Vote Match quiz.
Vote-Smart is the site that helps you find your primary and how to register and a lot of other useful information.
I have to give Miflohny's quote for this next one, "to help ferret out the truth!"
As I've said, I don't feel comfortable endorsing any particular candidate. Miflohny, however, does. She made her plug for the senator from IL, and here's his site.
We both feel it's incredibly important to vote, no matter who you vote for. I hope this information helps to inspire you in that direction, should you need it. Thanks Miflohny!
Gypsy participates in TMI Tuesdays. I love to read the answers but haven't ever had the urge to participate...until now. I just loved this set of questions so I decided I'd answer them. It's not called TMI (Too Much Information)Tuesday for nothing. You have been warned.
1) Do you have/ever had any dating or sex superstitions? (Wear ‘lucky jeans’ on first date, always light a vanilla candle, etc.) If so, what are they?
No. Although with the epic dry spell I've have you'd think I'd been draining chickens of their blood and knitting my own lucky skivvies by now.
2) If you were stranded on the old deserted island, and a genie appeared who could only grant you one wish — to bring one of the following people to join you, who would it be?
- your spouse/significant other
- an unrequited love or some person you’ve had a crush on
- an old/past love
- your best friend
On the one hand I'd ask for one specific old lover since we bonded over all things beach-related. So if I was planning to stay on the deserted island he'd be my pick. If I wanted to get the hell off I'd ask for JAM because of the choices listed here he's most likely to have the skills to get us the hell home.
3) Tell us “weather or not” you’re in the mood — how does rain, snow, sleet, scorching heat, sweltering humidity etc. affect your libido.
I hate to be cold. If you want to seduce me in a cold climate or place then you'd better be ready to keep me toastily under the covers until you've warmed me up. If you whip the covers off me and try to take my socks off it will instantaneously kill my mood. The heat doesn't so much bother me. I even kind of like getting sweaty together. I did once have a super sweater, though, and he dripped sweat in my eye and that sucked. A cool, rainy day when we can be snuggled up all day in bed is probably your best bet. I kind of love the rain. It smells nice and it provides a good soundtrack, too.
4) Are you a crying drunk, an angry drunk, a ‘I’m drunk, let’s screw’ sort of a drinker? (And, if you do not drink — which one of those things is the reason?)
I am a chatty drunk who then moves on to being a crying drunk. If I get drunk I'll start telling you a story about what I had for lunch and I'll go all the way back to what I had for lunch once in elementary school to give you the appropriate back story. I will give you no clue as to where I'm going with the school lunch part, either. I don't know why people don't push me off the bar stool at that point. Then I tell sad stories and then I cry. Just as Zelda.
5) Who turns you on the most & why:
the care-giver/healer (nurse, doctor, masseuse, herbalist, chiropractor etc.)
the educator (professor, teacher, mentor etc.)
If I had to pick one it'd have to be the comedian. I get nervous, it helps if you make me laugh. If I get to mix and match I'd mix the educator with the comedian to find the perfect guy. Smart and funny? I think my panties just dissolved.
Bonus (as in optional): Looking back, what’s the one thing you’ve done which was supposed to be erotic, but didn’t quite work out?
Sex on the beach and food on the body. Do you know how long it takes to lick chocolate sauce out of chest hair? Past the point where anyone is having any fun. Champagne runs off your body really quickly so you don't really get any and it soaks into your mattress. Sex in a sauna and sex on an unforgiving kitchen floor were also not quite as fun as you'd think.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
I was watching Christian Bale's breakout performance in Empire of the Sun when a call came in from Alex.
He said they'd had a "relatively crappy day" and were testing different bars in the neighborhood for margarita quality. We bantered so it took a while to discover that the "relatively crappy day" was due to having put Edwyn down.
Edwyn and his partner in crime, Hula, have been with Kath about 19 years, give or take a couple of months. Alex joined the pack when the kittens were about 6 years old.
Apparently after the deed was done Alex asked Kath, "Who will help you in the kitchen now that Edwin is gone?" Who indeed. Alex is the clean up man and Hula is uninterested in the kitchen. It's an enormous adjustment and, despite his long time on this earth, it seems too soon.
So, we drank of the margaritas, we ate of the chocolate cake and we cried of the tears. As you all know, the rule is, that if we have to let one go all of the others get extra treats, just for breathing. Good breathing. Good standing still. Good looking at me. Good living beloved animals, you just keep that shit up.
Friday, January 25, 2008
My cat drools.
It's Anna and it's a newish thing. She's always been a kneader. She likes to lick your hair and to knead your bare flesh. She'll take covered flesh if that's all she can get but if she can find the bare stuff she'll go for that, even if she has to resort to kneading your eyelids. So I try to keep her nails trimmed and I sometimes hide entirely under my covers in bed so she can't get to my face and hair.
Recently, though, there's been drooling with the kneading. I can't point to anything new in our lives that started it. I'd already changed her food, she's not on any medication, that's just her brother, and yet the faucet is on full. While I wrote the first paragraph she was sitting on my forearms and now my sleeve is all clammy and damp.
Anybody else out there have drooling cats? So bizarre.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
A Klezmer band got on my train tonight and played for a couple of stops. It was so silly and fun and uplifting, the perfect way to end a great evening. Also, it was a nice counterpoint to how hard I'm having to work to understand this book. I'm a halfway smart chick, I think, but wow, I so do not get some of the shit she's talking about. I have to go back and forward and try again and sometimes I still don't get it. (Give me instant gratification or give me death!) Yet so many other people totally get it. I keep telling people they'll love the book then telling them something about it that I don't understand and getting essentially this conversation,
"I still have no idea what a gerund is."
"You don't know what a gerund is?"
"addihfpn hpdifap fweoihfdna ihddpdah fiehpfhep hipeha"
"But how is that not a verb."
"Because fsepfeofdjs noun sihfpfefed eifj hfhing."
On the bright side, I know some really smart people.
Knotty Yarn turned me on to this weird project that Addie's doing. She's photographing a stranger a day. I think that's so brave. I love looking at the photos but it makes me nervous to think about talking to all those strangers and asking to take their pictures.
A couple of weeks ago I ran into some friends who were dismantling an art project in the park. I'd forgotten they were going to be there and I was just walking the dog and had my camera with me keeping my eyes peeled for interesting things.
They were dismantling a piece that one of them had designed and executed with the help of another. The night before we'd seen another of their collaborations in an art show. They got paid for the piece being dismantled because they're "real" artists.
Now, I don't believe that I'm not a real artist or that to be a real artist one must be paid. But I do respond to the sort of class system that's in place for who's getting their art shown where. (For my purposes I'm using art to mean visual, performing or any other kind of art you can think of.) So when they asked me what I was doing there I just said, "Walking the dog." True but leaving the white elephant in the room of my honkingly big old school film camera dangling from my shoulder.
It would have been a great opportunity to take some portraits and to take some interesting close up action shots. They're very photogenic people and they were doing something that was visually compelling. I wasn't brave enough to say, "I'm out walking the dog and taking some pictures." or even to just start snapping away quietly while we chatted and they worked.
I wish I had been braver. I feel like I short changed myself and I hated the way I felt doing it. Any tips on how I can convince myself to be braver?
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Years ago, bonfireside, my cousin, Mike, made a crack about hating New York and said that no one could really experience the city if they didn't make at least $40,000 a year. Having recently experienced the city in a pretty real way for under $15,000 in a year I went off on him. Though we've never spoken of it, I've been embarrassed by my outburst ever since.
The thing is, New York was the first place I ever went that felt like putting on a perfect pair of shoes. From the very beginning, despite being frightened, it was clear that I could do anything I wanted. So I did.
Between our fireside chat and now Mike has done his best to leave New York. He's strayed far and wide time and again but it never sticks. They belong together. They'll never get married but they'll live together for as long as possible and wherever he goes they'll be in love forever. He gets it now. I don't know whether my outburst had anything to do with it. I doubt that it did and it really doesn't matter.
I know that New York is tough. Did you not read the part about under $15,000 on year? It's true, she'll kick your ass when you need it but she'll also hold you in the palm of her warm hand and make you feel like the luckiest person on earth just to be breathing and seeing and hearing all that she has to offer. One of the best moments I had this year was seeing the look on MGirl's face after her first day navigating this city by herself. She was proud of herself and awed by what she saw and full of potential topped with tired feel. If you can't understand how beautiful that look is? Well, actually I get that.
I'll be honest, why not, this is my space. In my head I understand why you live where you live and why you like it. My heart, though, isn't so polite. I've lived in London, in New England and in the mid west. They're fine, lovely, but, even when I was doing what I loved for a living, I was dying a little bit every day. I could never just be who I was and know that was OK. There was never enough room to breathe. You don't have to agree with me. You don't have to believe me, even. You do, however, have to respect my choice and my feelings. Especially when you're playing over here in my public swimming pool.
Last week someone disparaged me, people like me and New York City in the comments for a post I meant to be relatively light hearted. In one sentence it was skillfully and clearly implied that I, and those like me, are foolish and deluded to love to live in New York City. I was pissed and I responded briefly but honestly to that effect. Then I went out and had such a perfectly glorious New York day that I thought, "What do I need to be angry for, I live in New York fucking City, I'm enjoying myself too much to be pissed." I thought I was over it.
Then tonight I had an annoying experience. The details were NYC-specific but the generalities could have appeared anywhere; commute, stupid people, late, cold, lather, rinse, repeat. As I trudged home doing my stupid exercise for my stupid weight loss I was crafting a delightfully scathing post that would have had the MTA quivering in their tunnels. My inner censor was logging over time, though. I kept trying to paint the edges as rosy or come up with a "but really" and I didn't, at first, understand why.
I wasn't over that slight from last week. I don't feel comfortable posting anything negative about New York City because I don't want this commenter, or anyone else, responding negatively about my home. I didn't want to give them any sort of opening. It's only natural to defend someone that has given me so much. This is my space, though, and I hate feeling censored in it, even when I'm the one doing the censoring.
I'll get over it...well, look what happened with Mike, maybe I won't.
A lot of people have written today that they feel "inexplicably sad" about Heath Ledger's seemingly accidental death.
If I were to venture a guess it isn't because he was a celeb or because he was talented but because he seemed like a relatively normal Aussie dude who was honest in the media about having trouble sleeping and who spoke with appropriate levels of awe about the experience of becoming a dad.
Perhaps you remember The Great Craning of 2007. If not just go here and check out what happened.
I found another wonderful use of craning on Flickr, today. I was scrolling through the photos and people were making 1000 cranes. I assumed that it was for a wedding, since I've seen that a lot, even though it seemed they were making them for only one person. The more I scrolled the more the larger picture came into focus. As part of a memorial service the attendees made 1000 origami cranes to send their friend on with good luck. It made me weepy.
I would like to post a teaser photo here but all rights are reserved so you'll have to take my word about how touching the set is and click on through. I've always liked the Egyptian idea (not limited to Egyptians really, but you know) of sending people on with things to help them succeed wherever they may go. When I was 17 my great grandmother died and for some reason I ended up waiting in the funeral home for my great aunt. There was an open casket (so not my speed, I've done it 3 or 4 times now and that's plenty, thank you) and the funeral director had a paper bag and he took off Grammy's glasses, rings and watch, put them in the bag and gave them to Aunt Catherine. I was panicked. Obviously I was old enough to know that, rationally, it didn't matter, but in my heart all I could think was, "Oh my god how is she going to see in heaven?!?!?!"
Sending someone off with a shrine and cranes is so.... elegant. I wish this friend luck wherever she may be.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Recently Chili cyberwhined, "I'm trying to start something here!" about 10 Things Tuesday. Apparently she doesn't think that people (perhaps she meant enough people) are participating. I then proceeded to point out at least three people who have been participating that she didn't even know about. So I think I'll use my 10 Things this Tuesday to point out 10 people who are participating in this fun.
1. Chili. It only takes one person to make a movement, if you doubt this go away and listen to Alice's Restaurant and come back.
2. Me. I've been slacking lately but I'm coming back, baby. Just wait until next week when I regale you with 10 routines in my life
3. Zelda. She's been off the wagon for a bit but climbed back on today. I'll say one thing for the girl, she doesn't dream small.
4. Gert. Gert's having a rough day today, sounds like she might need 10 Things to set her mind at ease.
5. Joe Banks. He succumbed to peer pressure from Zelda and Gert. We love peer pressure.
6. Corner Booth at Hudson's. Back in the hey day of being on the 10 Things bandwagon sometimes Zelda, Gert and Joe would post a 10 Things list on their own blogs and then a totally different one on their shared blog at Corner Booth. Now, that's commitment.
7. Chrome. Sister commits with the photos and the themes and whatnot. Always a delight.
8. Grammar Snob. She's not letting her status as Senior Citizen College Student stop her from listing her 10 Things. I don't know about the rest of you but I'm so pleased and happy for her that she's back at school.
9. Tense Teacher. You know, I'm not sure she's ever participated but, since she's blogging 365 this year I bet 10 Things will start to look like a rosy way to take care of Tuesdays.
10. As the exception that proves the rule there's Rich. He's got Adult ADD, he's no candidate for 10 Things Tuesday but I'm sure he's out there reading and supporting the movement.
It's cozy down here on the Group W Bench. I'm sure people are joining us all the time.
A couple of shots from my walk to the dermatologist last week (or was it the week before?).
I took another one of this er, fountain? floral receptacle? sculpture thingamahoochie? from an angle that didn't include the AC unit but it didn't do what I needed it to do for the faces so please photoshop out the AC with your mind.
And I do seem to speak of parenting rather a lot for someone who isn't doing any of it. Anyway, I like a good parenting story as much as the next person.
Recently Alice over at Finslippy was feeling like a horrible parent so she asked people to comment with their worst parenting moment. The stories are car-wreck bad but also so compelling they're car-wreck fascinating. She got so many that she had to narrow them down into "winning categories". I'll link to her wrap up post so you can read just the short version if you like but I recommend clicking though to the original post for all the entries. They are legion but they are fabulous, the perfect thing to store away for a day when you're not feeling that parenting genius and need a reminder that there are worse things you could do than...oh god I can't give you an example, I don't want to ruin it for you.
Go on! Go away!
No! Come back!
You know, when you're finished.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Do you want your face on a t-shirt? These folks can make it happen. It's sort of a weird concept, I'm not sure I completely understand the reasoning behind it or feel right about it. It's something about bucking the inflated importance of celebrities by putting real folk on t-shirts. What do you think?
Link via ALR Design blog.
Queen Bee knits.
She knits a lot. She knits socks and scarves and hats and baby booties and shrugs and ponchos and shawls and sweaters.
She knit this sweater for me for Christmas.
Isn't that awesome?
FYI, that bulge above the hips is not an imperfection in the sweater it's an imperfection in me, or in my outfit, I'm not sure which. She does good work. Luckily she likes it.
I wonder what I'll get next year.
You know what's not on my wish list?
I should have asked for forks. I need more forks. I have enough spoons to last for a month but I have enough forks for like 3 days tops. I use them to mash up the cats' food and stuff and then, you know, to eat so I use a lot of forks.
I don't want to go to the dollar store and get 10 of those forks made out of tin foil that they sell. Maybe I should frequent some stoop sales and see if I can find some. Do people sell just forks like that or do you usually have to get the whole set? I don't want any more knives, just the forks, please.
Maybe my mom has some extras.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Here are the rest of my photos from the steam room at Pratt.
I would caption them but I don't have the faintest clue what all this stuff is.
How long before "Uh...A Valve" stops being a useful caption?
Not long at all, I suspect.
For the record these are all straight out of the camera, no tweaks, crops or enhancements.
For comparison, here are some other photos of the same place.
Flea has a fabulous parenting style. She's got 2 intelligent and rambunctious boys who love routine but are constantly throwing wrenches and pipes and the occasional cat into the works. I am constantly impressed by Flea's ability to adapt in the moment with an eye to the future.
Recently her eldest, Alex, decided he would try out an adult word. As usual he didn't go about it in halfway measures and the story is hilarious. I want you to go read it but take the time to pee before you do because you'll have to change your unmentionables if you don't. I think she's a genius but I guess only time will tell.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
On Tuesday a package came in the mail at work and it was for me! I opened it up and it had the soundtrack of Spring Awakening and a copy of Sideways and it was from my dad! I wasn't expecting that at all.
At some point in dad's relationship to P he seems to have abdicated the present-giving to her. She chooses lovely gifts, I've always gotten things I like and that I wouldn't have bought for myself. But it's weird not to have your actual parent involved in the gifting process. In my capacity as advice giver to people bringing up kids with shared custody let this be a lesson. Give a couple of gifts if you want but make sure that one is always specifically from you to your kid. You know, if you're of the gift giving persuasion at all.
Sideways stars Paul Giamatti, to whom PapaKizz and I are tangentially related. So I've really wanted that and can't wait to delve into the special bonus features.
Great gifts, stuff I wanted and he knew that because he wasn't afraid to look at my wish list. I use the wish list as a place to move things I can't buy right now but want to remember that I want to buy/read/see them. Some people (Pony Express) think that using someone's wish list is cheating. I disagree. I do take some issue with registries for babies and weddings and stuff but over time I've actually come to a compromise that makes me happy. I buy something off the registry and then personalize it with something they won't expect. For me, you can almost always surprise me with something off the list (I'm not saying you should, I'm just trying to say that it's possible) because I put stuff on there but continue to cheap out and not buy it so I'm always surprised to get something from it.
Meanwhile, back at the cubicle, I e-mailed PapaKizz to thank him for the awesomesauce (tm KDiddy, I think).
He replied, "You're welcome. Just wait until tomorrow."
The next day another box came and it had this awesome play that I wanted, a fabulous book on writing and grammar that I'm already almost 100 pages into and it's changing the way I'm writing right this very second and a brilliant coffee table book of Annie Liebowitz's photography. The writing book is so important since I'm writing more and making my writing a priority. It also fulfills a 108 in 2008 requirement since I wanted to make sure I read some non-fiction (turns out I actually read sort of a lot of non-fiction but I'd like my choices to be slightly less fluffy, memoirs count but I should branch out from those). Last year I saw the exhibit on which the Liebowitz book is based. It was so beautiful but so dense and overwhelming, especially because it was quite crowded, that I wanted to take it home and look at it over time to wring all the pleasure from it. Now I can! I'm almost afraid to take the cellophane off because my dog is klutzy and my cats are puky and I'm a crappy housekeeper and yet I can't wait to pore over it all. I predict that's how I will celebrate MLK, Jr. day this year, sitting in the chair I inherited from my dad and slobbering on the book he gave me.
Go get a wish list, folks, you won't regret it.
My friend, Jason, has a gift for hyperbole. So do I so I don't have a lot of room to make fun but this one was just way too good to pass up. It's really subtle, I think most readers would miss it. Really I'm doing a public service. Right? Guys?
He wrote a post about the difficulties of loving colorful language while raising a kid who is learning our fair tongue for the first time. To relate the difference in foul language usage between him and his wife he wrote the following:
Terry, on the other hand, hardly ever uses the word “Fuck!” When we were getting our wedding invitations together, and many friends came over (Thanks again!) to help stuff envelopes, Terry said, “Fuck!” and the whole assembly line stopped. Dead. Not because Terry said “Stop!” or “Halt!” or “There’s a mistake!” but because she said “Fuck!” and she never says “Fuck!” So when Terry says “Fuck!” something is really fucking wrong. Several people, including me, looked terrified.
Perfectly harmless, right? No hyperbole there. Oh but no.
Firstly, "many friends came over". Maybe he was counting the voices in my head but as I remember it the assembly consisted of Terry, Jason, me and a really delightful guy named Yves who I think expected a party with occasional envelope licking and instead got a nice glass of lemonade and training to work in a direct mail house. (For the record, I actually love to do mailing campaigns. I would have done all the invitations myself if Terry would have let me. I was in geeky glory at their dining table with my assembly line job.)
The assembly line did in fsct stop because it's not an exaggeration that Terry never uses language like that unless there's someone in the room with their ass on fire...er...or when something goes wrong with a very important task.
"Several people, including me, looked terrified." Tiny sentence, chock full of hyperbole. There were 4 of us in the house. All together I don't think we make "several". More importantly, how would he know if we looked terrified? He was 2 rooms away finalizing another part of the wedding design and conducting NATO-level negotiations with his invitation-mad parents. I'm sure Jason looked terrified, though I'm not certain that was a change from how he looked before Terry busted out the potty mouth. He was knee dip in crises and digging himself out slowly. Still, 2 rooms away, no idea what our faces looked like. Yves, poor dear, did look like someone's ass might be on fire and he really didn't want to have to operate the extinguisher. I can't entirely vouch for my own expression but I'm betting it was more in the bereft range since I was being kept from my neat and tidy assembly line job. The voices love an assembly line job. There might have been a tiny bit of glee as it turned out there was something that was missing from the package and I thought I might get to take it all apart and start over. Terry's look was the very definition of horrified. She's nothing if not forward-thinking and detail-oriented so for a piece of the puzzle to be missing this late in the game was truly unthinkable.
Don't worry, we found a work around and everything went off without a hitch. I mean, they got married and people showed up to see it so we must have done something right.
In defense of hyperbole, the way Jason tells it is better, isn't it? I had to set the record straight, though, it's what Terry would have done.
I want to blame JJ Abrams for the post apocalyptic nightmares I had this morning but I'm afraid I'll have to pay him royalties.
I'm pretty sure I'm the only person who would, in the middle of the actual apocalyptic events, drive to a friend's house and put on a show.
Friday, January 18, 2008
You'd think that by now I'd be done with all the Christmas photos and information. Naw, I travel way slower than the three kings.
Nanny doesn't join us for present opening anymore since she's lost her mobility and her language. Right up until those losses, though, she did stockings...at least for the kids.
Now, Nanny's idea of a Christmas stocking was very specific but not the sort of thing you'd see in a Tasha Tudor drawing. She always bought more than would fit in anyone's stocking but she wanted you to be able to open it, too, so she'd stuff all your loot in a garbage bag, tie it tighter than a virgin's cunt and slap your stocking on top of it near the tree. Inside there was always underwear. L says, "I didn't buy a pair of underwear until I was 35!" Usually also deodorant, toothbrush and/or toothpaste, some holiday themed chocolate and a host of other knick knacks and gadgets for "easier" living.
It's been years since anyone has had a "Nanny Stocking" so C&D decided that we needed them. This photo was of the moment of distribution. Even the hardened teenager is eagerly anticipating the haul. If I remember correctly he and Nanny had a deal about boxer shorts, they needed to be plaid. You can't believe all the stuff that was in there. Underwear (natch), toothpaste and a battery powered toothbrush, a mug, a frisbee, a backpack, a tote bag, a key ring, an arm band cell phone holder for running, a thingee to hold your sunglasses in the car, candy, a hat, dental floss in a novelty dispenser and I'm only scratching the surface here. It was glorious and it turned us all into kids again, if only for a few minutes.
Remember when I told you about the steam pipe extravaganza? After we ring in the new year we go in and check out the building with all the steamy equipment (more photos to follow, you have been warned). This ornate and gaudy chandelier hangs in the 2 story room as you enter. The whole place is eclectic and wild. The steam dude is a cat rescuer so there's cat paraphernalia everywhere, also the occasional cat, and all the furnishings are super old school. The chandelier makes me giddy happy every time I walk in. If I could steal it and put it up in my apartment I would.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
The site of my low key birthday celebration for the past 2 years. Good people, good bubbly and a comfortable seat, that's all I could ask for. I'm pretty lucky.
Also the site of the creation of a monster. Someone taught Alita thumb wrestle. She's brutal.
Thank you to everybody who came to celebrate!
I love a moon that's out before the light is gone, or after the dark is gone depending on the time of day. I'm not sure I've managed to capture the feeling here. Even if I haven't I can't decide which of these evils is best.
First, "enhanced" and cropped.
Third, straight out of the camera. You may have to click them to make them bigger for purposes of comparisons.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Do any of you read Rob Rummel-Hudson's blog?
For years he's been writing largely about his gorgeous, charismatic daughter, Schuyler. Schuyler has a disorder that impairs brain function and may, at some unspecified time in the future, threaten her life. If you haven't been reading Rob then you may be picturing a sad little girl in a bib. Nothing could be further from the truth.
I started reading Rob after Schuyler was born but before she was diagnosed and have followed her growing up with joy. Every day, every activity, every choice is exciting with this little girl and you're happy to be compelled to join in.
Rob has a book coming out about his life as the father of this glorious little girl. It's going to be released on February 19 (you can pre-order now, though). In the mean time this month's issue of Good Housekeeping features a piece of his as well.
Go meet Schuyler. You won't be sorry.
Before we get started let me clarify that I haven't turned uber girly and started keeping a wedding scrapbook. I have added a couple of wedding photographers to my daily reads, though. It's because I love portrait photography and that's essentially what event photography is. Anyway, I'm now going to link to one of those people but it's not about photography at all.
It's about football.
I only follow football enough to know if the people I hang out with are going to be happy or sad. I'm more of a hockey or baseball girl.
All this is to say, can you explain the second bullet point in this guy's blog entry to me? I don't know what he's talking about.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
This is Joe the Barber, Queen Bee's dad, on Christmas morning (That's D, sister C's partner, in the background). I don't know what kind of story he's telling but this is a pretty standard look for him. I'm not sure exactly how old he is but he's close to 80 and has come as close to retirement as I think he's able. He goes into the barber shop 2.5 days a week and makes the occasional house call to loyal customers who are no longer able to come to him. For Christmas his kids gave him a new TV, his first in probably 20 years, and he was amazed and pleased and can now see the whole field when the Patriots are playing instead of the whole field minus random pixels missing here and there. It was, as Chili says, the winner gift this year.
*Like how I worked the birthday girl into this post, too?
1. She's passionate about her grammar but still acts all shocked if someone corrects their grammar for her benefit.
2. She's not afraid to read her own work aloud.
3. She introduced me to Prof Doc, among others.
4. She enjoys bringing people over to the dark side of blogging.
5. She's funny.
6. She's a dab hand at crisis management.
7. She's purty.
8. She started this Ten Things Tuesday craze amongst our group of folk.
9. She likes her some Hot Folk. (I just realized how much awful colloquial grammar I'm using in this post. It's not on purpose. I don't actually want to give her an aneurysm on her birthday.)
10. She's my friend.
A big Happy Birthday to you, my dear, and many more!
Monday, January 14, 2008
It's hard for me to take action. I spend a lot of time waiting for good things to simply fall from the sky (or from the hands of kind and generous people) and into my lap. I know this is not a wise course of action and yet...
For instance I haven't been writing on my play that goes up next month. I know I should but I can't bear to read it one more time and there's a wrongness in it somewhere that I can't address and it has to do with the animals. I was trying to cast it and got 2 of my favorite boys who are also 2 of my favorite actors to agree and I assigned them roles based on how it was written despite having a pull in my heart toward reversing those assignments. I figured when I wrote again I'd figure it out but then Mark started talking about memorizing the script and I told him I'd have an answer about the roles within 24 hours and so I went to Paul to get his feelings on it and this ensued.
-Sure that's fine but the animals are wrong.
-I know. This is what bothers me about changing the casting. Thoughts?
- I don't know. Mole rat.
It's the perfect answer (the conversation went on a bit to clarify) and I'm excited to get back to the script and know I can get a working version done in 48 hours for our performance a month from tomorrow (AUUUUUUUGH!).
When stuff actually does just fall into place like that it really calls this whole work ethic thing into question. It's no wonder I'm just waiting around for Warren Che...I mean, Justin Long to just fall into my lips...I mean, lap.
Observe: the dapper Justin Long.
You probably know him from those Mac ads or that last Bruce Willis movie, Die Hardest: Diamond in the Rough, or whatever it was. For me, however, the love affair began long before he was age appropriate, when he played Warren Cheswick on a show called Ed starring that delicious Canadian delicacy, Tom Cavanagh.
Mrs. G just recycled an old post calling darling Warren's, I mean Justin's, worthiness into question and using him as the "what not to wear" portion of a dating lesson for her daughter. While I would not presume to question her parenting I must take up for my secret boyfriend Warre..I mean, Justin. He's a good guy, the best kind of guy, the kind of guy who would cook you breakfast in his longjohns outside of a tent on the side of a mountain the morning after he didn't wind up losing his virginity.
And there ain't nothing sexier than that.
That's what she said.
Doom, gloom, igloos and the like, 6-10 inches of snow with sleet and rain and a side of cats and dogs. This is what they were forecasting for the city.
Rain is what we got. Just rain. Chilly fat-dropped rain.
Which is fine. I really need to go in to work to get the bosses set for their trips this week and slogging through 10 inches of snow would have been kind of a downer.
Hey, speaking of fat dropping, I'm down 1.5 lbs. At one point this week during the intestinal festival I was having I was all the way down to 128 but that's not real weight loss that's a crisis thing. It was something to cheer me up a tiny bit, though. So, I'm 5 lbs. from my goal. That feels good and finally reachable.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Our beloved Mrs. G recently completed her 100th post and she did it in 100 days! In celebration she's trying to get 100 comments on her post about PJs. There are prizes. (Can you guess what the prizes are? [If you get the ones with the flamingos and you don't like them you could just send them to me. I would be happy to relieve you of that burden.]) If you have a moment please head over there and give her a boost. I believe I was number 79 so she's close! You might be the person to help her over the top...so to speak.
In a casual sort of e-mail conversation I told Miss Rebecca that I didn't understand how a caucus worked. So she casually answered me back and this is what she said:
So, caucusing is a little bit like picking teams in gym class. There's no little curtain, there's no secret ballot, your choice is right out there for everybody to see and is (legally) quite susceptible to peer pressure.
On caucus night, you go to your precinct at a designated time- everybody from your precinct will be present at this time because there's no absentee vote. (The aim is to decide how the precinct's delegates will vote at some other meaningless ceremony in few months time- this is similar to the electoral vote, with a number assigned based on the precinct's population, except that, in this case the delegates are real people who will be assigned later that evening. Someone suggested that this is a throwback to a time when a paper ballot was even more vulnerable to tampering and the community would elect respected individuals to travel the distance to vote on their behalf.)
Some caucus-goers go into this event with strong feelings of allegiance to a candidate, having been bombarded by campaign mail, speakers, phone calls, and door knockers, but some are undecided. If you're certain of your candidate, you go immediately to the area of the room assigned to the supporters of each candidate and try to convince those undecided voters to join your camp. My mom told me that one how-to-caucus lecture suggested that baked goods would be a perfectly valid form of persuasion. (Apparently, Hillary did have food and water available for her caucus supporters.)
After a period of time, the milling about stops, and the supporters of each candidate are counted. (This is an amusing process, because there's no standardized method, so there's a lot of trial and error involved in getting a group of adults to collaborate on a simple task. "Okay, count off." then, "All right, this time everyone's going to raise their hand, and when you say your number, put your hand down." then, "Okay, this time when you put your hand down, you point to the next person.") A candidate must have at least 15% of the people present in order to be considered "viable."
The viable candidates are announced and a second milling period follows. During this time, supporters of the not-viable candidates either re-align themselves with a new candidate, or simply go home. Viable candidate supporters now have to convince these people to join their camp, potentially with better baked goods.
At the end of this second period, another count is made. This number is turned into a percentage, which determines how many delegates are assigned to vote for each candidate. (Apparently there's some special formula to determine this, but it's basically percentages.) At my mom's precinct, for example, 3 delegates were assigned to Obama, 2 to Edwards, and 1 to Hillary.
I should point out that the Republicans do it differently, but in my house, we don't care about such things.
Now, it's very interesting in its entirety but what I'm hung up on is that last line. "I should point out that the Republicans do it differently, but in my house, we don't care about such things."
"Republicans do it differently." [insert filthy political joke here]
Is it a secret? How could you do it differently? Are the baked goods mandatory and can you be penalized for forgetting them? Do they serve beer and underage boys? I was already confused that there was a way to vote that didn't so much involve voting but conversation (or from what I can tell from the above just sitting in a chair in a specific part of a room). I do question the validity of the Democratic version in a modern world where we're more able to keep paper secure than people but I do get how it works now and yet she's telling me there's a third way? My world, she is rocked. But I think I want to learn
So, all you smart people out there, can someone tell me how the Republicans do it differently, please?