Well, I finally got the gumption (thanks to some prodding by my Comedy Buddy and coworker, Jennifer Myszkowski) and now have a page on MySpace.
Thought it was for the young'uns, but after roaming around in the comedy section, I realize that my preconceptions were just that: Based on speculation, not fact.
Looks like this page could signal the end of this Blogger account. The MySpace comedy page not only features a blog, but it also offers a nice place to display coming shows--rather a one-stop shop for anyone interested in yours truly or The Comedy. Don't know if you've noticed, but I barely keep up with this page--to keep up this page, my web site and a MySpace page would take more time than I have.
Well, it's time for dinner. We'll see what we do.....
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Monday, November 19, 2007
Retirement-planning on the cheap
Linda has been on sabbatical for about four weeks now, which means she has not been going to work.
Newsflash: She's enjoying being out of the Corporate realm very, very much.
Shocking, isn't it?
Since I work from home three days a week, this means we've had all sorts of time together that we didn't used to. A circumstance which, you can imagine, has its upsides as well as down. My favorite part of her sabbatical is that she is much happier, which is a very good thing. My second-favorite part has to be the opportunity it gives me to hear Linda say things, typically without any context, that just crack me up. Recent examples:
"I like cupcakes."
"I am sort of excited about the gutter guard."
"You never understand me sometimes."
That last quote suggests one of the downsides, for if there's something Linda loves, it's a project. When she was at work, she directed her project management skills on work-related issues to great effect; my concern is that now that she's at home, she may focus her formidable talents on home-related issues. In other words: Me.
I have no desire to be a homo-improvement project, mind you, and hope that the gutter guards or other exciting feature of our home grab her attention instead. Here's hoping!
One other charming (okay, and alarming) thing Linda has taken to doing is checking her retirement plans with the 8 Ball I have in our office. She's asking it, "Should I retire?" And the damn thing's been saying, "Yes."
I asked it myself, and it said the same thing. Even asked it if we'd have enough money, and it said, "Without a doubt."
It must know something I don't, but if this keeps up, I may soon be a sole breadwinner.
Yeah, I like the sound of that as much as I like the idea of being a homo-improvement project, but let's just wait and see.
Besides. I like cupcakes, too.
Newsflash: She's enjoying being out of the Corporate realm very, very much.
Shocking, isn't it?
Since I work from home three days a week, this means we've had all sorts of time together that we didn't used to. A circumstance which, you can imagine, has its upsides as well as down. My favorite part of her sabbatical is that she is much happier, which is a very good thing. My second-favorite part has to be the opportunity it gives me to hear Linda say things, typically without any context, that just crack me up. Recent examples:
"I like cupcakes."
"I am sort of excited about the gutter guard."
"You never understand me sometimes."
That last quote suggests one of the downsides, for if there's something Linda loves, it's a project. When she was at work, she directed her project management skills on work-related issues to great effect; my concern is that now that she's at home, she may focus her formidable talents on home-related issues. In other words: Me.
I have no desire to be a homo-improvement project, mind you, and hope that the gutter guards or other exciting feature of our home grab her attention instead. Here's hoping!
One other charming (okay, and alarming) thing Linda has taken to doing is checking her retirement plans with the 8 Ball I have in our office. She's asking it, "Should I retire?" And the damn thing's been saying, "Yes."
I asked it myself, and it said the same thing. Even asked it if we'd have enough money, and it said, "Without a doubt."
It must know something I don't, but if this keeps up, I may soon be a sole breadwinner.
Yeah, I like the sound of that as much as I like the idea of being a homo-improvement project, but let's just wait and see.
Besides. I like cupcakes, too.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Surprises galore
Am sooooo sorry for the gloomy turn this blog has taken, but I know from painful, firsthand experience that you can run, but you can't hide, from reality. And reality? It has its gloomy parts.
But surprises often break through the gloom, which keeps things interesting. And infinitely less depressing.
For instance, we were sure that Linus, our dear shepherd mix, was going to go to Doggie Heaven not terribly long ago. He was listless, he wasn't even sitting up to eat, and when it was meal time, he was refusing his favorite foods. He wasn't even interested in liverwurst, disgusting stuff that he used to drool a river over (which was disgusting too, but it made him oh-so-happy). In short, he was taking a "Is that all there is?" attitude to everything. In short: He was Peggy Lee with paws.
To see if there was something else afoot, in mid-October we called the house call vet in to give him a checkup and to ask her opinion of where he was on the quality of life scale. After looking him over, she told me he was a candidate for euthanasia, and she could do it right then. Immediately. Like, now. I was taken aback, shall we say, and said I would have to talk it over with Linda, so the vet gave me a number of days that she could come back and put him down, and I saw her out the door.
I then had a very painful cry (as opposed to a "good cry"--it certainly wasn't one of those), then gathered myself together and went to see how Linus was doing.
He was doing well. Really well. He was sitting up, eyes aglow and looking as perky as perky could be.I think his tail might have even been wagging. A little. He wasn't walking or anything, but he was a new dog. And I think he was trying to tell me something.
All he needed was a sign saying, "Hell no, I won't go!"
Surprising indeed. In fact, he's been doing pretty well ever since the vet came by, though he has had moments of food fussiness. He had been eating Dinty Moore beef stew--also a disgusting enterprise--like it was going outta style, then suddenly turned his considerable nose up at it. It was as though his senses came to their senses.
But no matter what, he eats baby food--yes, baby food--with abandon. As long as it's fed to him with a spoon.
Yes, I feed baby food to my dog with a spoon. You got a problem with that?
I'm not the first. This baby-food-with-a-spoon business was something my cousin in Wisconsin said she did for an ailing dog of hers, and it has been our culinary Ace in the Hole with this guy. (Thanks, Pat!)
It's genetic, I think. At my aunt's memorial, both Pat and I were there solo. Our respective spouses (she married a guy--it happens in the best of families) were both home, tending sick dogs.
This, apparently, is what my people do.
As for the memorial, it was a little bizarre, and not in a good way. The primary oddness was that it was led by a priest. My aunt was Catholic, true, but she wasn't a church-going Catholic. I think she was more than a little scarred by her religious upbringing (how unusual) and as an adult, found the whole church-centered enterprise a giant waste of time. She was a Christian in deed, not in pomp and circumstance.
At least that's my take on it--we didn't discuss such matters in my family. (We didn't discuss most matters--except politics--in my family.)
Anyway, the priest had a whole religious service put together, including a reading by yours truly--yes, the dyke in the woodpile read from the Good Book. (No, there was no thunder or lightening.)
I was annoyed at first, for had I been told I was to give a reading by the members of the family deciding such things (again, we don't discuss most matters), I would have found something appropriate. Instead, the priest had me read something that I couldn't make heads nor tails of, and when I suggested we find something more suitable, he told me he would rather we keep this piece, for it was the "crux" of his entire service. So, not having an alternative at the ready or a spine (for that matter), I read it. For him (for of course, the service was all about him).
(Any residual bitterness about the Catholic church, Ann? Oh no, not me!)
There was a surprise here, too. When I got up to do the reading, I began reading the wrong thing. Not on purpose, I promise--but my passive-aggressive subconscious (or was it Barb?) had me mess it up but good. I stopped myself after I realized my mistake and after I apologized to the peeps and Barb herself, we had a light chuckle and I finished my task and sat down.
I was a bit aflutter at first, but then my sister-in-law said something kind (she can't help herself) and my cousin Pat whispered to me, "Barb would have liked that goof most of all."
Maybe. But I think she would have been most touched by the comments made by my brother, who could have had a tremendous career as a speech maker for any occasion if he hadn't been so darned intent on a life in public service (go figure). He summed up the many literal and figurative gifts she gave us wonderfully, as well as her tremendous humor. For instance: He opened his comments by reporting what Barb would say in mock exasperation each time she opened the door to us. "What--you again? Well, I suppose you should come on in..."
Lovely, that.
Anyway, I have gone on, haven't I? Sorry, but I have been away, and felt some catching up was in order. Now, I must get to work, which is, bless me, something I get to do from home today. Ah, flexible work arrangements. (Can I hear "Amen"?)
And now that some of my gloom has lifted, I am thinking about The Comedy anew. Good thing, for there's another Girls!Girls!Girls! on the horizon (November 30, to be specific). Go to my "Comic Attempts" page for details, if this is of any interest to you.
But surprises often break through the gloom, which keeps things interesting. And infinitely less depressing.
For instance, we were sure that Linus, our dear shepherd mix, was going to go to Doggie Heaven not terribly long ago. He was listless, he wasn't even sitting up to eat, and when it was meal time, he was refusing his favorite foods. He wasn't even interested in liverwurst, disgusting stuff that he used to drool a river over (which was disgusting too, but it made him oh-so-happy). In short, he was taking a "Is that all there is?" attitude to everything. In short: He was Peggy Lee with paws.
To see if there was something else afoot, in mid-October we called the house call vet in to give him a checkup and to ask her opinion of where he was on the quality of life scale. After looking him over, she told me he was a candidate for euthanasia, and she could do it right then. Immediately. Like, now. I was taken aback, shall we say, and said I would have to talk it over with Linda, so the vet gave me a number of days that she could come back and put him down, and I saw her out the door.
I then had a very painful cry (as opposed to a "good cry"--it certainly wasn't one of those), then gathered myself together and went to see how Linus was doing.
He was doing well. Really well. He was sitting up, eyes aglow and looking as perky as perky could be.I think his tail might have even been wagging. A little. He wasn't walking or anything, but he was a new dog. And I think he was trying to tell me something.
All he needed was a sign saying, "Hell no, I won't go!"
Surprising indeed. In fact, he's been doing pretty well ever since the vet came by, though he has had moments of food fussiness. He had been eating Dinty Moore beef stew--also a disgusting enterprise--like it was going outta style, then suddenly turned his considerable nose up at it. It was as though his senses came to their senses.
But no matter what, he eats baby food--yes, baby food--with abandon. As long as it's fed to him with a spoon.
Yes, I feed baby food to my dog with a spoon. You got a problem with that?
I'm not the first. This baby-food-with-a-spoon business was something my cousin in Wisconsin said she did for an ailing dog of hers, and it has been our culinary Ace in the Hole with this guy. (Thanks, Pat!)
It's genetic, I think. At my aunt's memorial, both Pat and I were there solo. Our respective spouses (she married a guy--it happens in the best of families) were both home, tending sick dogs.
This, apparently, is what my people do.
As for the memorial, it was a little bizarre, and not in a good way. The primary oddness was that it was led by a priest. My aunt was Catholic, true, but she wasn't a church-going Catholic. I think she was more than a little scarred by her religious upbringing (how unusual) and as an adult, found the whole church-centered enterprise a giant waste of time. She was a Christian in deed, not in pomp and circumstance.
At least that's my take on it--we didn't discuss such matters in my family. (We didn't discuss most matters--except politics--in my family.)
Anyway, the priest had a whole religious service put together, including a reading by yours truly--yes, the dyke in the woodpile read from the Good Book. (No, there was no thunder or lightening.)
I was annoyed at first, for had I been told I was to give a reading by the members of the family deciding such things (again, we don't discuss most matters), I would have found something appropriate. Instead, the priest had me read something that I couldn't make heads nor tails of, and when I suggested we find something more suitable, he told me he would rather we keep this piece, for it was the "crux" of his entire service. So, not having an alternative at the ready or a spine (for that matter), I read it. For him (for of course, the service was all about him).
(Any residual bitterness about the Catholic church, Ann? Oh no, not me!)
There was a surprise here, too. When I got up to do the reading, I began reading the wrong thing. Not on purpose, I promise--but my passive-aggressive subconscious (or was it Barb?) had me mess it up but good. I stopped myself after I realized my mistake and after I apologized to the peeps and Barb herself, we had a light chuckle and I finished my task and sat down.
I was a bit aflutter at first, but then my sister-in-law said something kind (she can't help herself) and my cousin Pat whispered to me, "Barb would have liked that goof most of all."
Maybe. But I think she would have been most touched by the comments made by my brother, who could have had a tremendous career as a speech maker for any occasion if he hadn't been so darned intent on a life in public service (go figure). He summed up the many literal and figurative gifts she gave us wonderfully, as well as her tremendous humor. For instance: He opened his comments by reporting what Barb would say in mock exasperation each time she opened the door to us. "What--you again? Well, I suppose you should come on in..."
Lovely, that.
Anyway, I have gone on, haven't I? Sorry, but I have been away, and felt some catching up was in order. Now, I must get to work, which is, bless me, something I get to do from home today. Ah, flexible work arrangements. (Can I hear "Amen"?)
And now that some of my gloom has lifted, I am thinking about The Comedy anew. Good thing, for there's another Girls!Girls!Girls! on the horizon (November 30, to be specific). Go to my "Comic Attempts" page for details, if this is of any interest to you.
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