Our Linus had an egg-sized swelling under his eye last week, and Linda and I, being the wreck nervosas we are where he is concerned, brought him to the vet. Well, I brought him to the vet, as Linda was in charge of lawn maintenance this weekend.
The verdict? Poor pup, he has a bad tooth--yes, following in his mother's footsteps--and must have it taken out this week.
This will be the second time he's had to be knocked out and operated on this year, for pity's sake. Our first reaction was to resist putting him through that agony again, but from what the vet told me, even one bad tooth can really wreak havoc on a canine. In fact, she asserted the bacteria in his tooth is more of a threat to him than going through the surgery. And in case she didn't have my attention after that pearl of wisdom, she also said that healthy teeth make the difference between a dog living 10 years and living 14-15 years.
As Linus is already 11 and we both love him like he's our own flesh and blood, what's a girl to do?
Schedule the surgery, that's what. For Thursday, the day I work from home. The good news is that this procedure will only be a day-long affair, and so I'll be able to drop him off in the morning and take him home that night.
It makes me so sad that he has surgery in his future--and that dogs have the "patch, patch, patch" problem as well. Poor Linus!
On other fronts, even though Linda is the lawn diva, I helped with the raking this weekend. I couldn't last week, because I had a tooth out and wasn't supposed to exert myself (yes, my patch-a-thon continues), and I felt bad about it. Particularly as we have ridiculously prolific trees in our yard--and our neighbors' yards, for that matter. Poor Linda!
So, I raked, and right now, my right wrist feels like I strained it. Good grief--one little episode of raking, and there's heck to pay.
Ah, the middle ages. What's not to love, eh?
Lastly, I must confess that I sometimes listen to Gayle King on XM radio, but likely will do so no more. She had served as a nice antidote to the dueling jerks on Young Turks on Air America (there is a third person, a woman, but she seems to only say wildly inappropriate things that have no relevance to the matter at hand--what's a talkshow without a Non Sequitur Girl? A relief!). Anyway, the Turks, young liberals with an attitude (their words, not mine), do occasionally get on my last nerve, so I turn to either disco or Gayle King for blessed relief.
Well, now I'm just turning to disco. Last week, Ms. King said something about the John Kerry botched joke mishap that was straight out of the Neo-Con Playbook for the whole tempest in a teapot, and she just plummeted down in my rankings of people I will listen to gladly. In fact, she's no longer on the list.
Just when I thought she was a nice lady with a smile in her voice and a candid view on life, she ends up sounding like Rush Limbaugh's kid sister.
Alas.
So now, I think of her as a FOO--that's Friend of Oprah, or fou, as the French put it, and right now, I'm leaning toward the latter.
And one last thought on John Kerry: If he didn't exist, the Republicans would make him up.
Or have they?
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Thursday, November 02, 2006
The fallout from #30....
I'm supposed to be at the open mic at PACE tonight, but I just didn't have enough gumption. Or jokes, for that matter. I'm lacking gumption and jokes, so it seemed a good night to pass--even on the best open mic around (sorry, Jennifer).
It's been nine days since I had tooth #30 out, and I still feel like I'm draggin' my carcass around. Since that fateful day, I've been feeling a little tired, a little spacey, a little cranky--generally, a lotta under the weather. Of course, I had my period for some of this time--this gal can count on Ma Nature arriving at the worst possible moment, and she rarely disappoints. This just added to the joy of my recent journey, but methinks the crux of my carcass-dragging is #30, RIP.
And today, I learned that the estimated total for filling the hole in my head left by #30 is $3,900.
So, not only do I get to be tired, spacey, and cranky, I also get to contemplate spending 1.5 months' worth of take-home to be able to chew on the right side of my mouth. Actually, insurance should cover half of that, but still--that's a lotta cabbage!
This middle-aged business? For the frick'n BOIDs, people.
See, I told you I was cranky.
It doesn't help that there's already murmurs of voting machine fraud (early voting in Texas seems to be oddly skewing towards the GOP--what luck for them, eh?), the Cranks for Christ are revving up the "Love Thy Neighbor But Hate Them Queers" get-out-the vote campaigns all over this benighted country, and our own John Kerry has managed to do his part to inflame anti-Democratic sentiment by getting butch about two years too late.
Will someone please arrange to get that man out of the country six months before the 2008 election? Teresa, honey--please do this service for your country. Take him to a nice island--preferably without any press.....
On the good news front, I have been hearing about a groundswell of support for the proposition that Bill Moyers should be on the Democratic ticket in 2008. I loved him on "Now," but think he's waaaaay too civilized to be a presidential candidate.
Or is he?
This could be interesting.....
It's been nine days since I had tooth #30 out, and I still feel like I'm draggin' my carcass around. Since that fateful day, I've been feeling a little tired, a little spacey, a little cranky--generally, a lotta under the weather. Of course, I had my period for some of this time--this gal can count on Ma Nature arriving at the worst possible moment, and she rarely disappoints. This just added to the joy of my recent journey, but methinks the crux of my carcass-dragging is #30, RIP.
And today, I learned that the estimated total for filling the hole in my head left by #30 is $3,900.
So, not only do I get to be tired, spacey, and cranky, I also get to contemplate spending 1.5 months' worth of take-home to be able to chew on the right side of my mouth. Actually, insurance should cover half of that, but still--that's a lotta cabbage!
This middle-aged business? For the frick'n BOIDs, people.
See, I told you I was cranky.
It doesn't help that there's already murmurs of voting machine fraud (early voting in Texas seems to be oddly skewing towards the GOP--what luck for them, eh?), the Cranks for Christ are revving up the "Love Thy Neighbor But Hate Them Queers" get-out-the vote campaigns all over this benighted country, and our own John Kerry has managed to do his part to inflame anti-Democratic sentiment by getting butch about two years too late.
Will someone please arrange to get that man out of the country six months before the 2008 election? Teresa, honey--please do this service for your country. Take him to a nice island--preferably without any press.....
On the good news front, I have been hearing about a groundswell of support for the proposition that Bill Moyers should be on the Democratic ticket in 2008. I loved him on "Now," but think he's waaaaay too civilized to be a presidential candidate.
Or is he?
This could be interesting.....
Saturday, October 28, 2006
My, I am slipping....
Just completed an online poll on political issues, and it featured some questions on Edward Kennedy's opponent, someone with the last name of Chase, I believe.
I had no idea Ted Kennedy had an opponent. None at all.
I grew up in a home consumed with politics, and am surprised how much I don't know this election cycle.
Has All-American Apathy finally taken hold? Where can a gal get some NASCAR in these parts?!
No, I can still get my blood up thinking about That Man in the White House, so I don't think my political interest is completely gone.
Perhaps I'm just tired. I've been alive long enough to have heard decades' worth of outrages from those greedy bastards who are running things...right into the ground.
How much outrage can one gal muster? Methinks the supply is limited.
Of course, this could all be my (missing) tooth talking. Man, did that procedure ever knock me down a peg. Haven't felt this wobbly for ages, and I'm not enjoying my diminished status in the least.
Tried to take some leaves out of the gutter this afternoon, and got dizzy after only a few sections. What a wuss!
Am trying to enjoy my sloth while I may, but darn this work ethic--I can't!
I had no idea Ted Kennedy had an opponent. None at all.
I grew up in a home consumed with politics, and am surprised how much I don't know this election cycle.
Has All-American Apathy finally taken hold? Where can a gal get some NASCAR in these parts?!
No, I can still get my blood up thinking about That Man in the White House, so I don't think my political interest is completely gone.
Perhaps I'm just tired. I've been alive long enough to have heard decades' worth of outrages from those greedy bastards who are running things...right into the ground.
How much outrage can one gal muster? Methinks the supply is limited.
Of course, this could all be my (missing) tooth talking. Man, did that procedure ever knock me down a peg. Haven't felt this wobbly for ages, and I'm not enjoying my diminished status in the least.
Tried to take some leaves out of the gutter this afternoon, and got dizzy after only a few sections. What a wuss!
Am trying to enjoy my sloth while I may, but darn this work ethic--I can't!
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Pass, purgatory and patch-a-thon
I promised to report on performances here, and have been remiss this week. It should soon be clear as to why....
Thursday night's show, the sold-out "Witches of Prospect" benefit for a breast cancer foundation, went well, particularly in retrospect. There was one problem, and it was a doozie: The mic didn't work for most of my set.
This "problem" was not a "problem" for my comedy buddy Jennifer, she of the couldn't-whisper-if-her-life-depended-on-it school. For me, however, the Midwestern gal with the pipes of a creampuff, it was a challenge. I did my best imitation of a shout for the show, and while I paid for it afterward (my throat hasn't been that scratchy since my smoking days), it worked pretty well. The folks--mostly women, as befits the charity and show theme--had a good time, and much money was raised for an excellent cause.
Altogether now: Hooray!
Friday night's show, the end-of-the-night comedy fest for the arts studio crowd in Dorchester, was far less successful. The venue was an Irish bar that had a cast of regulars who weren't really interested in ceding "their" bar to The Comedy. Plus, the people who came to see the show weren't exactly laughing types--they smiled beautifully, but the laughs just weren't in them, sadly.
I was the second comic up, and while that usually is a tough spot, my overwhelming feeling after performing was "Boy, am I glad that's over!" For as the show went on, not only was the comedy audience not warming up (much), but the regulars became increasingly restless, so I was grateful to be on and off the stage before they got their heckle on in earnest.
Jennifer, as usual, did douse the heckle a bit, and even got the subdued smilers to laugh a little, but it was tough sledding for all. By the time the closer came up, a nice guy who will remain nameless (and you'll soon see why), there was a drunken lout shouting, "You're not funny. Get off the stage and let me try."
Oh dear.
If it were warmer out, ice cream would have been the solution. As it wasn't, fries and a shake from McDonald's did the trick.
Say what you will about junk food, it does wonders for this wounded comic.
But still, a few more shows like that, and I'm going to go back to my writing group. (If they'll have me.) Life's too short and so on and so forth....
Pardon my pessimism. It may have less to do with The Comedy and more to do with the new hole in my head this week. The root canal that went bad required me to get a tooth out Tuesday afternoon, and I haven't felt myself since.
I haven't had a tooth taken out since I had braces (in the early 70s), and as we know that my drinking history pretty much wiped my memory banks clean, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
It was a very disturbing experience. Actually, it was barbaric. As my head jerked and my jaw jiggled, I found myself wondering why we as a civilization haven't found a way to take out a tooth without yanking and pulling and generally putting a person's noggin' through the wringer. Sheesh!
But just as I was about to say, "How's about a general anesthetic--this local business isn't working for me!" out it came.
And I wasn't relieved, just exhausted. (So bad comedy experiences are less awful than bad dentistry experiences--good to know.)
And then the dear dentist asked me how I feel about cows--apparently, the bone graft I needed involved cow bits. As a Wisconsin native, I answered as best I could that I was fine with cows. Though the more I think about it, the more guilty I feel, naturally.
Oh well, so now I have some cow in my jaw. Altogether now: Ewwwwwww!
And now, I must go have some soup. Solid foods are on my "to do" list, just not yet....
Thursday night's show, the sold-out "Witches of Prospect" benefit for a breast cancer foundation, went well, particularly in retrospect. There was one problem, and it was a doozie: The mic didn't work for most of my set.
This "problem" was not a "problem" for my comedy buddy Jennifer, she of the couldn't-whisper-if-her-life-depended-on-it school. For me, however, the Midwestern gal with the pipes of a creampuff, it was a challenge. I did my best imitation of a shout for the show, and while I paid for it afterward (my throat hasn't been that scratchy since my smoking days), it worked pretty well. The folks--mostly women, as befits the charity and show theme--had a good time, and much money was raised for an excellent cause.
Altogether now: Hooray!
Friday night's show, the end-of-the-night comedy fest for the arts studio crowd in Dorchester, was far less successful. The venue was an Irish bar that had a cast of regulars who weren't really interested in ceding "their" bar to The Comedy. Plus, the people who came to see the show weren't exactly laughing types--they smiled beautifully, but the laughs just weren't in them, sadly.
I was the second comic up, and while that usually is a tough spot, my overwhelming feeling after performing was "Boy, am I glad that's over!" For as the show went on, not only was the comedy audience not warming up (much), but the regulars became increasingly restless, so I was grateful to be on and off the stage before they got their heckle on in earnest.
Jennifer, as usual, did douse the heckle a bit, and even got the subdued smilers to laugh a little, but it was tough sledding for all. By the time the closer came up, a nice guy who will remain nameless (and you'll soon see why), there was a drunken lout shouting, "You're not funny. Get off the stage and let me try."
Oh dear.
If it were warmer out, ice cream would have been the solution. As it wasn't, fries and a shake from McDonald's did the trick.
Say what you will about junk food, it does wonders for this wounded comic.
But still, a few more shows like that, and I'm going to go back to my writing group. (If they'll have me.) Life's too short and so on and so forth....
Pardon my pessimism. It may have less to do with The Comedy and more to do with the new hole in my head this week. The root canal that went bad required me to get a tooth out Tuesday afternoon, and I haven't felt myself since.
I haven't had a tooth taken out since I had braces (in the early 70s), and as we know that my drinking history pretty much wiped my memory banks clean, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
It was a very disturbing experience. Actually, it was barbaric. As my head jerked and my jaw jiggled, I found myself wondering why we as a civilization haven't found a way to take out a tooth without yanking and pulling and generally putting a person's noggin' through the wringer. Sheesh!
But just as I was about to say, "How's about a general anesthetic--this local business isn't working for me!" out it came.
And I wasn't relieved, just exhausted. (So bad comedy experiences are less awful than bad dentistry experiences--good to know.)
And then the dear dentist asked me how I feel about cows--apparently, the bone graft I needed involved cow bits. As a Wisconsin native, I answered as best I could that I was fine with cows. Though the more I think about it, the more guilty I feel, naturally.
Oh well, so now I have some cow in my jaw. Altogether now: Ewwwwwww!
And now, I must go have some soup. Solid foods are on my "to do" list, just not yet....
Monday, October 16, 2006
No such luck....
Yup, it was a cold, as my achy-sneezy carcass made plain this a.m. Took to my bed for most of the day, and happily, I feel more humanoid than I did last night.
Which wouldn't be hard, come to think.
The worst is over, so off to work I go tomorrow.
Yippee.
No, really.
On other fronts, I have heard of another venue that I may perform in in 2007, and it's not terribly far away. Since the show I'm in Thursday is sold out, diehard comedy fans might want to check out Cafe Lebanon on Main Street in Springfield. They'll be having a comedy show Thursday night the 19th, hosted by the domestic goddess who is adding her own unique brand of diversity to the suburbs of Connecticut, Linda Belt.
If you go, let me know what it's like--it's always better to have an idea of a place before one shows up there, don't you know.
But then again, flying blind adds a certain je ne sais quoi....or something. Or so I tell myself.
Which wouldn't be hard, come to think.
The worst is over, so off to work I go tomorrow.
Yippee.
No, really.
On other fronts, I have heard of another venue that I may perform in in 2007, and it's not terribly far away. Since the show I'm in Thursday is sold out, diehard comedy fans might want to check out Cafe Lebanon on Main Street in Springfield. They'll be having a comedy show Thursday night the 19th, hosted by the domestic goddess who is adding her own unique brand of diversity to the suburbs of Connecticut, Linda Belt.
If you go, let me know what it's like--it's always better to have an idea of a place before one shows up there, don't you know.
But then again, flying blind adds a certain je ne sais quoi....or something. Or so I tell myself.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Please, let it be allergies...
Have a terrible feeling in my throat, and am oh-so-hoping that it's the result of sweeping a summer's worth of leaves and detrius off our cottage roof. (I was oh-so-pleased that I wasn't doing any raking this weekend, but then I saw our roof and that was the end of that...)
Between the pine needles, moss, maple leaves, and gunk--what else can one call it?--I inhaled a lot of things that don't agree with me yesterday, and am paying the piper now.
Or so I hope.
This could be a cold, but as I have no room in my schedule for such madness, I'm opting for allergies.
Tomorrow morning will be the judge. Please, let the judge be merciful!
On other fronts, I'm in two shows this week with my comedy buddy Jennifer, neither of which you'll likely see. One is sold out, the other is in Dorchester, which I think is in the Boston area but that's about all I know. For now.
Hey, the sold out show may have a repeat performance for all the folks who can't come--including you. Will let you know the date when/if it becomes available.
Now, I must take some echinasea and go to sleep. Here's hoping.....
Between the pine needles, moss, maple leaves, and gunk--what else can one call it?--I inhaled a lot of things that don't agree with me yesterday, and am paying the piper now.
Or so I hope.
This could be a cold, but as I have no room in my schedule for such madness, I'm opting for allergies.
Tomorrow morning will be the judge. Please, let the judge be merciful!
On other fronts, I'm in two shows this week with my comedy buddy Jennifer, neither of which you'll likely see. One is sold out, the other is in Dorchester, which I think is in the Boston area but that's about all I know. For now.
Hey, the sold out show may have a repeat performance for all the folks who can't come--including you. Will let you know the date when/if it becomes available.
Now, I must take some echinasea and go to sleep. Here's hoping.....
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Prevailing at Piccolo's
Well, I had no small anxiety over this weekend's shows (some of which was warranted, it turned out), but it all worked out (something I try to remember, but almost always forget).
It was a mixed couple of nights, to put it mildly. Friday night's audience was largely leaden, and at most mustered a muted moan or two at my material. Okay, that may be an exaggeration, and some people were there to laugh (bless their hearts), but most of the audience was either too tired from the workweek or too full from the restaurant's fabulous Italian fare or too (fill-in-the-blank) to laugh with abandon. Linda and I spent most of Saturday trying to figure out what was going on, and we considered everything from Catholicism to conservatism and beyond, but never came up with a satisfactory cause.
The path to madness, this second-guessing business.
Let's just say I did not leave there feeling fine, mostly because both Linda and I had work peeps in the audience. They were politely complimentary, but I knew in my heart I could have done better--I have done better. I really, really wished they had seen me in one of my better shows.
Like the show that followed on Saturday night. That show was a smashing success, for the audience was there to laugh and carry on without a moment's hesitation. One of the audience members got a little too carried away, and by the time fellow comic Andy Paquette was closing, she felt compelled to grade every joke ("That was funny!" "That was baaaaaad!"). Poor Andy. Well, actually, poor her, for Andy managed her heckles beautifully. (Or should I say mercilessly?)
But the compliments were flowing afterwards, and I felt marvelous heading home. And the fact that I did my full range of anti-homophobe material to an audience that contained a politician of the GOP persuasion made it that much more magnificent.
Yes, life and The Comedy are good.
For now.
It was a mixed couple of nights, to put it mildly. Friday night's audience was largely leaden, and at most mustered a muted moan or two at my material. Okay, that may be an exaggeration, and some people were there to laugh (bless their hearts), but most of the audience was either too tired from the workweek or too full from the restaurant's fabulous Italian fare or too (fill-in-the-blank) to laugh with abandon. Linda and I spent most of Saturday trying to figure out what was going on, and we considered everything from Catholicism to conservatism and beyond, but never came up with a satisfactory cause.
The path to madness, this second-guessing business.
Let's just say I did not leave there feeling fine, mostly because both Linda and I had work peeps in the audience. They were politely complimentary, but I knew in my heart I could have done better--I have done better. I really, really wished they had seen me in one of my better shows.
Like the show that followed on Saturday night. That show was a smashing success, for the audience was there to laugh and carry on without a moment's hesitation. One of the audience members got a little too carried away, and by the time fellow comic Andy Paquette was closing, she felt compelled to grade every joke ("That was funny!" "That was baaaaaad!"). Poor Andy. Well, actually, poor her, for Andy managed her heckles beautifully. (Or should I say mercilessly?)
But the compliments were flowing afterwards, and I felt marvelous heading home. And the fact that I did my full range of anti-homophobe material to an audience that contained a politician of the GOP persuasion made it that much more magnificent.
Yes, life and The Comedy are good.
For now.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Fan mail
This was in today's e-mail, regarding Saturday's "Girls!x3"show:
Thanks for making me and my "I don't really get jokes" girlfriend laugh.
Isn't that a nice thing to tell a comic? Made my day--no, week.
Was feeling a little anxious about this weekend's shows, but this quote will help calm at least some of my fears.
On other fronts, I have a new picture of Linus that will melt your heart like buttah--and one of Oatmeal that will do the same, if you're a cat person.
If you're neither, I don't know what to say, except I'm sorry.
Well, maybe I have to say I'm sorry anyway, for I don't have said pictures in my possession. Yet.
But as soon as I do, prepare to have an "Awwwwwwwww" moment or 50.
Thanks for making me and my "I don't really get jokes" girlfriend laugh.
Isn't that a nice thing to tell a comic? Made my day--no, week.
Was feeling a little anxious about this weekend's shows, but this quote will help calm at least some of my fears.
On other fronts, I have a new picture of Linus that will melt your heart like buttah--and one of Oatmeal that will do the same, if you're a cat person.
If you're neither, I don't know what to say, except I'm sorry.
Well, maybe I have to say I'm sorry anyway, for I don't have said pictures in my possession. Yet.
But as soon as I do, prepare to have an "Awwwwwwwww" moment or 50.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
What was that!
This weekend has been a whirlwind. Between my brother and sister-in-law visiting for the first time This Century (I kid you not), to participating in the latest "Girls, Girls, Girls!" enterprise, to my sister and a former coworker of hers making a brief visit, I'm done in.
The brother and sister-in-law part of the weekend was wonderful--love those people to bits! The "Girls, Girls, Girls!" set went well, if quickly--I thought I had 20 minutes going in, but that's not what I had when I was through. Makes me a little nervous about next week's sets, but I'm sure I'll think of something....
Jennifer did a great job keeping it going, and I loved her new material on working in Corporate America.
Felt like a good set with a crowd that was not a sure thing--the real variable being the women from the Big Company (copyright Jennifer) who were IN THE FRONT ROW, bless their hearts. Either I ignored them or they were "good" (or crashing big time) during my set, but they chattered through other comic's sets, and that's not a good thing, really and truly. Oh well, they'll learn (or I'll learn not to tell them where I'm performing next).
But the good far outweighed the bizarre this weekend, and this is what I'm holding onto.
Now, I must prepare for another week at the Big Company(R).
The brother and sister-in-law part of the weekend was wonderful--love those people to bits! The "Girls, Girls, Girls!" set went well, if quickly--I thought I had 20 minutes going in, but that's not what I had when I was through. Makes me a little nervous about next week's sets, but I'm sure I'll think of something....
Jennifer did a great job keeping it going, and I loved her new material on working in Corporate America.
Felt like a good set with a crowd that was not a sure thing--the real variable being the women from the Big Company (copyright Jennifer) who were IN THE FRONT ROW, bless their hearts. Either I ignored them or they were "good" (or crashing big time) during my set, but they chattered through other comic's sets, and that's not a good thing, really and truly. Oh well, they'll learn (or I'll learn not to tell them where I'm performing next).
And it was dear to see some friends in the audience I didn't expect to see--love that!
But the one fly in the ointment, burr in my saddle, and pain in my patoot was--you may know this already if you know me--my sister's impromptu (and tardy) visit. Am still reeling from the aftershock (her former coworker was a character with a capital "C"--still don't know whether to be charmed or alarmed, is all I can say right now).But the good far outweighed the bizarre this weekend, and this is what I'm holding onto.
Now, I must prepare for another week at the Big Company(R).
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Giving credit where credit is due
I have not properly attributed a suggestion from a young(er) friend of mine, and hereby make amends: The source of the "patch-a-thon" idea below is none other than comedy buddy and coworker Jennifer Myszkowski.
Now, my conscience is clear.
Not much else to report, except it's looking like a lot of coworkers are coming to this weekend's "Girls x 3" show.
Oh glory.....
Now, my conscience is clear.
Not much else to report, except it's looking like a lot of coworkers are coming to this weekend's "Girls x 3" show.
Oh glory.....
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Progress, indeed
This weekend was devoted to cleaning the house from stem to stern, which I just finished doing (except for one load of laundry), even though I started Saturday morning.
I have never set land-speed records, but when it comes to cleaning, I surprise myself at how long I take. Two days. For a ranch?
Of course, I didn't just dust and vacuum and tidy up the porcelain. I also walked and fed the dogs both days, took breaks for meals, and of course, stopped when the sun set--cleaning after sunset is something I've only done when I was moving out of an apartment and had to clean it before I fled. Or if company was coming and there was no way around it.
Well, company is coming (in the form of my brother and sister-in-law), but not until next Friday. Unless there's a hurricane or other major national disaster. My brother is in the disaster business now, and so he can plan, but God regularly takes his plans and pops 'em in the shredder.
But no matter what happens, my house is clean as it gets.
On other fronts, I spoke with a friend today who is dealing with the aftermath of a parent's death. She has a lot to contend with, but I can help with the grief part, for I remember well the fog that enveloped me the year after each parent's death. The fog lifts eventually, but the sadness never leaves. Not entirely. I miss my mother, I do. I still read things that she would enjoy, and am sad that she can't enjoy them. As maddening as she could be, I wish she were still here. Don't want you to think I don't also miss my dad. I am reminded of him every time I have a show in an Elks Club or see someone driving around with a car full of painting supplies with ladders on top.
But he isn't who I called when I saw something funny or maddening or wonderfully put. If he answered the phone, he would immediately hand it off to Mom. But he's not there to hand off the phone, and she's not there to take it from him, and that may be the proper order of things but that just stinks.
If there isn't an afterlife, I'm going to be so P.O.d. Of course, if there isn't, I won't have the ability to be P.O.'d, will I? (Such are the things that can keep me up nights, but nevermind....)
The only good thing about losing my parents is that I can be of comfort to other people who have lost parents.
One thing: This friend said that two months after the death of her parent, some people are suggesting she should be "over" it already. To this, I could only respond, "Tell them to go f*** themselves, and tell them I said so."
Now, I'm not one to drop the f-bomb unless there is no other word that will do, but anyone who would try to shame someone who is grieving deserves a verbal kick in the pants, if not a literal one. True, these people are likely uncomfortable with emotion or mortality or something that reflects the all-too-human resistance to unpleasant realities, but to suggest to someone who has lost a parent they should "snap out of it" in a matter of weeks has something broken inside. Badly broken.
It took me a year after each parent's death to get past feeling as though someone had hit me in the head with a 2 x 4. Two months?
Altogether now: What a Puddin'head.
Lastly, I dreamt of being in chemo last night with a grand group of women who I was apparently friends with, but I don't remember recognizing any of them. We were having quite a time trying on terrible wigs.
I have never set land-speed records, but when it comes to cleaning, I surprise myself at how long I take. Two days. For a ranch?
Of course, I didn't just dust and vacuum and tidy up the porcelain. I also walked and fed the dogs both days, took breaks for meals, and of course, stopped when the sun set--cleaning after sunset is something I've only done when I was moving out of an apartment and had to clean it before I fled. Or if company was coming and there was no way around it.
Well, company is coming (in the form of my brother and sister-in-law), but not until next Friday. Unless there's a hurricane or other major national disaster. My brother is in the disaster business now, and so he can plan, but God regularly takes his plans and pops 'em in the shredder.
But no matter what happens, my house is clean as it gets.
On other fronts, I spoke with a friend today who is dealing with the aftermath of a parent's death. She has a lot to contend with, but I can help with the grief part, for I remember well the fog that enveloped me the year after each parent's death. The fog lifts eventually, but the sadness never leaves. Not entirely. I miss my mother, I do. I still read things that she would enjoy, and am sad that she can't enjoy them. As maddening as she could be, I wish she were still here. Don't want you to think I don't also miss my dad. I am reminded of him every time I have a show in an Elks Club or see someone driving around with a car full of painting supplies with ladders on top.
But he isn't who I called when I saw something funny or maddening or wonderfully put. If he answered the phone, he would immediately hand it off to Mom. But he's not there to hand off the phone, and she's not there to take it from him, and that may be the proper order of things but that just stinks.
If there isn't an afterlife, I'm going to be so P.O.d. Of course, if there isn't, I won't have the ability to be P.O.'d, will I? (Such are the things that can keep me up nights, but nevermind....)
The only good thing about losing my parents is that I can be of comfort to other people who have lost parents.
One thing: This friend said that two months after the death of her parent, some people are suggesting she should be "over" it already. To this, I could only respond, "Tell them to go f*** themselves, and tell them I said so."
Now, I'm not one to drop the f-bomb unless there is no other word that will do, but anyone who would try to shame someone who is grieving deserves a verbal kick in the pants, if not a literal one. True, these people are likely uncomfortable with emotion or mortality or something that reflects the all-too-human resistance to unpleasant realities, but to suggest to someone who has lost a parent they should "snap out of it" in a matter of weeks has something broken inside. Badly broken.
It took me a year after each parent's death to get past feeling as though someone had hit me in the head with a 2 x 4. Two months?
Altogether now: What a Puddin'head.
Lastly, I dreamt of being in chemo last night with a grand group of women who I was apparently friends with, but I don't remember recognizing any of them. We were having quite a time trying on terrible wigs.
This dream is a combination of bad news I heard about a fellow dog nut in town and a documentary about the making of "Wig in a Box," a CD of "Hedwig and the Angry Inch" songs that was a fundraiser for a high school for GLBT and questioning kids in NYC. I ordered the CD, in the hopes that might end the wig references in my dreams; as to what I can do for my sister in dog adoration, I don't know....
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Truer words....
My dear, departed mother, who could turn quite a phrase, often said, "Once you hit 40, it's patch, patch, patch."
Considering my recent spate of repairs, a friend of mine suggests I work on material regarding a "Patch-a-Thon."
My friend, you may have guessed, is younger than I am. My decrepitude is amusing as all heck to the whippersnapper, but to this ol' Dykesaurus? Phooey!
Seriously, I guess I don't really mind so much. Intimations of mortality are nothing new for this battered soul. But the old joke about how I would have taken better care of myself if I had known I was going to live this long has been occurring to me. Over and over again.
In the messy span that was my youth and young adulthood, I didn't expect to live much past 30. Today, I'm 17 years older than that.
Yeah, recovery is grand, but enduring--well, it can be a pain.
Let's review: I had a root canal in 2001 or so, only to have it fail last year. (Yes, the same year that I lost most of my job and was prescribed a colonoscopy, but let's not go there) I had a procedure that was supposed to fix said failure, but I learned just recently that it failed, too. So, the tooth has to come out.
Once six months have passed, I get to have an implant. There may be a joke in here someday, when I actually do get the implant and I can ask people if they can tell I've had some work done, but that may be pushing it.....
Now, my eyes have decided to slip quite a bit, enough so that I need "progressive" lenses. While I love the name, the reality is that the longer I wear them (I just got them today), the more tired and nauseous I become.
That's not progress.
Of course, this is supposed to pass--but then again, so am I!
Ah, there's always a bright spot, isn't there?
Actually, there is. I may be getting some time over at one of my favorite Boston-area clubs. There's nothing official to report, but there's hope.
And that is the best news I have. That and the fabulous "Girls, Girls, Girls!" is coming up on the 30th, and so are my brother and sister-in-law. Should be quite a show and quite a weekend.
But now, I must walk the beasts.
Considering my recent spate of repairs, a friend of mine suggests I work on material regarding a "Patch-a-Thon."
My friend, you may have guessed, is younger than I am. My decrepitude is amusing as all heck to the whippersnapper, but to this ol' Dykesaurus? Phooey!
Seriously, I guess I don't really mind so much. Intimations of mortality are nothing new for this battered soul. But the old joke about how I would have taken better care of myself if I had known I was going to live this long has been occurring to me. Over and over again.
In the messy span that was my youth and young adulthood, I didn't expect to live much past 30. Today, I'm 17 years older than that.
Yeah, recovery is grand, but enduring--well, it can be a pain.
Let's review: I had a root canal in 2001 or so, only to have it fail last year. (Yes, the same year that I lost most of my job and was prescribed a colonoscopy, but let's not go there) I had a procedure that was supposed to fix said failure, but I learned just recently that it failed, too. So, the tooth has to come out.
Once six months have passed, I get to have an implant. There may be a joke in here someday, when I actually do get the implant and I can ask people if they can tell I've had some work done, but that may be pushing it.....
Now, my eyes have decided to slip quite a bit, enough so that I need "progressive" lenses. While I love the name, the reality is that the longer I wear them (I just got them today), the more tired and nauseous I become.
That's not progress.
Of course, this is supposed to pass--but then again, so am I!
Ah, there's always a bright spot, isn't there?
Actually, there is. I may be getting some time over at one of my favorite Boston-area clubs. There's nothing official to report, but there's hope.
And that is the best news I have. That and the fabulous "Girls, Girls, Girls!" is coming up on the 30th, and so are my brother and sister-in-law. Should be quite a show and quite a weekend.
But now, I must walk the beasts.
Saturday, September 09, 2006
I knew her when!
Am pleased as punch to report a good friend of mine from my art major days (UW-Milwaukee, 1977-1979), Kathryn Siegler, is having a major show at a gallery in San Francisco. She sent me the gallery's postcard heralding the event, and it described her and her work so beautifully, it made me think, "At last, somebody really gets her and her art."
Thrilling, that. Go here to get a look at examples of her "elegant and subtle strokes" that resonate with her "keen, dry sense of humor and straightforward Mid-Western tenet...."
It looks as though a number of her works have already sold, bless 'er heart.
Way to go, Daddy-o! (In case you're wondering, we had all sorts of names for each other back in the day.)
Thrilling, that. Go here to get a look at examples of her "elegant and subtle strokes" that resonate with her "keen, dry sense of humor and straightforward Mid-Western tenet...."
It looks as though a number of her works have already sold, bless 'er heart.
Way to go, Daddy-o! (In case you're wondering, we had all sorts of names for each other back in the day.)
Working on the weekend?
Somehow, I am working this weekend. Now, I know that isn't right.
But then again, neither is underemployment.
Anyhoo, I was warned that this job entailed a work deluge in the late summer/early fall, and as it is late summer/early fall, I guess this is to be expected.
Still, it seems wrong. In a word: Harrumph!
Did get to watch some of the Open, though, and was happy to see Andy Roddick advance to the final. I missed yesterday's matches, which was for the best. Justine Henin-Hardenne (she who I would not trust with a wooden nickle) and Maria Sharapova (she who is pretty, but has eyes that betray a killer lurking within) advanced, which means that Amelie Mauresmo (she who may have to allow talk of her "nerves" again) lost.
Merde.
Brought our "boy" Linus to the vet today, for he has been licking up a storm. We worried about all sorts of scenarios, but our vet's best guess is that he has allergies. Apparently, September's ragweed wreaks havoc on the canine set, and our dear son may be among the afflicted.
Just like his two mommies. Poor duck.
Lastly, to report on Thursday night's open mic seems silly, as it was a dud. Not an enormous dud, but more of a quiet dud. For most of us, I fear. The audience seemed tentative--no, maybe that was me--and it just never quite got going....or something. Even Jennifer (she who can usually rally the near-dead) had no luck, but she's been cursed with the happiness of late, so comedy is a bit of a challenge for her.
It's best left to us miserable wretches...8-(
But then again, neither is underemployment.
Anyhoo, I was warned that this job entailed a work deluge in the late summer/early fall, and as it is late summer/early fall, I guess this is to be expected.
Still, it seems wrong. In a word: Harrumph!
Did get to watch some of the Open, though, and was happy to see Andy Roddick advance to the final. I missed yesterday's matches, which was for the best. Justine Henin-Hardenne (she who I would not trust with a wooden nickle) and Maria Sharapova (she who is pretty, but has eyes that betray a killer lurking within) advanced, which means that Amelie Mauresmo (she who may have to allow talk of her "nerves" again) lost.
Merde.
Brought our "boy" Linus to the vet today, for he has been licking up a storm. We worried about all sorts of scenarios, but our vet's best guess is that he has allergies. Apparently, September's ragweed wreaks havoc on the canine set, and our dear son may be among the afflicted.
Just like his two mommies. Poor duck.
Lastly, to report on Thursday night's open mic seems silly, as it was a dud. Not an enormous dud, but more of a quiet dud. For most of us, I fear. The audience seemed tentative--no, maybe that was me--and it just never quite got going....or something. Even Jennifer (she who can usually rally the near-dead) had no luck, but she's been cursed with the happiness of late, so comedy is a bit of a challenge for her.
It's best left to us miserable wretches...8-(
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Gratitude
My current job has been a hectic affair of late, with crushing deadlines, last-minute changes, and bureaucratic hoo-hah the likes of which I haven't seen in years.
That said, I am happy for this job. This time last year, I was underemployed and working as a temp for the local superintendent of schools. (The super? She was fabulous. The job? Not so much.) Now at least I'm making a living wage and socking money away for retirement, which at the moment can't come a minute too soon.
But I digress.
What I saw this weekend gave me something to think about every time I think my job is just a menial exercise in futility. For while I have had a lot of terrible jobs in my day (graveyard shift waitress at Bob's Big Boy, for one major example), I saw a job this weekend that made me feel oh-so-lucky in so many ways. For no matter how bad things got, I never had the job the likes of which I saw at the rest stop on the Pike. To wit: Crowd control in the ladies' room.
Yes, there is a job in which one keeps bathroom lines moving. It consists of yelling "Next!" and pointing out the stall that is vacant.
If that isn't a job to make you wonder, "What if?" I don't know what is.
But you know what else? The woman who had this terrible job of all terrible jobs was doing a fabulous job of it. She was yelling "Next" with vigor, and helping the ladies along by giving them helpful hints, like "Third door on the left!" and "Last door on the right!"
She kept that line moving, and with gusto. That was something to see.
Moral of the story: If you don't have a great job, give it your best. If nothing else, it will keep things moving along...
And on the subject of moving along, can you believe it's September already? Disturbing that may be, the good news is tomorrow night is the famous Comedy Open Mic at PACE in Easthampton. $3 for all The Comedy you can stand (maybe more). See you there!
That said, I am happy for this job. This time last year, I was underemployed and working as a temp for the local superintendent of schools. (The super? She was fabulous. The job? Not so much.) Now at least I'm making a living wage and socking money away for retirement, which at the moment can't come a minute too soon.
But I digress.
What I saw this weekend gave me something to think about every time I think my job is just a menial exercise in futility. For while I have had a lot of terrible jobs in my day (graveyard shift waitress at Bob's Big Boy, for one major example), I saw a job this weekend that made me feel oh-so-lucky in so many ways. For no matter how bad things got, I never had the job the likes of which I saw at the rest stop on the Pike. To wit: Crowd control in the ladies' room.
Yes, there is a job in which one keeps bathroom lines moving. It consists of yelling "Next!" and pointing out the stall that is vacant.
If that isn't a job to make you wonder, "What if?" I don't know what is.
But you know what else? The woman who had this terrible job of all terrible jobs was doing a fabulous job of it. She was yelling "Next" with vigor, and helping the ladies along by giving them helpful hints, like "Third door on the left!" and "Last door on the right!"
She kept that line moving, and with gusto. That was something to see.
Moral of the story: If you don't have a great job, give it your best. If nothing else, it will keep things moving along...
And on the subject of moving along, can you believe it's September already? Disturbing that may be, the good news is tomorrow night is the famous Comedy Open Mic at PACE in Easthampton. $3 for all The Comedy you can stand (maybe more). See you there!
Monday, September 04, 2006
Dyke dynamics
We took a walk with the dogs in a local conservation area this morning, and when we were almost at the end, we came across two lesbians and their children.
Of course, in this neck of the woods it could have been two straight women with sensible haircuts and their children, but they read "Family" to me.
Anyway, as we approached them, one of the women began speaking to me in a very authoritarian tone. She said something along the lines of, "Your dogs should be on leashes. I am a member of the Board of this conservation area, and we have had trouble with dogs abusing the wildlife in this area and have enacted leash laws as a result and BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH...."
To be perfectly honest, I stopped hearing her somewhere around the "member of the Board" business, for if there is anything that's bound to close my earflaps, it's the sound of OFFICIOUS AUTHORITY. That the officiousness is coming from someone who appeared to share my sexuality didn't help a bit.
In fact, it made it worse somehow. Humorless, dogmatic dykes--goddess spare us!
I did respond that we were aware of the law, but as our dogs are at the age where we're grateful they're still walking, we chose to ignore it. They are no more a threat to wildlife at this stage of their lives than I am. (After 15 years of sobriety, the only laws I break are leash laws--ain't that a kick?)
Afterwards, I thought of something I wish I had said (typical), and if I had had my wits about me at the time the Board Dyke gave me an earful, I would have said, "Well, I'm a comic, and humorless authoritarian types such as yourself are an endless source of material, and I'd like to thank you. Now, I'd like to take my aged, arthritic dogs home, if you don't mind...."
The thing is, she was absolutely right. But the way she presented herself to us made me want to go out and terrorize some wildlife myself. Right in front of her. Twice.
Okay, so I have trouble with authority. This I know. So when someone gets on their high horse, I want to spook that horse and make it run toward trees with low branches so it knocks that someone right on her righteous ass.
And I know that if I were a big, burly guy with a big group of burly guys, she wouldn't have said a peep. (People have long felt free to give me lectures; I appear to have "Won't fight back" written on my forehead.)
Sigh.
On other fronts, we spent a couple of days visiting some NYC friends, and had a good time. The weather didn't cooperate with our plans (we were going to go to a festival called "Day to Be Gay"), but instead we watched the U.S. Open, and all had a good cry when Andre Agassi lost what is supposed to be his final tournament.
Nothing like a good cry over a good guy, I must say. Andre has been a delight to watch over the years, and I'm going to miss him very much.
Now, if the people who decide these things would just show us a match or two with Mauresmo.....
Of course, in this neck of the woods it could have been two straight women with sensible haircuts and their children, but they read "Family" to me.
Anyway, as we approached them, one of the women began speaking to me in a very authoritarian tone. She said something along the lines of, "Your dogs should be on leashes. I am a member of the Board of this conservation area, and we have had trouble with dogs abusing the wildlife in this area and have enacted leash laws as a result and BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH...."
To be perfectly honest, I stopped hearing her somewhere around the "member of the Board" business, for if there is anything that's bound to close my earflaps, it's the sound of OFFICIOUS AUTHORITY. That the officiousness is coming from someone who appeared to share my sexuality didn't help a bit.
In fact, it made it worse somehow. Humorless, dogmatic dykes--goddess spare us!
I did respond that we were aware of the law, but as our dogs are at the age where we're grateful they're still walking, we chose to ignore it. They are no more a threat to wildlife at this stage of their lives than I am. (After 15 years of sobriety, the only laws I break are leash laws--ain't that a kick?)
Well, she was unmoved. I am surprised we don't have a police cruiser in the front drive, and our dogs haven't been cited for being a threat to wildlife.
Afterwards, I thought of something I wish I had said (typical), and if I had had my wits about me at the time the Board Dyke gave me an earful, I would have said, "Well, I'm a comic, and humorless authoritarian types such as yourself are an endless source of material, and I'd like to thank you. Now, I'd like to take my aged, arthritic dogs home, if you don't mind...."
The thing is, she was absolutely right. But the way she presented herself to us made me want to go out and terrorize some wildlife myself. Right in front of her. Twice.
Okay, so I have trouble with authority. This I know. So when someone gets on their high horse, I want to spook that horse and make it run toward trees with low branches so it knocks that someone right on her righteous ass.
And I know that if I were a big, burly guy with a big group of burly guys, she wouldn't have said a peep. (People have long felt free to give me lectures; I appear to have "Won't fight back" written on my forehead.)
Sigh.
On other fronts, we spent a couple of days visiting some NYC friends, and had a good time. The weather didn't cooperate with our plans (we were going to go to a festival called "Day to Be Gay"), but instead we watched the U.S. Open, and all had a good cry when Andre Agassi lost what is supposed to be his final tournament.
Nothing like a good cry over a good guy, I must say. Andre has been a delight to watch over the years, and I'm going to miss him very much.
Now, if the people who decide these things would just show us a match or two with Mauresmo.....
Sunday, August 27, 2006
High maintenance, high art
My life has had several recurrent themes, but one is up for me this Sunday: People who seem compelled to inform me of their superior way of doing things. Over and over. And over. Again.
When I don't ask for their advice. Or even suggest having trouble with the topic under advisement.
Don't most people know that unsolicited advice is a less-than-worthless commodity? Or am I one of the few people who has learned this the hard way--by being on the receiving end of truckloads of it?
This insistence on sharing one's "wisdom" is one thing; it can be a way of trying to make the other's life better. However, when the "wisdom" is shared it in such a way that suggests you must be (1) an idiot or (2) resistant to what's good for you/right/"natural"/P.C. is another.
Infuriating, in a word.
But I digress.....
We saw a performance of the Mark Morris dance group at the Pillow this weekend that was just breathtaking. It was moving, it was funny, it was just a delight, from beginning to end. (Okay, I wasn't mad about one piece, but there was far, far more to love than not.)
So, there was that.
And I have put together an expanded if not comprehensive calendar of upcoming comic events that gives me great hope for the fall--should be a hoot, if nothing else.
If my job doesn't completely sap my will to live. But I digress....
When I don't ask for their advice. Or even suggest having trouble with the topic under advisement.
Don't most people know that unsolicited advice is a less-than-worthless commodity? Or am I one of the few people who has learned this the hard way--by being on the receiving end of truckloads of it?
This insistence on sharing one's "wisdom" is one thing; it can be a way of trying to make the other's life better. However, when the "wisdom" is shared it in such a way that suggests you must be (1) an idiot or (2) resistant to what's good for you/right/"natural"/P.C. is another.
Infuriating, in a word.
But I digress.....
We saw a performance of the Mark Morris dance group at the Pillow this weekend that was just breathtaking. It was moving, it was funny, it was just a delight, from beginning to end. (Okay, I wasn't mad about one piece, but there was far, far more to love than not.)
So, there was that.
And I have put together an expanded if not comprehensive calendar of upcoming comic events that gives me great hope for the fall--should be a hoot, if nothing else.
If my job doesn't completely sap my will to live. But I digress....
Monday, August 21, 2006
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Remiss, I've been remiss!
Between working eight + hours per day during the week, then on weekends toiling on the new walk project and/or dashing out to Becket for country and culture, I have had no blog time.
You're all handling it somehow, I'm sure, but I miss this blog when I'm gone.
Linda decided we needed a better front walk. It had been an odd assortment of slate and bluestone that was too close to the shrubs for comfort, so she had a point. Thing is, she decided we should install a walk of pavers--they were called bricks in my day, but I digress.
It may be a do-it-yourself project, but it's a do-it-yourself project and MORE than a half. Two thirds, perhaps?
You don't just remove the old slates and plop down pavers. Oh no. One must excavate at least 7 inches of dirt, which entails more shoveling than I've done since I lived in NE Wisconsin and was on snow removal duty (we had a corner lot, which means more sidewalk).
Once you excavate, you then must shovel in a sand-rock mixture that forms a base. But you don't just toss it in, you must rent a monster machine called a Plate Compactor that vibrates the living daylights out of your carcass (while soaking it in small engine fumes--delightful!).
It weighs a freakin' ton, as you can imagine, and getting it in and out of the car took every last bit of ooomph I had. Maybe more. (I've been walking a little askew ever since. Perhaps it's time for a visit to my friendly neighborhood chiropractor?)
The worst part of the process? We didn't have enough of the sand-rock mixture, so had to order more. And we get to do the shovel and shimmy process with yet another Plate Compactor this weekend. Once we finish that, there's one more level of sand to put in, before we can drop in the pavers (I don't expect to do that for a week, maybe more).
The good news is that we will also be going to a play at the Chester Theater, which used to be called the Miniature Theater of Chester, but decided it was too big for such a sweet name.
I don't agree. I loved going to a miniature theater, but then, I might not be their desired demographic. Sigh.
Now, must get back to work.
One last thing: There is some comedy coming up, but not until late September, early October--I'll let you know when it's "official." Speaking of official, I have been officially glued to "Last Comic Standing," even though it can be a trial to watch at times. Was thrilled at how far Michelle Balan made it, and am glad that the last two comics aren't the usual straight white guys.
Reading the news, it occurs to me we could all use a rest from them. But of course, I'm not their desired demographic, either.
I'm handling that just fine, btw.
You're all handling it somehow, I'm sure, but I miss this blog when I'm gone.
Linda decided we needed a better front walk. It had been an odd assortment of slate and bluestone that was too close to the shrubs for comfort, so she had a point. Thing is, she decided we should install a walk of pavers--they were called bricks in my day, but I digress.
It may be a do-it-yourself project, but it's a do-it-yourself project and MORE than a half. Two thirds, perhaps?
You don't just remove the old slates and plop down pavers. Oh no. One must excavate at least 7 inches of dirt, which entails more shoveling than I've done since I lived in NE Wisconsin and was on snow removal duty (we had a corner lot, which means more sidewalk).
Once you excavate, you then must shovel in a sand-rock mixture that forms a base. But you don't just toss it in, you must rent a monster machine called a Plate Compactor that vibrates the living daylights out of your carcass (while soaking it in small engine fumes--delightful!).
It weighs a freakin' ton, as you can imagine, and getting it in and out of the car took every last bit of ooomph I had. Maybe more. (I've been walking a little askew ever since. Perhaps it's time for a visit to my friendly neighborhood chiropractor?)
The worst part of the process? We didn't have enough of the sand-rock mixture, so had to order more. And we get to do the shovel and shimmy process with yet another Plate Compactor this weekend. Once we finish that, there's one more level of sand to put in, before we can drop in the pavers (I don't expect to do that for a week, maybe more).
Then we get to rent the Plate Compactor ONE MORE TIME, to tamp down the pavers.
My heart be still.The good news is that we will also be going to a play at the Chester Theater, which used to be called the Miniature Theater of Chester, but decided it was too big for such a sweet name.
I don't agree. I loved going to a miniature theater, but then, I might not be their desired demographic. Sigh.
Now, must get back to work.
One last thing: There is some comedy coming up, but not until late September, early October--I'll let you know when it's "official." Speaking of official, I have been officially glued to "Last Comic Standing," even though it can be a trial to watch at times. Was thrilled at how far Michelle Balan made it, and am glad that the last two comics aren't the usual straight white guys.
Reading the news, it occurs to me we could all use a rest from them. But of course, I'm not their desired demographic, either.
I'm handling that just fine, btw.
Monday, July 17, 2006
Now Deepak Chopra?!
Is it new, or am I just noticing the rash of powerful commentaries on the dismal state of Christianity of late? A couple of days ago it was a Presbyterian pastor who induced me to write my first fan letter to a man in his line of work (he wrote back, too, bless 'im); today, it's a meditation on Christianity from Deepak Chopra, "Who Owns Christianity?" It first appeared in the San Francisco Chronicle, but you can see it on the Common Dreams website. Some excerpts:
"Did Christ teach love or is that just a liberal bias? In the current climate, it's hard to remember, but one thing is certain: Once a tight cabal of fundamentalists takes over any denomination, Christ's teachings go out the window. The reversal of Christianity from a religion of love to a religion of hate is the greatest religious tragedy of our time."
He notes that fundamentalists have corrupted Islam, Hinduism and Judaism as well, and laments that the tolerant in Christian churches have largely "stayed silent and stayed home. But that tactic failed. As healthy as it is to nourish your own devotion and faith, it's disastrous to allow extremists to take over the church, because the statehouse, the board of education, the Congress, and eventually the presidency are next."
Lastly, and I promise this is it: "American finds itself in the sad plight of being the world's most prominent secular society hijacked by sectarians."
No, I'm not writing him a letter (he makes an uncomfortable parallel between gays and sinners early in the piece), but I am glad that people with some prominence are taking on the Christians who, in a terrible misunderstanding of the Bible, are seeking to recreate the world in their own image, not God's.
Of course, Muslims, Jews, Hindus and others are likely engaged in the same.
Have people always been this insane, or are we just blessed to be living in "interesting" times?
Just wondering....
"Did Christ teach love or is that just a liberal bias? In the current climate, it's hard to remember, but one thing is certain: Once a tight cabal of fundamentalists takes over any denomination, Christ's teachings go out the window. The reversal of Christianity from a religion of love to a religion of hate is the greatest religious tragedy of our time."
He notes that fundamentalists have corrupted Islam, Hinduism and Judaism as well, and laments that the tolerant in Christian churches have largely "stayed silent and stayed home. But that tactic failed. As healthy as it is to nourish your own devotion and faith, it's disastrous to allow extremists to take over the church, because the statehouse, the board of education, the Congress, and eventually the presidency are next."
Lastly, and I promise this is it: "American finds itself in the sad plight of being the world's most prominent secular society hijacked by sectarians."
No, I'm not writing him a letter (he makes an uncomfortable parallel between gays and sinners early in the piece), but I am glad that people with some prominence are taking on the Christians who, in a terrible misunderstanding of the Bible, are seeking to recreate the world in their own image, not God's.
Of course, Muslims, Jews, Hindus and others are likely engaged in the same.
Have people always been this insane, or are we just blessed to be living in "interesting" times?
Just wondering....
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Well, it was something
I'm happy to report that my letter to the editor appeared in today's paper. I'm unhappy to report that they cut the last paragraph--apparently, it's okay for some folks to suggest that others should be denied rights, but to suggest that such folks are tyrants for wanting to deny said rights is going too darn far.
Lilly-livered lightweights!
Don't have a copy of the letter that inspired my missive around, but methinks one can easily glean the gist from my retort. I have deleted the name of the author just in case that old saw "Any publicity is good publicity" is true for bigots as well as entertainers.
The letter:
Dear Editor:
As a long-time voter who was born and raised in the U.S. and has lived here most of my life, I do have to wonder what “people” your correspondent [insert your favorite homophobe here] was referring to in his letter, “Let state’s voters decide on same-sex marriages.”
I take exception to his assumption that the “people” do not include lesbians and gays. We certainly do—and I have the passport and tax records to prove it.
“Of the people, by the people, and for the people” is fairly comprehensive, though [Mr. Homohater] apparently reads “people” as only “people like me.” That’s rather missing the point. Perhaps [Mr. Hates the Light-in-the-Loafers Set] has a different copy of these treasured documents than I, for nowhere in the Constitution or Bill of Rights do I see a footnote along the lines of, “Does not apply to gays and lesbians.”
In crafting our great nation, our founders recognized that majority rule has its limits (history is full of examples, as is today’s news). As I understand it, the judiciary plays a key part in the process of checks and balances, reining in the majority when it takes actions that are contrary to the spirit and intent of the Constitution. While he may not like their decision, the judges of the Supreme Judicial Court were doing their job—reminding people like [Mr. Blinded-By-the-Right] that people like me are citizens with rights, too.
What the paper cut:
Like many Americans, my ancestors came to this country for the promise of freedom, most particularly to be spared the tyranny of the majority religious or political system in their former homelands. They would be saddened indeed to learn that thanks to people like your correspondent, tyranny is alive and well in America, too.
Can't you just hear the "Star Spangled Banner"? Or is it, "We Are Family"?
Lilly-livered lightweights!
Don't have a copy of the letter that inspired my missive around, but methinks one can easily glean the gist from my retort. I have deleted the name of the author just in case that old saw "Any publicity is good publicity" is true for bigots as well as entertainers.
The letter:
Dear Editor:
As a long-time voter who was born and raised in the U.S. and has lived here most of my life, I do have to wonder what “people” your correspondent [insert your favorite homophobe here] was referring to in his letter, “Let state’s voters decide on same-sex marriages.”
I take exception to his assumption that the “people” do not include lesbians and gays. We certainly do—and I have the passport and tax records to prove it.
“Of the people, by the people, and for the people” is fairly comprehensive, though [Mr. Homohater] apparently reads “people” as only “people like me.” That’s rather missing the point. Perhaps [Mr. Hates the Light-in-the-Loafers Set] has a different copy of these treasured documents than I, for nowhere in the Constitution or Bill of Rights do I see a footnote along the lines of, “Does not apply to gays and lesbians.”
In crafting our great nation, our founders recognized that majority rule has its limits (history is full of examples, as is today’s news). As I understand it, the judiciary plays a key part in the process of checks and balances, reining in the majority when it takes actions that are contrary to the spirit and intent of the Constitution. While he may not like their decision, the judges of the Supreme Judicial Court were doing their job—reminding people like [Mr. Blinded-By-the-Right] that people like me are citizens with rights, too.
What the paper cut:
Like many Americans, my ancestors came to this country for the promise of freedom, most particularly to be spared the tyranny of the majority religious or political system in their former homelands. They would be saddened indeed to learn that thanks to people like your correspondent, tyranny is alive and well in America, too.
Can't you just hear the "Star Spangled Banner"? Or is it, "We Are Family"?
Friday, July 14, 2006
What a turnaround!
The end of a busy, hectic and occasionally hair-raising week is a wonderful thing. Altogether now: Ahhhhhhh!
Was called by the local paper about my letter and whether I had written it--did I detect a tone in the clerk's voice, or was that just my supported-by-years-of-experience paranoia? Dunno, but the fact that they verified the source suggests that perhaps my letter will run.
Here's hoping they don't edit the living daylights out of it. Always a possibility, don't you know.
On other fronts, I wrote my first fan letter to a man of the cloth after reading a wonderful piece on the Common Dreams website entitled, "Real Christians Don't Gay Bash," by the Rev. Jim Rigby of St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church in Austin, Texas. It was balm for my little lezbo soul, I must say. While I urge you to read the entire, beautiful piece, the following excerpt offers a taste of his words and wisdom:
"In the Gospel, biblical literalists and judgmental people were the negative example in many of the stories. The point of those stories was to teach us the hypocrisy of judgmental religion. When a woman was caught in adultery, the Biblical literalists lined up to protect family values. They pointed out that the Bible literally says that adulterers are to be stoned. If Jesus took the Bible seriously, they claimed, he would have to participate in the mandated biblical punishment of an adulteress.
"Instead of following scripture, Jesus tells the woman to get her life together and tells everyone else to drop their stones of judgment. The only way to take this story seriously is to conclude that real Christians don't use the Bible to condemn other people."
And listen to this:
"It violates the teaching of Christ to say that God will get angry if America does not confront homosexuality as a sin. Jesus did not mention homosexuality and it is a lie to say he did. Furthermore, Jesus said 'judge not or you will be judged.' These false prophets are saying, 'judge or you will be judged.'
"Jesus was kind and understanding, but he was not silent about those who abused the vulnerable. He called them 'wolves in sheep's clothing.' Christians must follow the example of Jesus and confront those vicious predators who use the Christian religion as a camouflage for bullying. We must be as understanding and kind as we can be, but to be tolerant of the oppression of others is not true tolerance."
Oh my goddess, can you see why I had to fire off a "Thank you" note and a half? I thanked him for the piece, and remarked that my only regret is that my mother isn't alive to read his words--she was an industrial-strength Presbyterian, and as she never quite made peace with my sexuality, I think these words, coming from a man of her favorite cloth, might have helped ease her mind some. Alas.
Last but not least, I have been invited to NYC (probably along with 1,000 other comics) to participate in the Laughing Liberally lab on--get this--Monday nights. At 9:30 p.m. Now, as the Lab was a glorified open mic last I went, I am thinking I probably won't bother. However, if showing up for the Lab is the only way to break into the heavily heterosexual male comic lineup that Laughing Liberally seems to prefer, perhaps I need to just go down there and give it all I've got.
Or should I just wait and see if the Thursday night queer show pans out?
Ah, decisions, decisions. Hey--at least I have decisions to make here, and I don't have a vast, open void of comic dead air in front of me.
Not yet, anyway.
Was called by the local paper about my letter and whether I had written it--did I detect a tone in the clerk's voice, or was that just my supported-by-years-of-experience paranoia? Dunno, but the fact that they verified the source suggests that perhaps my letter will run.
Here's hoping they don't edit the living daylights out of it. Always a possibility, don't you know.
On other fronts, I wrote my first fan letter to a man of the cloth after reading a wonderful piece on the Common Dreams website entitled, "Real Christians Don't Gay Bash," by the Rev. Jim Rigby of St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church in Austin, Texas. It was balm for my little lezbo soul, I must say. While I urge you to read the entire, beautiful piece, the following excerpt offers a taste of his words and wisdom:
"In the Gospel, biblical literalists and judgmental people were the negative example in many of the stories. The point of those stories was to teach us the hypocrisy of judgmental religion. When a woman was caught in adultery, the Biblical literalists lined up to protect family values. They pointed out that the Bible literally says that adulterers are to be stoned. If Jesus took the Bible seriously, they claimed, he would have to participate in the mandated biblical punishment of an adulteress.
"Instead of following scripture, Jesus tells the woman to get her life together and tells everyone else to drop their stones of judgment. The only way to take this story seriously is to conclude that real Christians don't use the Bible to condemn other people."
And listen to this:
"It violates the teaching of Christ to say that God will get angry if America does not confront homosexuality as a sin. Jesus did not mention homosexuality and it is a lie to say he did. Furthermore, Jesus said 'judge not or you will be judged.' These false prophets are saying, 'judge or you will be judged.'
"Jesus was kind and understanding, but he was not silent about those who abused the vulnerable. He called them 'wolves in sheep's clothing.' Christians must follow the example of Jesus and confront those vicious predators who use the Christian religion as a camouflage for bullying. We must be as understanding and kind as we can be, but to be tolerant of the oppression of others is not true tolerance."
Oh my goddess, can you see why I had to fire off a "Thank you" note and a half? I thanked him for the piece, and remarked that my only regret is that my mother isn't alive to read his words--she was an industrial-strength Presbyterian, and as she never quite made peace with my sexuality, I think these words, coming from a man of her favorite cloth, might have helped ease her mind some. Alas.
Last but not least, I have been invited to NYC (probably along with 1,000 other comics) to participate in the Laughing Liberally lab on--get this--Monday nights. At 9:30 p.m. Now, as the Lab was a glorified open mic last I went, I am thinking I probably won't bother. However, if showing up for the Lab is the only way to break into the heavily heterosexual male comic lineup that Laughing Liberally seems to prefer, perhaps I need to just go down there and give it all I've got.
Or should I just wait and see if the Thursday night queer show pans out?
Ah, decisions, decisions. Hey--at least I have decisions to make here, and I don't have a vast, open void of comic dead air in front of me.
Not yet, anyway.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Am soooooo glad this will soon be over
This working two jobs business, I mean. I know I will miss the money, there's no question there, but the dragging myself home from a full day of work to stare at my PC screen and try to compose some snappy bits of business on compensation plans? PULEEEEEASE.
It's been a small slice o' heck, that it has. But yes, it will sooooooon be over. Hip, Hip, Hooray!!!
On other fronts, my sister had a retirement party today in Detroit. She wanted Linda and yours truly to come, but we really couldn't swing it, having just had a vacation and all. And with my boss on vacation and my lone colleague out with bronchitis, the timing couldn't be worse.
A rather familiar scenario where my family is concerned, but that's a story for another time, perhaps.
My dear brother, who may be striving for some sort of secular sainthood, is in Detroit. He flew there to be at my sister's party, where he read something I wrote for the occasion.
Ah yes, another writing gig, right in the midst of my last second-job deadline. (Did I say something about timing earlier? Yes, this too was terrible.) As for what I wrote, I'm sorry to report that it was terrible, too. Let's just say my sister and I are not close, so I was hard-pressed to come up with the requisite heart-warming or amusing vignettes one usually trots out for such affairs.
However, the good news is that I didn't have to read my writing in person. Dear brother did it, and being a silver-tongued devil, I'm sure he did swell. Unless my sister's coworkers are a bunch of stiffs who were just there for the cake. I've seen it happen, it's not pretty.
On the "not pretty" front, there was a letter to the editor in yesterday's paper that set my mood button to FOUL first thing this morning. Took about a half hour to recover from the self-centeredness and ignorance on display in the missive. If a person had written that sort of letter about Jews or African Americans or any other minority, he would have been rightly derided as a kook and a bigot. Of course, as his topic was gays, he got a prominent place in the paper, and probably a lot of "Atta boy, Ed!" from other like-minded trolls in town. Sigh.
Some days, I wonder about my fellow man, and why oh why dear God is he sometimes such a rat bastard?
Took all day to formulate a letter that could be printed in a family paper. Will it make it? We shall see.
It's been a small slice o' heck, that it has. But yes, it will sooooooon be over. Hip, Hip, Hooray!!!
On other fronts, my sister had a retirement party today in Detroit. She wanted Linda and yours truly to come, but we really couldn't swing it, having just had a vacation and all. And with my boss on vacation and my lone colleague out with bronchitis, the timing couldn't be worse.
A rather familiar scenario where my family is concerned, but that's a story for another time, perhaps.
My dear brother, who may be striving for some sort of secular sainthood, is in Detroit. He flew there to be at my sister's party, where he read something I wrote for the occasion.
Ah yes, another writing gig, right in the midst of my last second-job deadline. (Did I say something about timing earlier? Yes, this too was terrible.) As for what I wrote, I'm sorry to report that it was terrible, too. Let's just say my sister and I are not close, so I was hard-pressed to come up with the requisite heart-warming or amusing vignettes one usually trots out for such affairs.
However, the good news is that I didn't have to read my writing in person. Dear brother did it, and being a silver-tongued devil, I'm sure he did swell. Unless my sister's coworkers are a bunch of stiffs who were just there for the cake. I've seen it happen, it's not pretty.
On the "not pretty" front, there was a letter to the editor in yesterday's paper that set my mood button to FOUL first thing this morning. Took about a half hour to recover from the self-centeredness and ignorance on display in the missive. If a person had written that sort of letter about Jews or African Americans or any other minority, he would have been rightly derided as a kook and a bigot. Of course, as his topic was gays, he got a prominent place in the paper, and probably a lot of "Atta boy, Ed!" from other like-minded trolls in town. Sigh.
Some days, I wonder about my fellow man, and why oh why dear God is he sometimes such a rat bastard?
Took all day to formulate a letter that could be printed in a family paper. Will it make it? We shall see.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
A quick change in comic fortunes
While I had plenty o' nuthin' on my comedy calendar two days ago, I now have been invited to participate in two upcoming shows, and am thrilled to pieces at the prospect.
It's too soon for details (don't want to hex them), but they'll be appearing on my website when the time is right (one show is in September, the other in October--so there's time, for heaven's sake).
Got through a rough patch at work, and I am a little ashamed to note that I was so worried about what was going to happen that I prayed about it. I know one is not supposed to pray for things, but one can pray for the ability to do better than one's worst instincts might demand.
Can't one? A gal can pray not to have a grand mal hissy, can't she?
Right or wrong, it appeared to have worked, for all of the drama I expected did not unfold. It's grand when that happens, isn't it?
On other fronts, Outlook on my PC at home is balking at the task of retrieving my e-mail. I don't have the time to spend on a "do it yourself" approach right now (my last deadline for my second job looms), so am going to just retrieve my e-mail via the Web and let the chips fall where they may.
Tired old Microsoft. Tired old software. Maybe my next computer should be a Mac?
On other fronts, I hear that the Mass. Legislature didn't get around to the anti-gay marriage ballot initiative today, and we'll have to wait to read all about the insults hurled at the likes of me and mine some other time.
Yeah, I can wait.
Want to know when these darn "homophobic" people are going to quit sponging off the queers and quit trying to get something (our tax dollars) for nothing (or very little). A bunch of freakin' freeloaders, that's what they are! I put "homophobic" in quotes, for I think this is largely a political show, brought to you by the demagogues at the RNC (Really Nasty Sonsabitches, aka the Republican Party). Nothing like a little gay-baiting to take peoples' minds off what is really going wrong....
Am also seeing parallels between my dog Linus and the homophobic population. Now don't get me wrong--Linus is a dear boy, and a marvelous beast with a beautific nature 99.5% of the time. But when the clouds start to rumble and the lightening bolts jut down from the sky, he loses his cool. He pants, he paces, he tries to paw open the door to the closet and bathroom--it's a display.
If you're in the sad situation of trying to sleep while this is going on, you can forget it. He wakes me up whenever this happens, as if to say, "What are you doing? How can you sleep at a moment like this?! We need to all get into the closet where it's safe--with the shoes!"
Linus' reaction to summer storms is very much like a homophobes reaction to gays. It far exceeds any real threat to his safety, and it causes him to do things that are out of character--not his best self, by any means.
But the parallel ends when I think of the threats Linus and the homophobes face--Linus has a much greater chance of getting hit by lightening than I ever will of ruining some straight person's marriage.
But then again, that may not really be the point.....
It's too soon for details (don't want to hex them), but they'll be appearing on my website when the time is right (one show is in September, the other in October--so there's time, for heaven's sake).
Got through a rough patch at work, and I am a little ashamed to note that I was so worried about what was going to happen that I prayed about it. I know one is not supposed to pray for things, but one can pray for the ability to do better than one's worst instincts might demand.
Can't one? A gal can pray not to have a grand mal hissy, can't she?
Right or wrong, it appeared to have worked, for all of the drama I expected did not unfold. It's grand when that happens, isn't it?
On other fronts, Outlook on my PC at home is balking at the task of retrieving my e-mail. I don't have the time to spend on a "do it yourself" approach right now (my last deadline for my second job looms), so am going to just retrieve my e-mail via the Web and let the chips fall where they may.
Tired old Microsoft. Tired old software. Maybe my next computer should be a Mac?
On other fronts, I hear that the Mass. Legislature didn't get around to the anti-gay marriage ballot initiative today, and we'll have to wait to read all about the insults hurled at the likes of me and mine some other time.
Yeah, I can wait.
Want to know when these darn "homophobic" people are going to quit sponging off the queers and quit trying to get something (our tax dollars) for nothing (or very little). A bunch of freakin' freeloaders, that's what they are! I put "homophobic" in quotes, for I think this is largely a political show, brought to you by the demagogues at the RNC (Really Nasty Sonsabitches, aka the Republican Party). Nothing like a little gay-baiting to take peoples' minds off what is really going wrong....
Am also seeing parallels between my dog Linus and the homophobic population. Now don't get me wrong--Linus is a dear boy, and a marvelous beast with a beautific nature 99.5% of the time. But when the clouds start to rumble and the lightening bolts jut down from the sky, he loses his cool. He pants, he paces, he tries to paw open the door to the closet and bathroom--it's a display.
If you're in the sad situation of trying to sleep while this is going on, you can forget it. He wakes me up whenever this happens, as if to say, "What are you doing? How can you sleep at a moment like this?! We need to all get into the closet where it's safe--with the shoes!"
Linus' reaction to summer storms is very much like a homophobes reaction to gays. It far exceeds any real threat to his safety, and it causes him to do things that are out of character--not his best self, by any means.
But the parallel ends when I think of the threats Linus and the homophobes face--Linus has a much greater chance of getting hit by lightening than I ever will of ruining some straight person's marriage.
But then again, that may not really be the point.....
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Strangeness and glory--yup, the usual....
Ah, my vacation is winding down, and I am sad to see it go even if it entailed a lot of hard work.
But we did finish the deck and it looks fabulous, if I do say so myself (the paint, she runs in my veins!).
On other fronts, had a very odd night at the PACE, in no small way due to the fact that the fabulous Ms. M was nowhere to be found. No criticism of the sub suggested--Boney (aka Kim Light, bless 'er heart) did great with what the night wrought--but be that as it may, the open mic is just not the same without Jennifer.
But the night was off in other ways as well--or maybe it was the same as it ever was, but I was given a fresh look at what The Comedy can be about in the Pioneer Valley. We had some friends from out of town along with us for the evening, and they had a unique perspective on the comedy goings-on.
Happily, I warned them that the open mic can be a very uneven affair, but I don't think that was enough of a disclaimer, looking back. It seemed that many comics pulled out their mean material for the night--and by mean, I mean sexist, homophobic, racist.....
Our friends, sophisticates from NYC both, were incredulous. Afterwards, they said to me something to the effect of, "I had no idea this is what you had to contend with to do comedy around here. We are both in awe of your nerve."
They left with a new appreciation of what it takes to do comedy away from the civilizing influence of the Big City, but I was left thinking, am I really that "nervy"?
Nah. As I think I have made plain, I am a wuss.
But what I am is a person committed to The Comedy come what may, and I am grateful that I don't let a little (or a lotta) homophobia, sexism, and the like keep me from my work/art/mania/whatever the heck it is.
Maybe all that Catholic denial is finally coming in handy!
Speaking of denial, I am soooooooo grateful that the fabulous Amelie Mauresmo won Wimbledon, even though the NBC commentators virtually ignored her throughout the match. If one were listening to them on the radio, one might be excused if they thought that Justine Henin-Hardenne was playing alone.
It was infuriating--so infuriating, Linda hit the "Mute" button about one-third of the way through the match.
But the good news is that Amelie won--and no, we won't be talking about her "nerves" ever again! WOOOOOOWEEEEEEEE!
But we did finish the deck and it looks fabulous, if I do say so myself (the paint, she runs in my veins!).
On other fronts, had a very odd night at the PACE, in no small way due to the fact that the fabulous Ms. M was nowhere to be found. No criticism of the sub suggested--Boney (aka Kim Light, bless 'er heart) did great with what the night wrought--but be that as it may, the open mic is just not the same without Jennifer.
But the night was off in other ways as well--or maybe it was the same as it ever was, but I was given a fresh look at what The Comedy can be about in the Pioneer Valley. We had some friends from out of town along with us for the evening, and they had a unique perspective on the comedy goings-on.
Happily, I warned them that the open mic can be a very uneven affair, but I don't think that was enough of a disclaimer, looking back. It seemed that many comics pulled out their mean material for the night--and by mean, I mean sexist, homophobic, racist.....
Our friends, sophisticates from NYC both, were incredulous. Afterwards, they said to me something to the effect of, "I had no idea this is what you had to contend with to do comedy around here. We are both in awe of your nerve."
They left with a new appreciation of what it takes to do comedy away from the civilizing influence of the Big City, but I was left thinking, am I really that "nervy"?
Nah. As I think I have made plain, I am a wuss.
But what I am is a person committed to The Comedy come what may, and I am grateful that I don't let a little (or a lotta) homophobia, sexism, and the like keep me from my work/art/mania/whatever the heck it is.
Maybe all that Catholic denial is finally coming in handy!
Speaking of denial, I am soooooooo grateful that the fabulous Amelie Mauresmo won Wimbledon, even though the NBC commentators virtually ignored her throughout the match. If one were listening to them on the radio, one might be excused if they thought that Justine Henin-Hardenne was playing alone.
It was infuriating--so infuriating, Linda hit the "Mute" button about one-third of the way through the match.
But the good news is that Amelie won--and no, we won't be talking about her "nerves" ever again! WOOOOOOWEEEEEEEE!
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
A vacation of sorts
Yes, we took this week off, and I have been catching up on my sleep. I have, however, also been tackling a project at our cottage that has me wondering, "And for this, I'm using vacation time?"
I've been sanding the deck, which though small, threatens to take the rest of this holiday to prep. The paint--yes, the puddin'head used regular paint--on it is impossibly thick (where it hasn't peeled off, of course). The deck needs to be refinished, though, and as we are going to put it on the market soon to ease our financial load, we can't just pay someone to do it. Rather defeats the "ease our financial load" part of the program, not to mention fly in the face of family tradition (my father was a painter, his father was a painter, and so on and so forth).
Realize that this is just the sort of "holiday" I am genetically programmed to have--a working one. My mother's Calvinist, Protestant side is gratified that I am not just lolling around enjoying myself, while my father's Catholic side is gratified that I'm spending my time making something better that I will not enjoy. Doing something good and getting no benefit from it is a Catholic imperative, as I recall (if you do something good to get a benefit, it doesn't count; ditto if you do something good and tell someone about it. Don't ask).
So, toss together the Protestant work ethic and Catholic guilt, and what do you have? A vacation spent sanding the deck.
It is beautiful out here, that is true, and the weather has cooperated most of the time. Plus, when the weather wasn't cooperating, I did sneak in a side trip to a local outlet mall, and bought myself some nice shirts for work.
And I'm working on getting in a GLBT comedy show in NYC, goddess willing. We shall see what, if anything, comes of that.
But otherwise? My only show is the upcoming open mic at PACE, hosted by my comedy buddy Jennifer. And Jennifer--though I know it puts you in a bunch, I'm glad your car was declared beyond repair this week. That car was iffy on a good day in the '90s, so get out there and find yourself a car that doesn't lead your friends to cross themselves when they see you drive off to an unknown future. In sum: Let that crate be the last deathtrap you own--protect your vital carcass!
Please.
I've been sanding the deck, which though small, threatens to take the rest of this holiday to prep. The paint--yes, the puddin'head used regular paint--on it is impossibly thick (where it hasn't peeled off, of course). The deck needs to be refinished, though, and as we are going to put it on the market soon to ease our financial load, we can't just pay someone to do it. Rather defeats the "ease our financial load" part of the program, not to mention fly in the face of family tradition (my father was a painter, his father was a painter, and so on and so forth).
Realize that this is just the sort of "holiday" I am genetically programmed to have--a working one. My mother's Calvinist, Protestant side is gratified that I am not just lolling around enjoying myself, while my father's Catholic side is gratified that I'm spending my time making something better that I will not enjoy. Doing something good and getting no benefit from it is a Catholic imperative, as I recall (if you do something good to get a benefit, it doesn't count; ditto if you do something good and tell someone about it. Don't ask).
So, toss together the Protestant work ethic and Catholic guilt, and what do you have? A vacation spent sanding the deck.
It is beautiful out here, that is true, and the weather has cooperated most of the time. Plus, when the weather wasn't cooperating, I did sneak in a side trip to a local outlet mall, and bought myself some nice shirts for work.
And I'm working on getting in a GLBT comedy show in NYC, goddess willing. We shall see what, if anything, comes of that.
But otherwise? My only show is the upcoming open mic at PACE, hosted by my comedy buddy Jennifer. And Jennifer--though I know it puts you in a bunch, I'm glad your car was declared beyond repair this week. That car was iffy on a good day in the '90s, so get out there and find yourself a car that doesn't lead your friends to cross themselves when they see you drive off to an unknown future. In sum: Let that crate be the last deathtrap you own--protect your vital carcass!
Please.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Understated, but lethal wit?!
I had my first review as a comic this week, and it's a beaut. It's Boston-based author Doug Holder's review of the Laughing Liberally show Saturday night at Jimmy Tingle's Off Broadway. While it's curious to see what he found noteworthy in each comic's set, I am grateful to not have been misquoted, maligned--or worse. For the whole story, go here and look for the entry for June 26 entitled, "Off the Shelf by Doug Holder: Laughing out loud at Laughing Liberally.” An excerpt:
Anne Podolske, a self-described lesbian comic from Western Massachusetts, who has an understated, but lethal wit, skewered the Republicans’ care and handling of the gay community. Podolske talked about coming out in her 30’s. She said she grew up in rural Wisconsin, which she said was less than a “sultry” state. She was popular with men early on because as she put it: “I had long blonde hair and a drinking problem.” Later she joined the Peace Corp because she felt;” Maybe Mr. Right is abroad.”
At 47, Podolske had an astute observation about middle age love. She quipped: “Love means knowing who is going to drive you to your colonoscopy.” Having just had one I had to concur!
Anne Podolske, a self-described lesbian comic from Western Massachusetts, who has an understated, but lethal wit, skewered the Republicans’ care and handling of the gay community. Podolske talked about coming out in her 30’s. She said she grew up in rural Wisconsin, which she said was less than a “sultry” state. She was popular with men early on because as she put it: “I had long blonde hair and a drinking problem.” Later she joined the Peace Corp because she felt;” Maybe Mr. Right is abroad.”
At 47, Podolske had an astute observation about middle age love. She quipped: “Love means knowing who is going to drive you to your colonoscopy.” Having just had one I had to concur!
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Love those laughing liberals!
Before I get to the joy that was the Laughing Liberally show last night, let me thank my friends Hilary and Amy for being with Linda and me during the ride to Somerville. Because during the drive we were stalked for a creepily long time by a lone man in a big blue family van (it was an odd make, like an Oldsmobile or something). He stayed in the blindspot to the left rear of my car for a while, then sped up and pulled in the lane in front of me, then gestured--thumbs down, then something a little more on the obscene side--then sped up, then he took the same exit as us and "waited" for us.
But I wasn't going to speed up to be harassed by a guy that looked like "Red" on "That '70s Show" and whose politics apparently did not include the First Amendment right to put whatever the hell one wants on one's bumper. No ma'am, I'm not toopid.
Instead, I'm grateful I had Linda and Hilary and Amy in the car, urging me to hang back and let the looney go on ahead. And when he did finally turn off the highway, we agreed to all give him the peace sign.
I was busy driving, so I didn't see if everyone (I mean my lovely New Yorker Linda) did that, but I'm hopeful.
Am still wondering what on my bumper so offended the man: "Bush's Legacy: Leave no child a dime," "I'm for the separation of church and hate," "Noho," "Peace Corps," and last but not least, a rainbow sticker in the shape of a German Shepherd.
Such an inflammatory mix--I should be grateful I don't deal with crazed men in vans every day of my life, eh?
Or maybe it was just the vision of four women having fun in a car, dancing to the bad disco that was on the XM at the moment? Maybe he was an American Taliban, trying to squash fun wherever he roams? Who can tell?
Happily, that little brush with insanity did not spell doom for the rest of the evening: What a show! It went well, very well--it was SOLD OUT, for starters. Goody for Laughing Liberally and Jimmy Tingle!
The one fly in the ointment? The abortion joke (which sounds like an oxymoron anyway, this I am finally beginning to accept). That joke had its last airing last night, and while I thought there was hope for it, I was wrong. Dead air wrong.
If the liberals don't like it, it must go. Bye, bye abortion joke!
Anyway, the rest of my material worked wonders. Though fairly new, the "no cigar" joke continues to earn its place on my "must do" list, and while I flubbed the Adam & Steve joke a little, it still worked. Erectile dysfunction is a no-lose topic (for a lesbian, anyway), and who can't help but enjoy a little homophobe-centered humor? The folks in Somerville were happy to hear it all, Saints be praised.
While we're on the topic of the show, it was great to work for Jimmy Tingle again--what a wonderful guy and host. I was a little nervous when I found out I was the first comic up, but that was before I heard Jimmy opening the show and getting the crowd going--he had them roaring, so I knew the audience had it in them, and they kept it going for me and all the rest of the gang.
And who was the rest of the gang? Myq Kaplan, Scott Blakeman, Lee Camp, and Julie Goldman. With Baratunde Thurston there just to see the show. (Nice bit o' business, that.)
It's probably no surprise that I was particularly happy to work with the phenomenal Julie Goldman, whose enormous reputation is deserved and then some. Am also glad that I met her and talked to her before I saw her perform--I would have probably been more than a little starstruck had that happened. Okay, I would have been a lot starstruck. Awe would have rendered me mute, or only capable of saying something inane and/or stupid--which, of course, I still might have done, only she can say.
All I can say is this: If you haven't seen Julie perform, find a way to do so. During her set, she was swinging between scary/angry intensity and absolute goofiness, she had the people wild with laughter. And as I am a wuss extraordinnaire, I would not have had the nerve to talk to someone who was so obviously on top of her game. Little ol' me? (Yes, I'm a 47 year-old woman, but I still feel a child when it comes to The Comedy.)
Bottom line: What a great group of comics--it was a thrill to be able to perform with them, and to be part of the Laughing Liberally enterprise. Long may it rave!
And what a great way to spend a painful (aren't they all?) birthday. I may be 47, but I can still carry on for a fabulous cause. Woo!
But I wasn't going to speed up to be harassed by a guy that looked like "Red" on "That '70s Show" and whose politics apparently did not include the First Amendment right to put whatever the hell one wants on one's bumper. No ma'am, I'm not toopid.
Instead, I'm grateful I had Linda and Hilary and Amy in the car, urging me to hang back and let the looney go on ahead. And when he did finally turn off the highway, we agreed to all give him the peace sign.
I was busy driving, so I didn't see if everyone (I mean my lovely New Yorker Linda) did that, but I'm hopeful.
Am still wondering what on my bumper so offended the man: "Bush's Legacy: Leave no child a dime," "I'm for the separation of church and hate," "Noho," "Peace Corps," and last but not least, a rainbow sticker in the shape of a German Shepherd.
Such an inflammatory mix--I should be grateful I don't deal with crazed men in vans every day of my life, eh?
Or maybe it was just the vision of four women having fun in a car, dancing to the bad disco that was on the XM at the moment? Maybe he was an American Taliban, trying to squash fun wherever he roams? Who can tell?
Happily, that little brush with insanity did not spell doom for the rest of the evening: What a show! It went well, very well--it was SOLD OUT, for starters. Goody for Laughing Liberally and Jimmy Tingle!
The one fly in the ointment? The abortion joke (which sounds like an oxymoron anyway, this I am finally beginning to accept). That joke had its last airing last night, and while I thought there was hope for it, I was wrong. Dead air wrong.
If the liberals don't like it, it must go. Bye, bye abortion joke!
Anyway, the rest of my material worked wonders. Though fairly new, the "no cigar" joke continues to earn its place on my "must do" list, and while I flubbed the Adam & Steve joke a little, it still worked. Erectile dysfunction is a no-lose topic (for a lesbian, anyway), and who can't help but enjoy a little homophobe-centered humor? The folks in Somerville were happy to hear it all, Saints be praised.
While we're on the topic of the show, it was great to work for Jimmy Tingle again--what a wonderful guy and host. I was a little nervous when I found out I was the first comic up, but that was before I heard Jimmy opening the show and getting the crowd going--he had them roaring, so I knew the audience had it in them, and they kept it going for me and all the rest of the gang.
And who was the rest of the gang? Myq Kaplan, Scott Blakeman, Lee Camp, and Julie Goldman. With Baratunde Thurston there just to see the show. (Nice bit o' business, that.)
It's probably no surprise that I was particularly happy to work with the phenomenal Julie Goldman, whose enormous reputation is deserved and then some. Am also glad that I met her and talked to her before I saw her perform--I would have probably been more than a little starstruck had that happened. Okay, I would have been a lot starstruck. Awe would have rendered me mute, or only capable of saying something inane and/or stupid--which, of course, I still might have done, only she can say.
All I can say is this: If you haven't seen Julie perform, find a way to do so. During her set, she was swinging between scary/angry intensity and absolute goofiness, she had the people wild with laughter. And as I am a wuss extraordinnaire, I would not have had the nerve to talk to someone who was so obviously on top of her game. Little ol' me? (Yes, I'm a 47 year-old woman, but I still feel a child when it comes to The Comedy.)
Bottom line: What a great group of comics--it was a thrill to be able to perform with them, and to be part of the Laughing Liberally enterprise. Long may it rave!
And what a great way to spend a painful (aren't they all?) birthday. I may be 47, but I can still carry on for a fabulous cause. Woo!
Friday, June 23, 2006
Ah, the calm is descending
Was feeling a little squirrelly about tomorrow's show, but have practiced a slightly shortened version the past day that seems to be ending well within my limit. As I tend to forget at least one section of my set when nervous, which I expect to be tomorrow night, I am confident I will not be overstaying my welcome at The House of Tingle.
Now, what will actually happen remains to be seen--but unlike some comics in The Comedy, I am not one to go on and on.
Please goddess, don't let me start doing that tomorrow night.
On other fronts, my manager and coworkers presented me with a birthday cake today. It was an industrial-strength chocolate cake the size of a small building, and it was fabulous. Had one slice before I was going to eat lunch, and that was the end of lunch--one slice kept me going all afternoon. THAT's a cake!
Now, what will actually happen remains to be seen--but unlike some comics in The Comedy, I am not one to go on and on.
Please goddess, don't let me start doing that tomorrow night.
On other fronts, my manager and coworkers presented me with a birthday cake today. It was an industrial-strength chocolate cake the size of a small building, and it was fabulous. Had one slice before I was going to eat lunch, and that was the end of lunch--one slice kept me going all afternoon. THAT's a cake!
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Good grief!
The Laughing Liberally show is in two days, and I have been driving myself a little crazy trying to decide which bits must be included in my 7-10 minute set.
The usual intro?
Check.
The growing up drunk and hetero bit?
Check.
The Peace Corps/maybe Mr. Right's ------ bit?
Check.
The more of a threat to the institute of marriage bit?
Check.
The glad I was a drunk straight girl back when birth control was just a prescription bit?
Check.
But then, I get all confused.
Adam & Steve? Commitment commemorative collection? Give me equality or give me a G--damned deduction? Close but no cigar?
I'd need 15 minutes to do them all, so I have to choose. And my choices have changed each day this week.
Right now, right this minute, I'm opting for ditching Adam & Steve, but keeping the tax deduction and close, but no cigar item.
But I love Adam & Steve so. It just takes too darn long. And the commitment commemorative collection? That takes a while, too. ALAS!
The usual intro?
Check.
The growing up drunk and hetero bit?
Check.
The Peace Corps/maybe Mr. Right's ------ bit?
Check.
The more of a threat to the institute of marriage bit?
Check.
The glad I was a drunk straight girl back when birth control was just a prescription bit?
Check.
But then, I get all confused.
Adam & Steve? Commitment commemorative collection? Give me equality or give me a G--damned deduction? Close but no cigar?
I'd need 15 minutes to do them all, so I have to choose. And my choices have changed each day this week.
Right now, right this minute, I'm opting for ditching Adam & Steve, but keeping the tax deduction and close, but no cigar item.
But I love Adam & Steve so. It just takes too darn long. And the commitment commemorative collection? That takes a while, too. ALAS!
At least I am certain of my close: Homophobia as a force for good....
As for the middle bits, I'm going to have to keep fussing, and pray for clarity when my time comes.
What else is a comic to do? AIEEEEE!
Monday, June 19, 2006
Giving notice
Told my former full-time and now part-time publisher that we're through as of next month. I have to say, after our chat, I felt like a million bucks.
That's a little ironic, for the result of this early-than-planned departure will not entail financial security of the million-dollar variety--quite the opposite.
But, the extra job on top of a full-time job and The Comedy was too much for me and my gal. We all have only a limited number of hours in a day, and the older I get, the more I realize I need to spend my hours wisely. And with all that they wanted for what they paid, the publisher is just not worth my while.
The Comedy will be my secondary focus, and while the pay is laughable indeed, it's rewarding in a way the publisher could never be.
Hooray for COMEDY!
That's a little ironic, for the result of this early-than-planned departure will not entail financial security of the million-dollar variety--quite the opposite.
But, the extra job on top of a full-time job and The Comedy was too much for me and my gal. We all have only a limited number of hours in a day, and the older I get, the more I realize I need to spend my hours wisely. And with all that they wanted for what they paid, the publisher is just not worth my while.
The Comedy will be my secondary focus, and while the pay is laughable indeed, it's rewarding in a way the publisher could never be.
Hooray for COMEDY!
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Making up for lost posts...
My mother-in-law equivalent stayed with us from Monday to Saturday, and I must say, all went remarkably well. Linda took the week off to squire her mother about town, and they found ways to entertain themselves every day. In fact, they had a grand time of it--so grand, they knocked themselves out. By mid-week, naps were added to each day's itinerary.
Thursday night after work I came home to a quiet house--at 6:00! Even the dogs were napping, for pity's sake.
My favorite vision was to return home after work to find them playing dominoes. Dominoes! Here's what I learned: What do you do with a 79-year-old woman when you've run out of ideas? Play dominoes. Fun for the entire family!
Anyway, all didn't go completely smooth, as you can imagine. The trip to Long Island was a little fraught, as we got lost in Bridgeport, CT trying to find the ferry to Port Jefferson, L.I. Bridgeport roads are in a state of permanent construction, in my experience, and this construction seems to require that most helpful signs are removed. Any helpful signage that remains gets placed as far from a driver's range of vision as to be virtually useless.
The best example of the Bridgeport approach to signage? That was on the return trip home. We had followed two signs for "95 North" once we got off the ferry, only to see no other guidance as to where to turn. You know why? Because the last sign for the turn to "95 North" was placed on the ramp leading to said highway--one could only see it once one had driven onto the ramp. George Orwell would be so proud...
But hey--though we had a scuffle or two, we survived. And Linda's mother made it to her destination safe and sound, leaving only the scent of mothballs behind (you have no idea). Happy trails to you!
After we bid Linda's mother a fond farewell, we had many hours to kill until our ferry reservation. Linda had the wonderful idea that we take a nice side trip to Cherry Grove on Fire Island (where the lesbians are, though gay boys are certainly there in number, too). The day was hazy, but it was marvelous to hear and see the ocean, and watch all those lovely gay boys and girls frolic in the sand. Made us a little wistful--we have each spent many summer days there during our NYC days (separately and together) and we realized there's no place like it for the likes of us. Sigh.
We may have to return, even if our beach bunny days are far behind us. We shall see....
Lastly, I have an idea for a new bit floating around in my noggin', based on my attempt to find compassion in my heart for the homophobic among us. It's based on my own experience as a drunk lass, which is a source for much of my material, don't you know.
What I 'm working on: The poor homophobe who, realizing he's going to be late for his terrible job at the big box store (which he took after the factory in town moved operations to India) first wakes up and says, "Damn homos!"
He then hops on his bike, which he's riding because his truck is broken down. His son usually fixes it for him, but he's been re-deployed to Iraq for the third time, and isn't around. The bike gets a flat tire, and the poor homophobe says, "Damn homos!"
He finally gets to work, and is called in to an employee meeting, where they announce that because of rising health care costs, employees are going to pay hundreds more for their insurance. The homophobe's response? You got it: "Damn homos!"
What could this possibly remind me of? When I was living in Chicago. I moved there right after graduation, and my drinking took off big-time there. A coworker got me started on hard liquor after she noticed I was drinking beer--"No more college drinks for you, young lady--you're in the city now!"
Anyway, I came home one night from work, tired to the core. As was often the case, I had gone into work hungover, and had made a solemn promise to myself that I was going to go to bed early that night, to try to repair and restore my poor carcass from the excesses of the night before.
Problem was, I came home and discovered an almost-full bottle of vodka in my kitchen.
Well, if you know anything about alcoholics, you can guess what happened. Or maybe not.
Suddenly, it was morning, and I woke up with an empty bottle of vodka on my nightstand and a strange man in my bed.
My first thought? "Damn vodka!" Nope. "Damn Chicago!"
I moved to New York City not terribly long after that.
So that's my story. Is it funny? Tragic? Tragi-comic? Time will tell.
Thursday night after work I came home to a quiet house--at 6:00! Even the dogs were napping, for pity's sake.
My favorite vision was to return home after work to find them playing dominoes. Dominoes! Here's what I learned: What do you do with a 79-year-old woman when you've run out of ideas? Play dominoes. Fun for the entire family!
Anyway, all didn't go completely smooth, as you can imagine. The trip to Long Island was a little fraught, as we got lost in Bridgeport, CT trying to find the ferry to Port Jefferson, L.I. Bridgeport roads are in a state of permanent construction, in my experience, and this construction seems to require that most helpful signs are removed. Any helpful signage that remains gets placed as far from a driver's range of vision as to be virtually useless.
The best example of the Bridgeport approach to signage? That was on the return trip home. We had followed two signs for "95 North" once we got off the ferry, only to see no other guidance as to where to turn. You know why? Because the last sign for the turn to "95 North" was placed on the ramp leading to said highway--one could only see it once one had driven onto the ramp. George Orwell would be so proud...
But hey--though we had a scuffle or two, we survived. And Linda's mother made it to her destination safe and sound, leaving only the scent of mothballs behind (you have no idea). Happy trails to you!
After we bid Linda's mother a fond farewell, we had many hours to kill until our ferry reservation. Linda had the wonderful idea that we take a nice side trip to Cherry Grove on Fire Island (where the lesbians are, though gay boys are certainly there in number, too). The day was hazy, but it was marvelous to hear and see the ocean, and watch all those lovely gay boys and girls frolic in the sand. Made us a little wistful--we have each spent many summer days there during our NYC days (separately and together) and we realized there's no place like it for the likes of us. Sigh.
We may have to return, even if our beach bunny days are far behind us. We shall see....
Lastly, I have an idea for a new bit floating around in my noggin', based on my attempt to find compassion in my heart for the homophobic among us. It's based on my own experience as a drunk lass, which is a source for much of my material, don't you know.
What I 'm working on: The poor homophobe who, realizing he's going to be late for his terrible job at the big box store (which he took after the factory in town moved operations to India) first wakes up and says, "Damn homos!"
He then hops on his bike, which he's riding because his truck is broken down. His son usually fixes it for him, but he's been re-deployed to Iraq for the third time, and isn't around. The bike gets a flat tire, and the poor homophobe says, "Damn homos!"
He finally gets to work, and is called in to an employee meeting, where they announce that because of rising health care costs, employees are going to pay hundreds more for their insurance. The homophobe's response? You got it: "Damn homos!"
What could this possibly remind me of? When I was living in Chicago. I moved there right after graduation, and my drinking took off big-time there. A coworker got me started on hard liquor after she noticed I was drinking beer--"No more college drinks for you, young lady--you're in the city now!"
Anyway, I came home one night from work, tired to the core. As was often the case, I had gone into work hungover, and had made a solemn promise to myself that I was going to go to bed early that night, to try to repair and restore my poor carcass from the excesses of the night before.
Problem was, I came home and discovered an almost-full bottle of vodka in my kitchen.
Well, if you know anything about alcoholics, you can guess what happened. Or maybe not.
Suddenly, it was morning, and I woke up with an empty bottle of vodka on my nightstand and a strange man in my bed.
My first thought? "Damn vodka!" Nope. "Damn Chicago!"
I moved to New York City not terribly long after that.
So that's my story. Is it funny? Tragic? Tragi-comic? Time will tell.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Because nothing says service...
Like a complete brush-off. And a $6.00 processing fee.
Dear Ms. Podolske:
Thank you for contacting us. We do not provide duplicate receipts. If you used your CVS Extra Care card when you made your purchases, you may request your Flexible Spending Account Report. This report is currently not available on line. Please contact our Customer Care Department at 1-800-746-7287 for this information.
You may also request your patient prescription history from the pharmacy in which you have made your purchases. They keep information for up to one year. If you are searching beyond one year please contact our Privacy Office at 1-800-287-2414. A $6.00 processing fee will be incurred for this service.
Sincerely,
[Fabricated handle #3,214]
Customer Relations Representative
Dear Ms. Podolske:
Thank you for contacting us. We do not provide duplicate receipts. If you used your CVS Extra Care card when you made your purchases, you may request your Flexible Spending Account Report. This report is currently not available on line. Please contact our Customer Care Department at 1-800-746-7287 for this information.
You may also request your patient prescription history from the pharmacy in which you have made your purchases. They keep information for up to one year. If you are searching beyond one year please contact our Privacy Office at 1-800-287-2414. A $6.00 processing fee will be incurred for this service.
Sincerely,
[Fabricated handle #3,214]
Customer Relations Representative
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Laughing Liberally Boston: It's a date. And time.
Just so you know, I found out today that I will be performing in the early show of Laughing Liberally: Boston on Saturday, June 24 @ 7:30 p.m. To find details on the show and the whereabouts of Jimmy Tingle's Off Broadway, go here.
The beauty part, except for it being a liberal show (almost as good as a gay/lesbian recovery show, as far as audience support for yours truly), is that the 24th is my birthday.
I was going to go to Jacob's Pillow and see "Ballet Russes" again, but as birthday events go, a liberal show at Jimmy Tingle's--you can't beat it with a stick.
Nor should you.
On other fronts, am I the only person put off by those new TD Waterhouse commercials that say that "independence" is the prevailing trait of a successful investor?
Oh really? I thought it was "inside information." THAT's the American way--ain't it?
Yes, it's time to go to bed. My mother-in-law equivalent visits for a week, starting tomorrow.
What else can I say?
The beauty part, except for it being a liberal show (almost as good as a gay/lesbian recovery show, as far as audience support for yours truly), is that the 24th is my birthday.
I was going to go to Jacob's Pillow and see "Ballet Russes" again, but as birthday events go, a liberal show at Jimmy Tingle's--you can't beat it with a stick.
Nor should you.
On other fronts, am I the only person put off by those new TD Waterhouse commercials that say that "independence" is the prevailing trait of a successful investor?
Oh really? I thought it was "inside information." THAT's the American way--ain't it?
Yes, it's time to go to bed. My mother-in-law equivalent visits for a week, starting tomorrow.
What else can I say?
Friday, June 09, 2006
My biggest deal...by/so far
This is being circulated by the Massachusetts Democratic Party.
In the immortal words of my comedy buddy Jennifer, "Holy crap."
Thursday, June 08, 2006
What we have here....
First, the good news. My name is on the Laughing Liberally website again--they have me down for the Boston show. Don't have the details as to exactly when I will be performing later this month, but this definitely qualifies as progress!
Now, the bad news: As if you didn't know, communication is a dying art. That's been the theme of the past few days around here, anyway.Yesterday, we received a proposal for a reno on our back porch. It appeared to have been drafted by someone else besides the nice men we spoke to--in fact, we're wondering if the nice men we spoke to had any input into the proposal at all.
The one theme of our vision for the back porch we repeated over and over again: We don't want to have big, heavy windows that we have to remove each spring, we want windows that open out or sliders we can open and close with ease. (We're planning to be in the house until we're candidates for the Lesbian Ladies' Home, see, and are already a little challenged in the upper body region.)
But the proposal? It consisted of a multitude of doors that had windows in them--big, heavy windows, from the looks of things--that had to be removed if one wanted ventilation instead.
Shortly after that disappointing bit o' business, I opened the envelope that was supposed to contain the missing nails from the pulls we recently bought for our new, fabulous built-ins. Silly Ann! There were no nails in the pouch from the manufacturer, no nails at all--instead, perhaps appropriately, there were screws. Multitudes of screws--useless, no-need-for-'em screws.
Last but not least, today, I went to CVS to get a copy of a receipt. That's not entirely accurate. Actually, I needed a legible copy of an existing receipt. I keep my receipts for prescriptions, for I have one of those marvelous labor- and money-saving devices called FSA (simply put, it's an account for medical expenses). Problem is, the company that is supposed to pay for my medical expenses occasionally questions a charge, even when it's for the same amount as other charges that it allows to sail right through.
Anyway, I had the receipt, but one would need an atomic microscope to read it--though it's been less than three months since I secured this puppy, it had already faded to the point of uselessness. And yes, a copy would be an exercise in futility (tried that, too).
So was going to CVS for a legible receipt. They don't do that, especially--get this--for receipts that old.
Less than three months is old?
And after imparting that insanity, the pharmacy clerk instructed me to go to the front of the store to talk to the manager.
You guessed it: The manager wasn't in, and wasn't going to be in until tomorrow.
Yeah, I'm thinking about taking my four monthly prescriptions elsewhere....
And yes, I have my crankypants on, sorry. How are you doing?
Sunday, June 04, 2006
A good, solid show--and a new bit!
Had a good Saturday night at the Comedy Studio, I'm happy to report. Wasn't the best of all time, but it sure beat the heck out of those many weeknights when the audience seemed overpopulated by members of the We Ain't Gonna Laugh, You Can't Make Us club.
The audience took a little while to warm up to me, but I won them over with the new "no cigar" joke--the hand gesture sealed the deal, according to my comedy buddy Jennifer. Have been thinking of things to hang onto this comedy hook, and I think I may have a new bit o' business on those poor, misguided homophobes in my comedy toolkit soon.
Just in time for the Laughing Liberally Boston show--if, indeed, that comes to pass. I hope it does, of course, but am taking a decided we shall see attitude.....
Now, I must get my application together for the Boston Comedy & Movie Festival. May be an exercise in futility (it's a definite boys' club--and a straight, white boys club at that, for the most part), but I feel that as a regular in the Boston area I have the right to try.
Yeah, I'm gullible that way. Oh well, there are worst ways to blow $35--believe me, I know....
The audience took a little while to warm up to me, but I won them over with the new "no cigar" joke--the hand gesture sealed the deal, according to my comedy buddy Jennifer. Have been thinking of things to hang onto this comedy hook, and I think I may have a new bit o' business on those poor, misguided homophobes in my comedy toolkit soon.
Just in time for the Laughing Liberally Boston show--if, indeed, that comes to pass. I hope it does, of course, but am taking a decided we shall see attitude.....
Now, I must get my application together for the Boston Comedy & Movie Festival. May be an exercise in futility (it's a definite boys' club--and a straight, white boys club at that, for the most part), but I feel that as a regular in the Boston area I have the right to try.
Yeah, I'm gullible that way. Oh well, there are worst ways to blow $35--believe me, I know....
Friday, June 02, 2006
Ten Years?!
Ten years.
As of May 29, we've lived in this area for 10 years.
That is a little hard to fathom, I must say.
It's been a good 10 years overall, really and truly--but does this area feel like "home"?
Not yet.
(I lived in NYC 10 years, so have a point of reference. I actually felt at home there, I did. Until I didn't, that is.)
But this is where the liberals live, so stay we must. For all its faults and foibles, this is one of the safest places for people like me to live, so stay I will. Maybe I'll just get the hang of it later rather than sooner, like every other aspect of my life....
As of May 29, we've lived in this area for 10 years.
That is a little hard to fathom, I must say.
It's been a good 10 years overall, really and truly--but does this area feel like "home"?
Not yet.
(I lived in NYC 10 years, so have a point of reference. I actually felt at home there, I did. Until I didn't, that is.)
But this is where the liberals live, so stay we must. For all its faults and foibles, this is one of the safest places for people like me to live, so stay I will. Maybe I'll just get the hang of it later rather than sooner, like every other aspect of my life....
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